Fame (Not Like The Movies #1)

by Lauren K. McKellar

“I don’t know, Micky. It’s too much.”

  Silence passes between us for a moment before she speaks again. “Have you talked to your team?”

  I nod, then grab the beer by the neck and the bull by the horns. “Yep. They want me to marry you.”

  “Marry?” Her eyes bug out of her head.

  “I know.” The beer is warm and bitter as it travels down my throat.

  “And … is that what you want?” she asks, and I freeze. She’d do it? She’d actually marry me to help solve my financial issues?

  “I …”

  I can’t marry you.

  Not when my heart belongs to someone else.

  “Listen, here’s what I think. I think you’re so damn hurt about this because whoever this mystery woman is betrayed you. But you know what?” She leans forward, green eyes flashing into mine. “Love isn’t always black and white. Maybe she did accidentally let it slip. Maybe she made a mistake. But that’s who we are as humans. We all fuck up.” Mikaela pauses before slamming me with the sucker punch. “It’s how we deal with the fallout that counts.”

  I frown. “Are you saying I fucked up?”

  “I’m saying you need to decide if she’s worth fighting for. Tate, in the time I’ve known you, you’ve hardly been faultless.”

  “I’ve not willingly sent you into a tough situation financially, either.”

  Mikaela shrugs. “That’s true, but what’s more important to you? Sitting here, wallowing in your grief? Or going to at least hear her side of the story, and decide then if you can live with what she’s done? Because from the looks of you right now, you’re struggling to live without her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Madison

  My knee smarts. I brush the dirt and a few small rocks from the surface, cursing when my hand makes contact with the exposed wound. Overhead, a parrot swoops past and somehow, because this is my life, and everything always turns to shit, it poops on my shoulder.

  “Why?” My voice is weak. Weary. “Why?”

  I’m at rock bottom. There’s nothing I can do to claw my way up from here. I’ve been dumped, heartbroken, my job has been taken and I’ve even been shat on—literally. How on earth am I supposed to recover from this?

  My pulse pounds at my wrist. My breath comes short and sharp in my throat. It’s as if my body is a pressure cooker, and the tension inside has reached boiling point. I’m ready to explode.

  “Deep breaths,” I whisper to myself, fighting the rapid rise and falls of my chest. “You got this. Come on.”

  In through the nose.

  Out through the nose.

  In through the nose.

  Out through the nose.

  Focus on a singular point. My happy place.

  Out here on the farm, I imagine the feeling of floating on a board. The waves rise and fall beneath me, and I rise and fall with them. Saltwater. Soothing. Healing.

  Tate.

  ***

  Tate

  She’s not there. Her room is locked, and when I race up to the reception and ask where she is, they inform me that she checked out this morning, first thing.

  I jump in the buggy Kevin drives and we fly back to the hotel. The entire trip, my phone is pressed to my ear as I try to call her, but to no avail. It’s switched off, going straight to a digital voicemail that sounds nothing like her. So mechanical; so cold. That’s not the woman I need to speak to.

  When we reach the turning circle, I jump off the cart and jog through reception. A large man with a guitar plays Bob Marley tunes as I pass, but the noise is white to me as I jog into the elevator and press the button for it to close.

  As the steel box hurtles up to the thirty-second floor, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror. My black T-shirt sticks to my sides. My hair is a mess, my eyes bloodshot, and the growth on my chin looks far less L’Homme, way more homeless.

  It’s no wonder Mikaela questioned just how much I needed this woman. I’m a mess.

  When I reach my room, I open the door and slump down on the couch. That’s when the truth hits me.

  She went home.

  Her ex.

  The one she was here running from. He probably wants her back.

  I’ve lost her.

  My heart aches, and I hate that it’s such a pussy. I’m a dick. She’s just some girl. All I want to do is head to a bar and drink away the pain, but I can’t. I met Madison in that bar. Being there is bound to remind me of her more, when all I need to do right now is forget.

