“I guess this is my cue to bow out.” Bailey, the youngest of the group, draws our attention. I was surprised when she joined us, since her image isn’t exactly one that would fit in with what we had planned. Bailey is one of those former Disney singer/actresses that has managed to keep her clean-cut, wholesome image even into her twenties. Her cute brunette pixie cut is sassy and sweet at the same time. She looks at Billy awkwardly. “I only took one course in stage fighting.”
Billy’s smirk is dark and almost unkind, but his low voice is the opposite. “It’s okay, B. Just sell it.” He prompts her into action by obviously moving his hand onto her thigh. She lurches away and smacks him hard across the cheek. I am so stunned, for a second I gasp, not knowing how to react.
“To hell with this,” she spits at us, and storms off, clearly muttering under her breath. I stare at her, shocked, as she passes the bar, and my eyes lock with Nick’s fascinated gaze. Luckily Jared stands up, breaking our eye contact before I can do anything to blow my cover. Billy pulls me to stand, and with his hand possessively on my backside leans in and says, “I think act one went very well.” As he pulls us toward the door, I realize many in the club failed to notice the celebrity drama unfolding. The bass line is still thumping out a dance rhythm. But the one person we wanted interested is clearly on the hook. I am being shoved quickly past Nick, and I do my best to be confident in my disguise. Fingers crossed he didn’t recognize me.
Once through the doors, we pile into Jared’s limo to regroup. Billy looks questioningly at Jared.
“Well, I got my line out in time.” It’s as if we’re talking about some sort of wacky improv theater show. “He definitely heard me say ‘Lion’s Den.’ But I didn’t want to oversell it, so I don’t know what else he heard.”
“That’s fine. That’s great. If he didn’t catch on, maybe we can tweet a picture that gives away where we are. I’d rather not, you know, get too many real fans there, if we can help it. But if he doesn’t follow that’s our backup.”
“How great was Bailey?”
I can’t help but feel out of the loop as Jared and Selma break down the details of the slap.
“That had to sting, Bill.”
“She was aiming to just land it with her fingers. But I think we misjudged a bit,” Billy says ruefully, rubbing his jaw.
“Why? Why did she storm out?” I finally have to ask.
“Well, when she offered to help, we agreed her Disney-kid image is too pristine for even Nick to believe she’d get into something this dark, so we figured we’d play on that.”
“I tried to talk her into dropping an F-bomb on the way out.” Selma laughs. “Let’s see if she did.” She pulls out her phone and starts typing.
“Alex, we’re dropping you off at the apartment. Selma? Where should we drop you, honey?”
“Do you have time to stop by my hotel? I’m in Midtown. Near Thirty Rock.”
“Oh, doing the Today show tomorrow?” Jared asks.
“Yeah, the eight o’clock hour. I have a five a.m. makeup call. This was so fun, I’m going to crash as soon as I get to my room.” She’s already snuggling up in her side seat of the limo.
“Don’t forget to wash your face.” I can’t help it. The advice comes out automatically before I can stop myself. Too many actresses just let it sit on their skin all night; it’s so bad for the skin, not to mention gross.
“I know you’re right.” She sighs, closing her eyes. I love that she isn’t even offended or surprised by my comment. That’s the world of an actress, I guess. They’re used to it. “I didn’t bring my cleanser, though. Maybe the hotel will have some.”
The limo pulls up in front of Billy’s apartment building. “Wait here a second,” I say to Billy. “You have time, right?”
“Oh, sure.” He smiles warmly at me. “We don’t want to get there too soon. Let Nick sweat for a minute.”
I dash into the building and use Billy’s key to take me directly to the top floor. Once inside I tear apart my kit quickly but carefully, putting together a little care package before heading back downstairs.
“Here,” I say through the window, handing Selma the small makeup bag. “A facial cleanser and some of my favorite lotion. Promise me you’ll use it,” I say with authority.
