by Lucy Score
“By all means,” Waverly said, helping herself to a glass of water and envisioned herself throwing it in Media Barbie’s face.
“Now, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you that The Dedication is the biggest film you’ve done to date and has the largest potential to influence your future career. If you handle the publicity for the film in the right way, and it does what’s expected at the box office, you could be naming your price for your next project and the next.”
Waverly let her prattle on about branding, staying on message, appearing friendlier in interviews. Gwendolyn had already drafted talking points about the movie, her co-star, the director, and run them by the studio for approval. She’d even included a few “amusing” stories that Waverly should feel free to share during interviews.
There was, of course, the list of things not to discuss, such as the fact that Waverly had made twenty percent less than her male co-star even while garnering more screen time.
By this point in the meeting, Waverly was digging her fingernails into her leg to give herself something to focus on besides Gwendolyn’s droning offense.
“I’d like to touch on this bodyguard issue briefly again as it ties into the premiere and tour,” Gwendolyn said. “This movie is a love story, and audiences need to believe that it could come true.”
“Liam is married,” Waverly reminded her.
Gwendolyn waved his marital status away. “You two wrapped filming before they were married so I don’t see any issue in hinting at a past relationship and making sure the audience can still sense a chemistry.”
“We didn’t have a past relationship.” Annoyance was charging into pissed off territory.
“What they want to see is that you two have a connection. The film will sell better and you will sell better if you give everyone what they want. And they’re going to want you and Liam, not you and some nameless security guard.”
“Xavier isn’t a security guard,” Waverly snapped. “He owns Invictus Security.”
For the first time, Gwendolyn looked interested in the conversation. “Well, well. Maybe Sylvia didn’t get everything wrong this time.” She arched an exquisite eyebrow.
“I think we’re done here,” Waverly said. She’d been bumped over her tolerance level about ten minutes ago.
“Nice seeing you again,” Gwendolyn said without looking up from the screen of her tablet. “Don’t forget to send in your security.”
--------
Waverly paced off her mad in the kitchen while Louie dodged her.
“Why don’t you sit and pout,” Louie grumbled, smacking his stainless mallet against a sliver of pork with more force than necessary.
“I’m not pouting,” Waverly shot back.
“Well, I can’t help you if you won’t tell me what’s wrong.”
What was wrong? Oh, just the usual. Her stalker was on the loose, but he wasn’t dangerous enough to warrant police intervention. Her mother had once again sold her out to the tabloids showing an outrageous apathy toward her reputation in favor of garnering attention. And then there was that hot, liquid pooling she felt between her legs every single time she looked at the untouchable Xavier Saint.
An unfamiliar laugh, warm and bright, echoed off the marble floor of the hallway.
Waverly and Louie shared a glance.
“Is that Ice Queen laughing?” Louie looked as incredulous as Waverly felt.
“That’s not possible,” Waverly shook her head.
They raced to the door and pushed it open at the same time. Louie’s jaw hit the floor when he saw Gwendolyn facing Xavier with a dazzling smile on her face. “Well, I must say it was a pleasure, Mr. Saint.”
“Please. Call me Xavier.” He turned, sensing them in the hallway, and his gaze told Waverly he was anything but happy.
Oblivious to the tension between them, Gwendolyn gave her trilling laugh again and patted Xavier on the chest. “Oh, I can work with this, Waverly,” she said, her smile still at full wattage. “I’ll be in touch. Off to speak with your mother.”
“Good luck,” Waverly whispered after her. She wasn’t sure which of them would need it more.
“I need to speak with you,” Xavier said, all charm vanishing from his face.
Waverly and Louie backed into the kitchen, and Xavier advanced on them.
Louie, the coward, abandoned her and busied himself on the safe side of the island when Xavier shoved the swinging door open. It bounced off the wall. Waverly backed into a barstool as his hand clamped over her wrist.
“Let’s take a walk.”
“But… I’m helping Louie.”
“No you’re not,” Louie the Traitor announced, his relief evident when Xavier hauled her out the door.
“What the hell, X?” Waverly asked, trying to yank her arm loose. But he wasn’t giving up. He pulled her around the side of the house toward the garden with its cobbled walkways and pristinely trimmed hedges.
“Your mother sells information about you to the tabloids, and I have to find this out from your publicist?” He finally released her, and she took a step back, turning to get a bit of distance between them.
“I’m sorry about the picture, X. Gwendolyn will fix it. She always does.”
“Always does, as in this isn’t the first time.”
“I promise, I won’t let this damage your reputation or that of Invictus either.”
“Actually, according to our friend Gwendolyn a juicy little scandal like this would bump up the exposure of Invictus and have female clients flooding in.”
“Everybody wins,” Waverly said weakly.
“You know that’s not what I’m after, and I’m also not after you apologizing for your mother’s behavior. You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Then why are you yelling at me?”
“I’m not yelling,” he yelled. “I’m being upset on your behalf in a loud manner.”
“Oh good. Glad we cleared that up.”
He turned her around to face him, this time gently. “I have to ask you something, okay? And I need you to be honest.”
“If I can, I will be.” She could tell he wasn’t particularly pleased by that answer, but he pressed on.
