The Starlet Edition

by Lizzie Shane

  “Oh don’t be such a puritan. I didn’t take him up on it.” He opened his eyes to find her plucking a bit of something from the tip of her tongue. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that you were the closest I’d ever come to having children, let alone grandchildren.” She took another toke and eyed him through the haze of smoke that was making his eyes itch even more. “When are you going to give me some great-nieces and nephews to dote on?”

  “Never?”

  “Don’t be such a spoil sport. You just need to find the right girl.” She smiled beatifically. “I spoke to your actress yesterday.”

  “She isn’t my actress.”

  “No, you’re right. She’s out of your league. But nevertheless she seems fond of you.”

  He laughed without humor. “She hates me.”

  “Does she?”

  “Can you blame her?” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “I spent all night calling everyone I could think of to try to repair the damage I did to her career, but I’m no closer to figuring out how to make things right for her.”

  “Did you stay up all night? You always were a sweet boy. Foolish, but sweet.”

  “Thank you. I think.”

  Agatha studied him. “Did you ever decide what you want to be when you grow up?”

  “I’m focusing on one problem at a time.”

  “Smart. Very smart.” She took another drag on the joint. “You know, I was thinking, I bet if Oscar Wilde or Bill Shakespeare were alive today, they wouldn’t be doing any of this literary crap you’re obsessed with. They’d be screenwriters, I bet.”

  “You think?” He wasn’t sure how seriously to take anything she was saying right now.

  “Mm. You’d be a brilliant screenwriter—you always were incredibly talented when you weren’t trying to be something you aren’t.”

  The compliment was pure Agatha, delivered with her typical get-your-head-out-of-your ass forthrightness. “How high are you?”

  “Fairly. That cameraman had good shit.”

  He shook his head, incredulous. “You realize that stuff is illegal in this state.”

  “Is it?” She smiled, closing her eyes as she sucked on the joint. “Luckily I’m a cinematic treasure and no one would dare incarcerate me for something so silly. Ah, there’s my car.” A town car pulled into the front circle and Agatha stood.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Los Angeles. My work here is done. “

  “Did Jack get what he needed for the redemption reel?”

  “I wasn’t here for Jack. I was here for Ginny. And you.” She pinched out the joint and tucked the remainder into a pocket. “Ginny’s going to be just fine, and you… well, you’ll figure it out. Let me know if you want to try your hand at screenwriting. I have an adaptation that could use a tabloid reporter’s touch.”

  “I’m not done here yet.”

  “Course not.” She gave him a look that called into question his intelligence. “You’ll never make it as a screenwriter if you don’t know that the story never ends until the hero gets the girl.”

  “I’m not sure I’m the hero and I’m pretty sure the girl doesn’t want to be gotten.”

  She patted him on the arm as he held the car door for her. “There’s some hero in you yet.” She sank down into the car and looked up at him enigmatically. “She’s on set today, in case you’re wondering. Last day of filming. After that, there’s no telling where she’ll be. Now or never. Try not to screw it up.”

  “You give terrible pep talks. You realize that.”

  “One of my many charms.” She adjusted her scarf, waving him off. “Go on, boy. Any girl who makes you as stupid as this one does is a keeper.”

  He frowned. “Thank you?”

  “You always were my favorite nephew.”

  “I’m your only nephew.”

  “Are you?” she asked sweetly as she shut the door and waved for her driver to pull away.

  Jude snorted as he watched his aunt drive away. He could only hope it hadn’t been entirely the marijuana talking and that he might still have a chance with Ginny.

  “My contract clearly states I don’t have to do any stunts I feel put my personal safety at risk.”

  Ginny groaned as the stunt coordinator folded her arms and grumbled under her breath, “I’ll put his personal safety at risk.”

  Klein took a more democratic approach, pleading with Damien—who had abruptly decided that the roof stunt, which involved him plummeting a grand total of five feet, was simply too dangerous for his delicate person.

