Fame (Not Like The Movies #1)

by Lauren K. McKellar

  Yeah, but the filming isn’t my problem.

  “Seriously, we’ll eat in my room. Just you, me, food delivered from the restaurant and a gorgeous sunset over the ocean.” She gestures to the blue water in front of us, as if painting the picture. “There’s a guard at the resort entrance. I’ll give them your name, then you just head straight in to the elevator next to reception. You won’t even pass the bar or the pool, where everyone from the movie will probably be.”

  Some of the tension knotting my shoulders releases, and I smile. Her room. Odds of me running into Tate? Very slim. “Okay, cool. What room number are you?”

  “Four hundred and sixteen. I’ll see you soon.”

  I turn and head for my bungalow, where I shower and get changed into a pair of short denim cut-offs and a loose white tee. I curl my hair into loose waves and dust a light brush of powder over my cheeks, but decide to hold off my usual full face of makeup.

  Then, I grab my clutch, slip on some flip-flops and head out the door to dinner with my new American friend. For the first time in a week and a half, things are looking up.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Tate

  I never thought there could be anything even remotely unsexy about two girls doing each other.

  I was wrong.

  Mikaela checking out every single chick who walks past the hotel pool is starting to do my head in.

  “How come we don't do this more often?” She sighs, her hands above her head as she reclines on the sun lounge.

  “Because we’re both too busy working.” I frown, and look at the script lying beside me. I’m supposed to be learning lines, but events from the last few days keep playing in my head.

  “True.” She turns her head to face me and raises giant sunglasses to look me in the eye. “So have you heard any more from Shade?”

  I sigh. “No. I tried calling her after breakfast, but she didn't pick up.”

  Truth be told, I’m not even sure I have the right number for her anymore. If she doesn't call back in a few hours, I’ll have to email Danny and let him know the lawsuit has been dropped.

  “What about you, though? How do you feel?” she asks, looking at me over the top of her oversized sunnies.

  “I don't know. This whole thing just feels like one big mess.” I sigh, looking at the woman I’ve been firm friends with ever since we did a photo shoot for a new lingerie line eighteen months ago. I’d tried to get in her pants.

  She’d tried to get in Janie’s.

  “Hey, it’s going to get better.” Mikaela leans over and squeezes my knee. “I know things are kind of a mess right now, but you are so close to hitting the big time. Just hang in there.”

  “Thanks.” I smile at her. “Honestly, ever since you tried to hit on my sister—”

  “Do we need this story again?” Mikaela groans and places a hand over her eyes, as if the drama is all too much for her.

  “Ever since you tried and failed miserably to hook up with Janie”—I laugh as Mikaela swats me across the stomach—“I’ve been lucky enough to have made a great friend. As well as all this business stuff.”

  Mikaela looks at my over her glasses. “Are you getting sappy on me, Masters?”

  “Maybe.” I shrug. “But it’s the truth.”

  We sit in silence for a few moments, the waves pounding the shore the soundtrack to our afternoon.

  “Can you believe your sister’s pregnant?” Mikaela asks, shaking her head. “Lesbianism would so have been a better option for her.”

  I laugh, but there’s not a lot of mirth in it. “I still can’t believe she fell for Danny’s charms. After everything he put me through as a kid …”

  “It’s not like she knows that though, right?” Mikaela asks, and I shake my head.

  “She knows he was a jerk. Thank God he said he doesn't want anything to do with the kid.” I sigh, thinking of the next big role I’ll have to play. The next big stage in my life. “And now that Janie’s almost ready to pop, I’m going to be a kind of stand-in dad …”

  “Whoa, wait, what?” Mikaela shoots up in her seat.

  I frown. “Well, obviously. I mean, someone has to look after the little guy, right?”

  “No, no. That bit I already know. It’s the other thing.” She circles a finger in front of my face. “There was something there I’ve never seen from Tate Masters. Are you … nervous?”

  Half my lips rise in a smile. The truth is, I’m not nervous.

  I’m shitting my pants about this whole thing.