“Okay, okay, you’re right. My makeup artist will love you tomorrow.” She takes the bag and looks inside. “Oh, it smells amazing. Thank you, Alex.”
“Thank you so much for helping me,” I reply. “It’s the least I can do.”
“All right, kiddo, let’s get you to bed,” Billy says to Selma as she shuts her eyes, still holding my care package. He takes my hand, which is still resting against the open window. “You scan social media, keep me posted on his movements and anything that jumps out at you, okay?”
“Yes. Okay,” I say, determined to do my part, hating that he’s going to be out there so publicly risking his neck for me.
“It’s going to work out. Slants will learn a lesson he won’t soon forget.” He uses his grip on my hand to pull my upper body into the car for one more unforgettable kiss. I slowly find my balance to stand up and watch the limo pull back out into the night. Billy Fox is just too good to be true.
SITTING IN BILLY’S apartment waiting for something to happen is torture. It’s like sitting on the set of the slowest film shoot ever, waiting for the actors to finally spit out their lines correctly. I hit refresh on Twitter and Facebook, and then check my watch obsessively for half an hour with no new posts or updates from Nick or Billy. I search the hashtag #LionsDen and their Twitter as well as running a Google search on both the club and Nick Slants to see if there’s any news I’m missing. Still nothing.
Me: just checking in. are you at the club yet?
I can’t help it. I send the text to Billy knowing full well he’d text me if there was anything to share. But I still stare at the screen, willing it to light up with his response. And then it does.
Billy: just walked in. perfect timing. He’s already here.
Billy: huddled in a corner
Me: amazing. Okay. I’ll let you know when he posts something.
Billy’s fridge is stocked with drinks: sodas, several different types of waters, beer, and mixers. I look around his kitchen—maybe he has a second refrigerator for food? But no, clearly Billy Fox does very little cooking. The kitchen has gorgeous dark granite countertops that look like nothing more than a cup of coffee has ever sat on them. I do find cereal when I open a cupboard—just looking for the glasses, of course. Pops, Cocoa Puffs, and raisin bran.
Deciding to stick with the filtered water from the fridge, I’m back at my workstation when the apartment phone rings. I freeze, feeling like a criminal as a few rings echo through the open floor plan. After Billy’s brief outgoing message, a female voice carries loudly. “Hello? Alex? Pick up if you’re there.” There’s a brief pause as I wrap my head around the fact that the voice leaving the message is calling out to me. How does she know I’m here? I’m not sure if I should answer, until she tries again. “Alex, it’s Sophie Atwater. Billy’s publicist. Please pick up.” Another impatient silence as I dash to the desk, searching for an extension.
“Hello? This is Alex.” The disorienting sound of my own voice on speaker ends abruptly, so I clear my throat and parrot, “This is Alex.”
“Oh, good. Alex, we need to talk about this absurd plan.”
I don’t know what she expects me to say to that. So I hold my ground by remaining silent. I can tell the line is alive; there’s a bit of sound in the background from her side. Like maybe she’s closing a door. It’s starting to feel ridiculous, this phone standoff. And then I hear her sigh heavily.
“Look, Alex. Billy explained what’s at stake for you, and I get it. Whether you believe this or not, I’m trying to help you. I sent paparazzi to that damn club, for God’s sake.” I wait… there’s clearly a “but” coming. “But,” Ah ha! “I think it’s also a very bad idea for Billy to jeopardize his entire career
to help you.”
“I don’t want that, either. This plan isn’t my idea.” Sounding defensive is probably not the strongest position, but I can’t help it.
“No, I get it. Once Billy has an idea in his head… well, let’s just say he has a lot in common with steam-rollers.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“So where are we with this? Am I going to be putting out fires all over town tomorrow?”
“I hope not. The plan is for Nick to want to hold on to this story—reveal it himself. He’s all about getting credit for the scoop, you told Billy that yourself.” I remind her this scheme was practically her idea.
