by Talia Hunter
“It’d be better to talk to him face-to-face,” she said. “He’s probably in L.A., but I’m sure he’ll be back at some stage, and I can—”
“You’re stalling,” interrupted Geena. “Come on, Al. Start dialing.”
Ally looked from one firm face to the other. Her heart rate sped up and her stomach clenched. She lifted her cell phone slowly, as though it was a heavy weight. With one reluctant finger she punched in Max’s number.
# # #
Max was sitting on one side of the set, watching Cromhill direct a scene between Cora and one of her employees, when his cell phone vibrated. Cromhill wasn’t exactly his biggest fan and he wasn’t supposed to have a phone on set, so he slipped out of the side door before he answered.
“Hello?”
“Max? It’s Ally.”
His heart started performing an acrobatic act. He tightened his hand around the phone. Shit, could he really be happy to hear from her? No, he was angry. As much pissed off with himself as with her. Hadn’t he learned not to trust anyone when Megan took off with his money? How stupid had he been to trust a stranger with the most intimate details of his past? How bad was his judgment if the one person he’d confessed his deepest secrets to had turned out to be a journalist?
“Max, I’m sorry.” Her voice was full of emotion. “Are you in Australia? I need to see you.”
“I’m in L.A.” His voice sounded harsh. Good. He couldn’t let her know how she’d gotten to him. Anything he let slip would probably end up on her blog. “What do you want, Ally?”
She dragged in a breath, and he gripped the phone tighter. Dammit, he refused to feel sorry for her. So what if she sounded like she was really hurting? He was hurting too, thanks to her lies. And he refused to believe he could miss her. No, he wouldn’t give in to that feeling, not after what she’d done to him.
“I’m in financial trouble. At least, I’ve gotten my sister into financial trouble, because she’s been helping me out when she couldn’t afford to. I need the ten thousand dollars you were going to pay me. I’m sorry to have to ask you for it, Max, but I have no choice.”
So she wanted money. Max ground his teeth together. This felt worse than when Megan had emptied his bank account and taken off to Costa Rica. He’d shared private things with Megan too. She’d been a good friend as well as his manager, and he’d trusted her implicitly. What a joke. Some judge of character he was.
Ally was just like Megan. Nothing they’d shared together had been real. She’d been after his money all along.
“No,” said Ally to someone else in the room with her. “No, don’t—”
She was cut off by another woman’s voice coming on the line.
“Max Oberon? Sorry to interrupt your conversation, but this is Ally’s business partner, Lacey. We’re in a bit of a fix here, and all Ally’s asking for is the ten thousand you promised her. If you don’t pay what you owe her, you’ll be in breach of that contract you made her sign. That’ll make the whole thing invalid, including the part where she agreed to keep quiet about everything you did together.”
“Is that a threat?” Max asked coldly.
“It’s fair warning. I hate to do this to you, but if you don’t pay up we’ll be forced to publish stories about how you hired Ally, thinking she was a dominatrix. And how the two of you spent five days shut away together, so you could practice being submissive.”
The woman had said she was Ally’s business partner? More like her partner in crime, a fellow blackmailer. If he paid the ten grand, they’d most likely up their demands and ask for more.
“Publish and be dammed,” he growled. He stabbed the button to cut off the call, and swore so violently that one of the stage hands walking past gave him a shocked look and broke into a trot.
How could she?
No, he couldn’t think like that. It was Megan all over again, only far worse, because he hadn’t been in love with Megan. Ally had been more cunning. She’d reeled him in like a poor dumb fish that had no idea he was dancing on the end of a fishing line.
The door to the set opened and a head poked out. “Max? Cromhill wants you in the scene in five.”
Max stomped back onto set. He had a fight scene, the perfect way to work out his rage and frustration. Only his punches were faster and harder than the stunt guys had expected, and he accidentally clipped one of them on the jaw. He’d retreated to his trailer when his phone went off again. He checked the display. A different phone number.
“Hello?”
“Max Oberon? I’m from Entertainment Weekly. Could we get a comment?”
“A comment on what?” But his heart sank. He knew what she was going to say before she answered.
“I’ve just read a story that claims you hired a dominatrix to help you prepare for your latest movie role. Can you tell me your side of it? Was playing sex games with a dominatrix something you’d had experience with before?”
“No comment.” He’d barely hung up before it rang again. This time it was Walter’s gravelly voice on the other end, and his manager clearly wasn’t happy.
“I told you not to do it, and now the hooker’s fucked you over good and proper. Fuck knows how we’re going to recover from this.”
“Do what you can,” growled Max. He wasn’t in the mood to apologize to anyone, not even Walter.
“Keep your head down and say nothing to the press. No fucking comment, got it?” His manager was about to hang up, but he had one last parting shot. “And you can forget about that script.”
Max knew immediately which script he meant—Lawrence of Arabia. Shit. If Walter was right and the bad publicity had blown his chances, then Ally had ruined everything he’d been working so hard for.
A black, empty chasm opened inside him and he clenched his jaw against a stab of pain. So much for the stupid lovely-dovey feelings he’d been having for Ally. She’d well and truly screwed him.
