by Jae
“I’m afraid so. This is quickly turning into one big public-relations mess, and it’s starting to hurt both of your careers much more than just telling the truth ever could.”
Jill scratched the dog behind his ears, making him let out a contented groan. She trailed her fingers through his golden coat before finally looking up and at Lauren. “All right,” she said. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”
For Grace. There was no doubt about it in Lauren’s mind. She respected Jill for taking a personal risk for a friend. “I’m sorry that it has to be like this.”
“It’s not your fault,” Jill said.
“I can still be sorry, can’t I?” Lauren was sorry for more than just the situation with the media. A person like Jill didn’t deserve to have multiple sclerosis. No one does.
The ringing of a phone stopped Jill from answering.
“It’s mine,” Lauren said and pulled her phone out of her pocket. It was a minor miracle that they hadn’t been interrupted by calls before.
The display indicated that Katherine Duvenbeck was calling.
“It’s Grace’s mother.” Lauren couldn’t help groaning and then realized that she was practically bad-mouthing one client to another. Damn. Somehow, she had gotten too familiar with these two actresses. “I mean…”
Jill laughed. “Don’t bother. I met Katherine.”
Lauren lifted the phone to her ear. “Mrs. Du—”
A high-pitched scream nearly shattered her eardrums.
She jerked the phone away from her ear. What the…? Slowly, she moved the phone back. “Mrs. Duvenbeck? Are you all right?”
“Did that sound like I’m all right?” Grace’s mother yelled after a few seconds of silence. “These men are trying to kill us!”
“What?” Lauren jumped up from the armchair. “Calm down and tell me what’s going on.”
“They’re hunting us like rabbits!”
Lauren’s adrenaline spiked. “Who’s hunting you? Where’s Grace?”
Jill sat up and slid onto the edge of the couch, mouthing, “What’s going on?”
Lauren held up one finger in a give-me-a-minute gesture.
“Right next to me,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said.
“Can you give her the phone?” Obviously, Grace’s mother was hysterical, so she wouldn’t get a clear answer from her.
“No, I can’t!” Mrs. Duvenbeck nearly shouted. “She’s trying to get us away from the paparazzi.”
The paparazzi were chasing them? Images of high-speed chases and accidents flashed through Lauren’s mind. She paced up and down the living room, nearly wearing a hole in Jill’s carpet.
Tramp, sensing her agitation, let out a low whine, but Jill kept him next to her.
“They keep following us,” Mrs. Duvenbeck said in that tone of voice that reminded Lauren of chalk screeching across a blackboard.
“Goddammit!” Lauren wanted to hurl the phone across the room but kept it pressed to her ear instead. “What are you doing out there? I told Grace to stay in the house!”
“Don’t talk to me in that tone,” Mrs. Duvenbeck answered.
Lauren took a deep breath, then another. Okay, okay, don’t upset her while they’re driving. “All right,” she said as calmly as she could. “Where are you right now?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
A rustling sound reverberated through the phone; then Grace’s voice came through the line. “We’re a mile or two from Glendale. Are you back at the office or still with Jill?”
“Dammit, Grace! What are you doing—trying to get yourself killed?” Sometimes, Lauren wanted to put some of her clients over her knee. She hadn’t thought that Grace would be one of those clients.
“Don’t worry,” Grace said, sounding much calmer than her mother. “It’s not as bad as my mother made it sound. The paparazzi are backing off a little now. Maybe they realized they’re scaring us.”
Lauren snorted. “You think they care? No, they probably realized where you’re going so they know they can catch up if they lose you.”
Grace sucked in an audible breath, as if only now realizing that she was leading the paparazzi right to Jill’s doorstep. “Maybe I’d better turn around and head back.”
The thought of Grace driving all the way back with the paparazzi tailing her made Lauren frown. “No,” she said more sharply than intended. “Keep driving. You’re almost here now. We’ll have to deal with the press sooner or later anyway.”
Grace sighed into the phone. “I had hoped it could be later.”
Well, you should have thought of that before you left your goddamn house, Lauren wanted to say but held her tongue. She could tell Grace exactly that as soon as she made it here in one piece. “If they catch up with you, just tell them that you and Jill are preparing a statement, okay? Remember not to say ‘no comment.’”
Silence filtered through the line; then Grace murmured, “Too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mom already waved the red flag.”
Lauren rubbed her face with her free hand. Why oh why did she have to deal with amateurs who thought they were God’s gift to public relations? “Just get here in one piece, okay?”
“Will do,” Grace said and ended the call.
Within thirty seconds of entering Jill’s house, Grace wished she would have stayed outside with the paparazzi. Tramp rushed over, greeting her like a long-lost friend, nuzzling her hand, and letting her pet his soft fur.
Lauren’s greeting was less friendly. Her gaze swept Grace from head to toe, and as soon as she had made sure Grace was fine, she started shouting. “Dammit, Grace, what were you thinking?”
Grace opened her mouth to explain or defend herself, but Lauren wasn’t finished yet.
“Life isn’t one of Nick’s action movies! If a car chase goes bad, you can’t just yell ‘cut’ and do another take.” She was shaking with anger, and her eyes sparked with intensity.