Clearly Sophie is not falling for that tactic. “Oh, no question, Nick Slants’s motives are less than subtle. I’ve had any number of run-ins with him over the years, and I’m sure you have a fairly clear idea of what his next move will be.”
“Well, good. Then this should all work out and everyone will be fine and Slants will get what he deserves.”
“Do you realize how insanely overconfident you both are about this? I’ve devoted my career to managing relationships between celebrities and reporters of all levels. And with almost twenty years of practical experience, I would never put someone else’s reputation on the line for myself. And here you just met Billy, what? A month ago? And all of a sudden he’s risking everything for you? And you’re letting him?” I listen to her carry on, thinking a couple of things. One, no wonder she’s good at her job. When she’s passionate about something, she’s clearly very persuasive. And two, she’s right. That is what’s turning my stomach inside out as I sit there and force myself to listen to every word Sophie Atwater has to say until she finally runs out of steam.
“You’d better still be there,” she finally says into the silence.
“I’m here,” I reply. “I just… don’t know what to say. You’re right.” I wipe my hand over my face and when it comes away with smudges of red lipstick and black mascara, I realize I’m still all made up in my disguise from earlier. “I don’t want this to backfire on Billy, either.”
“Then stop him,” she commands. I can feel the intensity of her personality through the phone.
“Oh God. Okay. I’ll try.” I grab my phone off the counter and open it to the messaging page, only to see that a number of texts from Billy have come in while I wasn’t looking. “He’s been texting me while I was talking to you.”
“What’d he say?”
“He’s asking me to check Twitter.”
“I’m on it—I haven’t seen anything. Keep reading.”
“He thinks he’s done it. He had Jared with him.”
“Right, I know—not sure how I’m going to explain this to Jared’s publicist.”
“Well, he and Jared are pretty sure Slants overheard them talking about the party.”
“Damn it. Here it is,” I hear on the other end of the line. “Nick has posted on his Twitter and Facebook accounts that he’s about to break some huge news. That it will ‘rock the entertainment industry to its foundation.’ Hyperbole much?” she critiques as she reads. I don’t know how she can even speak. I’m shaking so hard I have to sit down. I lean against the cupboards in the kitchen, staring sightlessly at the highly polished tile flooring.
The sound of her typing is the only thing I hear for at least a minute. “Alex? Are you still there?” she asks after a while. I don’t know why, but I’ve still got the phone pressed to my ear so hard it stings. “Alex?”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
“What’s done is done.” She sighs heavily. “Billy may be a pigheaded romantic fool, but he’s our fool. Am I right?” All of a sudden, she has a completely out-of-context resigned lightheartedness to her tone.
“What are you talking about?”
“Well, I couldn’t stop it, which would have been my first choice. Now I’m gonna have to spin it.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Spin what?” I lower my voice as I hear Billy come in the front door.
“Oh, no way…” he says as he comes to crouch beside me. “Sophie thinks she’s gonna get the spin machine working on this?”
“Damn it, Billy! I’m not your fairy godmother, you know!” Sophie shrieks so loudly my self-preservation kicks in and I hold the phone away from my ear. Billy leans in closer, his eyes still on mine, and speaks into it.
“It’s gonna work, Sophie. You know it is. Now stop spooking my girl, here.” He strokes my hair as if I’m a scared filly and he is the horse whisperer. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
“You’re damn straight we will. I’m upping my rate for this month. Do you realize what favors I’m going to have to pull to get you out of this?!”
“I don’t want you to get me out of anything. Just let me lead Nick Slants exactly where he wants to go. We are going to get Alex out of this hot water.” A loud silence. “Sophie, I’m serious. Do not pull one of your magic acts and make this all disappear. I’ve set it up perfectly.” He gently takes the phone from me and stands up, swiftly turning away from me. “I’m not kidding about this, Sophie, and don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. I know all about how you squashed that story of Louise Chase’s face-lift last month.” Now I really wish I could hear the other half of this conversation. “Yes, I do. And that’s not going to happen. This is going public and you’re going to let it.” There’s a beat as he listens. I see every muscle in his back tighten under his light knit navy blue Henley.