“The topless pictures of you from the tabloid…”
Waverly took a slow deep breath and let it out. She could lie to him, but he’d know. It seemed like he already knew. “She took them.”
His hands tightened reflexively on her arms, and he muttered out a string of curses.
“She’s sick, X.” Her shoulders slumped. Somehow, her mother’s indiscretions made Waverly feel like both a victim and a failure.
“No shit. What kind of a mother sells out her own daughter like that?”
“She’d been drinking for a week straight. Her ‘baby’ was turning eighteen, and that meant she was old enough to be the mother of an adult. Aging in this industry can be traumatic, especially for women. The drinking makes her do things that she wouldn’t normally do.”
“That’s no fucking excuse,” he said, and then he was pulling her in and holding her. “I knew from the angle that someone had to take them from inside the house. I just assumed it was some asshole guest.”
She could hear his heart beating steadily against her ear. Its staccato beat told her he was still angry, but it wasn’t with her for once. He was angry on her behalf.
“I had a photo shoot coming up and didn’t want tan lines. I thought I had the place to myself. The pictures came out on my eighteenth birthday, but I knew from the landscaping and other details that they were taken earlier than that. So I stormed into my lawyer’s office that afternoon, just a few hours before my party.
“He reached out to the publisher immediately, saying we had proof that these were taken when I was underage. And five minutes later the guy was on the phone, dropping the bomb. My mother sent them the pictures. There was a part that I was up for, but it was more adult than my other work. She thought it wo
uld help the studio with their decision.” She gave a bitter laugh and rested her cheek against his chest. “I had to leave my lawyer’s office and go to the party that she and my father threw for me.”
Xavier’s hand stroked her hair, the back of her neck. It felt so good and so safe to be in his arms.
“I had to call Gwendolyn in to help clean it up. The tabloid could have gone public with it all, but between Gwendolyn and my attorney, they backed down fast. The settlement with the tabloid was that they wouldn’t reveal their source if I didn’t pursue charges and a lawsuit. None of the parties involved would ever speak of it again. And it worked. I got the part. Everybody won. Gwendolyn told my father what had happened, and the next day, we checked my mother into rehab.”
“I’m so sorry, Angel,” he said, his lips moving against her hair.
“I should be apologizing to you,” she said, pulling back to look up at him. “She’s not just screwing with my reputation now, she’s dragging you into it.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You made Gwendolyn smile. And laugh,” Waverly said.
“This face is a curse sometimes,” he said, raising the back of his hand to his forehead.
The martyr act got a laugh out of her. “Poor Xavier Saint. Too pretty for life.”
“What is it they say about honey and flies?”
“Aha! So you were after something,” Waverly said, crossing her arms. They began to walk slowly around the corkscrew path that led inward to the statue garden.
“She was very adamant about you doing all of the pre-premiere press, which meant you’d be running all over L.A. for the next week.”
“Gwendolyn wasn’t overly concerned about Ganim,” Waverly said. “I think she’s seen it all before, and if I get kidnapped and murdered, it would make the movie a blockbuster with all the press attention.”
“Sometimes I feel like I’m working for Satan and the Nazis in this town,” Xavier sighed.
Waverly laughed again. “Now who’s being dramatic?”
“Anyway, Gwendolyn and I were able to hash out a deal that we both find acceptable for your media appearances. You’ll be doing all the radio shows from here and the shoot for the Behind the Scenes blog will be moved from the hotel to the main house.”
“My mother will approve. She loves having shoots here.”
“Then instead of a dozen interviews scattered all over town, you and Liam will do a screening and press junket at the Four Seasons for a day. She’s having a press agent make the arrangements now.”
“That was a very productive twenty minutes,” Waverly said.
“I have to coordinate with Kate, but I think we’re going to be able to keep your outside exposure limited before the premiere.”
“Is that security speak for keeping me under lock and key?”
“I thought it was a much nicer way of putting it, though now that I know we have a direct threat living on the property, I’m considering locking you away in a remote cabin with no running water or WIFI.”
“Haven’t I suffered enough?”
“I’m going to have to talk to her, Waverly.” She knew it would have to be done. If Gwendolyn couldn’t convince her mother that not all attention was good attention, Xavier could at least scare her into behaving for a while.
“I feel like I should be the one having the conversation with her,” she admitted. “She’s my responsibility. Not yours or Gwendolyn’s.”
Xavier shot her a look. “She’s your mother. She’s her own responsibility, maybe your father’s, and definitely Gwendolyn’s. That’s what the woman is paid to do.”
“But—”
“No buts. You are not responsible for her behavior, her drinking, or her choices. Stop trying to be.”
“Maybe we could lock her away in that cabin with no water or WIFI,” Waverly said wistfully.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The days before the premiere flew by in a blur. Waverly’s complaint with the police went, predictably, nowhere. And thanks to Gwendolyn’s master puppeteering, every major media outlet had picked up the story of her stalker scare. Not only was she getting sympathy points, the rumors about Xavier had dried up. Although, with the exposure, he’d now become a favorite with the paparazzi thanks to an insatiable female demographic, and his face was splashed across as many gossip sites as Waverly’s.
