“He’s just playing hard to get,” Chynna fought back.
Kenya shrugged.
“It’s easy for you to judge,” Chynna replied. “You’re not living in my shoes, but I promise you, if you walked a day in my Manolo Blahniks, you’d see it’s not so easy being Chynna James.”
They arrived at Canyon Ranch forty minutes later, but Kenya noticed as they drove along the stone path and tree-lined driveway that they were passing the clubhouse and what appeared to be hotel rooms. Several minutes later, the limo stopped in front of a free-standing home. She stared at Chynna.
“You didn’t think we were staying with the common folk?” Chynna inquired. “Not after what I’ve been through.”
Kenya stared open-mouthed as the driver opened the door on Chynna’s side and she bounded out of the vehicle. Seconds later, he was at her door and helping her out of the limo. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, ma’am.” He walked to the rear of the limo to procure their bags just as a beautiful petite brunette came from the home with a clipboard in hand.
“Welcome, Ms. James,” the woman gushed. “We’re excited to have you here.”
“I’m thankful for the time away,” Chynna returned. “And my privacy.”
“Of course.” The woman’s hand touched her chest. “Your manager indicated the need for complete anonymity while you’re here. The house staff, trainers and chefs we’ve arranged for you have all signed nondisclosure agreements.”
“Excellent!” Chynna sashayed past the woman toward the front door without waiting to see if the woman and Kenya were following.
Kenya felt like a member of Chynna’s entourage and followed her inside.
The woman ran in her pumps alongside Chynna. “Casa Grande is at your disposal for the next two weeks,” the brunette said. “Casa Grande is twenty-seven hundred square feet and,” she continued as they walked inside the foyer, “features a living and dining room, full kitchen, several bedrooms and a private patio.”
“We couldn’t ask for anything more,” Chynna said, plopping down on the plush suede sofa in the living room.
“Would you like a tour of the home?” the brunette asked.
Kenya glanced down at Chynna, who was already on her iPhone checking her Facebook page or tweeting about something or another. “I would love one.” Kenya followed the woman around the home, admiring the beautiful wood ceiling tresses and hardwood floors. The home was done in warm browns and beiges, with pops of color throughout. Kenya was going to enjoy her stay here.
“We have arranged to have a chef cook all of your meals, three times a day, but of course, if you,” the brunette said, looking at Kenya, “would like to dine at the clubhouse, then by all means, join us.”
Kenya understood the underlying meaning that since she wasn’t the celebrity, no one would disturb her; but in the last few weeks, many people had gotten the two of them confused. “Thanks.”
After the short tour, they returned to find Chynna on her phone, pacing the living room. Kenya could only assume she was talking to her manager.
“Is there anything else you need?” the brunette inquired, but Chynna waved her off with her hand and headed outside to the private patio.
“That will be all, thank you.”
Kenya couldn’t believe how rude Chynna was being, but then again, couldn’t she? This was who Chynna was at times—an arrogant, self-centered and spoiled diva.
The brunette nodded before leaving the room.
When Chynna returned, she was scowling.
“What’s wrong?” Kenya asked.
“Deacon is insisting I should have my bodyguards here, just in case.”
Kenya pointed to the door the concierge had just left from. “You heard the woman. They’ve got this place on lockdown. You’ve nothing to fear.”
Chynna shrugged. “Don’t be mad. He says it’s for the best.”
“Is there no escaping your life?” Kenya inquired and went in search of her luggage that was still sitting in the foyer. She’d already decided on which room she wanted. It was the one that would get the morning sun, which, being a morning person was perfect for Kenya. She would go out for a long run or hike to clear her mind.
“Kenya!” Chynna yelled at her retreating figure; but she was already gone.
When Kenya returned from her run, Chynna was waiting for her.
“I don’t want to get into it,” Kenya said, heading for her room.
“Well then, you won’t hear me say that there will be no bodyguards.”
“What?” Kenya turned around.
“I ordered Deacon to call them off,” Chynna said proudly. “It will be just us.”
A smile rippled across her sister’s mouth. “Good for you. I’m going to go shower, and then I’ll be ready for lunch.”
A half-hour later, the sisters shared a healthy lunch of grilled chicken and a pear, pecan and cranberry salad. Then they went to the spa for a much-needed massage and facial treatment. Afterward, they returned to their villa and sat outside on the patio to watch the sunset with a cup of tea to catch up on old times.
Chynna would have preferred something stronger, but apparently Canyon Ranch was dry unless you brought your own goodies. “I can’t believe I escaped to Tucson with no press on my heels.”
“Oh, yeah.” Kenya sipped on her tea. “Was the press on your tail?”
“You know it,” Chynna snapped. “We had to send two decoys in my place to two different locations to throw their scent off.”
Kenya sighed and laughed. “Such covert intrigue. Is it always like that? How do you live with it?”
Chynna was silent for a moment as she thought over the question. “On the one hand, I love it. I was born to be a star, but …”
“But what?”
“But sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be a regular person ... to be able to go to the grocery store on my own without the paparazzi shadowing my every move and trying to catch me without my makeup on.”