“Don’t you think I know that?” Grace asked, struggling to rein in her own anger. She hated being treated like a misbehaving child. Her mother was doing enough of that, and she didn’t need it from Lauren too.
A strand of Lauren’s chin-length hair fell forward, into her eyes, and she shoved it back with an impatient hand. “You sure don’t act like it! You took a big risk coming here—and not just a risk to your career.”
Before Grace could reply, her mother pushed past her. “Don’t you dare talk to my daughter like that!”
“I wouldn’t have to if she’d done the sensible thing and stayed in.” Lauren turned away and added more softly, “Not every injury can be patched up with a Band-Aid.”
“Band-Aid?” Grace’s mother asked, catching up with Lauren, who stomped into the living room. “What do you mean? What happened?”
“Nothing,” Lauren and Grace said in unison.
“Grace? What is she talking about? I demand to—”
“With all due respect, Mrs. Duvenbeck,” Lauren said. “I think you should stay out of this. You’ve already done enough damage.”
Grace’s mother paled, and then a flush swept up her neck, matching her pink skirt suit. “Why, you—”
Jill walked over, swaying almost imperceptibly, and gently gripped her sleeve. “Why don’t you help me make some coffee, Katherine? I have a feeling you’ll all be here for a while.”
When her mother dug in her heels, Grace walked over to her. “Please, Mom. I promise that I’ll explain everything later.”
“All right.” After one last glance back, Grace’s mother let herself be pulled to the kitchen. Tramp trotted after them.
Lauren’s gaze followed the trio. “You know,” she said, more calmly now. “You’re not doing yourself any favors letting her handle the media.”
>
Grace opened her mouth to defend her mother but then closed it again without saying anything. Even though she didn’t like to hear it, she knew Lauren was right, and she admired her for telling her straight out what no one else had the courage to say. She sighed. “I know. But she’s my mother.”
“Then maybe she should be just your mother, not your manager too.”
If only things were that simple. Her mother had managed her for nearly thirty years and had gotten Grace to where she was today. How could she now, after all these years, come right out and tell her mother that she didn’t want her as a manager anymore?
Knowing she wouldn’t be able to resolve that particular problem anytime soon, Grace decided to focus on the situation at hand. “I read an article online that said Jill confirmed she’s gay. Did they pull that out of their asses too, or…?”
“I think you should ask Jill that question,” Lauren said.
Grace knew a confirmation when she heard one. She squinted at Lauren. “Was that a no comment?”
“What? No! I…” Lauren plucked her horn-rimmed glasses off her nose and started to clean them as if she needed an excuse not to look at Grace. “Just talk to Jill, okay?”
“Okay,” Grace said. “I’ll go talk to Jill, and you’ll keep my mother entertained and out of the kitchen.”
Lauren froze with her glasses halfway to her nose. “Uh…”
Grace smiled and then sobered. She took a step toward Lauren. “I really didn’t mean to cause any trouble by coming here. In hindsight, I should have stayed home, like you told me to, but Jill didn’t pick up her phone and I was sick of sitting around, not knowing what’s going on.”
“And I didn’t mean to shout at you,” Lauren said, the anger and gruffness now gone from her voice. “That wasn’t exactly professional behavior.”
They looked at each other for several moments.
Grace glanced into Lauren’s hazel eyes and realized that Lauren hadn’t just been angry with her because her presence at Jill’s house might have messed up whatever PR tactic she’d planned. Lauren hadn’t just been worried about Grace’s public image; she’d been worried about Grace as a person. A hint of a smile played around her lips as she walked over to the kitchen. What a nice surprise. For once, she had a publicist who didn’t see her as only a paycheck.
When Grace entered the kitchen, her mother and Jill were leaning across the sink, peering through the blinds.
“Are they still there?” Grace asked.
At the sound of her voice, Jill whirled around and then swayed.
“Careful!” Grace hurried over and gripped Jill’s arms to help steady her.
“Thanks,” Jill said. “I’m fine now. Just turned a little too fast. And yes, the paparazzi are still around. Well, at least they are no longer blocking the gate.”
Grace slowly let go of her. She glanced at her mother, who watched them with an expression that Grace had learned to interpret as a post-Botox-injection frown. “Mom, would you mind taking the coffee to the living room?” She gestured at the tray that held coffee mugs, milk, sugar, and cookies. “We’ll be there in a second.”
“I’m not—”
“Please.”
With a dramatic sigh, her mother reached for the tray and carried it out of the kitchen, mumbling something under her breath. Tramp bustled after her, his tail wagging, as if he hoped she’d drop one of the cookies.
Grace watched them go and then turned toward Jill.
Jill sent her a puzzled grin. “Are you sure it’s a bright idea to leave her alone with Lauren?”
“I’m sure they’ll be fine for a minute. There’s something I need to know. Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
For some reason, Grace suddenly found it hard to say the words. Maybe because the media had made it sound so much like a scandalous thing. She sucked in a breath, held it for several seconds, and then said in a rush, “Are you gay?”