  “I don't know, Micky. I’ll be a crap dad with my career right now. There’s awards season, then promo for this film, then hopefully I’ll launch straight into another job. The kid could be ten by the time I got to damn well see him.”

  “Granted, you have some things coming up, but you’ll be able to afford the best care. Pay for the baby to come on shoots with you. Hire a nanny.” Mikaela examines one manicured hand. “I’d offer my services, but children. Ew.”

  I laugh, thinking of the closest thing Mikaela has to a kid. “They don’t fit in your handbag like ChiChi does.”

  She pouts. “I miss my baby Chihuahua.”

  “I just don’t know what to do, Mikaela. If I can’t be there for the kid ...” I trail off.

  Mikaela sighs. “Oh Tay-Tay.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  “Tay-Tay, you need to shake it off. I know you. You’ve got this. And even after we have our big ‘breakup’, we can still be friends. You don’t need to be nervous.”

  I smile at the woman who single-handedly changed my life the day she approached me about being her stand-in boyfriend. For some reason, her confidence makes me feel a whole lot better. Like maybe I can do this thing after all. “Thanks, Micky. It’s nice to know someone has faith.” I wrap one arm around her tanned shoulders. “If I didn't know you better, I’d say you were starting to fall for my charms after all.”

  ***

  Madison

  I blink my tired eyes, hoping to wake myself up, and knock on the door of room 416, then run my hands over my shorts. For some reason, the idea of hanging out with Janie makes me nervous. Maybe it’s because she’s the first person I’ve met since everything changed. Since I became less Perfect Madison and more Pitiful Maddie. Who am I?

  The door swings open and Janie stands there. She smiles and pulls me in for a hug. “Hey.”

  “Hi.” I step back. She smells sweet, like flowers and spring.

  “Come in.” Janie gestures to the room behind her, and I walk inside.

  Her hotel room is gorgeous. Where mine is big, hers is palatial, with a sitting room and small kitchenette to one side, and a hall that no doubt leads to a bedroom to the right. The balcony is visible through a gap in the glass doors, although the curtains are drawn, casting the room in shadow.

  “Keeping the heat out.” Janie gestures to the curtains. “Now let me get you a drink.”

  I follow her into the kitchen that’s all stainless steel and polished surfaces. She must be loaded. I doubt I could afford something like this in a million years.

  “Red or white?” She looks over her shoulder, pulling a wine glass from the top shelf of a cabinet.

  “White, thanks.”

  Janie opens the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, unscrews the lid and pours me a glass of too-full wine.

  “Come outside. We’ll sit on the balcony, and I’ll pretend I’m drinking your wine, and you can tell me all about your dickhead ex.” She grabs a small basket and fills it with crisps, then leads me out to the balcony, shutting the door and the curtain behind us.

  Once we’re settled on two Adirondack chairs, the chips and my drink between us, I sigh. Pinks and oranges paint the sky in a picture-perfect display. Below us, waves lap at the shore, and children’s voices laugh and cry out in the distance. It’s like a scene from a movie. No wonder they’re shooting one here.

  “So where’s …” I gesture to Janie’s stomach. “Where’s Mr Janie?”


  She screws up her face. “It’s kind of a long story. He’s not in the picture.”

  I widen my eyes. “Shit. I’m so sorry.”

  Janie shakes it off and faces the vista in front of us. “Don’t be. I’m glad he isn’t.”

  Her words settle against my soul. And I thought I had it tough. This woman is pregnant and decidedly single.

  It makes me feel bad for feeling so damn sorry for myself. At least I don't have a new life to be responsible for.

  “You are …” I search for the right words. “You are amazing. Seriously. I couldn't imagine being in the position you’re in.”

  She laughs, but there’s a slight hint of bitterness to it. “Trust me, I never thought it’d happen, either.” She rubs her belly protectively. “I’m looking forward to being a mom, though. And I have a really supportive family who’ll help take care of this little guy. My brother—well, he acts all tough, and like the idea of kids is so not on his radar, but I think that deep down, he wants a child. Not that he’d ever admit it.”