“It sounds exhausting,” Kenya replied.
“It is sometimes. But enough about me. What’s going on with you?”
Kenya was shocked that Chynna could manage to turn the conversation away from herself. “Everything’s fine.”
“Are you sure?” Chynna eyed her suspiciously. “I thought I heard rumors your show could be canceled.”
“I sure hope not,” Kenya said. “I was reading the next couple of scripts on the plane, and they’re writing some brilliant stuff, Emmy-worthy material.”
“Ya think?”
Secretly, Kenya had hoped she would’ve won last year when she’d received an Emmy nod for best dramatic actress, but the Academy had awarded pretty much the same actresses as it had previously, leaving Kenya without a statuette. Everyone had said it was a travesty, and Kenya had tried to put on a brave face, but it hurt always being the bridesmaid and never the bride.
“Well, you’re going to win it next time!” Chynna said passionately. “You’re a phenomenal actress, Kenya. Always have been. I wish I could say the same.”
Ah, and in true form, the conversation returned back to Chynna, Kenya thought.
“Having a hard time with the movie?” Kenya inquired.
“Hard time?” Chynna laughed bitterly. “Make that worst time. I’m terrible, and no one is willing to tell me so. They all want me to be this incredible brand of music, movies, perfume, clothes, and usually I’m up for it, but acting ...this might be the one thing that’s out of my element.”
Kenya got a smug feeling inside knowing there was one thing she was good at that Chynna couldn’t master. “Give it time.”
“How much?” Chynna asked, ringing her hands. “If I don’t pull it together quick, the director will replace me. Do you think perhaps while we’re here, you could run lines with me?”
“Sure.” Kenya wasn�
��t sure what good it would be, but she would give it the old college try.
After nearly an hour, Kenya surmised that Chynna just didn’t have it. That it that directors looked for, but she supposed that with a whole lot of editing, the movie studio would figure out how to make it work.
“I’m bad, aren’t I?” Chynna asked.
Kenya tried to hide her frustration over Chynna’s inability to really let herself go there. “You need to be more vulnerable,” she stated.
“I’m trying,” Chynna responded fervently.
“Well, it’s not translating to me,” Kenya said. She’d run lines before, but never so painstakingly.
Chynna huffed and stood up. “I’m not into this acting thing. I just want to sing and maybe design an outfit or fragrance, but acting, quite frankly, bores me.”
“Then you should never have let them talk you into it. Where’s the bullheaded Chynna I know and grew up with? Where has she gone?”
Chynna stared out at the fading sunset and then turned around. “Honestly, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps it’s time you find her.”
“And how would I do that?”
Kenya pondered the question. “I don’t know, but something’s gotta give.”
Chapter 3
Chynna couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt truly relaxed and in control of her own destiny than she did over the last week and a half. No schedules, no meetings, no tapings, no concerts. She’d woken up when she wanted, no matter the time of day. She was sure Kenya thought she was crazy sleeping half her morning away over the last week, but she didn’t care—she needed to catch up on her sleep.
Between the concerts and the late nights afterward, she was usually up all night and only able to sleep a few hours during the day. Since she’d been at the resort, she went to bed at midnight and got up at nine or ten o’clock, which was quite early for her.
Her twin, on the other hand, was usually already up, had gone for an hour-long run, showered and was sitting at the breakfast table eating an egg-white omelet the chef had prepared. They’d both been blessed with baby-making hips and each had to run or, in Chynna’s case, work with a trainer to keep their bodies tight. And tight hers had to remain. Eli was always telling her the camera put on fifteen pounds and that she had to stay within her target weight. Not so easy to do when she was on the road, eating fast food and not getting enough sleep.
She felt better mentally and physically this week than she ever had. She and Kenya had done yoga, Pilates and Zumba. She’d had a massage and facial just about every day, and her pores and skin never seemed so clear. Despite Deacon’s protestations, coming to the ranch was a gift.
“Hey, sis,” Chynna said, walking into the dining room where Kenya was seated and finishing her omelet.
“Can I have another one of those?” Chynna asked the patient chef, who always waited for her to wake up before starting her breakfast. “But make mine with smoked Gouda, spinach, sautéed mushrooms, onions and some bacon crumbles.”
Kenya laughed as she placed another forkful of omelet into her mouth. “You had me until the bacon crumbles.”
“Hey, bacon makes everything taste better,” Chynna said, plopping in the cushioned chair beside Kenya and folding one leg underneath the other.
“Sure thing,” the chef said and busied himself with making her order.
“So what are we going to do today?” Kenya asked.
“I thought we could venture out into the city,” Chynna said. “I love the ranch, but I’m dying to see what shopping Tucson has to offer.”
“Do you think that’s wise? The press has no idea where you are. Why give them any hints?”
“True.” The decoys they’d used had worked marvelously and the best the press could come up with was Chynna James had gone into hiding because she was ashamed at having been caught having an affair with a married man. “But as much as I love all this clean living, I need a little retail therapy. Don’t deny me one of the few things that make me happy in life.”
