by Amy Brent
The secret responsible for my fame.
“Thomas?” I asked.
“Yeah?”
“There was something on my mind earlier.”
His eyes focused solely on me, and I pulled the covers up to my chin. Tears rimmed my eyes because I knew the moment I said it, he would be gone. Maybe he would stay and be my bodyguard, but he would no longer tolerate the intimate relationship we were having. My heart fell to my toes the moment I took a deep breath to tell him the entire story.
“When I was eighteen, I stole someone else’s identity to score a role.”
“Huh?” he asked.
“There was this role that Linda tried to get me when I was eighteen,” I said. “It was me and another girl, and we looked a lot alike. We both got through the first round of auditions, but when we were both called back, she got the part, and I didn’t.”
“Okay?” Thomas questioned. “So, what happened?”
“Well, she got sick. Like, very sick. Mono sick. You know, the kind that puts you out for months.”
“Did you make her sick?” he asked.
“What? Fuck, no. But I did go in her place. Linda took me to get my hair cut like hers, and we airbrushed my face and used a few makeup tricks, and I stepped in and took her place for the role.”
“Without telling them who you were,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Does anyone else besides Linda know about this?” he asked.
“Just you, her, and me,” I said. “Thomas, if this secret gets out, it will destroy my career. You’ve gotta keep this a secret. Please.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he said. “But why hire a bodyguard? Has the family been threatening you?”
“No. At least, not yet. I started having nightmares about it again, and it was suggested to me by Bernie that I hire a bodyguard. He thought that me feeling protected around someone else might help the nightmares.”
“Ah,” he said.
There was a different look in his eye while he processed everything. I studied him intently while he lost himself in the sea of information I’d given him. When he resurfaced, he kissed me on the tip of my nose before he slipped out of bed.
“Where are you going?” I asked,
“I gotta go home and take care of my daughter,” he said, grinning.
“Oh, right,” I said. “Yeah, Lacey. Um, tell her I said hello.”
“So, is your name actually ‘Kimberly Moore’?” he asked.
I looked at him while he got dressed and memorized the way he looked. I took in the way his taut skin blanketed his thick, chiseled muscles. I opened my memory banks to the way the setting sun caressed his skin while he put on his clothes because something inside of me told me it was the last time I’d see him like this.
Dripping with the exhaustion of the pleasure my body could give him.
“Yes,” I said. “It’s actually ‘Kimberly Moore.’”
I watched him nod before his eyes focused on a point on the wall, and I knew he’d lost himself in his thoughts again. I didn’t know if he would ever process what I’d just told him, but I figured telling a man he’d slept with someone else other than who he thought was probably somewhat of a deal breaker.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“So, you’ll be back?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said. “I’ll be here when you get up.”
But when he left the room with a desperation to his stride, I felt an ominous tension settle upon my room. It couldn’t have been this easy. There was something going on in his head that he wasn’t speaking about. I had no right to demand it of him, but I knew the course of our relationship had been forever altered by the secret I just divulged to him.
And I cried myself to sleep in the ruins of my tattered bed that night.
Chapter 18
Thomas
I tossed and turned all that night with the thought of her secret on my mind. I let a woman around my child who wasn’t even the person she said she was. How the fuck could I have been so reckless? How in the world did Bridget, or Kimberly, or whoever the fuck, think that something like this was okay?
Running my hands over my face, I sat up in bed. A hot shower would do me some good before I had to be back at her house, and I honestly wasn’t sure if I should go to work. Maybe I could call off and take a day to think about what the fuck had just happened, but then another part of me was calling myself an idiot. Why the fuck should I care? I was just her bodyguard who she was taking for a spin. She met my daughter once because she wanted to, and I was in control of whenever they saw each other. I just wouldn’t bring her around anymore, and that would be that.
Bosses met the children of their employees all the time, so that was what it was. My boss meeting my child and nothing more.
But I was pissed she lied to me. I mean, this wasn’t just a little white lie, nor was it a credible threat. This wasn’t some woman who was faking her age or running from gambling debts. She was a young woman who pulled a desperate move with her agent to get into the spotlight, and now, I was following her around like a lost little puppy because she couldn’t cope with the guilt that came with her decision.
It was some petty bullshit, and I didn’t know if I wanted to be around it.
So, what did I call her now? Kimberly? That was her name, according to her. But how the hell did I know that was not just another lie? I groaned in the shower while the cold water flowed over my body. I shivered myself awake, hoping my reserve energy stores would kick in, but the moment I heard Lacey stir from her bed, I shut the water off.
Honestly, it didn't matter if I was upset. It’s not like we were in some kind of relationship with one another. We were just fucking around a bit and having some fun. Now that I knew there was no credible threat to her, I could relax on my job a bit, and this could easily turn out to be the easiest and most lucrative job I’d ever taken. I’d be an idiot not to keep it, especially since the schedule allowed me to take Lacey to school and pick her up.
