by Alexa Aston
Hollywood Enigma
Hollywood Name Game Book 5
Alexa Aston
Copyright © 2020 Alexa Aston
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
ISBN-13: 9798684524790
ISBN-10: 8684524790
Edited by: Scott Moreland
Cover design by: Wicked Smart Designs
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309
Printed in the United States of America
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
EPILOGUE
About The Author
Hollywood Name Game
Books By This Author
PROLOGUE
Wynn Youngblood wiped away the last of the greasepaint and then used a cool, wet wipe to soothe his face. Dress rehearsal couldn’t have gone any better. The play would open tomorrow night and run for a week. After that, he had a week of classes left and then finals. The last finals he’d ever take. He’d walk the stage and claim his degree in mathematics and never darken the door of a college classroom again—thanks to being bitten by the acting bug.
As he shed his Elizabethan costume and dressed in the button down shirt and dark navy pants, Wynn couldn’t think of a single person obtaining a mathematics degree from Winters College that wasn’t moving on to a graduate-level program. That’s what you had to do if you were a math major because a bachelors was absolutely worthless on its own. Grad school and a future PhD would’ve been his destiny a year ago until he took a drama class to fulfill a necessary fine arts credit—and found heaven.
Bob Peterson stuck his head in the doorway as Wynn slipped into his loafers.
“Fantastic job today, Wynn. You’ve made this last requirement to get my MFA so easy. I dreaded directing someone who’d only been involved in theater a short time but you’re a dream to work with. Are you going to give acting a chance after graduation?”
He nodded. “I’m giving myself five years. Either I’ll make it or I won’t but I owe myself the opportunity. I’ll definitely hit the east coast and try regional theater this summer. After that, it’s head to the Big Apple and aim for off-off-Broadway or move three thousand miles to LA.”
“You did the regional circuit last year, right?” Bob asked.
“I did. Acted in four plays. Did stage work for another five. The pace was grueling but it taught me a lot. It honed my memorization skills and gave me an opportunity to do both comedy and drama.”
Bob stuck out his hand. Wynn shook it.
“No matter what you do, best of luck to you, Wynn. Go claim that gorgeous girlfriend of yours and celebrate.”
Wynn laughed. “I plan to. See you tomorrow.”
He left the dressing room and hurried to his dorm room. Entering, he saw his brother fussing over a floral arrangement.
“Thanks for picking up the flowers and my jacket, Payne. I owe you,” he said as he slipped into the only blazer he owned.
“Not a problem. I confirmed your reservation at Chez Louis, too. You nervous?”
Payne was the only one who knew Wynn would be proposing to Stephanie tonight. He didn’t know if she’d say yes. If she did, he already knew she wouldn’t wear the ring in public. Stephanie currently wore the Miss Georgia crown and would compete in the Miss USA pageant three weeks from now. She’d already received permission to take her finals early and would miss graduation. Not that she’d been in class this semester since winning the state title a couple of months ago, but Winters College had cut a deal with Stephanie and her parents to award her credit for her last semester based upon all of the activities she was participating in as Miss Georgia. It looked good for the university to have a Miss Georgia come from their ranks, sporting a Winters’ degree.
Pageant contestants had to remain single throughout their reign. Stephanie’s sponsors believed she had an excellent chance to win the national crown, which meant she’d compete as Miss USA in the Miss World competition this summer. If so, they wouldn’t want a ring on her finger during that time and all the questions it might bring up on social media. Wynn accepted this—but he still wanted to ask Stephanie to become his wife tonight before too much craziness set in. Becoming Miss USA would not only allow Stephanie a platform for her issues but give her a high profile, which would help her land the sports broadcasting job she coveted.
Tonight would determine their future plans as a couple, though he’d need to wait to see the outcome of the beauty pageant before deciding the direction of his own career dreams. If Stephanie won the national crown, Wynn was determined to give Broadway a try since she’d be traveling the bulk of the year. Better still, he might land a role in a traveling production. That would be a great way to see the country and hone his acting skills. If she didn’t win Miss USA, he’d need to see where she landed after her reign as Miss Georgia ended. If she got a job at a local news station, he would try to do theater in that city or region. Hopefully, it would be a bigger market like Denver or Dallas, which would afford him more opportunities. Her dream job would be to work for ESPN, which had headquarters from Connecticut to Seattle to overseas.
That was a longshot, though. For now, Wynn would propose and hope Stephanie accepted. They’d been friends from their first day at Winters, when they’d sat next to each other in an English composition class, and then began dating their sophomore year. They were the golden couple of the campus. He would be lost without her.
She had to say yes. She had to.
Removing the small, velvet box from his sock drawer, Wynn popped it open and let Payne inspect the modest solitaire. Stephanie came from money and though her parents seemed to like him, Wynn knew they wouldn’t be impressed with the small diamond. He promised himself he would replace it with something more appropriate as soon as he could afford it.