“It’s your funeral,” Kenya responded, getting up with her plate and taking it to the kitchen island. She started to rinse it off, but Chef Antoine stopped her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it, mon chèri.”
“Thank you.” She turned to rejoin Chynna.
Chynna was wearing a pouty frown, but then she saw Kenya’s stiff shoulders soften. “You’ll see, it’ll be a lot of fun, and I’ll have the concierge call ahead and arrange a few places and we’ll go through the back entrance.”
Several hours later, Chynna pranced in front of the three-way mirror in a sequin, feather mini-dress. High-gloss sequins were sprinkled over a sweetheart neckline, with the feathers dangling and barely reaching her thighs.
“What do you think?” Chynna asked, turning to Kenya, who was seated on the couch outside the dressing room.
“That it barely covers your crotch,” Kenya stated honestly.
Chynna rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror to check out her side view. “This look is in, Kenya. It’s hot!”
“If you say so.”
Chynna turned back around with a malevolent look in her eye. “It’s about high time we got you out of your shell. You have a body as good, no, better than mine, and you can flaunt it.”
She looked over at the store attendant who’d been graciously helping them. As soon as they’d entered the exclusive boutique, she’d made it clear she was used to celebrities frequenting the store and that Chynna needn’t worry about any disturbances because she’d closed down the store. Chynna had hoped that would be the case and had informed the attendant she would be spending an outrageous sum of money, which had brought a smile from the store owner.
“Can you please get my twin here the sexiest dress you can find, and she’ll try it on and I’ll buy it.”
“Absolutely, Ms. James.” The store owner departed the fitting area.
“I don’t need to try on that stuff,” Kenya protested. “It’s not me.”
“How would you know? You live in your bubble in New York.”
“Ouch.” Kenya frowned.
“I’m sorry,” Chynna apologized, but it wasn’t quite sincere. Kenya needed to live a little. “When was your last date?”
Kenya shrugged. “I don’t know ... a few months ago, maybe six. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means you’ve fallen off the horse and you have to get back on.”
“I just haven’t found the right man who excites me. I want a strong, take-charge man. A real man’s man. One who isn’t afraid to get dirty and maybe change a flat tire and ruin his manicure.”
“A man not into all the Hollywood bullshit?”
“You feel me.” Kenya pointed back to Chynna.
“That describes Lucas Kingston,” Chynna said, “in a nutshell.”
“Huph,” Kenya huffed.
“Hey, hey.” Chynna shook her finger at Kenya. “Don’t talk about my man like that.”
Kenya chuckled. “Does he know he’s your man?”
“Soon,” Chynna promised. “Real soon.”
“You’re telling me Chynna still isn’t back yet from this week-long sabbatical?” Lucas asked Deacon later that evening.
Deacon hated when the man turned the midnight eyes on him. Wasn’t it enough that he was six foot five, built like a running back, and outweighed him by a hundred pounds? Did he have to have piercing eyes too? “No, she’s not back yet.”
Lucas slammed his fists on his desk. “We’ve already canceled two tour dates because of all this foolishness with Blake Cooper. She needs to get her butt back here.”
“She’s not ready yet.”
“Not ready?” Lucas said. “It’s been over a week and the salaciousness of this story isn’t dying down. She needs to face the press. If she doesn’t, she’
ll always be in fear of them. Sometimes you have to look a bully in the face. You know what I’m saying?”
“I don’t disagree, Lucas,” Deacon responded. “And I tried to tell her as much, but after she talked to her twin, she was convinced it was in her best interest.”
“Oh, that’s right,” Lucas said. “She has a twin—an identical one, right?”
Deacon nodded.
“Have you ever met her?”
“Couple of times, but not for long. Kenya hates the L.A. scene and Chynna usually goes out there to her or meets her somewhere else. In her own words, ‘I want to keep my family life private,’ which makes this thing with Blake so crazy. Sure, she’s an incorrigible flirt, but she’d never do anything reckless.”
Lucas shook his head in agreement. Incorrigible flirt was correct. Chynna James had set her sights on him and was always trying to get his attention, but he, like this twin of hers, wasn’t interested in the L.A. scene either. Surprising given that he’d gone into business with his best friend, Eli Ross, to start R&K Records, but then again, he was supposed to be a silent partner. Eli was supposed to be the face because the man could spot talent in a heartbeat. But when Eli’s mismanagement became apparent, Lucas had to step in and forgo being hidden in the shadows or risk losing his investment. So, Lucas had gotten sucked into the game, much to his own dismay. Eli continued to handle talent, but Lucas kept his eyes on everything now, and Chynna sashaying her butt out of town was costing him money and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Where is she?” Lucas rose from his seat and walked over to stand in front of Deacon. He knew his basketball player height scared the manager, but he wasn’t above using intimidation to get his way. He needed Chynna back now.
“No can do, Lucas,” Deacon said. “Chynna’s been my client for years, and I can’t go against her wishes.”
“But you don’t mind getting those bonuses from the record label either.”
Deacon began slowly backing away from Lucas and heading toward the door. “I don’t mind them a bit, but Chynna would have my head and I can’t betray her.”
Harts of Arizona Series Page 3