I dropped Lacey off at school with a kiss and a massive hug, and I told her I would definitely be there to pick her up today. I apologized for not being there yesterday, and a flood of guilt washed over my body at how happy she was that I would come get her. I had prioritized my own selfish needs and pawned my daughter off on my mother, and that shit was never happening again. The hold Bridget had over me was done. No more flirting around, and definitely, no more screwing around.
This ended now, and our relationship went back to a professional one.
I got to Bridget’s house, and I could feel my hands gripping the steering wheel. I still had no idea why I was reacting this way, but when I got into the house, the smell of it threw me back to last night. Sex still hung heavily in the air, and I could smell she hadn’t showered yet. She was waiting for me at the kitchen table with a pot of coffee sitting right where I’d usually put it, and as I rounded the corner, she looked up at me with big, tired eyes.
“Morning,” she said. She pushed a mug full of coffee toward the seat I usually take, so I sat down and took the mug and brought it to my lips.
“Hey there,” I said.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because of last night and what I told you.”
I held her gaze for what seemed like hours before I set my mug down. She was ready to start this day off with a bang, and I wasn’t sure if I could give her all the reactions she wanted. I knew she wanted me to smile, draw her close, and tell her it was all right. I knew she wanted to hear from me that I understood and wasn’t angry and that things were just fine between us. Maybe she wanted to take me upstairs and have makeup sex or suck my dick as an apology, but I couldn’t give her any of those things.
I couldn't tell her I wasn’t angry because I was. I couldn't tell her things were all right because they weren’t. I couldn’t hold her close and tell her she was fine because she wasn’t. Not with
me.
And I had no fucking idea why I gave so much of a shit.
“Well, I’m all right,” I said, lying. At this point, I had no issues with lying to her. She’d fucking pretended to be a totally different person with me. Not divulging how I actually felt was a drop in the ocean she had already created between us.
And then, the selfish actress rose back up to the surface.
“Please promise me you won’t tell anyone,” she said.
“I promise,” I said, nodding. “No one will hear it from me.”
She looked pleased enough, so she choked down the rest of her coffee before she brushed by me. She reached out her hand to put it on my shoulder, but I moved away from her grasp before I even knew I’d make that move. In that very moment, I’d given away the lie I’d just told her, and a sad sigh left her lips before she headed for the staircase.
I was a lot angrier than I originally thought I was, and part of me wondered if I should look for a different job.
When she came down the stairs, I heard Bernie pull up into the driveway. She opened the door without waiting for me and got into the car before I had a chance to open her door. Something had fundamentally shifted between the two of us, and I knew it the moment she sat on the other side of the car. Usually she sat beside me, or on the other side of the same seat, but today, she sat herself on the opposite end of the car altogether and closed her eyes.
I studied her as she fell asleep on our way to the set. I saw the bags underneath her eyes and how puffy and red they were. I saw the few marks I’d left on her neck from last night and how she curled herself up into a ball on the seat. I saw how she gripped her clothes tight around her, like she was trying to physically put a barrier between herself and the secret that plagued her daily thoughts.
The guilt was eating her alive, and I didn’t know if I could stick around and watch.
When we got to set, I shook her awake, and her eyes flew open and connected with mine. They were wide with terror for a split second before she backed away from my touch altogether. She got out of the car before I did and didn’t wait for me to open the set door for her. By the time I was out of the car and sending Bernie off, she was already inside. Even though she’d hired me as her bodyguard for peace of mind, she was trying to put as much distance between us as she could.
And it broke a part of me I didn’t understand.
I watched her shoot her scenes all day, and I couldn’t help but wonder at all the other things she might be hiding. Maybe she had a child somewhere she didn’t want to surface to the media, or a secret husband she kept locked in a lair. Maybe the “Kimberly Moore” story was a cover for a much more sinister secret that put my life and the life of my daughter in danger.
Maybe she had witnessed a murder and was in witness protection or had pertinent information on a group she’d sold her soul to just to get ahead in her career.
I knew I sounded insane, but my mind was whirling at a thousand miles a second. I couldn’t deny that there was an innate trust required between the two of us to bring this woman around my daughter, especially if the paparazzi associated her with us. Right now, I was just her faceless bodyguard, but if they ever caught wind that she was hanging out with my daughter, we would be bombarded by the same cameras I tried to mask Bridget from.
Kimberly. I meant Kimberly.
Right? Or did she still want me to call her Bridget?
Fuck this bullshit. I needed a new job. Now, I didn’t even know what to call my boss. The illusion she had created for me, and sucked my entire body into, had been shattered the moment she told me she was someone else, and I was beginning to realize that maybe I couldn’t really cope with that.