“You done good, Bro,” Payne complimented. He thrust the bouquet at Wynn. “Go forth and propose.”
He grinned. “You’ve been a great roommate these past two years. Even if you are messy,” he told his brother.
Wynn left the dorm room, slipping the box into his pocket and trying not to crush the tissue-wrapped flowers. He walked across campus with a spring in his step, greeting others with a smile. After four years, Wynn knew a majority of students on campus since the enrollment was under two thousand students and he possessed a knack for faces and names. His role as president of the student senate had put him in contact with a variety of people and he’d made friends easily with other representatives, fellow classmates, and students in the theater productions and math competitions. Working in the camp
us library part-time had also brought hundreds of people into his orbit. He would leave Winters College with many friends and great memories—but the best would be starting a life with Stephanie Drummond.
He cut through the quadrangle and then walked two blocks off campus to the apartment Stephanie shared with Becky Williams. Most upperclassmen moved from the dorms into frat houses or apartments but Wynn’s scholarship didn’t cover expenses off-campus. He was lucky the college’s financial office honored the free tuition and fees agreement because he was a child of a faculty member. Or had been until his parents perished in a car crash two years ago. Money had been tight ever since. At least with tuition and fees waived, Wynn only paid for room, board, and incidentals.
He reached the parking lot and moved through it, passing Stephanie’s BMW convertible. Chez Louis, the nicest place in town, was over three miles away. They’d need to take her car to dinner tonight. He’d barely scraped together enough money to pay for dinner at the fancy French restaurant after paying for the engagement ring. Nothing was left over for Ubering there and back.
Wynn arrived at the door and took a deep breath. He needed to calm down and not blurt out the proposal. The restaurant would be a better setting for that. Squaring his shoulders, he knocked. Becky immediately answered the door. He was good at reading people and knew something was wrong with her.
“You okay, Becky? Is it—”
“Nothing’s wrong,” she said quickly. “Want me to put those in water?” She snatched the flowers from him. “It’s no trouble.”
As she headed to the kitchen, Wynn said, “Wait. I’d like to give them to Stephanie first.”
Becky faced him. “Stephanie can’t go to dinner tonight. She’s really sick.”
He deflated, thinking of all the planning that had gone into the evening and kicking himself for being selfish. “I understand. Let me go check on her.”
“No!” Becky said, almost shouting at him. She nervously cut her eyes toward the closed bedroom door and back at him. “She told me she doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
Warning bells went off in his head. “I won’t stay long.” He strode to the door, not sure what he’d find on the other side.
Not bothering to knock, he opened it swiftly. The blinds were closed and the curtains drawn. Only a lamp turned to low glowed from the nightstand next to the bed. Stephanie lay in it, her face red, her eyes glassy and feverish. Wynn rushed to her and took her hand.
“What’s wrong, honey? How long have you been sick? Are you run down from all the traveling they’ve had you do?”
She turned her head toward him. “I’ll be fine. Sorry I can’t make dinner tonight. I know you said it was somewhere special.”
He perched on the bed beside her. “We can do dinner anytime.” He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and found her burning up. “You’ve got a high fever. Let me take you to a doc in the box.”
“No,” she said emphatically, pushing his hand from her brow. “Monty’s coming by to check on me.”
Wynn’s stomach sank. Carl Montgomery was a friend from Stephanie’s prep school days in Atlanta. Pre-med and all-knowing, Monty was the ultimate snob and made Wynn feel lower than pond scum.
“You need a real doctor, Steph. Not some wannabe who can’t even call in a prescription for you.”
She jerked her hand from his. “I can’t go to a doctor,” she hissed.
“Why?”
Her nose wrinkled in disgust. She regarded him with a cool stare. “You can be such an idiot sometimes, Wynn.”
This was a side of Stephanie that popped out every now and then. When she was tired. Or sick. Or not getting her way—which was rare. Wynn had always overlooked it in the past.
Did he want this to be his future?
Of course, he did. He loved Stephanie. She was bright and funny and beautiful. They had a lot in common.
“Sorry I’m so dense. Tell me what’s wrong,” he urged, hoping to placate her.
She pushed up using her elbows until she was sitting against the headboard. “I can’t go to a doctor because it might get back to my sponsors.”
“So? You’ve only got three weeks to be in top shape. You need meds in you, maybe even IV fluids, in order to get well and compete. Surely, your sponsors would want that.”
Stephanie grimaced and pushed her arms against her stomach. Fever made you ache but this was beyond a fever. She really looked in pain.
“What aren’t you telling me?” he asked.
“I’m pregnant. Or I was. Monty aborted it.”
Shock rippled through Wynn as he tried to absorb her words. Then anger began to build. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he ground out.
