by Donna Hill
“Not a problem. I was coming up to LA to meet with some friends this weekend anyway.”
“Cool. Come up earlier and we’ll do lunch.”
“You got it.”
“Later, doll—and congrats!”
Kendall hung up the phone and shimmied. She threw her hands in the air and squealed. “This is happening!”
Kendall’s plan to reinvent herself was coming to pass. Now, if only the other areas of her life could come into alignment.
Chapter 2
Saying goodbye was never easy, but this time, Tyson Blackwell was ready. He almost looked forward to life without Tiffany Reddick. The whirlwind they’d lived had become tiresome, and it was obvious that she loved the frenzy more than him. Tiffany had used him to gain more spotlight than she’d ever experienced. Tyson chided himself for not seeing the truth right away. Instead he was taken by her beauty, her zest and her sense of ambition. That was before realizing their adoration for one another wasn’t reciprocal—Tiffany was an unapologetic opportunist.
Tyson stepped back until the mirror reflected the fullness of his tall frame. Tugging on the lapels of his tux, he turned to one side and then the other. He looked good—ready. Tyson looked forward to tonight’s movie premiere and the dance he and Tiffany would do for the cameras. The world wasn’t aware of their breakup yet. They wanted the movie to be the big news, not their relationship status. Everyone who wasn’t close enough to keep their secret would find out after opening weekend, and they were determined to control the narrative.
Despite what he knew of her, Tyson never let the truth pass his lips. He wouldn’t dare muddy her public’s view of Hollywood’s newest rising star, their new sweetheart and the star of the biggest movie of his career as a producer, a role he enjoyed in addition to the title of CEO soon to be passed down from his father. Instead, he was sure her true colors would eventually burst through her as if she’d swallowed a rainbow.
Tyson saw his phone light up before it rang.
“Ready for the big night?” his brother, Turner, asked.
Tyson squirted a splash of cologne onto his neck. “Yep.”
After a few moments passed, Turner asked, “Are you okay?”
Tyson didn’t answer right away. “Yeah. I’m ready.” Soon the sting would be gone. Talking about their failed relationship would be less burdensome once they were really done. He was tired of playing charades. That day hadn’t come yet.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. You’re bringing what’s-her-name... Kimberly?”
“No. You’ll meet this one tonight.”
Tyson chuckled. “You rascal, as Dad would say.”
“Hey! I’m a single man. I’m entitled to my pick of women.”
“I can’t argue with that.” Tyson was single now too. He remembered the fun and lure of dating but hadn’t expected to get back into it so soon. Hopefully dating hadn’t lost its luster. This time, he’d stay on the market awhile, have some fun, push serious dating off for some time and finish getting Tiffany’s betrayal completely out of his system. She hadn’t cheated with another man. She’d simply cheated him out of a genuine connection under false pretenses. Tyson had to give it to her. She was a hell of an actress.
“...best that I get it out of my system now.” Tyson pulled himself from his thoughts and focused on what his brother was saying. “That way,” Turner continued, “when and if I decide to settle down, I’ll only have eyes for my wife. By then, my oats will have been sowed and harvested. Ha!”
“Probably cooked too.” Tyson laughed with him. “See you at the theater.”
“Cool. Are you coming with Tiffany?”
Tyson hesitated again. “Yeah.”
Turner sighed. “I’m sure you can’t wait until this is over.”
A sharp inhale followed by a loud exhale was his initial response. “Let Dad know that I’m on my way.”
“You got it.”
Tyson ended the call and stuffed his wallet in his pocket. Without looking at his watch, he knew his driver would arrive soon, and sure enough, he did.
At Tiffany’s home, they waited fifteen minutes for her to emerge from the house. If each of those minutes went into putting the finishing touches on Tiffany’s gorgeous look, they were all worth it. Tyson knew she’d be stunning, but he hadn’t expected his own breath to hitch. A single wide braid wrapped around the edges of her hairline and blossomed into an elegant bun in the back of her head. The soft flair of her ivory gown and the way it embraced her curves made her look both angelic and sexy at the same time.