“Cromhill?” called a stagehand. “You have an urgent call.”
The film director grabbed the offered cell phone and listened to what the person on the other end was telling him. Cromhill’s eyes widened, then he swung around to stare at Max. His expression was angry, his brow and mouth both pulled down.
Great. Bad news traveled fast. Max should leave now, before he got fired from the picture.
He stalked off the set with his fists clenched, cursing Ally and everything she’d done to him. And the worst thing of all? The way his traitor of a heart had leaped when he’d heard her voice on the phone. He’d rip the damn thing right out of his chest if he could. What use was it anyway? Without Ally it seemed like all it could feel was pain.
Chapter Twelve
“I’ve already said I’m not interested, so leave me alone.” Ally cut off the call. Yet another reporter from one of the big media outlets wanted an interview about her time with Max. Hopefully Lacey and Geena wouldn’t find out how much she’d been offered, because even if it earned her a million dollars, she wouldn’t betray Max again.
Besides, if she gave an interview to another journalist, she wouldn’t be able to control what they wrote. At least she’d been able to insist on editing her own stories before Lacey published them, to make sure she didn’t include anything too personal or damaging to Max. Lacey had protested that the new versions of her stories weren’t juicy enough, but one look at Ally’s face had stopped her objections.
Ally sighed. She hadn’t been able to get that last, terrible phone call with Max out of her mind. If only she could have talked to him face-to-face, maybe it would have been different. Perhaps if he saw how sorry she was…
But there was no use dreaming about what might have been. She shook her head. Max wouldn’t be moping around. He decided what he wanted, and then he went out and took it. And more than anything, Ally knew what she wanted. Perhaps it wasn’t too late.
She leaned forward in her chair. Where was Max filming in L.A.? A Google search should tell her. Thanks to Lacey’s brilliant ad deal, her stories were s
tarting to bring in money. She’d worked out a schedule for paying back Geena from the money coming in, but even so, she should be able to withdraw enough for a plane ticket. If necessary, she could sell her computer to get the fare.
She typed in the movie name, searched through the results, and then tried Max’s name. She couldn’t leave for L.A. without a way to find him once she got there. She had no idea where he’d be staying, so her best bet would be the movie set, assuming they’d let her in. But even with all the web chatter about the movie and her stories, the shoot location seemed to be a well kept secret.
Then something caught her eye, and she clicked to a list of permits issued for public street closures. Her heart leaped when she found what she was looking for: notification of a one day closure for the purposes of shooting for the film Mastery. Yes! Heart pounding, she checked the date. Still a few days away. She could scrape up the money and get to L.A. in time. And somehow she’d work out what to say, and how to convince him to accept her apology.
Ally sat back, feeling short of breath at the thought she might get to see Max. Could she really do this? First she had to tell Lace she was going. Ever since her stories about Max had come out, Liaison had been swamped with emails and phone calls from advertisers, affiliates, and potential contributors. Not that it wasn’t wonderful to have people offering them deals for a change, but she and Lacey had been hard-pressed to keep up with it all.
Not to mention the lunatics who’d decided en masse that they could contact Max through Ally, usually offering him either marriage or sex, and often with pictures attached. All of that, plus the fact that she was already a week behind on her regular stories and they had thousands of comments on the articles about Max waiting for approval, meant it was the worst possible time for her to go anywhere.
Still, nothing was going to stop her from seeing Max again and telling him she was miserable without him. No way was the new and improved Ally going to give up her future happiness without a fight.
She picked up her phone and dialed Lacey.
“Hey, did you see our latest revenue report?” Lacey sounded excited.
“It looks good, Lace. I’ve also done our budget, and I need you to take a look, because I want to take some extra out of Liaison’s account for a plane ticket. I’m leaving for L.A. right away.”
“What’s in L.A.? Oh wait, it’s Max isn’t it? You’re really going all that way to see him?”
“You’re not going to change my mind, so don’t even try.”
Lacey puffed out her breath. “The only thing I’m worried about is that you’ll be hurt even worse. But I’m not going to stand in your way. Take what you need from the account.” She hesitated. “And listen, Al. I know I’ve already said it, but I’m really sorry we had to publish the stories.”
“At least you got to keep your house, and Geena her shop.”
“Yeah, but you’re the one who got hurt, so is there anything else I can do to make things okay?”
Ally smiled. She’d hated being mad at Lacey, especially when she could sympathize with why her friend had felt desperate enough to bully her. It had been a tough situation, and she was glad their friendship was getting back to normal.
“I’ll be away a few days, I think. Will you be able to cope with everything while I’m gone?”
“I’ll ask my cousin to help out. He’s not that bright, but he can start tomorrow and he won’t charge us much. I’ll get him to answer the phone and do simple things.”
“Thank you.”
“Just be safe, okay? Have you got somewhere to stay in L.A.?”
“I’ll find something. And I’ll work all night to get up to date on my stories before I fly out in the morning. I’ll leave them finished on the server for you.” Ally looked around her spotlessly tidy room. At least she’d finally managed to clean up her life like she’d promised herself she would. No more lies, no more debt, no more mess. Max had shown her a better way, and even if she never got to spend another minute with him, she wouldn’t let things go back to the way they used to be.
