Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy) (17 page)

“I call it
Scenes. I think, my little video store girl, that you can handle it.”

“Let’s hear it, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

“One of us starts. Either I say a line from a movie, or do something significant from a movie, then the other has to follow with the scene. You don’t know it, you lose a point. Most points by the end of the night wins.”

I looked up at him, confused. “Give me an example.”

After thinking for a moment, a slow grin spread over his lips. He kept his eyes on mine, lifting his palm to his mouth. As he exhaled, his warm breath smelled like the whiskey he’d just downed.

He slapped his palm against the window behind me, leaving it for a moment before pulling away.

I watched the shadow of his hot palm print tattoo the glass before evaporating.

“
Titanic
,” I said quickly, half laughing. “In the car, in the cargo hold under the ship. Jack and Rose.”

“And what were they doing?” he prodded, sliding over me on the seat.

I let the cool leather press against my back, smiling up at him. “They were making love. On the ship of dreams.”

He chuckled, catching my lips in his as his hand slid up my leg, under my gown. “Do you fully understand how to play now, Rose?”

“
Mm-hm
.” I sighed into his kiss as he pressed the button for the privacy window, separating us from the driver.

“Mm-hm, what?” he demanded, tugging at the zipper of his dress pants.

“
I’ll never let go, Jack,
” I managed.

H
is sexy grin told me that he was fully entertained.

. . .

The
moment we stepped onto the red carpet, I felt like all of my dreams had come true.

At that very same moment, I felt like I
hadn’t done a thing to deserve any one of them.

Keaton led
us slowly down the walkway, his hand in mine. Cameras flashed, people called out and a group of screaming girls nearly fainted. I watched as they yelled Keaton’s name, recognizing the two beefy security guards behind us as they moved in.

“…the Hollywood High School S
weethearts, and they’ve dressed the part. Simply adorable!” Some reporter weaved her way over to us, her press pass bobbing against her breasts. Her sleek, black gown and sky-high heels made me feel too short and inadequate to be talking to anyone on camera.

“Hi,” I smiled, and fuck if thirty-five different camera flashes go off all at once. A microphone was between us, and I finally read her badge.

Close-Up Magazine.

Holy shit.

“Vivian, will you tell us whose dress you’re wearing?” she began, and I lifted my face. I knew that my eyes were giant, blue saucers, and my heart was ready to pound out of my chest.

“It’s… mine,” I stammered, and the crowd erupted into entertained laughter.

“It’s such a pleasure to be the first to formally speak with you,” she said, her smile so wide I was sure there was Vaseline lining her gums. “And you’re just as witty and sweet as I’ve heard!”

“Thank you…
Jenn,” I added, thankful to have caught her name on her pass. The heated flush that passed over my neck as I realized that she was asking about my gown’s designer nearly sent me scratching into hives.

Breathe.
Breathe
.

“
The pleasure’s mine,” I added. “And to answer your question, it’s Oscar de la Renta.”

“
You are stunning. This has to be an original.”

I looked over at Keaton, who was already deep in conversation with another reporter. “I’m honestly not sure. Keaton surprised me.”

Her face was positively glowing at that point. “It fits perfectly!” she cried, astounded.

“He knows my body very well,” I replied, and then melted into a puddle of mortification on the ground.

As I blushed, I automatically covered my stomach with my hands, and she beamed, going in for the ultimate scoop.

“I’ll bet,” she said, lowering her voice to almost a whisper. “I’d say lucky girl, but I can tell that
he’s
the lucky one. When?” she bravely asked, gesturing to my stomach.

I felt Keaton’s eyes fall on me.

I could have simply shrugged with a secretive smile. I could have ignored her with a polite grin and walked on.

Instead, I did the exact opposite of what Matthew had asked
of me.

Tucking a strand of
hair behind my ear, I leaned into Keaton as he joined my side.

“March,” I replied as Keaton pressed a loving kiss to my forehead. This time, a bazillion cameras flashed from every direction.
“Keaton’s convinced she’s a girl.”

“Can I just say that I
love
you?” Jenn crooned, utterly enchanted as she fawned over us both. “Keaton, the suit.
So
charming. You’re both as sweet as you are entertaining, and I wish you all the success in the world for
Round-Up
. And
congratulations
,” she added with a conspiratorial whisper, gesturing to my stomach. She pretended to hide her words as though she hadn’t just recorded our entire dialogue over the last five minutes.

“Thank you,” I called as Keaton led me into the ballroom. The Sundance Charity Ball was in full swing, and I
huddled close to him.

“Was I okay?” I begged, under my breath.

“You are perfection.” He turned to touch my chin with his fingertips, tilting my face to his kiss. “Are you ready?”

Before I could answer him, I froze.

As though the world around me suddenly came into focus, my gaze fell on a woman.

“Look at me.”

Was it her?

“Vivian.”

Oh. My. God. Julia.
Roberts
.

“
Vivi
an.”

“Keaton, I’m going to scream. It’s her.
I think it’s her. I can’t believe she’s here. Oh my God. Oh God.”