Jill gripped the kitchen island. For a moment, Grace thought she’d try to divert, but then Jill raised her chin, looked her in the eyes, and simply said, “Yes.”
“Wow. I think I need something stronger than coffee now,” Grace mumbled. They had known each other for years and worked together on two movies. How was it possible that she hadn’t known something so essential about her friend?
“Did you really never suspect?”
Grace mutely shook her head.
“You didn’t wonder why I’m never photographed with a man, not even at red-carpet events?” Jill asked.
“I thought you were just dating in private, away from the cameras.” And very likely, that was what Jill had been doing; she just hadn’t dated men. “Why didn’t you ever tell me? You could have trusted me, you know?”
“I know. It’s not that I didn’t trust you. It just didn’t matter between us.”
Grace thought about it. Would Jill’s sexual orientation matter if not for the media circus? Nothing had changed between them now that she knew. Jill was still the same person. Straight or gay, she was still the loyal friend who’d run lines with her until three in the morning when a scene had given Grace trouble.
“I know I sometimes joke around, but…”
Grace gave a dramatic little gasp. “Joke around? You mean you’re not actually head over heels in love with me?”
Jill stepped closer and gave her a little shove. “Sorry to flatten your ego, Ms. Big-Shot Actress. Although God knows how I manage, because you are just too damn charming for your own good.”
Grace hip-checked her and then quickly held on to her when Jill stumbled. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Damn MS is messing with my balance. One more reason why my sexual orientation doesn’t matter,” Jill said. “It’s not like I’m good dating material anymore.”
Oh, no. Grace couldn’t let her friend believe that. She took Jill’s face between her hands and forced her to look into her eyes. “Any woman would be lucky to have you.”
Jill’s chest heaved under a big breath, and then she smiled. “Any woman? Is that a come-on, Ms. Durand?”
“You wish, Ms. Corrigan. I meant any lesbian woman.”
“What are you doing?” Grace’s mother demanded to know from the doorway, looking back and forth between them.
Grace let go of Jill’s face but forced herself not to step away from her. She had nothing to hide and wouldn’t feel guilty for being Jill’s friend. “Just talking to my friend, Mom.”
“The coffee is getting cold,” her mother said.
“We’ll be there in a second.”
Her mother lingered in the doorway for several moments before sending Jill one last glare and then marching off.
When Jill moved to follow her, Grace held her back. She’d tried for weeks to get up the courage to tell Jill but had postponed it time and again, telling herself that it wasn’t the right moment. Maybe that right moment was now. “While we’re making personal confessions, there’s something that I have to tell you too.”
Jill leaned against the kitchen counter and regarded her with a curious gaze. “What is it? You’re not gay too, are you?” She grinned weakly.
Grace rolled her eyes. “No. But Nick and I…”
“Oh my God!” Jill eyed Grace’s belly. “You’re pregnant!”
“Only if immaculate conceptions are back in style,” Grace muttered.
A wrinkle formed between Jill’s brows. “What’s that supposed to mean? You and Nick…you don’t…?”
Grace wasn’t in the mood to go into details about her troubled marriage or her lack of sex life, especially not with her mother and Lauren in the next room. “We’re getting a divorce.”
Jill sank against the kitchen counter. “What?”
“We’re getting—”
> “I heard you the first time. Why didn’t you ever say anything? I know you. You wouldn’t just give up on a relationship. This must have been going on for quite some time.”
Grace had thought about it often, but she still had no idea when she and Nick had stopped being happy together. If she was perfectly honest with herself, maybe getting married had been a mistake, but after being together for two years and living together for nearly as long, saying yes had seemed like the right thing to do when Nick had proposed. “I don’t know. I think I didn’t want to face it.”
“But you’re sure it’s over for good?” Jill asked.
Grace nodded. There was no way back for her and Nick.
“Come here.” Jill spread her arms wide, and Grace willingly stepped into an embrace. “Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine. I’m more worried about what the divorce might do to my career. Does that make me sound like a cold-hearted, selfish bitch?”
Jill let go to look into Grace’s eyes. “Only to people who don’t know you. Jesus, I couldn’t have picked a worse moment to out myself. I’m sorry, Grace.”
“You couldn’t know,” Grace said. “At least now one of us doesn’t have to pretend anymore.”
“So you and Nick will pretend to still be crazily in love with each other?”
“Just until after Ava’s Heart is released.”
Jill frowned. “That’s two months away.”
“I know.” Probably the two longest months of her life. “Come on.” She wrapped one arm around Jill to help her keep her balance. “Let’s go to the living room before Lauren quits because my mother drove her crazy.”
This time, it was Jill who held her back. “Are we okay?”
“We’re okay,” Grace said without hesitation. She just wished she could say the same about their careers and the situation with the press.
Just as Lauren wanted to go after Mrs. Duvenbeck and haul her out of the kitchen, the woman marched back into the living room. She moved the blinds aside with two pink-painted fingernails and peeked out the window before whirling around to face Lauren. “My daughter isn’t like that. You have to make them,” she stabbed a finger toward the window, “realize that.”
