Damage Control

by Jae

  “Good morning.” She set a mug of steaming coffee on the table next to Lauren and kept a second one for herself.

  “Morning. Thank you.” Lauren peeked into the mug and grinned. Grace had remembered her preference; the coffee was black and hopefully strong.

  They sat next to each other at the small table, their hands wrapped around their mugs for warmth, slowly sipping their beverages while they watched the fog roll in and sweep through the canyon below. The first hue of dawn lit up the mountains and hills surrounding them. With a view like this, Lauren understood why Grace didn’t keep a TV in the cottage.

  Neither of them seemed to feel the need to fill the silence with small talk, and Lauren was grateful that Grace wasn’t one of the chatty stars she represented.

  Finally, when her coffee was gone and the sun was climbing higher, she turned toward Grace and took in the faint shadows under her eyes. Grace probably hadn’t slept too well, maybe going over possible questions and answers in that state between sleep and wakefulness.

  “Don’t worry,” Grace said as if guessing Lauren’s thoughts. “Nothing a little concealer won’t cure.”

  “All right. I’ll call Jill and Nick to let them know when to be at CTP, and then let’s get going. We need to stop by my apartment so I can get changed, and I want to coach Jill on what to say before we head to the office for the press conference.”

  Grace tugged on the sweatpants and the long-sleeved T-shirt she was wearing. “Any advice on what to wear?”

  Lauren considered it for a moment, her mind showing her flashes of the clothes that Grace might have in her closet. She quickly discarded the more elegant dresses, no matter how beautiful Grace might look in them. “Pick something that says ‘helpful friend’ rather than ‘sexy vixen.’”

  “You’ve got something against sexy?” Grace asked, a light smile playing around her lips.

  Oh, not at all, believe me. Lauren bit her lip and stopped herself from saying it. “No. I just think we should play on your friendly girl-next-door image. We want them to see you as Jill’s friend, not as a woman she might lust after.”

  “Got it. Helpful friend it is.” Grace got up and headed inside.

  Lauren squared her shoulders and walked over to the corner of the patio where she had the best cell phone reception. When the display finally showed one bar, she pulled Nick’s business card out of her pocket and typed in the number.

  The phone rang and rang and rang.

  Just when Lauren thought voice mail would pick up, Nick’s groggy voice came from the other end of the line. “Yeah?”

  “Nick, it’s Lauren Pearce.” When only silence answered, she added, “Grace’s publicist.”

  Sheets rustled. “Is she okay?” he asked, sounding wide-awake now.

  “She’s fine,” Lauren said quickly. “I’m sorry to bother you this early on a Saturday, but I need a favor.”

  “A favor?” he drawled.

  “We’re going to hold a press conference at ten, trying to stop the rumors once and for all by telling the press that Jill has MS.”

  That stunned him into silence for several seconds. “MS? What the fuck? Is this some PR trick?”

  “No. I wish it were, but sadly, it isn’t. I would never say something like that if it weren’t true.”

  “Damn. I had no idea.” Nick sighed and then asked, “Does Grace know?”

  Lauren hesitated, not sure how much Grace would want him to know.

  “Don’t bother. Of course she knows. Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “I don’t know. Jill probably didn’t want her to,” Lauren said, feeling the need to defend Grace.

  Nick huffed out a breath. “And now she suddenly wants to tell the whole world?”

  “She’s doing it for Grace.”

  “You know, Grace said the rumors aren’t true, but sometimes, I really wonder what’s going on between those two,” Nick muttered.

  “It’s called friendship, Nick.” Not that she, herself, had a friend like that in her life.

  Soft noises indicated that Nick was getting out of bed. “So now you want me to be her friend too and show up for the press conference, right?”

  “Right.”

  He sighed. “When and where do you need me?”

  The paparazzi had picked up their trail somewhere on the way from Lauren’s apartment to Glendale and followed them to Jill’s house.

  Grace gritted her teeth in the passenger seat when she saw the SUVs and the cars behind them. “Damn.”

  “Don’t worry,” Lauren said. “We’ll clear up what’s really going on in an hour anyway, so even if they post the photos they’ll take of us entering Jill’s home, it won’t matter anymore.”

  True. Grace just hoped things would settle down after the press conference. She couldn’t take this constant hide-and-seek with the paparazzi for much longer.

  Jill’s housekeeper opened the door when they rang the bell. “Oh, thank God you’re here, Ms. Durand,” she said, clutching Grace’s shoulders and nearly dragging her inside.

  Tramp ran up to them, wagging his tail so hard that his rear end shook from side to side.

  Grace gently freed herself of the housekeeper’s grip and petted the dog while she looked at the stairs leading to the master bedroom. Concern gnawed at her, but she stopped herself from rushing upstairs. “Is Jill all right? Are the symptoms worse today?”

  “Oh, no, it’s not that. She’s just a nervous wreck because of the press conference. She’s been upstairs in her room since you called earlier.”

  “Would you mind waiting down here?” Grace said to Lauren, who had entered after her. “I’ll go up and see if she needs any help getting ready.”

