“We did end things a few months ago,” she said, maintaining the huge smile across her face as if the break up didn’t faze her one bit. “That’s life, you know? That’s just what happens, especially in this industry.”
“Have you spoken to Hudson since the break up?” the anchor asked. “Are you still friends?”
She licked her glossed lips and took her time before responding. “We haven’t spoken, no. He’s reached out to me a few times, but I’m just not interested in a reconciliation of any kind.”
She was such a fucking liar. Hudson was right. She was crazy.
“Ooh, ouch,” the anchor laughed. “Hudson’s loss!”
She laughed as she swatted her hand towards him. “Oh, stop.”
“So what’s going to happen when you two start shooting the sequel to Heavenly Love next month?” he asked. “You’re both starring opposite one another in one of the most highly anticipated sequels of the year.”
Heavenly Love, I racked my brain. It sounded so familiar. I suddenly remembered seeing it a couple years ago with Luke. I had to beg him to watch it with me, and I was pretty sure he fell asleep during the last half of it.
If I remembered correctly, that was the movie where Hudson and Ava met on set and fell in love, beginning their fire and ice romance. I had no idea there was a sequel coming out. That must have been the movie Hudson mentioned having to film in a few weeks.
I couldn’t help but wonder when (or if) he was going to even tell me he was shooting it with Ava. I couldn’t take anymore. I had to flip the channel before I got any more worked up over the situation.
***
“I have to meet up with my manager for a bit,” Hudson whispered as he woke me early the next morning. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Make yourself at home. Flor can make you breakfast if you want. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead before tiptoeing out of his room. I tossed and turned for a bit, trying to fall back asleep, but I was up. It was sweet that he wanted to tell me goodbye, but a note on the pillow would’ve sufficed.
I yanked myself out of his warm bed and shuffled down towards the kitchen. My stomach was growling like crazy. A basket of fresh, still-warm blueberry muffins sat in the middle of the kitchen island and several feet from that were my panties from the night before, folded nice and neat.
I instantly covered my hands with my mouth and hoped that it was Hudson who had found them and not Flor, but I knew better. I quickly grabbed them and shoved them into the pockets of my pajama bottoms.
I peeled the paper off one of the muffins and took a bite as I ransacked his refrigerator for something to drink. There was pretty much nothing he didn’t have: fancy bottled waters, a carafe of freshly squeezed orange juice, a pitcher of Flor’s lemonade, a gallon of organic skim milk, a few glass bottles of soda, and some energy drinks all lined the shelves like some sort of convenience store display.
“Ahem,” I heard a woman say behind me, startling the muffin right out of my hand.
“Shoot!” I yelled out.
Before I had time to pick up the remnants of my muffin and all its crumbs, Flor was right there with a dish rag wiping it up at my feet.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said. “Really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop it.”
“It’s my job,” she said. She didn’t seem annoyed with me, thank goodness. I still felt bad though. “Are you thirsty?”
I nodded, almost afraid to help myself. The kitchen was clearly her turf.
“Why don’t you go have a seat by the grotto? I’ll bring you something,” she offered with a small smile. I could sense she was still a little leery of me, but I couldn’t blame her for being protective of the man who signed her paychecks and treated her so well. “Would you like me to make you some breakfast?”
“You’d do that?” I asked. I wasn’t used to having anyone else cook for me besides the occasional short stack of pancakes when I worked mornings at the diner back home.
She nodded as if I had asked the dumbest question on earth.
“Scrambled eggs?” I asked. “Orange juice? Toast with butter?”
“You got it,” she said as she spun on her heel and began pulling items from the refrigerator.
I quickly moved out of her way and tiptoed outside to the patio area near the grotto, grabbing my phone off the charger in the kitchen first. I knew it was still early back home, but I had to talk to Piper. It had been almost three days, and I didn’t want her to think I’d forgotten about her.