  “Damien,” the director said with impressive patience, considering the half hour he’d already spent cajoling the male lead. “The roof scene is a crucial moment for your character. A turning point. And a key metaphor. It represents the way Tyler always wants the best of everything, but then neglects the very things he went after with such a passion until they fall apart—like his marriage. The moment the roof collapses beneath him is the climax of the film.”

  “I understand all that, but can’t we make it look like I fell without me actually having to fall? Use some movie magic.”

  Ginny met Dani’s eyes as the production manager rolled hers. The word on the set was that Damien—who had been bragging about doing all his own stunts for weeks—had undergone a sudden change of heart when his agent had called him earlier in the week and confirmed that Damien would indeed have a small part in the upcoming superhero sequel. He didn’t want to screw up his chance to be the next Tom Hiddleston by spraining his ankle for a nothing little indie movie.

  Short of throwing him off the roof, Ginny didn’t know what they were going to do—though at the moment, the idea of throwing him off the roof was gaining popularity among the underpaid crew who wanted to wrap production and go home.

  Ginny scanned the irritated faces—and her gaze caught on one that definitely didn’t belong on set.

  Jude.

  Leaving Klein to make his case, she made a beeline through the milling crew and caught Jude’s arm, dragging him away from where the production had set up for the outdoor shot of Damien tumbling through the roof. “What are you doing here?” she hissed, keeping her voice down to avoid any unnecessary gossip.

  She, more than anyone, knew that word got around on film sets.

  “I wanted to apologize—”

  “You already apologized. You’re sorry. I get it. All is forgiven.”

  “I don’t just want forgiveness. I want to make things right with you.”

  Deeming them far enough away from the open ears on set, she paused beneath a massive oak. “Your aunt already fixed your mess. I’m auditioning next week for a project she’s directing. Once the tabloids see that, the stigma on me will lift. You’re off the hook. So if that’s the only reason you’re here—”

  “That isn’t the only reason.”

  The words landed between them like a boulder, heavy enough to shudder the ground.

  Ginny’s teeth clicked as she snapped her mouth shut. She took a deep breath, trying again, “Jude…”

  “I don’t want to be the person I’ve been lately. I’ll never be who I want to be until I stop being a propagandist. Like MacCauley Connor, I needed to meet my Tracey to know—”

  “Connor got fired because he tried to blackmail his boss. And Tracey married someone else.”

  He grimaced. “Okay, right, it’s been a while since I’ve seen that movie and I’m screwing this up, but, damn it, Ginny, I’m crazy about you and I want to do something good with my life and you make me want to be better, all right? I know we haven’t exactly gotten off to a good start, but could we give it another shot?”

  Her chest squeezed, though she didn't know if it was from hope or fear. “Give what exactly?”

  “You. Me.” He waved a hand between them, adorably agitated. “Us. Mr. Connor and Tracey.”

  She looked up at him, this man who had picked up her life and flung it sideways, then somehow been part of setting it back on track. He’d made her belie
ve things could be good again—but he’d also lied and she simply couldn’t see a way forward for them. She couldn’t see an us.

  She wanted to believe that he was sincere—that two crazy kids who met when one of them dropped a scandal bomb in the middle of the other one’s career could actually make it in this mixed up world—but how could she? Wouldn’t she be stupid to trust him? Stupid to even want to?

  Dame Agatha had vouched for him, but she was blinded by familial love. Ginny needed to be smart. She needed to make better decisions. She needed to think, not react.

  “Jude…”

  “Don’t say no.”

  She smiled at his interruption, but didn’t change her mind. She wasn’t the same woman she’d been before the tape, and yes, maybe she was better. Maybe she owed a little piece of that to him. But that didn’t mean it was smart to let him back in. “How can I trust you after you lied about who you were and let me believe—”

  “I’m still the same guy I was on that hill.” He looked toward the spot where it had seemed like anything was possible, though it was hidden by the trees. “Do you want to go back up there? Maybe push me off it?” His eyes were serious and dark, their earnestness so different from Jack’s, but no less compelling. “You can trust me, Ginny. Let me prove it. I’ll do whatever it takes to make you believe in me again.”