“Because you would try to talk me out of what I did,” she said calmly. “Being Miss Georgia and then Miss USA has been my dream, Wynn. It’s going to open every door I ever thought about. I already barely eat as it is. I’m always working out. I can’t afford to be an ounce over my competition weight, not with how tight my outfits are and what that swimsuit shows.” She looked at him evenly. “That meant no baby.”
“But . . . our child, Stephanie. It was ours. Together. We made a baby. I should’ve had some say in it.”
“I don’t want kids. Ever.”
Stunned, Wynn simply gaped at her. They’d never talked about having children. He’d just assumed she wanted them.
“I want a career. I want to be famous. I want to be on TV, reporting at the biggest sporting events on the planet. Not changing diapers or dragging myself to parent-teacher conferences. I’m going places, Wynn. You can, too. You’ve got so much talent. We make the ultimate power couple. We always have, here at Winters, and we can do it in the real world.”
“You can have all of that—and kids,” he protested.
Anger flashed in her eyes. “You heard me. I don’t want brats. Not any.”
Before, he’d had little doubts about marrying Stephanie. She was self-centered but could still be the sweetest soul on the planet. Hearing her now, though, changed everything. It was as if some space alien had invaded her body.
Wynn stood and the velvet box containing the ring fell from his pocket. Stephanie looked at it and then him.
“How’s the patient?” a voice said.
Wynn turned and saw Monty breeze through the door.
“Move over, Youngblood. I need to see how our girl’s doing.”
He stumbled back as Monty examined Stephanie, turning his head as Monty lifted her gown. “Looking okay, babe. A little red. That’s all. Your fever’s from infection.”
“Then do something about it, Monty. I feel like hell. Like my insides are dribbling outside. Did you botch this?”
“Nah. You’re gonna be fine, Steph.” Monty sat on the bed and said, “Whoa, what’s this?” and popped the box open. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You’ve got to be kidding. You’d need a microscope to see that little diamond chip.” He turned back to Stephanie. “You don’t need this loser in your life, babe.”
Wynn stepped up and swiped the box from Carl’s hand. “Don’t worry. I didn’t ask her. She won’t be wearing it.” Disgust filled him. “Stephanie’s going places. Without me. You can have her.”
With that, Wynn strode from the bedroom, passed a shocked Becky, and out the door.
CHAPTER 1
Scarlett Corrigan swept her hair into a ponytail and grabbed her keys and coffee travel mug as she headed out the door. This was the first time in two weeks she’d had the energy to do something unrelated to work. A nasty case of food poisoning had knocked her flat on her back—when she wasn’t vomiting. Still, she’d worked on various case files from bed. Once she returned to her law firm, she came home exhausted each night, too tired to work out.
Today, though, the beach called her name. She and Keely were set to compete in a local volleyball tournament. Scarlett finally felt physically strong enough to enjoy teaming with her best friend and taking down some competitors. She looked forward to catching up an
d hearing how filming was going on Keely and Mac’s latest movie. They’d started shooting the Breck O’Dell screenplay over three weeks ago. She and Keely had constantly traded texts but this would be the first time they’d seen each other since the rom-com shoot began.
As she headed along the PCH, Scarlett thoughts turned to tonight’s dinner. It was time to end things with Chaz Weston. They’d met at a bar association meeting a couple of months ago. Chaz was confident, charming, and boyish, even at forty. With killer schedules, they’d only seen each other sporadically, which suited both of them.
Until now.
At thirty-four—soon to be thirty-five—Scarlett knew she’d arrived at a crossroad. For ten years, she’d been consumed by her legal career, dating casually because she had too much she wanted to do before settling down. Besides, LA was a town where most men sported a Peter Pan complex, never wanting to grow up and assume responsibilities. She’d been fine with that.
Until she wasn’t.
Kids hadn’t been on her radar. She was fine being Auntie Scarlett to her nieces and nephews and spoiling them crazy. Then, one by one over the last two years, her friends all married and started having kids. It really struck her when Keely and Mac wed six months ago. Keely was growing in demand as an actress and hadn’t been looking for love when, out of nowhere, Mac Randall appeared and they fell for one another. The looks those two gave each another gave Scarlett goosebumps. She wanted a man to look at her the way Mac did Keely. She wanted to feel loved and have someone to share her life with, all the ups and downs and in-betweens. Moreover, out of the blue—she wanted kids. Badly. Mac and Keely were trying and Scarlett knew, any day now, they would announce they were pregnant.
Maybe she could be a single parent. Every good man in Hollywood seemed to be taken and Scarlett knew most of them, thanks to being Rhett Corrigan’s little sister. He was Hollywood’s best-known and highest paid actor. His closest friends had married women Scarlett became friends with. Dash DeLauria, Knox Monroe, and Breck O’Dell were all like big brothers to her. They seemed to be the only decent men in the entertainment industry. Since she focused exclusively on entertainment law, she would know.