  I pick up the hotel room phone and dial nine for reception. “Can you bring up one bottle of Grey Goose and some Glenfiddich?” I pause, eying the counter. I should get some kind of a mixer. “And a six-pack of Bud.”

  ***

  There’s no knock. No rapid beating on the door.

  Instead, it’s my sister’s shrill voice that jerks me from my semi-conscious state on the couch.

  “Open the hell up, you drunken imbecilic, lunatic fool!” she screeches. It’s a pitch that I’m sure cats on the mainland hear.

  I scratch at my eyes, then push to a seated position on the couch. The room spins a little, and I shake my head to try and either stop the movement or at least spin in time with it.

  It doesn't help.

  Instead, an incessant thrum of pain lodges behind my eyes and across the bridge of my nose. “Motherfucker.”

  “I’m not kidding. Tate Masters, if you don't open up right now, I’m gonna break the door down. And you really don't want to let a pregnant woman do that.”

  “Coming,” I croak, and walk over to let my sister in.

  The door opens and she bustles past me, then comes to an abrupt stop. Her nose wrinkles in disgust as I close the door. “Seriously?”

  “I know. It’s not very mature. Yadda yadda yadda.” I wave her off and stumble back to the couch. “What time is it?”

  “Six.”

  My stomach rumbles. “No wonder I’m hungry. Wanna order some room service for dinner?”

  “In the morning, you fool.”

  I blink. Shit. That was unexpected.

  Janie walks over to the curtains and flings them open. Bright golden light floods the room, and I cover my eyes. “Listen here, Tate. You have a movie to finish. Getting drunk and acting like a total pig is not going to accomplish that.”

  “I know,” I mumble. It’s true. No one needs a hungover guy on set. My stomach roils, the different alcohols competing for supremacy, and I swallow down a burp. God, I’m sexy today. “Coffee. A shower. More coffee. Then I got this dialled.”

  I push to my feet, but my energetic little sis presses one hand to my chest—seriously, one hand—and I fall back on the white leather.

  “Sit,” she commands, and I blink up at her. Her hands fly to her hips, and I’m fairly sure there’s actually smoke coming from her nose. Blue eyes gleam almost green with anger at me.

  For a short chick, she can be really fucking scary.

  “You gonna tell me what all this is about?” She gestures to the wasteland of trash. “Because if it’s just that they delayed the movie because of the news the press has, I fail to see how acting like a drunken idiot will help.”

  “At least I did it where no one could see?” I try.

  Wrong answer.

  “Tate Masters, for once in your life would you just listen to yourself? Who gives a shit who can see? You’re running away from your problems again instead of just sorting this out.”

  I frown. “I’m not running.”

  “Yes.” She punctuates her next words with two very strong finger stabs. “You are.”

  “Janie, sit down. Please?” I tug at her hand. “This can’t be good for the baby.”

  She flops down onto the couch, but her back stays rigid, her body a good pillow-space away from mine. “Okay. I’m going to give you three minutes to give me good reason for you acting like an idiot before I start yelling again.” She pauses, then looks around the room, a frown between her eyes. “Wait. Where’s Ma
dison?”

  “Gone.” The word tastes bitter in my mouth.

  Or maybe that’s the alcohol.

  “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” She pauses, then slaps a hand to her forehead. “Tate, please don't tell me you’ve done something stupid.”

  I shake my head. Even though I should have asked Madison for an explanation, she still screwed up. She still ruined the next few months for Janie and her baby. The child I wanted—no, needed to have a perfect start to life. “I might have gone over there and chewed her out, but she’s the one, Janie. She leaked this story to the press. I don't give a damn where she is right now.”

  “Really?” Janie arches that damn eyebrow at me. “Then why do you look like shit?”

  Because I miss her.

  I miss her stupid hair. Her stupid smile. Her stupid body and the stupid things it can do to me.

  And missing her sucks.

