Starstruck

by Rachel Schurig

  “Our working relationship would be totally professional.” He was completely serious now. “Whatever the tabloids might say about me, I take my work very seriously. You don’t have to worry about me trying anything.”

  I’m a lot more worried about me wanting you to try something, I thought.

  “I want us to be friends,” he went on. “I would consider most of my former PAs to be friends. I like hanging out with you. I like your family. I think this job can help both of us.” He held his hands up. “That’s it. No nefarious intent.”

  I chewed my bottom lip, thinking. I was fast running out of excuses. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be a very bad idea.

  “Look,” he said. “I have to be in L.A. next week for some pre-production meetings and promo. Sonja is going to come. Why don’t you join us? You’ll get a chance to see what the job is like. Sonja can explain everything much better than I can. Three nights, tops.”

  “L.A.?” I had never made it out to visit Lizzie when she and Thomas were living there, a fact I had always regretted. Already, I was picturing blue skies and palm trees.

  But what about Beth?

  “I don’t know if I can leave Beth for that long.” I played with the handle of my knife, keeping my head down so he wouldn’t see how disappointed I was.

  “Not even just once? The next trip—if you decide to take the job—you can bring her with you. You’ll have enough time by then to find a nanny, I’m sure.”

  Three nights, he had said. Three nights without Beth. Could I deal with that? I supposed mothers did it all the time, when they had jobs that required travel. My family would take good care of her, I was sure.

  “Say you’ll come, Sofie,” he said. I looked up at him to see that his eyes were intense, almost pleading. “Just give it a try.”

  “I’ll have to check with my family,” I said, trying to fight the rush of excitement that was threatening to drown out my common sense. Los Angeles. With a movie star. Running around to photo shoots and industry meetings. It all sounded so glamorous. And I could use a little glamour in my life.

  He grinned, his eyes flashing, and I felt my breath catch. Who was I kidding, it wasn’t just the idea of L.A. and glamour that had my heart pounding.

  “That’s not a yes.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to warn him or me.

  “Of course,” he said, his serious tone not at all matching the cocky smile on his face. “Check with your family. Give it some thought. Then get back to me.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh at his attempts not to sound smug. “You sound pretty damn sure of yourself, you know.”

  The cocky smile grew as he reached for his wallet and threw a few (very large) bills down on the table to cover the check. “You’re going to say yes, Sofie.”

  “I am, am I? What makes you so sure?”

  He winked at me across the table. “Let’s just say that I’m a pretty confident man.” He stood, holding out a hand for me. “Shall we?”

  I hesitated only a moment before placing my hand in his, letting him lead me through the crowded restaurant and out into a future that was suddenly looking much different than it had this morning.

  Chapter Four

  There are two things you can count on in my family: everyone will always have an opinion on your life choices; and news always travels fast.

  My first mistake, which was pretty obvious in hindsight, was telling my mother what had happened at lunch. I may as well have arranged a conference call to tell every single member of the family that a famous movie star had just offered me a job.

  Even if she had managed to keep from blabbing the news to the entire family, it would have been bad enough dealing with her reaction. She was basically beside herself that I would even consider it.

  “This is a terrible idea,” she said, banging a pot onto the stove with entirely too much force. “Terrible. Parece una locura.”

  Awesome, now she was muttering in Spanish. I knew I was in for a long night if I didn’t get her under control. “Mama, come on. It sounds like a good opportunity!”

  “To do what? Are you planning on moving to London? To Hollywood?”

  “It doesn’t sound so bad at this very minute,” I muttered, and she gasped, a hand over her heart.

  “Are you serious? You would take Beth away—”

  “Mother, chill. I was joking. I’m not moving anywhere.”

  She was taking deep breaths as if I had grievously wounded her. “Then I don’t understand what this job could possibly do for you.”

  “It would give me a ton of money!” I shouted. “Four times what I would make in the same amount of time at Independence. How is that a bad thing?”

  Shaking her head, she turned to the fridge, in full-on hysteria now. She started grabbing vegetables and tossing them to the counter, dropping several peppers in the process. “A temporary job isn’t going to do you any good,” she snapped. “You’ll just be unemployed in a few months.”

  “And I’ll have some savings. And a reference. It’s good experience for other fields, Mama.”

  “What you should be doing,” she said, completely ignoring me, “is going back to school, if you’re so unhappy at the insurance place.”

  “Maybe I could! If I had some savings.”

  “Or you could just let your father and me—”

  It was my turn to slam something down on the counter. I was in the process of grabbing a glass from the cupboard and nearly smashed it to bits when I slammed it down on the cheap laminate at her words. “I am not taking money for school! We’ve talked about this.”

  She started chopping peppers, keeping up a steady stream, in Spanish, about how God had cursed her with such a stubborn daughter.

  “Nice, Mama,” I muttered, filling my glass with water.

  She stopped what she was doing, mid-chop, to turn to me, crossing her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed. “We both know why that boy wants you working for him.”

  It was such a mistake to tell her.

  “He’s a friend, Mama.”

  “And you think I didn’t see the way you were dancing with him at the wedding?”