I got comfortable in one of the pale, wicker dining chairs and wasted no time calling Miss Piper Ann.
“Hello, hello,” I said to her. “Good morning!”
“Brynn?” she groaned.
“Did I wake you? I thought you’d be getting up and ready for work by now?” I felt bad.
“It’s my day off. It’s okay,” she said. “Good to hear from you. I was getting worried.”
I laughed. “You have absolutely nothing to be worried about. It is ah-mazing out here.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asked.
“I wish you were out here with me,” I pouted, though I quickly realized she couldn’t see the pout on my face. I missed our face-to-face heart-to-hearts.
“What’s it like so far?” she asked. She was waking up more and more by the second, and I was relieved that she was showing interest. I felt like we hadn’t left things on the best of terms.
“The weather is beautiful, Piper,” I sighed. “His house is so peaceful. I’m sitting outside by the grotto, listening to the waterfall while his housekeeper is making me breakfast.”
“Wow,” she said. “That sounds pretty amazing.”
“It is,” I said. “If you’d told me a week ago that this was going to be my life, I would’ve never believed you.”
“So you’re not coming back to Rock River?” Piper asked. “Ever?”
“I’ve only been here three days,” I snorted. “I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. I’m not ruling out anything, but right now I’m really trying to make this work with him.”
“I see,” she said. It wasn’t like her to be at a loss for words. Ever.
“Yesterday he had his stylist send me over the most amazing outfit, and then he took me out for a romantic dinner at some Old Hollywood restaurant. We drank wine and ate at the same booth Marilyn Monroe used to eat at,” I said. I hoped she didn’t think I was bragging.
“Interesting,” Piper said. She apparently didn’t share in my excitement, and that was concerning to me.
“If you come out, I’ll have to take you there,” I told her.
“Here you are, Miss Brynn,” Flor said as the sliding door behind me opened. She sat a tray of fluffy scrambled eggs, buttered wheat toast, and a glass of orange juice in front of me. “Just leave it here when you’re done. I’ll take care of it.”
“Who was that?” Piper asked.
“Flor,” I said. “Hudson’s house manager, chef, cleaning person, whatever.”
“Weird,” she said. “I can’t even imagine what that would be like.”
“It’s pretty amazing,” I said. “She’s pretty loyal to Hudson. She does whatever he tells her to do. Hudson’s at a meeting this morning. I didn’t expect her to wait hand and foot on me, but she offered to make me breakfast, so I took her up on it.”
“Isn’t that kind of what she’s paid for?” Piper asked.
“I guess,” I said. “Don’t mind me while I eat my breakfast, okay?”
I took a bite of the fluffy, scrambled eggs Flor had so graciously served up to me and they were nothing short of incredible. Knowing Hudson, the eggs were probably local or farm-fresh or organic or something. Even in Iowa, we didn’t always eat that well.
“You said you went out last night with Hudson, right?” Piper said.
“Yeah, why?” I asked with a mouthful of food.
“Your pictures are all over the internet,” she said. “I just pulled up TMZ on my lap
top. Brynn, did you fall?”
My mouth suddenly went dry, and I had to force myself to wash down the remains of my bite of eggs with a big gulp of orange juice.
“What are you talking about?” I asked her.
“They’re calling you Hudson Smith’s Mystery Woman,” she said. “There are pictures of you tripping and you can see up your skirt.”
“I was wearing underwear, I swear,” I said as my cheeks burned red hot. I suddenly remembered they were lacy and almost see through. They didn’t stand a chance against the harsh, bright flash of a camera bulb.
“Oh, my gosh,” Piper said. “People are saying some pretty harsh things about you in the comments section. What assholes.”
“Don’t read them to me,” I begged her, though I knew it would only be a matter of time before I was reading them myself. I couldn’t not read them. I had to know what people were saying about me.
“This is like high school all over again,” she said. I could tell she was slightly amused. “People are really immature.”
“Stop,” I said. “I don’t want to hear anymore.”