  I reach for the vodka bottle, but Janie swipes it out of my hand. “Uh, uh, uh.” She shakes her head. “Let’s start at the beginning. What makes you think it was Madison who leaked the story?”

  I shrug. “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a journo. And when I asked her if she’d spoken to anyone about Mikaela and me, she didn't deny it.”

  “And so you yelled, and screamed, and acted like a dickhead and scared the poor girl off.”

  I glare at my sister. “Putting it like that makes me sound like an idiot.”

  “Because you are.” She slaps the back of my head, and damn, it throbs. “I thought you really liked this woman. That she was important to you.”

  “She is! Was.” I correct myself. “Was. But if she felt the same, she would never have done something like this.”

  Silence stretches between us, Janie’s fingers working to lace in and out of each other as she stares down at them. For the first time since she came in, she looks hesitant. Unsure.

  “What’s up?”

  “I …” She glances over to me. “I leaked the story.”

  “What?” I yell, and she flinches. “Hey.” I soften my voice and touch her arm. “Sorry. It’s just … what? Why?”

  “I just saw how happy you guys were. How happy she made you. And I wanted you to have a reason to end things early with Mikaela so you could sort out where your relationship with Madison was at before we left the island.”

  I widen my eyes, but they’re so dry from my all-night binge that it stings, so I blink back to normal again. “You what?”

  She shrugs. “I made sure the press didn't find out the truth about Mikaela, and we both know she’s hardly going to sue. We don’t even have a contract in place, thanks to her worry that the lawyers would talk.”

  I shake my head, and she continues.

  “No one got hurt. I don't know, maybe it was the pregnancy hormones, but …” Her eyes fill with tears. “Tate, I just wanted you to be happy.”

  It’s my turn to shake my head. “Janie, you’re insane! You know what pushing back this movie does. You know how it effects you. How it effects him.” I nod to her stomach. “I can't believe you’d do this to me. To us.”

  Janie swipes at her eyes then blinks tear-laced lashes up at me. “Just because we don't have the sort of money we thought we would doesn't mean this birth won’t be perfect. We have the house.”

  “It’s not just that. You don't understand. Danny McPherson has been asking me for money.”

  This rattles her. “Wh … why?”

  “He has photos of you. From when you were …” I wave the rest of the sentence away, because no one wants to elaborate on the idea of someone fucking their sister. “And he’s going to leak them unless I pay him off.”

  “That fuck!” Janie curses, and I sigh in relief. I did the right thing. She sees this my way.

  “See what I mean? Now not only will we not be able to afford the sort of birth we wanted, the sort of setup we were hoping for, but we also have to find the money to give to that dickhead.”

  Janie gives a half-smile and tilts her head, eying me. “We’re not going to find the money.”

  “Oh, we’ll find the—”

  “Tate.” She gives my leg a squeeze. “Let him leak the photos. We’re not wasting a cent on Danny McPherson.”

  “No one is taking advantage of you like that. You’re my sister, Janie. I won’t have—”

  “I’m your older sister, your wiser sister, and I’m telling you to let this go. Danny has already taken so much from me—I won’t let him have your money, too. Say he does get the photos online. They blow up. People look at me in the street. Next week, I’ll be yesterday’s news, and you know what?”

  I shake my head, and she gives a small smile.

  “I’ll be a mommy, Tate.”

  “That’s why it was so important for me to have money. To provide for you and your son. My nephew. To make sure his childhood is nothing like ours was.”

  Janie shakes her head. “That’s the thing. Our childhood didn't suffer due to lack of money.” She narrows those green eyes on me. “It was lack of love. And this little guy has a whole lot of it headed his way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Madison

  The country flashes past, all oranges, green and brown. The windows in my father’s truck are down, the wind blowing my hair back.

  “Call Courtney,” I tell Siri through the Bluetooth headpiece, and seconds later, a tinny ring sounds through the car. I steel my body, my hands braced on the wheel.