  I think of Mike. He loved the idea of having children, had pestered me to go off the pill for years, then left me for someone else. Thank God I’d been so dedicated to my career … “Men, huh?”

  “Men.” Janie nods, and picks up a bottle of San Pellegrino. She chinks it against my wine glass, and we both take long sips. The wine is crisp and cool as it slides down my throat. It’s all too easy to drink, and I stop myself from having a second sip too quickly. After the other night, I made a vow. I’m not going to write myself off like that again—or at least for a little while.

  “So what brings you to Bali? PR for this film, did you say?”

  Janie shrugs. “Well, mostly work. But I also wanted to put my feet up for a bit. I won’t be able to travel soon, so I thought I’d get some time away while I could and it was convenient.”

  “What exactly do you do for work?”

  “I’m in PR. I look after—”

  A ring blares from inside Janie’s apartment. She raises one finger in the air. “Hold that thought.”

  As Janie races inside to take the call, I place my mobile face-down on the table, stretch out my legs in front of me and breathe in that salty ocean air. For the first time in days, a sense of calm washes over me. This is the life. Relaxing on a balcony. Drinking nice wine. Making new friends.

  Not thinking about Mike.

  Or at least, not wanting to Facebook stalk him.

  It’s a nice change.

  The setting sun warms my body, and it’s all too relaxing out here. I let my eyelids rest. My eyes are constantly dry from crying too much, and giving them this brief respite feels fabulous.

  Maybe I’ve got this all under control. I’ll get through this breakup, this change in career. I’m going to do what Courtney suggested and somehow win my job back. I’m—

  “Sorry,” Janie apologises, the door hissing as it slides open. “Oops!”

  I blink my eyes open, shielding them against the light. “It’s okay.” I smile. “I must have drifted off. I just … it’s so relaxing here. For the first time in weeks, I feel like maybe I’m going to come through the other side.”

  “Of course you will, sweetie.” Janie smiles. She leans over and picks up my wine glass. “Let me go get us some refills.”

  She turns to walk inside, and as she does, a rap sounds on her door.

  “Just a sec,” she calls, then over her shoulder to me, “My brother just needs to drop in for a minute. I have some paperwork to give him.”

  Huh. A brother. Maybe he’ll be cute.

  I entertain the idea for all of a minute before I stuff it firmly back in the box from whence it came. I’ve sworn off men for a good long while. If the Tate incident taught me one thing, it’s that—

  Holy shit.

  Janie and Tate have the same eyes.

  My hands clench the sides of the sun lounge. No. No, how could Janie not mention having Tate Masters as her brother? Besides, that would hardly be likely. My luck is bad, but it isn’t that bad … right?

  The door opens and I focus my gaze on the horizon. My heart pounds at a million miles a minute. It can’t be him. It can’t be him. It can’t be—

  “Madison?” Janie pulls the door and the curtain wide with a swish. “Meet my brother, Tate.”

  Oh God.

  The air becomes thick as I try and think fat thoughts. After all, if I’m too heavy, this balcony will spontaneously crumble and I’ll fall to the ground, right?

  As I begin to turn, one thought keeps running through my head.

  This could not possibly get any worse.

  Then I lower my sunglasses to greet the man I had slutty beach sex with.

  And come face to face with his girlfriend.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Tate

  She looks like she’s seen a ghost. Or she’s gone swimming in some of the powder shit they use to make actresses look emaciated in those horror flicks.

  Eyes of golden brown widen in shock, and her knuckles redden from the tight grip she has on her chair.

  It’s not me she’s looking at, though. It’s Mikaela.

  And I don't know why, and I don't know how, but for some reason, I want to hold her and make the pain go away.

  Maybe it’s because she’s so unlike the normal women I meet. Maybe it was her complete and utter rejection of me when we woke the morning after. Or perhaps it’s because of the connection that sizzles between us—tension firing like a bullet from my cock to her—well, whatever part of her that’ll have me.