With Waverly ensconced at home and Xavier heading the Ganim investigation—and no longer sleeping on her couch—they barely saw each other except for short, daily catch-up sessions. Each was preparing for the premiere in their own way. Waverly and Kate worked with the dress designer, trainers, the studio’s publicity team, and spa staff leading up to the big day.
Xavier, meanwhile, had gone on the offensive. He’d called a meeting with Sylvia and Robert where he dropped the bomb that Sylvia’s tips to the tabloids and paparazzi had been how Ganim was able to track Waverly’s movements in L.A. It had led to an ugly scene between the couple. Xavier felt like a marriage counselor as he extracted a promise from each of them that it would never happen again.
Ganim had remained quiet and just out of reach.
One of Invictus’ research staff had hit a hot tip doing cold calls to motels. A man matching Ganim’s description had stayed there for four days, paying cash, but had checked out that very morning. The front desk clerk, whose only on-the-job excitement to-date had been the night the ice machine broke, had been only too happy to provide the alias and license plate number that Ganim had registered under. She even invited Invictus to search the room since the cleaners wouldn’t get to it for another hour.
What they’d found had warranted an actual visit from Detective Hansen. While most of the room had been wiped clean, an eagle-eyed tech had discovered traces of black powder on the rickety particleboard desk.
Black powder meant either ammunition or explosives. Neither was good. Hansen made no promises, but said he’d have some uniforms “look into it.”
Xavier had grimly increased the coverage to include Sylvia, Robert, and Kate. Everyone now had a driver and a guard.
He worked daily with event security for the premiere and coordinated with the LAPD officers who would be on duty at the event. He made sure every member of the team had memorized Les Ganim’s face and finally secured permission to have Invictus staff positioned in plainclothes throughout the crowd, on the carpet, and inside the theatre.
Two days before the premiere, Xavier had put the team to the test at the press junket. Invictus invaded the W Los Angeles hotel with exterior, lobby, and floor coverage, ensuring that no one could get to Waverly without first getting through Invictus.
He’d been impressed by Waverly before, but today he was captivated. She sat on a low leather couch in the presidential suite next to her co-star Liam MacGill, answering the same questions over and over again with sincerity. The interviews were scheduled in strict fifteen-minute increments, and reporters and bloggers cycled through the chairs across from the actors like clockwork. All the while, Xavier stood by, positioning himself between Waverly and whoever came through the door.
Between interviews, stylists freshened Waverly’s hair and make-up and Gwendolyn reviewed talking points with her. Phil spent most of the day on his phone answering emails and sneaking snacks off the food table.
“This whole BFF thing you guys are going for is falling a little flat,” Gwendolyn announced after a blogger left the room texting madly on her phone. “If you’re hell-bent on that angle, try punching up the pranks angle next time, bigger smiles, bigger eye rolls.”
Waverly made fake look so real that he was almost unnerved by it. She slipped behind her carefully crafted public façade so easily that Xavier felt like he was staring at a different woman. She could make people believe whatever it was she wanted them to. On camera, Waverly couldn’t live without her Bulgari sunglasses and her Seven jeans and her Crème de la Mer. Interview Waverly loved her protein smoothies and ate a strict fou
rteen hundred calorie diet. Public Waverly was not a tacos on the beach or motorcycle road trip kind of girl.
Waverly caught Xavier watching her and winked at him over her Perrier. He joined her at the long glass table the hotel’s catering staff had laden with every kind of celebrity food favorite imaginable.
“Who are you?” he asked her as she loaded up a plate with crudité and avocado hummus.
“It’s all about perception, X.” She wriggled her eyebrows at him. “Here.” She pressed a plate into his hands. “Eat.”
“I don’t need to eat.”
“It’s three in the afternoon, and we didn’t have lunch. I don’t need you getting lightheaded and faint when some bad guy breaks down the door.”
Xavier reluctantly tossed a burger slider on his plate. “Happy?”
“Eat it like a good boy.”
He took a bite, and his eyes rolled back in his head. “Oh, my God. What is this?”
“Kobe beef,” Waverly grinned. “So what do you think?”
“I think I just put actual heaven in my mouth.”
“No, I mean about the junket. Do you think it’s going well?”
“Why are you asking me?”
“You’re a trained observer. Gwendolyn seems to think we’re doing a shit job selling the film and ourselves, and if I asked Phil, he would just tell me I’m brilliant and pat me on the head.”
“Point taken. What do you want to know?”
“What do you think is coming across to the press?”
He took another bite of slider and thought before speaking. “What people find interesting about stories is the relationships. So whether it’s between you and Liam in real life or as characters, that’s what they want to hear about. So your interactions with a co-star or a director or the author of the book, even your own stalker. It’s the relationships that matter to people.”
Waverly looked pensive. “Still waters certainly run deep. Thanks, X.” Then she snagged the rest of the slider off his plate and ate it.
At least the real Waverly was still in there somewhere, Xavier noted. He was glad she and Liam had foregone the “ex-lovers” angle. Even if the relationship was fake, Xavier would have still wanted to beat the hell out of the guy, and Liam seemed like a decent man. Not like that Dante Wrede.