  “Sure,” Lauren said. “I’ll keep Tramp company. Come on, boy.” When she patted her thigh and walked off in the direction of the living room, Tramp bounded after her.

  Grace climbed the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  The door to the master bedroom was closed, so she knocked.

  A grunt answered.

  Hesitatingly, Grace opened the door a few inches and peeked inside the room.

  Jill stood in front of the mirrored closet doors, wearing just a pair of panties. She held a bra in her hands but seemed to struggle with the tiny hooks.

  “Jill? Can I come in?”

  “Sure, if you don’t mind seeing me in my birthday suit.”

  Grace had seen Jill half-dressed before and had even helped her undress in the hotel in Macon, when Jill hadn’t been able to manage on her own. Now that she knew Jill was gay, it felt different, though. Oh, come on. That’s stupid. She’s the same old Jill. She gave herself a mental push and entered.

  Her lips pressed together, Jill continued to fumble with the bra closure. “This goddamn clasp just won’t…argh!” She threw the bra across the room.

  It ricocheted off the doorjamb next to Grace and hit her in the chest. She caught it reflexively and raised one brow. “Do you think this is a new phase in my career? I never had women throw their bras at me before.”

  Jill stared at her and then began to laugh. The frustration fled from her expression. “You’re one of a kind, you know that?”

  Grace shrugged and closed the door behind her. “So, what’s wrong with the bra?”

  Jill scowled at the offending garment. “Nothing. The MS is just messing with my fine motor skills, so I can’t get the clasp to close.”

  “Want some help?”

  “Yes, please,” Jill said after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t think Lauren would want me to show up at the press conference without a bra.”

  “I doubt it.” Grace carried the bra over to her friend and then looked back and forth between Jill’s face and the article of clothing. “Uh, how do we do this?”r />
  “I don’t know. You just put it on.”

  “Easier said than done.” Grace’s attempt to give Jill some privacy by not looking at her naked chest wasn’t making it any easier. “I never helped another woman put on her bra before.”

  “Me neither. My experience is limited to taking them off.” Jill grinned and winked.

  Grace socked her in the arm, and some of the awkwardness disappeared. She helped Jill slip first one arm, then the other through the bra straps before walking around to fasten the hooks.

  Jill adjusted her breasts in the cups. Grinning, she watched Grace in the mirror. “You’re not blushing, are you?”

  “No, of course not!” Grace pulled on one bra strap, letting it snap against Jill’s skin.

  “Ouch! Hey, you’re here to help me, not to relive junior high.”

  Reaching over Jill’s shoulders, Grace adjusted the bra straps for a more comfortable fit. “Well, I never really went to high school, so…”

  Jill turned to face her. “You didn’t?”

  “I was schooled at home and on sets by my mother and tutors,” Grace said. At the mention of her mother, she sobered, remembering that Jill had wanted to tell her family about her MS. “Did you call your family yesterday?”

  Jill just nodded. She walked over to her closet and pulled out a dress, holding it out for Grace to see. Except for its color, it resembled Grace’s light blue summer dress, so it probably fulfilled Lauren’s helpful-friend-not-sexy-vixen criteria. Grace nodded her approval.

  “How did they take it?” she asked while she helped Jill pull the dress over her head.

  Jill put up a brave front most of the time, hiding behind witty comments, but this time, her expression was serious as her face reappeared through the dress’s opening. “It was bad, like I expected. My mother cried as if I would fall over dead any moment, and my brother declared it my punishment for being gay.”

  Grace nearly ripped the fabric of the dress she’d just straightened. “Excuse me? What kind of brother would say that?”

  “My homophobic asshole brother.”

  “He doesn’t deserve a sister like you.”

  “I know,” Jill said, now with her trademark impish grin.

  Grace pointed at the jewelry on Jill’s dresser. “Jewelry?”

  Jill batted her lashes at her. “Isn’t it a little soon in our relationship for that?”

  “You!” She backhanded her across the shoulder but couldn’t help returning Jill’s grin. She knew that humor was Jill’s way of dealing with things. “I meant do you want to wear any jewelry?”

  “No, thanks,” Jill said. “I think I’ll go au naturel today.”

  Grace fastened a pair of flat sandals for Jill and peeked up at her. “Will any of your family be there for the press conference?”

  “No. I don’t want them to come. How about your mother? She’ll be there, right?”

  Only now did Grace realize she’d forgotten to call her mother to let her know about the press conference. She pressed her hand to her mouth. “Oh, shit.”

  “What?”

  “I forgot to let her know.” Grace looked at her watch. It was too late now. Her mother would never get ready in time.

  Jill laughed. “I think I’d rather call my mother again to tell her I have MS than call your mother and tell her you forgot to inform her about the press conference.”

  Grace stepped up to the microphone and adjusted it, ignoring the camera flashes. She gazed down at the sea of reporters that had crowded into Chandler & Troy Publicity’s conference room. There were even two news teams with cameras and microphones.