“Your dress is pretty though,” she said.
“I have to let you go, Piper,” I said. “I’ll call you another time, okay?”
I couldn’t hang up with her fast enough as my fingers frantically pulled up the web browser on my phone. I went to the first gossip site I could think of and saw my picture plastered on the front page.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I mumbled. “No. No. No. He said this wouldn’t happen.”
I ran to Hudson’s shower as hot tears fell down my cheeks and rogue sobs escaped my mouth. I didn’t want Flor to hear me cry. Not that she’d care, but I had too much pride.
I stripped everything off and stood under the hot and steamy running water. Cries escaped my mouth as the cruel words I’d just read were burned into my mind. I’d never forget those things as long as I lived. I knew I shouldn’t have come out to L.A. I knew I wouldn’t fit in out here.
“Brynn?” I heard a man’s voice say after several minutes. Hudson was back.
“Hudson?” I called out, peeking my head out from the shower. Even though I looked like a drowned rat, I was quite sure he’d be able to tell I’d been crying. “You’re back already?”
“I had the wrong day for the meeting,” he sighed, annoyed at himself. “I realized that when I got about halfway to his office.”
I popped my head back into the shower and ran my face under the water, hoping to hide any signs of crying.
“Are you okay?” he asked as he approached the shower entrance. “Flor thought she heard you crying.”
Damn it, Flor.
“I’m fine,” I insisted as I smiled, but soon I succumbed. I couldn’t lie. It was going to come out sooner or later. My smile twisted into a frown as the tears began to spill down my cheeks again. No amount of shower water was going to hide the fact that I was falling apart right in front of him.
“Oh, geez,” he said while he studied my face. “Let’s get you out of there. Talk to me, Brynn. Tell me what’s wrong.”
He reached over and pulled his fluffy, white robe off a hook. I shut off the water and stepped out as he wrapped me in downy comfort and led me back out to his room. I sat down on the bed and let the tears fall, landing on my lap in large splatters.
“Why are you crying?” he asked. “Are you homesick? Do you not want to be here?”
“No, no,” I said. “None of that.”
“Then what’s wrong? I don’t understand,” he said.
I wanted to tell him so badly, but I was embarrassed. What would he think of me if he knew I’d been reading gossip sites? The last thing I wanted was for him to think I was some groupie or pathetic girl looking for her fifteen minutes of fame.
“I talked to Piper this morning,” I said.
“Oh, god,” he sighed. “Does this have to do with that Luke asshole again?”
“No,” I said with a furrowed brow. “Nothing to do with him. She said my pictures were all over the internet.”
“Pictures?” he was confused.
“From last night,” I said. “Pictures of me tripping. You can see up my skirt and right through my underwear.”
He cringed. “I’m so sorry, Brynn. I honestly didn’t think those would make it anywhere since no one knows you.”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “No one knows me, but they want to know who I am because I was with you.”
He scratched his chin and sighed. “Must be a slow week in celebrity gossip if that’s making headlines.”
“I’m being called your Mystery Woman,” I said.
He laughed. “That’s a horrible name. They couldn’t think of anything better than that?”
“I don’t find it funny at all,” I said as I glared at him. How could he laugh about any of this? Where was the protective Hudson who saved me from the evil paparazzi the night before?
“Look, Brynn, this stuff is just par for the course,” he said. “I’m sorry I laughed. I guess I’m just so used to it that it doesn’t even bother me anymore. I can understand why you’d be so upset. I’m sorry.”
“The up-skirt photos are the least of my concern actually,” I said.
“Okay, then what’s wrong?”
“The comments,” I said, as I hung my head in shame. I knew he was going to lecture me for reading them. I shouldn’t have read them, I knew that, but I couldn’t resist.
“Oh, god,” he groaned. “Why did you read the comments? You know those are nothing but trolls hiding behind their computer screens trying to think of the worst possible thing they can say about someone they’re jealous of.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “I knew I shouldn’t read them, but I couldn’t help it.”
