Starstruck

by Rachel Schurig

  He didn’t say anything, but he did reach over and brush his fingers against my arm before turning the car onto the highway.

  ***

  “I’m just not feeling it,” he said a few hours later as we climbed back into the car. “It felt way too…”

  “Generic?”

  He made a face. “Well, I didn’t want to say it.”

  The last place had been a rather large McMansion. It was gorgeous, all very high-end and shiny, but I couldn’t see Jackson there. It reminded me a little bit of the place Lizzie and Thomas had rented here last year. It might have been grand and expensive, but it didn’t have much personality. And Jackson needed a place with personality. I had felt the same way about the first place, a condo in a Royal Oak high-rise. It was nice, but not spectacular. Jackson was spectacular.

  The loft in Ferndale had been a better fit, but the lack of a building doorman had made him visibly blanche. “Security,” he told me, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s a lot easier when people off the street can’t just get in.”

  I couldn’t imagine what it must be like to live like that. Lizzie and Thomas sometimes needed security when they were in London or L.A. I realized for the first time that Jackson must have bodyguards, too. The thought made me shudder.

  “What’s next?” I asked, not wanting to think about the reasons he would need to worry about security. “Maybe number four will be the charm.”

  He glanced at his phone before tossing it into the cup holder. “A condo downtown.”

  I settled into my seat as he pulled out of the driveway. “Looks like we have some time,” he said, his voice a shade too casual as he glanced down at the clock. “The appointment isn’t until two.”

  It was only noon.

  His gaze focused on the road, Jackson continued in that same too-casual voice. “Wanna grab a bite to eat?”

  “Jackson, was this entire day just a ploy to get me to go on a lunch date with you?”

  He smirked. “You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve had to resort to ploys to get a girl to go out with me.”

  “Well, I’m happy to keep your ego in check.”

  He was beaming now, looking happy and at ease. “Lunch, then?”

  “Sure.”

  “I hear this next condo building has a restaurant. I thought we could check it out.”

  The building in question was a famous one in Detroit. The Book Cadillac was an old hotel with a storied history. It had recently been renovated, restored to its former glory, and now housed a successful hotel, as well as several condos and penthouses. The restaurants at the hotel were pretty high class, definitely out of my budget, but I was determined not to let myself feel like an outsider. Jackson pulled the car up to the valet, and I noticed a rather large tip pass from his hands to the grateful driver. That’s nice, I thought to myself, watching his face. He was generous, if nothing else.

  We went to the hostess and Jackson gave his name. “I have you right here, Mr. Coles,” she told him, looking at a sheet. “Right this way.”

  “Reservation?” I asked. “Man, you must have thought I was a sure thing.”

  He rolled his eyes, taking my elbow to lead me over to our table. I tried not to shiver at his touch but it was difficult. There was just something about being close to him, about the way it felt when he brushed his fingers against my skin. Yeah, Sofie, I thought, annoyed at myself. That something is called major movie-star charisma.

  Once we were sitting, Jackson reached for the wine list. “Are you in the mood for anything in particular?” he asked, eyes scanning the list.

  “Um…not really.” I didn’t want to tell him that I didn’t know the first thing about wine. I would pretty much drink whatever I was offered, white or red. If Jackson noticed my hesitation, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he looked up, his eyes eager. “Do you mind if I order?”

  I gestured at the list. “Be my guest.”

  He turned to the waiter and began peppering him with questions about the list. It was obvious straightaway that he knew a tremendous amount about wine. I couldn’t even pronounce half of the words he was saying. When he was finally satisfied with his choice the waiter headed off and Jackson turned to me, still excited. “I think you’ll really like it.”

  “How did you learn all of that?” I asked.

  “About wine? I’ve always been interested in wine.”

  I watched him over my water glass.

  “You look surprised.”

  “Well… I don’t know. I guess I always assumed you were more a beer kind of guy. You know. Party animal.”

  He shook his head, eyes gleaming. “Sofie, one of these days, you’re going to realize that you can’t believe everything you read about me.”

  The waiter appeared a moment later with a bottle of something white. He went through the steps of showing Jackson the bottle before pouring a small amount into his glass. Jackson held the glass between his fingers, swirling the clear liquid inside. He smelled the wine before taking a sip, followed by a sweet smile of satisfaction. “Perfect. Thank you.”

  The waiter nodded, filling the rest of Jackson’s glass before turning his attention to mine.

  “Try it,” Jackson urged.

  I took a sip and nearly gasped. I’d had plenty of wine in my life, but I had never tasted anything like this. It was incredibly light on my tongue, crisp and citrusy with the slightest hint of vanilla. Jackson grinned at me. “Good, right?”

  “It’s amazing.”

  He nodded, taking a sip of his own. “I’ve actually been to this winery. It’s in Napa. I never got the chance to try a 2007 before now. The 2008 is one of my favorites.”

  “Wow. You really know this stuff.”

  He watched the wine in his glass as he twirled it this way and that. “I think it started as a way of trying to fit in,” he admitted. “When I was cast in Darkness, all of a sudden, I started getting invited to these parties—all kinds of parties, you know? Celebrities and society people, even politicians. It was crazy to be thrust into that, just overnight. And I was so much younger than most of the people I was hanging out with.”