“
Hey
,” he said tightly, stepping in front of me to block my view. “You are going to meet a lot of celebrities tonight. Be gracious, but mature. Smile. Let them talk. Understand?”

I could only nod.

“Tonight is about getting your face out there, not making best friends with Julia Roberts. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The band played louder suddenly, as if to draw people to the ballroom.

“So, you’re publicly admitting to sleeping with me
?”

I looked up at him, accepting his hand again
with a slow grin. “It makes me feel so proud, knowing how much you love me.”

He
smiled that adorable, crooked smirk that reminded me of the first time I’d ever laid eyes on him in the video store.

“I love how much
you
care about
me
. In every word you say, in everything you do. I’m not used to that.” His words, so heartfelt and sincere, brought out the burgeoning maternal instincts inside of me.

“Of course I care about you. I
love
you, Keaton.”

He stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying with me to the music. As his hand flattened over our baby, I turned my face into his kiss.

“Everything feels perfect. With you in my arms, I have this little, perfect world. I don’t want you to be afraid, V. I’m going to protect our family.”

“A perfect world,” I murmured, resting my head on his shoulder and swaying with him to the music. “I hope it lasts forever.”

He pressed his lips to my temple. “It will.”

I danced in his arms for most of the night, doing exactly as he said as I met celebrity after celebrity. I smiled, I shook their hands, and I let them talk.

And apparently, I was charming the hell out of everyone.

Keaton’s idea to wear a suit and the fact that my dress reminded me of senior prom prompted the band
to begin playing “Almost Paradise” from
Footloose
. A spotlight fell on us as the crowd clapped with laughter.

“You are the queen of this prom,” Keaton teased, his breath warm on my ear. “I’m
so
knocking you up later.”

I pulled away and giggled, flushing at his silly words. “Too late, director.”

He grinned, his shoulders shaking with laughter. I could
feel
his happiness; it was palpable, real. The way he smiled, the way he held me, everything told me that he was exactly where he wanted to be at that moment in his life.

And then he told me.

Every word he whispered against my ear was filled with genuine honesty.

“
It only took me twenty-seven years to find where I belonged.
”

He kissed me then, the kind of kiss that I
wished that I could duplicate on our wedding day.

As the evening turned into night, he caught me covering a yawn. We sat just inside the doorway, on a red, velvet bench near the ballroom entrance. “Come on, V, let’s get you home.”

“I don’t want this night to end.”

“There will be so many more nights like this.”

I realized then, as a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes passed, that he hadn’t touched another drink since the limo. “Okay. If you promise.”

“I promise. And you know I don’t break my promises.”

I smiled, and we left and climbed into the limo together. As the bodyguards flanked us on either side, I realized that I’d almost forgotten the terrible murders and how scared I’d been all day.

“Miss Hale. Mr. Thane,” the driver greeted us formally, holding the door for us.

I slid over the butter-soft leather seats, reaching for my bag that I’d left behind. Keaton had gotten me a small, matching clutch to go with the gown, and my old purse from JC Penney, compliments of my Gram’s fifty percent off coupon, was stuffed in the back of the limo. “Can you grab me a bottle of water? I have little headache, and I know I have some Tylenol in here.”

“How little?” he asked immediately, reaching for a bottle from the bar.

I sensed his concern immediately. “Miniscule. Practically non-existent.”

“You’d tell me the truth, right?”

“Yes,” I assured him, jerking as my finger edged along a piece of paper from inside my purse. I pulled my hand away, narrowing my eyes at the droplet of blood on my fingertip. “Ouch. Damn it. What is this?”

I unfol
ded the piece of paper, the strip of lights inside the limo casting shadows over the dark, scrawling words.

“What is that? What
…?” Keaton took the paper from my hand.

My eyes focused on
the three sentences

He
will pay.

He
will suffer.

He
will cry.

K

The
three days between the ball and our flight to Utah were the longest three days of my life.

After Vivian had discovered the fucking
threatening, ominous
bull
shit letter, she’d frozen up, barely speaking to me or anyone else.

The FBI had practically spent the night at our apartment, and the letter was now in their possession.

We had police protection, twenty-four seven, and our apartment, my office, and the studio were under constant surveillance.

The first day she’d
spent reading through the script, and I had to convince her to take breaks and eat every so often. The second day, once we discovered that the FBI was watching both her family and mine, she stayed in bed nearly all day, curled on her side, alternating between sleep and awake.

By the third day, the morning we were supposed to leave for the airport, I’d had enough.

“You know, we’re about to be on location. On the set. In less than twelve hours.”

She lifted her eyes from her suitcase, as if suddenly realizing that I was standing across from her. “I know.”

“Is this a thing you do? When you’re scared?”

“What?” She stared at me blankly.

“You know, go all
One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest
catatonic. Admittedly, the dead-eyed stare is attractive. Makes me wonder if I might be into necrophilia.”

She cringed, but I didn’t manage to coax a smile from her. “I’m just… thinking.”

“For three days? No one thinks for three fucking days.”

“I do.”

“Look, this introspective, vague, emo thing that you’re doing isn’t working for me. At all. Talk.”

“It’s just how I am, Keaton! When I’m sad, or scared, I just need space!”