“And, that’s a wrap!” the director called out. “Great job today, guys. Really great job. Go home and get some rest, and I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
I stepped out of the shadows to wait for her gaze to search for me. I watched her chat with her co-stars before she turned her back to me. Then she started off for hair and makeup without once looking around to see if I was there.
That was the moment I realized something had fundamentally shifted for her as well. I needed some time to think.
Chapter 19
Bridget
I had more scenes to film today for this budget horror film, but Thomas had been distant the past couple of days. I knew it had something to do with my secret, but I had no idea why. He promised me he wouldn’t tell anyone and he hadn’t quit, so why did I feel like he was questioning something?
I’d really started to like Thomas. Out of all the men I’d been with since I started this journey with my career, I had never trusted someone like I did him. I felt like I could tell him anything, but the best part about it was I felt like I could be myself. Being famous was partially doing your job and partially portraying a person the world wants to admire. It’s never simply being yourself, with the flaws you have and the quirks you possess. It’s all about showcasing a person the world could put on a pedestal and see as a role model. Everything from my looks to the way I spoke was dictated to me by my agent and PR people, in order to establish the perfect persona my audience wants to see.
But with Thomas, I didn’t have to be any of that. I could be tired and cranky in the mornings, and I could walk around without a bra on. I could wear booty shorts and tank tops and not be called out for it in the tabloids, and I could wake up with my makeup smudged and he didn’t give a flying fuck. And maybe that was just part of his job. Maybe he was just fucking me because I let him, and all those thoughts were running through his head. Maybe he secretly judged me when I wasn’t around and stuck his dick in me when I let him because I was Bridget Meyers, and who the hell wouldn’t want to fuck me?
But I didn’t feel like that was him. When I was around him, in his arms, or sitting beside him, I felt like me.
Like Kimberly Moore.
I guess that was why I’d wanted to tell him so badly. Yes, I’d met his daughter and exposed her to a person that didn’t really exist, and that played a part. But really, I wanted him to know who I was.
I’d never been as close to anyone as I had been with Thomas, and I was watching it slowly fade away from me before my very eyes.
Sure, I’d gotten close to guys while I was in this industry: co-stars I screwed and extras that I thought were really cool. With one movie I did, I got close to the hair and makeup guy, and we went out a few times before things fizzled out. But I never felt like I could tell any of these people my secret. Ever since I became famous, I’d never felt compelled to tell my secret to any man I’d gotten to know until I met Thomas.
And that shit was a big deal.
I trusted him with everything. Not just the front key to my door or my body or the inner workings of my career and beauty. I trusted him with my past. With the things that brought me to this point. With the nightmares I had and the guilt I felt and the tears that soaked my pillow at two in the morning when I couldn't sleep. I trusted him with the things that made me the most vulnerable in my life, and I realized that could be devastating to my career if I let it go on long enough.
So, I figured I had to talk to him.
“Thomas?” I asked.
“Hm?” He looked over at me.
“Could I talk with you before we get to the set?”
We were riding in the back of the car with Bernie at the helm. This was the first time he’d looked at me all morning. His eyes were hazy and distant, looking through me instead of at me, and I knew from the moment I started the conversation that I wasn’t going to like its outcome.
“You know I trust you, right?” I asked.
“I’d hope so,” he said. “I’m your bodyguard.”
“But you know you’re more than just a bodyguard,” I said. “I mean, you know that, right?”
I smiled at him, but I could tell his expression grew hesitant. His eyes looked back out the window, and he shifted in his seat, sliding ever so slightly toward the window like he was trying
to get as far away as possible. I tried not to panic, telling myself I was just reading way too much into things, but when he spoke up, I realized I wasn’t.
I realized I’d made a terrible mistake by telling him.
“I’m just your bodyguard,” he said.
“Look, I know things have been weird between us ever since I told you about, well, you know.”
“No, they haven’t,” he said.
“Thomas—”
“Bridget, look. I’m here to do a job, and I’m just a bit tired. Lacey was up late last night, and it took a bit of coaxing to get her into school this morning.”
“Is she all right?” I asked. “Is there anything I can do?”
“You’ve done enough,” he said.
I felt my heart fall to my toes in that very instant. I slowly panned my gaze out the window and watched the trees flow by, wishing I could rewind the past couple of days and redo them altogether. This man had messed me up in ways I wasn’t even familiar with, and I’d dug myself a hole I didn’t know how to get out of.
“Are you having second thoughts about being my bodyguard?” I asked.
“Bridget—”
“Just answer the question, Mr. Jeffries.”
I felt his gaze slide over to me, but I forced myself not to look back. If addressing him in a formal manner would get him to talk to me, if being his boss would get him to be honest with me, then I’d be those things in a heartbeat. I wouldn’t keep a man of his many talents somewhere he didn’t want to be, especially if he took that stress home to his beautiful little daughter.