  His face had that faraway look of someone remembering something from a long time ago. “My parents were always into wine, so I had some basis of knowledge.” He shrugged, suddenly looking vulnerable. “It gave me something to talk about, I guess.”

  He felt self-conscious, I realized. It was difficult to imagine Jackson being anything other than the cocky, self-assured man that I knew from the tabloids. But he’d only been, what…nineteen when Darkness started?

  “Eventually, it wasn’t so much about fitting in and more about keeping boredom at bay.”

  “Boredom?”

  He met my eyes, the vulnerable look gone. “Absolute boredom. I’m telling you, Sofie, there are very few things in the world more boring than a bunch of self-important rich people spending time together.”

  I snorted out a laugh that attracted attention from the table next to us. Coughing, I took a sip of water, Jackson’s eyes twinkling at me from across the table.

  “Anyhow, studying wine lists and talking to sommeliers became something I could do to pass the time and keep myself sane. And I liked it.”

  “That’s pretty clear.” I took another sip of the wine, letting it run across my tongue. “Thank you for this.”

  His expression was clearly gratified. “You’re welcome.”

  Feeling my cheeks getting warm under the intensity of his gaze, I turned my attention to the menu.

  “What do you fancy?” Jackson asked, following suit.

  “I’m not sure.” There was probably something specific I was supposed to eat with wine like this. Wine pairings were a thing, right? I studied the menu, wishing I had branched out more in my twenty-five years. Most of the restaurants that I frequented were a few miles away in Mexicantown or were the kinds of places that featured plastic menus with pictures of the food right on them.

  I thought of how happy Jackson had
seemed when I thanked him for choosing the wine and decided to just bite the bullet. If he was into wine, maybe he had some idea of what would be good.

  “What do you recommend to go with this?” I asked, holding up my glass. Again, his entire face lit up, and he launched into a discussion on the merits of fish versus pasta for lunch with a wine like ours. I was far too distracted by how adorable he was to pay much attention to his explanation. I had rarely seen him like this, animated and boyish, no hint of the international movie star about him. This, I realized, was what Jackson looked like when he was truly excited about something. Not for the cameras, not for his persona—just Jackson, enjoying teaching someone about wine pairings.

  “That sounds great,” I said when he was finished, happy to eat whatever he recommended. So that’s exactly what I did. I had never let a guy order for me before, but Jackson knew what he was doing. The sea bass was delicious, and tasted even better with the wine.

  We ate in near silence for a few moments with occasional comments about the food. It wasn’t awkward, the silence. It felt good, comfortable, sitting there with him, enjoying the meal.

  And then he had to go and turn it all on it’s head.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” he said, that too-casual tone back in his voice. Instinctively, my back straightened in anticipation. What was he going to ask of me? And why did he sound so nervous?

  “What’s that?” I asked, setting down the wine glass and placing both hands on the table to still their shaking.

  “Did you ever meet Sonja?”

  I stared at him, not expecting him to bring up another woman.

  “No.”

  He shook his head. “Of course you didn’t. Sometimes, I forget that we didn’t… Anyhow.” He looked even more nervous than before, and it was unsettling. He was usually so sure of himself.

  “Who is Sonja?” I prompted when he didn’t continue.

  He visibly shook himself. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair.

  “Jackson—”

  “I want to hire you, Sofie.”

  Well. That certainly wasn’t what I expected him to say.

  “Hire me? To do what?”

  “I need a PA. A personal assistant, I mean—”

  “I know what a PA is.”

  He was watching my face closely, studying my reaction. “Sonja was my last PA. She was with me for four years. But she just got married and decided the travel was too difficult, so—”

  “Jackson.” I held up a hand, confused. “How am I supposed to be your assistant? I live here. I have a newborn baby.”

  “It would just be for a while,” he said. “While I’m in Detroit. There would be a little bit of travel involved, but you could bring Beth. I have a jet, you know, and—”

  “Jackson.” I was shaking my head, overwhelmed with feelings that I couldn’t exactly name. I didn’t know if I was disappointed—that this had all been about a job, not about us, or annoyed—that he didn’t understand that this obviously wasn’t something I could do with a child at home.

  “Just listen, Sofie,” he pleaded, leaning across the table. “I really think this could be a good thing for you. For both of us.”

  I almost felt like standing up and walking away from the table, but it was hard to deny him when those blue eyes were imploring me from the other side of the table. “Okay.”

  He breathed out, relieved. “So first of all, I need someone who knows the area. My PA would have to make my dinner reservations and schedule my dry cleaning, stuff like that. Who better to do that than someone who lives here?”

  “You said travel—”

  “There are a few trips I’ll have to make while I’m here,” he explained. “But I meant it when I said you could take Beth. I travel by private jet most of the time, so you wouldn’t even have to worry about taking her on a commercial plane and risking the germs.”

  “But how can I be working for you when I have Beth with me?”

  “You could bring a nanny.”