  “He was being friendly! And it was months ago!” I took a deep breath, trying to get myself under control. My mother’s reaction had the opposite effect of what I’m sure she intended. In a swell of indignant anger, I was about ready to march upstairs and text him that I would take the job, just to spite her.

  “You liked him at Christmas, Mama. Everyone did.”

  “That was different,” she muttered. “It was a holiday.”

  I ignored her. “And he liked all of us. That’s why he wants to help me out. And he needs someone that knows the area—he’s barely spent any time here.”

  She returned to her chopping, seemingly calmer, but I had a good feeling this fight wasn’t over yet.

  “When would you start?”

  “In a few weeks. He has to go to L.A. next week for meetings, and he wants me to go with him, so the old PA can train me and—”

  “He wants you to go to L.A.?” she shrieked. “You have a baby!”

  Yeah, like I said. The fight wasn’t over yet.

  Ten minutes later, my hands actually shaking from the effort of not smacking her, I made my way up to my room. Beth was sleeping in the nursery, so I took the opportunity to slam a few doors around, eager to siphon off some of the angry energy.

  And then Jim called.

  I almost chucked the phone across the room. The idea of talking to him, when I was so upset, was unthinkable. Instead, I silenced the ringer, staring down at the screen like it was a bomb about to explode. No sooner had it stopped than a text came through.

  Been trying to reach you. Should I call the house phone?

  Damn it. He knew exactly what he was doing. If my mother or father answered the phone, they would be highly unlikely to let me pretend to be out. With a growl, I jabbed his name in my contact list. He answered after a ring.

  “Hey, Sofie.
What’s up?”

  “You called?”

  “I did. I wanted to see how you girls are.”

  I took deep breaths through my nose. He’s being polite, I told myself. There’s no cause to snap at him. Even if he is completely fake and manipulative and—

  “We’re fine,” I told him, my voice as polite as I could make it.

  “You sound a little shaky.”

  I released the breath in a huff. “I’m having a disagreement with my mother.”

  “Ah. Well, I’ve been there. It’s difficult, especially when you get older, to live under someone else’s roof.”

  “That’s an understatement.”

  He laughed, and I calmed by several degrees. He could be pleasant, when he wasn’t trying to get back in my pants or into the good graces of my family behind my back. When he wasn’t in a temper.

  “What’s the fight about?”

  “I’m looking at a new job. She doesn’t approve.” I didn’t want to tell him the details. He and Jackson hadn’t gotten along all that well over Christmas.

  “A new job, eh? And leave the glory that is working at Independence? How could you even think of it?”

  I chuckled a little. “I know. It’s drastic.”

  “Well, I suppose the place lost its appeal for you when I transferred downtown.”

  How was it possible for Jackson to say something borderline cocky and I would find it charming, but when Jim did it, I could think of no response except to roll my eyes? Violently.

  “There’s a simple solution, you know.”

  “What’s that?”

  He paused. “We could sit down and work out a child support agreement.”

  “Jim—”

  “I want to help you, Sofie. I want to help Beth.” His laugh was bitter and sharp. “I guess that makes me a giant asshole, huh?”

  I knew that there were millions of single mothers in the world who would call me the asshole, who would give anything to hear the father of their child offer money so freely.

  And maybe I was an asshole. All I knew was that the idea of willingly giving Jim a permanent connection to us, the idea of relying on him, of letting him in further than he was right now—it scared me. What if sitting down to talk about child support led to sitting down to talk about visitation rights?

  “I appreciate the offer,” I said. “I really do, Jim. But we’ve talked about this. I’m not—”

  “Ready,” he snapped. “You’re not ready. Yeah, I get it.”

  There was a long pause. “I’m sorry,” I finally said. “I know this situation isn’t ideal. I know…” I closed my eyes, wondering, for the millionth time, how I had gotten myself into such a mess. “I told you from the beginning that I didn’t know how I felt about things. You said you’d give me time.”

  “I have given you time.” His voice was heated. “Plenty of time. And you treat me like I’m some kind of jerk for trying to be involved.”

  Not for trying to be involved, I thought, an image of his angry face, red and puffy from booze, only inches from mine as he spewed an angry tirade about what a slut I was and did I think a guy like him would keep trying for much longer. I shuddered, trying to push the thought away.

  “I don’t think you’re a jerk for trying to be involved,” I said. “I just need you to be patient. If you can’t do that, this won’t work.”

  He released an audible breath. “Fine. Can you meet me half way, at least?”

  My eyes narrowed, immediately wary. “What do you want?”

  “I just want to talk. Without having to threaten to call your parents. A couple of times a week. Is that so bad?”

  Was it so bad? I had to be careful here. My instinctive desire to keep Jim away battled with the logic that said pushing him too far could cause bigger trouble. A couple of calls a week. He didn’t even say anything about seeing us.

  Another flash of his angry face, but I pushed it away. He hadn’t displayed any behavior like that since he found out I was pregnant. At least not that I had seen. Maybe the prospect of fatherhood had changed him.

  People could change, right?

  “That sounds fine,” I said. “I can handle that.”

  The surprise was clear in his voice. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You should know how Beth is doing.”