“Please don’t ever read those comments again,” he said. “Going forward I mean. If you’re ever photographed again, and it will happen, just try to stay away from those stupid websites.”
“They called me fat,” I sighed. “And ugly. Said I was a nobody. Wondered what you saw in me.”
I rattled off all the nasty, horrible things people had said.
“Brynn, you know none of that is true,” he said. “Not at all.”
“It’s nice that you think that,” I said.
“Isn’t my opinion all that matters anyway?” he asked. “Who are you dating? Them or me?”
He had an excellent point.
“I guess I just don’t feel like I fit in out here,” I said. “And those comments just solidified exactly what I was thinking.”
He shook his head. “Brynn.”
“What?” I asked. My thoughts were perfectly rational.
“If you really feel like that much of an outsider and if you really want to blend in out here, I can make a few phone calls and we can make that happen,” he said. “But before we do any of that, I want you to know that I like you exactly the way you are.”
My face lit up, and I could feel the tears drying fast.
“I don’t want you to change because you think you’ll be more acceptable to those trolls,” he said. “They’re going to attack you no matter what. Just know that.”
“What kind of phone calls are you going to make?” I asked. I prayed he wasn’t going to mention a plastic surgeon. Visions of looking like a big-breasted bimbo with a pinched little nose and overinflated lips flashed through my head.
“I know some people who work in the industry,” he said. “Hairstylist. Wardrobe people. Makeup people. Manicurist. We can outfit you with a whole new wardrobe and a new look to match it. But only if that’s what you want.”
Getting a makeover with some of the best people in ‘the business’ was like a dream come true. I would never turn it down in a million years. It was my Pretty Woman moment, and I wasn’t about to let my pride get in the way of that.
“Um, yes!” I said as I jumped up and climbed onto his lap, straddling him with my robe open.
His face lit up at the sight of me smi
ling again.
“Okay, let me make a few phone calls,” he said. “Finish getting ready. I’ll have a limo pick you up this afternoon.”
I ran back to the bathroom like a giddy schoolgirl and finished my shower. Hours later, a black limousine was waiting outside to take me away.
Hudson walked me out, slipping his arm around my waist and kissing me before I left.
“Have fun, Brynn,” he said with a wink as he slipped me his black American Express card. “Today’s your day. Anything you want, okay?”
CHAPTER 9
The driver opened the limo door for me and I climbed in expecting to be by myself.
“Well, hello, gorgeous Iowa girl,” a flamboyant man with platinum blonde hair and a golden tan said as he handed me a flute of champagne. I felt like I was in a movie scene or something.
I watched him look me up and down quickly as a two-second look of polite disgust washed over him. I knew my outfit was appalling by L.A. standards, but after today, I was never going to wear those clothes ever again.
“So Hudson tells me you’re ready for a Hollywood makeover,” he said. “All we’re missing is the reality show T.V crew.”
He laughed at his own joke, and I smiled courteously as I sipped the champagne.
“Don’t worry, doll,” he said. “We’re going to fix you up. Hudson won’t know what hit him by the time we get you back here.”
Butterflies ruffled my stomach as I fantasized about what I was going to look like when he was done with me.
“I’m Alec, by the way,” he said. “I’m your Fairy Gaymother.”
He laughed, once again, at his joke.
“Just joking. I’m your stylist and personal assistant for the day,” he said. “I’ll be taking you everywhere and helping you shop for your new wardrobe.”
“Can’t wait,” I said.
The limo pulled up in front of a salon on the corner of a busy street and we climbed out.
“You’re going to see Hudson’s personal hairstylist, Roxy,” he said. “And his colorist, Maggie. They’re very difficult to get into, but they’re squeezing you in as a personal favor to Hudson. Thank your lucky stars and buy a lottery ticket, sweetheart, because this does not happen for just anyone.”
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