  “I don’t want to throw you off a hill.” She wanted to believe him. She wanted him to win her back. She wanted to believe that he would be there for her, but how did you prove trust?

  An idea sparked to life in the back of her mind and she looked him up and down, gauging his height, the breadth of his shoulders.

  Ginny smiled. “What about another kind of trust fall?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jude should have known from that smile that he was in trouble.

  He stood on the roof, trying not to squirm as the harness beneath his clothes chafed in unmentionable places. “Are you sure you aren’t trying to kill me off?” he called to Ginny, who stood on the platform below where he would be landing, blocked from the cameras’ view by the bulk of the house.

  She grinned up at him, her expression lighter than he’d seen it since she discovered who he was. “You’ll never know until you jump. Do you trust me?”

  “I thought we were supposed to be establishing that you can trust me.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Trust goes both ways, buddy.”

  He eyed the edge of the roof—he was technically “falling” from the highest eave to the inflated stunt mat on the second story deck below him, but the camera angle would make it look like he’d plummeted much farther.

  “Relax,” Ginny called to him as the stunt coordinator adjusted the mat. “The worst that will happen is you land wrong and pull something. I’ll be right here to make sure you don’t go rolling off if you have too much momentum.”

  He grimaced. He’d known this was a low budget film, but that didn’t seem like a job for a leading lady. “Isn’t that someone else’s job?”

  She grinned evilly. “I volunteered.”

  He groaned. She would be within her rights to let him fall. Payback was a bitch and he certainly deserved it. He studied her face—the sparkling eyes, the wicked grin. “Would it help if I told you I think I’m falling in love with you?”

  She laughed, the sound bright and half-startled. “You think that’s going to save you?”

  “Love conquers all?” he asked hopefully.

  She laughed again, the sound reaching inside him and making him want to smile—if he wasn’t standing two stories up and trying not to panic. “Go jump off a roof, Jude Law,” Ginny called.

  He glanced at the stunt coordinator as his stomach plummeted. “Now?”

  The petite woman gave the safety rig one last tug. “Klein will cue you, but yeah, we’re all set here.” She moved to gracefully drop over the edge of the roof to the deck below, out of the shot.

  Alone on the roof as a stiff breeze kicked up and made him sway, Jude swallowed down a sudden surge of nausea and returned his gaze to his grinning spotter. “Have I mentioned I hate heights?”

  She laughed—that bright, delicious sound—right as Klein called out, “Action!” through his loud speaker.

  Jude froze, every muscle locking into place as his instincts screamed at him that jumping off a roof—even a short jump to a mat below with a harness beneath his clothes to keep him from plummeting to his death—was a very bad idea.

  He wasn’t a stunt man or an action hero. He liked to stay fit, but he was a nerd, thank you very much, and nerds did not jump off roofs. At least he didn’t.

  But then he looked down into Ginny’s upturned face, her eyes glowing, her smile challenging, everything about her inviting him to jump, and he muttered, “Aw, shit,” under his breath.

  And jumped.

  He’d been coached on how to fall when they were on the ground—it had to look like the roof was collapsing out from under him, not like he was leaping to his death. He’d practiced until the director was satisfied that he could sell it—but selling it on the ground was different than selling it from three stories up. He didn’t have to fake the very unmanly yelp as the mat seemed to rush up at him—

  Then the squishy softness of the mat enveloped him and he grunted. Alive. That was a good start.

  He rolled over—and there was Ginny, standing over him. “Please tell me they got that,” he groaned, hoping she couldn’t see how fast his heart was racing.