  She’s a damsel in distress and I want to save her.

  Too bad I’m the one who gave her in danger in the first place.

  “Tate, meet Madison.” Janie finishes her introduction, and my eyes don’t leave the woman in front of me.

  Finally, she blinks and looks to me, and God, I want to hold her close and replace the scared look on her face with one of heat. “Actually, we’ve—”

  “Nice to meet you.” Madison flies to her feet and extends her hand.

  I frown. “Nice to meet you too,” I say the words slowly, then take her hand in mine. It’s small, and hot, and I give it a gentle squeeze before releasing. It’s going to be okay.

  “And this is his girlfriend, Mikaela.” Janie gestures to the woman standing behind me, the one I all but forgot was there, and I step back, shaking my head. Of course. That’s why she’s playing pretend. She’s covering for me in front of my ‘girlfriend’. It’s actually kind of sweet.

  “Hi.” Mikaela leans forward, offering up her cheek for Janie to kiss. I don’t miss the glance Mikaela gives Madison’s chest as she pulls back up, or the sly smile that curves her lips, and I can’t believe the jealous roar that pulses through me. Back off, lady. This one’s mine.

  “I’ll just get those schedules for you.” Janie moves back into the hotel room and heads down the hall. I take the opportunity and join Madison on the balcony.

  “Shit! Micky, I think I left my phone upstairs. Any chance you could grab it for me?” I ask, giving my best puppy-dog eyes.

  “Don’t call me Micky.” She sighs, but raises one eyebrow. “I’ll go check our room.”

  Mikaela leaves and I pull the sliding door closed, sucking in a deep breath of salty sea air. I glance out at the setting sun over the ocean, the way it leaves a coloured path on the water’s surface. “It’s beautiful here, huh?”

  I turn to face Madison, and her eyes are not on the view. Instead, they’re drilled into me.

  “What the hell was that all about?” she whispers, her voice nearly lost against the crashing waves below.

  “What?” I raise one shoulder in question.

  “Did you just send your girlfriend off so you could get me alone?” Her voice rises in pitch. “You’re unbelievable. Seriously. Un-freaking-believable. It’s people like you who keep therapists in jobs.”

  “It’s not what you think.” I shake my head and step closer. She’s so sexy when she argues, her eyes
alive with a heat I prefer over to the frightened look she sported only a few moments earlier.

  “It’s not?” She arches an eyebrow.

  “I just wanted to talk to you for a moment,” I say, the words thick in my mouth.

  “Oh please.” She gives a bitter laugh.

  “I do.” I shrug. “I need to come clean. That night on the beach …”

  Her cheeks turn the colour of blood. “I do not want to—”

  “We didn't have sex,” I interrupt.

  “What?” She shakes her head. “But my underwear …”

  “We fooled around.” I shrug. “I was pretty drunk, too. But we didn't do anything more. I just thought I should let you know in case you were worried about … well … any chance of an unexpected pregnancy, or whatever.”

  Her shoulders shake as she turns away, and for one horrid moment I think she’s going to cry.

  Then, she does something even stranger.

  She laughs.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, placing a hand on her arm.

  “Okay?” She spins to face me, and my hand falls to my side. “I mimed having sex so I could get a pap smear by a man who speaks very little English to ensure I didn't catch something from you.”

  “Catch something?” I pull my chin toward my chest. “I am clean as a whistle, thank you very much.”

  “Well you can excuse me for thinking that maybe—” She punctuates her speech with a poke to my chest, then jerks her hand back to her side, as if remembering how our first kiss started just two nights ago.

  She licks her bottom lip, and it takes all my self-control not to pounce on her, pin her to that deck chair and fuck her in the light of the setting sun. There’s something about her that just does it to me.

  Without meaning to, I reach forward and cup my hand under her head. She stiffens, but damn, if she can fight this pull between us she’s a strong woman.

  She does, though. A shaky hand comes forward and presses against my chest as she mouths the word don’t.

  I step back. I’ve hurt her.

  And I have no idea what the hell I can do to make it better.