Tyson cleared his throat and sat up straighter in his seat. Why couldn’t things have been different? It takes much more than beauty. Remembering his gentlemanly ways, he stepped out of the car to greet Tiffany, hugging her in a friendly manner and then helping her into the car. The driver shut the door and rounded the vehicle to return to the driver’s seat.
“Don’t you look handsome?” Tiffany said with a wink.
“Thank you. And you look quite stunning yourself.”
“I might have to keep our breakup quiet for a while longer just to keep you off the market.”
“Tiffany.”
She waved her hand. “It was a joke, Tyson.” She sucked her teeth. “When did you become so serious?” She turned to look out the window.
“Ready for tonight’s performance?” Tyson asked, referring to the two of them acting like they were still together.
Tiffany turned to look at him. She narrowed her eyes for several moments before scooting closer to him. “Maybe,” she whispered, running the back of her index finger down the side of his face, “we should rehearse.”
“Tiffany.” Tyson sighed her name. Before he could speak again, she kissed him.
The kiss happened in slow motion. Tyson became aware of her lips on his when he felt her softness. He kissed her back, waiting to feel that surge of excitement from before. He remembered when her kisses would soften him, entice him, release waves of wild passion inside of him. Things were different now. The effect wasn’t there.
Tiffany pulled back, her hand still on his cheek. She stared into his eyes for a moment, blinked. Focusing on her dress, she brushed away imaginary lint. “I would say that required another take, but I don’t think it will get any better.”
Tyson sat straight, but let his head relax against the headrest. He assumed that, like him, Tiffany expected more from their kiss. Both seemed to wait for some kind of surge or shift. It didn’t happen. Tiffany retreated to her side of the car, stared out the window. They clung to opposite sides of the backseat, taking in the blurred scenery of the passing landscape until they reached the theater.
The car pulled to a stop. Lights flickered against the dark tinted windows. Once again, his driver exited, and seconds later he pulled Tyson’s door open. Tyson unfolded himself from the rear, attempting to look lean, fit and refined. He reached back, took Tiffany by the hand. She cooed and cast dreamy eyes on Tyson. He smiled back, pulled her to him. They kissed, broke apart to stare into each other’s eyes and pecked lips again. Tiffany ran her thumb across his moist lips. He took her hand, and on cue, together, they turned toward the flashing cameras. Tiffany leaned into him, cooed again, smiled and waved to their fans—her fans.
“Tiffany!” someone yelled from the sidelines. More cameras flashed. “We love you!”
Press waved for their attention. Fans lined up behind stanchions, loving them. Loving their chemistry. Every other step they snuggled and posed for the cameras. She ran her hands down the front of his tux, touched his lips, his cheeks. Tyson never let her other hand go. More pictures were taken. She pressed her body against his, rested her head on his shoulder, leaned back and tossed carefree laughter into the air. The cameras illuminated the red carpet.
“We love you, Tyfany!” Their fans had given them a power couple nickname, like Brad
Pitt and Angelina Jolie’s Brangelina or Kanye West and Kim Kardashian’s Kimye.
Inside the premiere, Tiffany hardly left his side. They smiled for more cameras. Tyson was charming and Tiffany was lovable, becoming America’s next sweetheart. Together they were adorable. Their public feasted on their chemistry.
The audience was on their feet at the end of the movie. Tiffany aced her starring role as a historical figure in a tale of overcoming odds.
“Oscar-worthy, don’t you think?” she leaned over and whispered in Tyson’s ear.
He raised both brows. A small grin played at the corner of his lips. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, but he knew Tiffany well—had seen all of her personas, from the sweetheart to the sex kitten to the key one she kept hidden, but when it had emerged, it became the weight that broke the relationship. The manipulator. If she rose to the top too fast, she’d become a diva of the worst kind.
Tiffany and Tyson maintained their ruse through the reception that followed the movie. By the time his driver pulled up to Tiffany’s stately home, Tyson was exhausted.