The pain of that thought stuck in her heart. What if he wouldn’t see her or listen to her apology? What if he still hated her?
She shook her head, refusing to let herself give in to despair. Maybe it would be for nothing, and she’d be forced to live the rest of her life without him, but there was only one way to find out.
# # #
“Cut,” called Cromhill.
Max got to his feet. They were shooting one of the scenes he’d been dreading most, inside the three-sided set of Cora’s bedroom, and he’d been kneeling in front of Sandy, the actress who played Cora.
The scene had gone far better than he’d hoped. Hell, who was he kidding? It had been brilliant. For once he wasn’t going to analyze how he could improve his performance for the next take, but be proud of what he’d done. He was pretty sure there wouldn’t be another take, because he’d nailed it. Max had been so caught up in the role, so immersed in the moment, he’d almost believed it was Ally in front of him, and his heart had lurched painfully when he'd stood up and remembered it was only Sandy.
Sure enough, when he turned to face Cromhill he was rewarded with a smile from the usually stern-faced man. “Good job, Max.”
“Thank you.”
Sandy grinned and nudged him. They walked off set, heading toward the back of the enormous building, and she tucked her hand into his arm. “Funnily enough, he’s not famous for his compliments,” Sandy said. “But you deserve every one. You’re better than you ever were at Julliard. When you look at me and tell me you love me, it’s like you really mean it.”
He put his arm around her shoulders to give her a squeeze. He’d known her for years, since they went to acting class together. “I do mean it.”
“Ha, I wish. I might have fantasized about you falling for me, but I know you don’t see me like that.” She poked him in the ribs. “When we do our scenes together, you’re imagining it’s her.”
Even the smallest mention of Ally made his stomach tighten. “Her who?” he asked innocently.
She snorted. “Do me a favor and don’t treat me like a moron. You called me Ally twice yesterday. And in that last scene, you started to do it again. I don’t think anyone else noticed, but I distinctly saw her name on your lips before you bit it off.”
“Just because I get a name confused…”
She shot him a sideways glance. ”Oh please. It’s not just that you keep saying her name, you’ve also been mooning around like a homeless dog.” He must have looked outraged, because she smirked. “Okay, so you’re still a gorgeous, pedigree pit bull with very sharp teeth. But I definitely want to meet the woman who managed to get a leash around your neck.”
“I’m not on a leash,” he growled.
“Don’t fight it, Max. Whatever she did to help you sure worked, and you should be over the moon that you managed to turn Cromhill around so completely. He didn’t even want you to play Thomas, and now he’s your biggest fan.”
“I thought he was going to fire me when he heard about the stories she put on her blog.”
“I don’t know why you were so worried. So you hired a dominatrix. Big deal.”
He pulled her to a stop, stunned by her dismissive tone. “Sandy, it could have meant the end of my career.”
She rolled her eyes. “You pay too much attention to Walter.”
“You don’t think he knows what he’s talking about?”
“Walter’s an amazing manager, nobody can deny that. He knows everyone in the biz, and he’s got a lot of clout. Lord knows I’d give my right eye if he’d agree to represent me. But he’s, what, a million years old? Not to mention that he’s still living in the last century.” She tugged Max’s arm, urging him toward the door. “Back then, maybe it was a problem if a star got caught with their hands down a hooker’s pants, but these days nobody cares. Seriously.”
Now that she mentioned it, after the first couple of days his phone had gone surprisingly qui
et. He’d assumed Walter had done something to put the reporters off, but maybe they’d just lost interest in the story. Could he have been making too big a deal of it?
“It may not have been front page news for long,” he said. “But what about the studio? They might think twice before considering me for any more features.”
“Nowadays you’d need to murder someone and do rude things to the body before any of the studios would blacklist you. And even then, you’d still get indie parts.” They went through the door that led outside, to the enclosed lot behind the building that held all the trailers for cast and crew. Sandy’s was closest, and they headed toward it.
“Besides, it was probably the best publicity the movie could have gotten,” continued Sandy. “I bet the studio bigwigs are rubbing their hands with glee. And the marketing guys are probably busy trying to figure out how to take credit for the whole thing. They should write her a thank you note for doing their job for them.” She cocked her head to one side and gave him an innocent look. “Or maybe you should be the one thanking her.”
“Thank her?” He pulled his arm free from her hand. “Ally lied to me.”
“Yeah, but have you actually read the stories she wrote about you?”
“No.” It would have hurt too much to read them. He hated that the details of his personal life, including his mother’s death, were probably public now. He’d purposely been staying off-line because he didn’t want to accidently stumble across any mention of them.
Although now that he thought about it, it was strange that none of the reporters he’d spoken to had mentioned his mother, or the foster home. Could Ally have left those details out?
“Well you should. They’re mainly about how you’re not just gorgeous, but the most talented actor who’s ever been born, and how you can catch bullets in your teeth and pull white rabbits out of your butt.” She made a gagging sound, and then laughed at Max’s expression. “Maybe not those last two. But it’s obvious the poor woman’s in love with you.”