  “Madison! I’ve been trying to call you—”

  “I know. My phone was switched off. Listen, I just wanted to ask you myself. Did you spill the truth about Tate and Mikaela?”

  “What?” Genuine surprise registers in Courtney’s voice. “Of course I wouldn't do that. I presumed maybe Tate was letting the story loose so he could get together with you. I thought this would be your ‘come to our engagement party’ call.”

  “Ha!” I bark. “Even if things were going well, that’d be a stretch. But no. I just … I wanted to know if you leaked the news. Tate said I’m the only one who knew, aside from his sister and Mikaela. And you’re the only one I’ve told.” I tap the brakes and slow as I drive over a cattle grid.

  “Mads, I wouldn't do that to you. I care about you too much.”

  And the strange thing is, I believe her. Even if the media leak is something I would have considered doing once myself, I hear the honesty in my best friend’s tone and I know it’s the truth.

  “Want me to try find out who broke it? We were one of the first. It went directly to Chloe then was tapped out by an assistant,” Courtney says. I frown. That’s unusual.

  I shake my head, even though she can’t see me. “It’s fine. It doesn't matter any more.” I turn the steering wheel and head onto the freeway. It’s a road I’ve taken a million times before.

  It’s just one I never thought I’d have to drive like this, with my heart in a million different pieces.

  “Are you okay? How are you holding up after Betty …?”

  I bite my tongue. I shouldn't be surprised that she knows. She’s that kind of a friend. “I don't know. It hurts, babe. It … it really hurts.”

  “I can’t even imagine. I know you and Mike were broken up, but she was still such a huge part of your life. It must be just heartbreaking. If there’s anything I can do …”

  “No. I’m just heading over to see him now, talk to him about the funeral. And I’ve organised for Mum and Dad to head around to the home, sort out all her things.” It was something I just couldn't face. Not after all I’ve been through during the last few months. I swallow the bitter taste in my mouth.

  “Courts, I’m hitting the motorway. I’ll call you back, okay?”

  “Okay,” she says, offering to do anything she can again before I end the call and gear up for one of the hardest conversations of my life.

  ***

  Tate

  Love.

  Four letters.

  A word that means a million things.

  I’ve
only known Madison Winters a few short weeks, but the way she left a gaping hole in my chest, the way she turned my world upside-down—it has to come pretty close to it.

  Before, I didn't want to argue. There hadn’t seemed to be any point. She’d betrayed me, then worse, run back to Australia, no doubt into the waiting arms of her ex.

  Now, though?

  Now fire roars through my veins. I want her back. She didn't do anything wrong, and while she might have gone back to the man she was once engaged to, I need to tell her how I feel.

  Love is worth everything.

  And I’m not letting her go without a fight.

  “You have the hotel reservation I made, right?” Janie takes two steps to my every one as we stride through the airport. Lenses flash all around us as we make our way across the terminal toward the waiting plane.

  Planes, I should say.

  Janie is headed home. Two long-haul flights will be too much, according to the doctor, and we’re not taking any chances with her son.

  I’m not headed back there, however.

  After a long chat with a woman named Courtney, who Janie found at the Lola offices through her PR contacts, I’ve booked a flight to Sydney, Australia.

  And I can’t wait to get there.

  ***

  Madison

  There are some things in life you never forget. Seeing the man I thought I was going to marry for the first time since his grandmother passed away is one.

  He opens the door to our old apartment with a tragic smile on his face, one that somehow says I’m sorry and I miss you and my heart is breaking all at once.

  A sling holds his arm tight to his chest, and small cuts pepper his face. All I want to do is reach out and hold him. Tell him everything’s going to be okay. That I’ll take care of it and organise things as I always have, because he’s my Mike. I’ve been his life organiser since we met in grade seven, when he moved in with his grandmother after his father passed away from a heart attack, his mother having died giving birth.

  But I don’t do that.

  I’m not that person anymore.