“Come inside.” Tiffany’s gaze was direct. Her words hit Tyson’s ears like a command.
They’d been here before. Dozens of times. Tyson remained quiet, holding her gaze. Torn.
Tiffany sighed. “I guess it’s really over.”
Before today, Tyson would have already told his driver to come back for him later. But this dance with Tiffany had already lingered far too long after the music stopped playing. Tyson was still attracted to her. Any man with reasonable eyesight would be. And as a man who enjoyed spoiling his woman, he’d given in to her more than he ever should have. But Tyson didn’t like the feeling of being strung along and continuing this routine with Tiffany made him feel like he was dangling from the end of her puppet strings. This needed to end.
“Good night, Tiffany.” Tyson stared directly at her, fighting the temptation. He could give in just one last time or he could stand his ground.
Tiffany’s mouth hung open slightly. She blinked, surprised by his response. He could feel coolness emanating off her because of his rejection. Tiffany blinked a few more times, cleared her throat and then sucked her teeth. Without another word, she fumbled with the lock, jabbing the button until she heard the door click. Yanking the lever, Tiffany swung the door open and threw it back so hard, the sound of metal bending squawked in the air. A second later she was out of the car and slamming the door behind her.
“Let’s make sure she gets in.” Tyson’s voice was even. He let his window down and watched Tiffany stomp her way up the walk and enter the house. He sighed again and rolled up the window. The driver pulled away. Tyson watched the house until he could no longer see it, confident that it would be the last time he’d set eyes on Tiffany’s home.
Chapter 3
“Kendall!” Randi sang in her usual way.
“Hey, Randi.” Kendall stood, knocking over the water the waitress had just placed on her small bistro table, and hugged her agent and friend. Water streamed between the slim slits in the bistro table onto Kendall’s toes. Randi grabbed a napkin and dabbed at the water. Kendall waved the waitress over. Despite the little mishap, alfresco dining was Kendall’s favorite. A cute hat and sunglasses helped keep her identity at bay when she was out, but Kendall even dined outside when she was at home alone.
“You ready, darling?” Randi’s eyes widened with excitement. She rubbed her palms together before taking a seat opposite Kendall. “This is just the beginning, babe.”
Kendall put her hand to her chest. “I’m more than ready. This is going to be it. Nothing like the last time.”
“Oh yeah.” Randi pursed her lips. “And that sleazebag is still in the business. Can you believe it?” she said, referring to the producer of the last movie Kendall had played in. “There needs to be a special place for jerks like him. One that girls like us get to hold the key to.” A look of disgust deepened the lines in her face.
“I still can’t believe he spread rumors about me being difficult to work with.” The mere thought of Henry Douglas made Kendall shudder. “Jerk! I can just imagine the poor girls who fell for his crap.”
Randi wrapped her arms around herself, scrunched her nose and shivered in the 80-degree weather as if it were cold. “And he was old enough to be your father. Yuck!”
Randi laughed, thankful for her friend’s ability to lighten the tension. It had only lasted a moment, but the memory of his sleazy advance made her feel as if slime were sliding down her skin.
“That’s why this project is so important. That fool had the editors cut most of my parts out of that film. People barely remembered that I was in the movie. That was supposed to be my debut to the world, helping me launch my acting career, and he ruined that because I wouldn’t let him kiss me.” Kendall shook her head. “That’s total bull—” Kendall swallowed the expletive positioned at the end of her sentence.
Randi covered Kendall’s hands with hers. “And you handled yourself like a champ, sweetie. I hope he learned something after you put him on his ass—literally!” Randi leaned back so the waiter could place a bottle of sparkling water and a glass full of ice on the table. “I bet he never expected all that strength to come from little ole you.” Randi sat, folding her arms in front of her.
“Yeah. I thanked my dad for forcing me to take those karate lessons. Never knew how well it would serve me. Anyway.” Kendall waved her hand. She was done with those memories—for now. If she continued talking about that ordeal her mood would be soured, and she had an audition to ace.