  His tone dropped a few notches. “I want to know how you’re doing, too.”

  I forced a laugh. “Oh, you know. Changing diapers. Feeding bottles. Real exciting.”

  “And what’s the new job? The one you’re fighting with your mom about?”

  I winced. I couldn’t straight up lie, could I? Unfortunately, he had a bad habit of talking to my parents without my consent—he would find out eventually, if I decided to do it.

  “You remember my cousin Lizzie and her husband?”

  “The actor? British guy, right?”

  “Yeah, Thomas.” My voice sounded falsely cheery in my ears, and I wondered if he noticed. “Well, his co-worker is going to be shooting a movie here in town, and he needs a personal assistant for a few months. Someone who knows the area. It would be really great pay, and if it went well, I would get a good recommendation at the end—”

  “It’s Jackson Coles, isn’t it?” His voice was toneless.

  “It is. You met him at Christmas, right?”

  “I did.”

  A silence fell between us. When it started to feel unbearably awkward, I cleared my throat. “Well, that’s the job.”

  “I think I agree with your mom.”

  Okay, screw not rocking the boat. There was no way I was going to allow Jim to give me career advice. “Well then, I guess it’s a good thing you’re not the one considering the job.”

  “Sofie.”

  “I’m sorry, Jim. I hear the baby crying. She hasn’t had her dinner. I should let you go.”

  “I’d like to talk to you about this before you decide to take the job.”

  I shook my head at his nerve. “I’ll let you know if I need any advice,” I snapped. “I have to go.”

  “Wait—”

  “Bye, Jim.” I hung up the phone before he could say another word, collapsing back onto my bed with a groan. Maybe agreeing to talk to him every week was a bad idea.

  My phone rang again. What in the hell did he think he was doing? What part of feeding the baby didn’t he understand? Granted, I had lied about that, but still.

  “What?” I snapped into the phone.

  “Well hello to you, too.”

  I winced. “Sorry, Lizzie. Thought you were someone else.”

  “Well, I would hate to be that person.” Her voice sounded strange, kind of tight. I wondered if it was just the distance, but then she continued. “On the other hand, I’m not quite sure I have it much better.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Maria just called.”

  I stared up at the ceiling in dismay. “You have got to be kidding me,” I moaned.

  “I’m not, I’m afraid.” Yeah, she definitely sounded pissed. “Which was really fun for me, Sof. To get a call from my sister at eleven o’clock at night wondering what was going on with you—and to have to tell her that I didn’t know, because I haven’t talked to you since yesterday, and I hear, during that time, you met with Jackson Coles.”

  “It literally just happened, Lizzie.”

  “Really? Then how did Maria find out?”

  I was fast approaching my limit. Lizzie and I never fought, but this was seriously too much, on top of the fight with my mom, talking to Jim, and the revelation that the whole family apparently was talking about me. Again.

  “I would guess my mom told her,” I snapped. “Because I came home and told my mom. And before I could call you, my shitty ex-one-night-stand called and started harassing me about why I won’t take his money. Sorry if that inconvenienced you.”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Sofie.”

  I covered my eyes, rubbing my palms into them. “I’m sorry I snapped. But come on,
Lizzie. You were snappy, too. And it wasn’t my fault. I literally told my mother half an hour ago.”

  “I’m sorry, too,” she said, voice small. “I guess I sounded a little bit like Maria there, didn’t I?”

  “A little bit? I wasn’t entirely sure who I was talking to for a minute.”

  “Ha ha. Very funny.” There was a muffled sound in the background, and I pictured her in the London house, maybe snuggled next to Thomas on the couch. A sharp jab of jealousy hit my stomach. “So what’s going on? Jackson is there?”

  “He came into town yesterday, I guess. He came over to the house—”

  “Is that who was at your door?” she gasped.

  “Yup. He told me that he got a part in that movie Jenner Collins is shooting here.”

  She cursed. “I was afraid of that.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Why were you afraid of it?”

  “Because, well, you know.” She was stammering. “I thought he might bother you.”

  “I’m a grown woman, Lizzie. If someone is bothering me, I’m perfectly capable of telling them to back off.”

  “I know,” she muttered, sullen.

  “Well, anyhow. He took the part, and the studio arranged some condos for him to look at for housing. He asked me to go with him—”

  “To look at houses?”

  I ignored her interruption. “And while we were out, he offered me the job.”

  “You told him no, right? Maria said your mom was all worked up because you were considering it, but that had to just be her histrionics, right?”

  “I didn’t tell him anything yet,” I said, my temper rising again. “I told him I wanted to think about it.”

  “Sofie. You are not seriously considering this?”

  “Why in the hell wouldn’t I? It’s a lot of damn money, Lizzie, and—”

  “And it’s Jackson Coles!”

  “Who I happen to like.” I cursed under my breath. “I mean, who happens to be a friend.”

  “Oh my God,” she muttered. “You’re serious about this.”

  “I need a job! We just talked about this yesterday. You know how bad things are.”

  “A job with Jackson? That’s the job you want? Getting him designer, organic waters and organizing his salon visits and helping his publicist to cover up all the man-whoring he does?”