  I barked out a laugh. How could he be so clueless? Was it just because he had so much money that he couldn’t comprehend what life was like for someone like me? “Jackson, I don’t have a nanny. I can’t afford one. I won’t even be able to afford shitty daycare.”

  “Of course you could afford a nanny,” he said, crossing his arms in a mimic of my pose. “I would be paying you quite well.”

  I sat back, surprised into silence. “You would… How…” I wanted to ask him how much, but it seemed rude to talk so openly about money. Which was crazy, since he was offering me a job.

  And that, I knew, was exactly why this conversation was upsetting me so much. Because I didn’t want Jackson to be my boss. No matter how wise it had been to cut off any kind of romantic relationship with him back at the hospital, I still didn’t want us to have a merely professional relationship.

  You are so far gone.

  Sensing the cause of my stammer, Jackson pulled his phone from his pocket and typed something on the screen before handing it to me. “That was Sonja’s starting monthly salary four years ago. I think I have the conversions to dollars right.”

  Holy shit. Holy shit. The number on the screen was more than I made in several months running. He couldn’t be serious. But one look at his face told me that he was.

  He had been right about affording a nanny. Hell, I could afford an apartment at that salary.

  I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. “Jackson.”

  “It’s a good opportunity, Sofie. I’ve had PAs go on to work as administrative assistants for major producers at movie studios. One worked his way up to associate producer himself—he helps make massive films now. And Chrissy, she was my first PA, she’s a high-ranking manager at a marketing firm now. Lola Fischer’s former PA works at a Fortune Five Hundred company. If things work out, I can give you a good reference to work pretty much wherever you want—it wouldn’t have to be show business. You wouldn’t have to start with an entry-level position. Your experience would qualify you to go after more senior administrative positions for all manner of different companies. Whatever you’re interested in. This would give you a leg up.”

  Already, my head was spinning with the possibilities. I wasn’t sure I would be any good at marketing or working at a Fortune Five Hundred company or anything show-business related, but it had to be better than where I was now.

  But could I work so closely with Jackson without completely losing my head?

  “How long will you be shooting here?”

  He wiped his mouth with his napkin, but not before I saw a little smirk, like he thought he’d won me over. “I’ll be in the city for six weeks. We’ll be shooting a few days at a sound stage in New York—that’s one of the trips I was talking about. And there’s some work to do before filming. I would say you could count on a good seven or eight weeks of steady employment. And after that…” He shrugged. “Maybe you’d want to come out to London for a few weeks. You could keep working, visit your cousin…”

  I mentally calculated the salary in my head. If I did go to London, that would be, what? Maybe three months total? Three months of that salary, while living at home, I could save up enough for a down payment and an emergency fund. If he was right, and it was possible to find something better than Independence, the insurance company where I worked, when this was over, I could definitely move out after I stopped working for him. I could afford daycare.

  “It really is a good opportunity, Sofie,” he said, sensing that I was wavering.

  “And why are you so eager to give it to me?” I asked, staring at him. “You have to know people already in the industry who would be better suited for this.”

  He leaned back in his chair, appraising me. “I’m not sure about that. I know plenty of people who would love this job, yes. Aspiring actors and actresses desperate to get a foot in the door. You know what ends up happening with people like that? They care more about the job they want than t
he job they have. I need someone who knows how to work hard and won’t spend all her time angling to meet my producers and directors.” He smirked. “Besides, I think your bossiness makes you uniquely suited for this position.”

  I allowed myself a small smile before my next argument, but Jackson wasn’t done talking. “I enjoyed spending time with you, Sofie. That night at the wedding…” He trailed off, and I was sure I was blushing at the thought of what had happened at the wedding. “Fixing up the gifts I mean,” he said, clearing his throat. “You know how to get things done. And it was fun. I could use a little bit of that in my life.”

  “Okay, but, Jackson, the ruined gifts weren’t the only thing that happened that night.” I forced myself to meet his eyes, to not be embarrassed. We were both adults, and this needed to be addressed.

  “You mean the dancing?” he asked, lips twitching. He was so obviously teasing me.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “No, not the dancing. The kissing.”

  He screwed up his face. “I don’t remember any kissing. Maybe you could refresh my memory.”

  Annoyed, I leaned across the table and hissed, “The hour and a half of making out that we did in the storeroom, asshole.”

  Of course the waiter appeared at that moment to clear our plates. I leaned back in my chair, annoyed and mortified, while Jackson did his best not to laugh. When the waiter left, tactfully not making eye contact with me, Jackson leaned forward. “An hour and a half, eh? That’s awfully specific. You must have been keeping track.”

  “Jackson, this isn’t a joke.”

  He sobered at my reaction. “I know. I’m sorry.” A sheepish smile. “You just looked so embarrassed. I had to tease you a little.”

  I shook my head at him, trying and failing to not find him charming. “Embarrassed or not, this is something that I have to think about.”

  “That we kissed once?”

  I couldn’t help but feel a little sting from his words. He made it sound so forgettable. We kissed once. Yeah, and I had spent the last six months reliving those kisses again and again in my mind.