“Yeah, anyway! So, did you rehearse?”
Kendall brightened, sat up taller. “Of course I did. I have every one of Jocelyn’s albums and have been singing her songs since you called me last week. I’m more than ready. They need to be ready for me.”
“Have some tea with honey.” Randi turned toward the approaching waiter. “Can she get a tea with honey, please, and I’ll have the quinoa burger with sweet potato fries. That will be all.”
Kendall’s mouth fell open. She stared at Randi. “Randi!” she scolded. “I’m hungry.” She laughed.
Randi wagged her finger. “No, no, no. Tea now, and food after the audition. My treat. Cool?”
Kendall looked at her watch and huffed. She had to meet with the producers soon. “Ugh! Okay. Cool. Get your wallet ready because my appetite is growing as we speak. By the time this audition is over, I’ll be hangry!”
* * *
Kendall and Randi entered the modern glass building and were directed to the tenth floor. The doors opened to a glass lobby with the BCG logo in large metal lettering. The receptionist smiled and scurried from behind the desk.
“Oh my goodness. Kendall Chandler!” She shook Kendall’s hand as if she were trying to remove her entire arm from her body.
“Hello.” Kendall smiled.
“Wow. Wow. Oh wow. It’s so great to see you.” She was still shaking Kendall’s hand.
Kendall chuckled. “It’s great to meet you too, uh...”
“Uh. Um. Kim! Yes. My name’s Kim. I have every single one of your albums. All of them are my favorite.” Her laugh morphed into a squeal. “Oh goodness. Okay.” Kim ran around to the other side of the desk. “I’ll let them know you’re here.”
“Tell ’em I’m here too,” Randi teased. “The name’s Chopped Liver. Ha!”
Kim slapped her forehead. “I’m so sorry. It’s just that—”
“I know.” Randi dismissed the woman’s apology. “Happens all the time. I’m just teasing.”
“Whew! I’ll tell them you’re here.”
Kendall and Randi took seats in the sleek, gray chairs along the wall. Moments later, a young gentleman with the sides of his head shaved and a pile of curls on top ushered them through shaded glass doors, down a corridor into what appeared to be a conference room. They were greeted by the project’s prod
ucer, executive producer, director and someone from the casting team. Cordialities were exchanged, Randi took a seat, and the crew asked Kendall a few questions about Jocelyn James. She read a few lines, mimicking Jocelyn’s Tennessee drawl before being asked to sing something for them.
“What should we play for you?”
“Oh, I don’t need music,” Kendall said. She saw Randi wink and nod from where she sat. “I’ve got this.”
The crew looked at one another, nodding. “Okay,” the director said doubtfully. “Go for it.”
Kendall took a deep breath and began singing. It was her father’s favorite—a deep, sultry love song that she’d sang a thousand times. She felt the music in her flesh and disappeared into the rhythm. Kendall let the song carry her away, as if she were floating along with every note. She belted the end and closed with a sweet whisper just like Jocelyn had been known for. When she finished, the room was completely silent. Everyone stared at her, some with mouths hanging open. Randi quietly clapped in her corner, smiled and thrust her fist forward. From that, Kendall knew she’d aced the audition.
The director’s clapping finally broke the silence. He nodded. “That was incredible.”
“Thank you!” Kendall’s cheeks burned from blushing.
The door opened, stealing everyone’s attention, including Kendall’s. She felt the smile slide from her face as she took in the long strides of the man she recognized as Tyson Blackwell. They had been in the same circles, but never actually met before. Kendall mostly knew of him through the media’s obsession with covering his every move as if he were an A-list actor or entertainer as opposed to someone behind the scenes. She took in his designer shoes, jeans that must have been all too happy to cover his most prized possession, white button-down shirt that fit like it was made specifically for his taut chest, five o’clock shadow framing the most luscious lips she’d ever laid eyes on, skin so smooth it looked like chocolate-colored glass and dark eyes so commanding, she thought she’d levitate just by staring into them.