  “We got it. Way to go, champ. You saved the movie.” She reached a hand down to help him up. “You sure you don’t want to do that three or four more times? Make sure we got it just right?”

  He gripped her hand, but instead of using it to pull himself out of the squishy mass of the mat, he yanked, tumbling her down on top of him. “No, thanks,” he growled as she fell against him.

  She twisted against him until she could see his face. “You make a pretty good stuntman, you know. In case you were considering a career change.”

  “I was thinking more screenwriter. Leave the stunts to the professionals.”

  Her brow flew up. The left one she always arched at him.

  The way she challenged him, the way she fit him, hit him harder than the fall to the mat and his heart pounded again for a different reason.

  “You’re really quitting the tabloid biz?” she asked.

  He knew he should answer. Knew it was important. But he couldn’t wait any longer.

  He reached into her hair, cupped her nape and pulled her down for a kiss.

  And—thank God—she let him.

  Her lips were soft and sweet against his as she melted into his arms and the missing pieces of his life slipped into place. Nothing had ever felt as right as Ginny Jones in his arms.

  Several minutes later, the hoots and cheers from below reminded them that they were still in the middle of a film set. Ginny sat up from the depths of the mat, waving to their audience with cheeky flair.

  “I am, you know,” he said to her back as she waved. “Falling in love with you.”

  She gave him a look over her shoulder, skeptical and arch and so damn sexy he wanted to kiss her all over again. “You’ve known me for two seconds.”

  “You think I don’t know you enough to love you? I know you, Genevieve Jones.”

  Her grin tilted sideways. “Oh yeah?”

  “You’re strong and compassionate—”

  She snorted. “That’s what all the tabloids say about me.”

  He cringed. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Her expression softened. “I know you are.”

  “See? That right there. You’re amazing. Do you know how hard it is for mere mortals to let things go and move on? But you’ve done that. You didn’t let anything stop you. You didn’t wallow in the unfairness of what happened to you or feel sorry for yourself—”

  “Oh, I did plenty of that.”

  “But then you moved on. You see the beauty in things—even in the worst situations—
and you never, ever give up. I am in awe of you, Ginny Jones.” He reached for her. “And I’m crazy about you.”

  Her wry gaze had softened during his speech. She bit her lower lip before admitting, “I’m pretty crazy about you too.” Then that wryness was back. “Against my better judgement.”

  “I’ll take you any way I can get you.”

  And then he did reel her in for another kiss.

  When she pulled away, she cocked her head, as if something had just occurred to her. “You know, we might be terrible in bed together.”

  He gasped in mock horror. “Bite your tongue.”

  She laughed—bright, delighted and free. So incredibly Ginny. No longer holding back. “We’ll just have to practice until we get it right.”

  He grinned. “I can support that plan. We may need lots and lots of practice.”

  “Oh, lots. We’re both over-achievers.”

  He just grinned wider.

  He’d never thought of his life as particularly fun, but with Ginny… oh yeah. This was going to be fun.

  Epilogue

  Six months later…

  “Genevieve Jones—you’ve had quite the rollercoaster year.”

  Ginny laughed, her smile a little broader and more self-deprecating than usual for the benefit of the television audience. “You can say that again.”

  Rollercoaster was putting it mildly—but ever since she wrapped production in Libertyville the thrill ride her life had become just seemed to keep getting better.

  The late-night host went on, cheerfully reminding the viewers of her checkered past, “All but blacklisted for calling Dame Agatha a decrepit old hag—”

  “Hey! Old bat. If you’re going to quote me, get it right.”

  He laughed agreeably. “Then you land a role that no one else wanted in an indie movie that barely got the funding to be made—which turned out to be the darling of the festival circuit this year and… I do believe that sound I hear is some Oscar buzz around you—”

  Ginny shook her head, scared to jinx it by acknowledging the “O” word. “I’m just glad the film is getting the attention it deserves. Even Then is such a powerful story about forgiveness and I feel fortunate to have been a part of it.”