“You’re not going to regret it. When have I ever let you down?” The charming Southern drawl in his voice tells me he’s gotten his way, as he clearly always does. But then he turns back to me with a concerned look. “She wants to talk to you again.” But he stays in place. Since when am I a mouse timidly hiding out on the floor? I get to my feet and reach for the phone.
“It’s me,” I say, once again in possession.
“Well, he’s definitely determined to see this through.” She sighs again.
“I’m not going to let anything go wrong. I know it’s a risk. And I know how lucky I am that he is willing to help me, because no one else on the planet would have. But it’ll be worth it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
From the moment I woke up Thursday morning I could not shake the sense of impending doom that sat on my chest. So far everything was going according to plan. Nick Slants posted on Twitter and his Facebook page that he was working on a major story. Something that would blow everyone’s minds. So far the items have been “blind”—there were hints that could have referred to Billy, but they were vague enough that only we knew what he meant.
Although Sophie announced that she’s reserving the right to say “I told you so” if our plan backfires, she has thrown herself into the effort to make sure it doesn’t. And despite it stemming more from a “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” mentality, I appreciate her help nonetheless.
Sophie’s been sending us links and headlines every time Nick’s big announcement gets picked up by another media outlet. So far, it hasn’t made the mainstream press. “This isn’t good enough.” Billy paces back and forth in front of the huge picture windows framing his Manhattan city view. “We have to get him to make this bigger.”
“You know there’s only one way to do that,” I say.
“We’re not putting you in his path, Alex. And that’s final.” He glares at me as he lifts up my bare feet from the coffee table to slide past and sit next to me on the sofa. Billy hasn’t changed out of his workout clothes, but even in his sweaty, ratty gym gear, he’s still the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “You’re just being stubborn. Nick Slants is a jerk, but he’s not going to physically hurt me.”
Billy puts his sneakers up on the coffee table, stretching way past my dark-blue-polished toes. “I don’t like the idea of him getting near you again. Who knows what that guy is capable of?”
“Okay, fine. I won’t be alone with him. But you have to admit this is the best way to up the stakes and get Nick to go pr
ime time with his news.” I meet his eyes and let him see my determination to see this through. “Billy, you’re in this mess because of me. I need to be a part of making things right. How can I face myself in the mirror again if I let you fight my battles for me?”
He stares at me for a long minute before finally accepting that I’m not going to give up on this. “All right, let me talk to Sophie and see if there’s any shows in the NBC studios she can book me on tonight.”
“I’ll get my kit ready,” I say without hesitating. I don’t want to give Billy time to change his mind. I head to the guest bedroom to pack up everything from last night’s glamorous makeup disguise.
BEFORE I KNOW IT, I’m back in the building where I was fired and humiliated yesterday. It seems crazy to be here again, but the fact that it’s the same building Hillary works in is just a side note. Giving my driver’s license to the security guard, I force a smile as they take a picture for my day badge. It’s a terrible picture, but it allows me access to the green room at the Late Night show.
I got here early, wanting a chance to set up before Jared and Billy arrive. With all that’s going on, it’s true, I’m actually nervous to do Billy’s makeup for the show. Guys in general and certainly guys with good skin like Billy wear just a tiny bit of powder. But still, there’s a finesse to doing it correctly that everyone learns in beauty school. Looking at the monitor and seeing that Billy looks like he has makeup on would definitely make it onto my top ten worst possible scenarios.
I check in with the NBC page in the green room. She shows me to the private dressing room she assigned to Billy and Jared. Usually they’d get their own rooms, but it’s a full show tonight, she explains, and since they’re in a skit together she was hoping that would be okay. I assure her I think they’ll be fine about it.
Opportunity Knocks Page 12