  Even though she was shaking inside, she flashed her Hollywood smile and gave them a friendly nod. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you all for coming.”

  Next to her, Jill gripped the side of the podium with both hands.

  Grace wasn’t sure if her friend had problems with her balance again or was just nervous. She reached out and wrapped one arm around Jill.

  More flashes went off.

  Grace glanced to the left, where Lauren stood slightly behind them, with Nick by her side. In a gray suit and a purple blouse, she looked calm and composed. She gave Grace an encouraging nod.

  Squeezing Jill’s shoulder, Grace took a deep breath. “You probably all followed the headlines about me and Jill that have flooded the media in the last two weeks. We called this press conference to set the record straight—pun intended.”

  A few of the reporters chuckled, and Grace smiled. Lauren had written a great beginning for their press conference, making sure to keep the tone friendly and not turn the entire event into a confrontation with the media.

  “Yes, it’s true that I accompanied Jill to her trailer on more than one occasion while we were on location, and we also booked a hotel room in Macon together,” Grace said and paused to let the hastily scribbling reporters catch up. “But I’m afraid the reason is not nearly as exciting as you think.”

  She turned toward Jill, who was so pale that her freckles stood out in stark contrast.

  Jill leaned closer to the microphone, shifting some of her weight onto Grace. “I found out last year that I suffer from MS—multiple sclerosis.”

  A collective murmur went through the conference room. One or two of the reporters even had the decency to look ashamed for the bullshit they’d been writing.

  Jill lifted one hand, asking for silence. “Most of the time, I manage just fine,” she continued, skipping over the list of symptoms in Lauren’s original statement, “but the long days on set take their toll, so Grace helped me when I was too exhausted to make it back to the trailer alone.” She turned her head to look at Grace.

  To Grace’s surprise, tears shimmered in Jill’s green eyes.

  “She has been a good friend to me throughout a very difficult time in my life, and I ask you not to repay her kindness by spreading lies about her. Thank you.”

  Lauren stepped up behind them. “We will now take a handful of questions, but we ask you not to tax Ms. Corrigan’s energy too much, so please stick to relevant topics.”

  Every reporter in the room raised his or her hand. A few waved like overeager students.

  A lump formed in Grace’s throat as she waited for the first question. She was grateful for Lauren’s soothing presence behind her.

  Lauren pointed past Grace to one of the reporters in the first row. “Mr. Abner, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Go ahead and ask your question,” Lauren said.

  The man stood. “How long have you known about Ms. Corrigan’s…condition?”

  Grace relaxed a little. She glanced at Jill, who gave her a nod. “She told me right before we started shooting Ava’s Heart.”

  “Will you give up acting?” another reporter asked, addressing Jill.

  “Hell, no,” Jill said.

  Several journalists laughed at the energetic response.

  “Seriously, I will continue to act for as long as possible. The kind of MS I have is called relapsing-remitting, which means that I get episodes of symptoms and then fairly long periods of remission.”

  “But won’t your symptoms get worse over time?” another journalist asked.

  Jill shrugged. “They do for about fifty percent of patients with relapsing-remitting MS, but I don’t know yet if that’s true for me too. I’m hoping for the best, but I’m prepared to muddle through even if the symptoms get worse.”

  Grace squeezed her softly, once again impressed with her friend’s braveness. She didn’t want to even imagine how she would handle having a disease like MS.

  “Ms. Corrigan, can you confirm what you said about your sexual orientation yesterday?” another reporter asked.

  Jill lifted her head and looked dire
ctly at the man who’d asked the question. “Yes. I’m a lesbian.”

  After Jill had answered two other questions, Lauren said, “All right, ladies and gentlemen. One more question, then let’s wrap this up.”

  Before any other reporter could step in, a man in a tweed suit rose in the last row.

  Grace knew him. He had followed her career for various magazines and newspapers over the last twenty plus years and had practically watched her grow up. While they weren’t exactly friends, the articles he wrote about her had always been favorable, so she breathed a sigh of relief and nodded at him to ask his question.

  “Ms. Durand, while I commend you for your loyalty toward Ms. Corrigan, isn’t it true that your relationship with your husband is less loving?”

  It stung that this probing question came from him. Forcing down her anger, she looked him straight in the eyes. “If you’re asking whether I’m having an affair, the answer is no.”

  “What about Mr. Sinclair?” Abner asked. “Is he having an affair?”

  Grace’s mind reeled. How could she answer that without lying? “Nick would never cheat on me behind my back.” Technically, it was the truth. While Nick was with someone else now, it had happened after their separation and he’d been up-front about it.

  “So everything’s fine between you and Mr. Sinclair?” Abner asked. “He didn’t move out of your villa and into an apartment in Silver City?”

  Damn. How had he found out about that? The apartment in Silver City wasn’t even in Nick’s name. She glanced at Lauren, hoping she’d step in and end the press conference, but Lauren almost imperceptibly shook her head. Grace understood. If Lauren cut off the reporter’s question, it would have the same effect as saying “no comment.” It would make the media even more suspicious, so they would dig deeper to find out what was going on.