Souvenirs (14 page)

Ben listened as dispassionately as he could. He trusted Fiona with everything he considered important. She kept his secrets, watched his back, and protected him while he was on location. She’d been the one to alert him to Hillary’s shenanigans and had run interference when things threatened to get out of control.

“Ta, muppet.” He winked at her. His smile was frail, but it felt good to do it. “Why don’t you ring and tell them yes for me.”

“You don’t even know the offer,” Noah protested. “You’re acting right squiffy, Ben.”

Ben stood to leave. “Sometimes my best interests don’t have shit to do with money.”

Another part of his mission complete, he went round to his mother’s to sort the rest of the puzzle. When he arrived, he used his key and reminded himself not to slam the door. “Mother.”

He should have reminded himself not to yell.

“What’s wrong?” She came at a run from the kitchen, drying her hands.

“Come sit.” He led her back to the table. It wasn’t the kitchen where he’d grown up, but the table was the same. Ben ran his fingers in the same worry grooves he always searched for when they were having a difficult conversation.

“Have you seen a copy of
The Sun
lately?”

“You know I don’t read those awful things.”

He pulled the newsprint picture from his wallet.

“Who do you think snapped this?”

“I don’t have to think about it. I did.”

Ben put his hand over his mouth.
Bollocks
. What had he done?

His mother glanced up at him, frowning. “How did it end up in
The Sun
?”

He resisted the impulse to badger her. “Who else has been here? It would have been shortly before the holiday.”

“My bridge club came. And Fe and Noah. But other than them there was only Archie. He asked to see my vacation pictures over tea. It couldn’t have been him, could it?”

Ben stood to leave before he lost his temper. “I’m learning a lot about Archie today.”

“I’m so sorry, Bennett.”

“Not your fault.” He gave her in a brief, distracted hug. “Don’t fret.”

“How was your trip to Los Angeles?”

“I’ll fill you in later,” he said as he left.

Rather than walking to Archie’s office and running the risk of cooling off, Ben took a taxi. The restraint he’d shown with his mother was fading as he strode through the door and past the vacant desk where Emily, Archie’s sweet P.A., usually sat.

Slouching in the doorway, Ben watched his agent beaver through files. Photos of parties and red carpets decorated his office walls. A large, ornate desk dominated the space and left little room for sitting to chat. The trilling phone went unanswered, no doubt sending callers to voice mail. Lately, Ben always got Archie’s voice mail—unless Archie needed him.

“Blimey, mate,” Archie sputtered. “Y’ scared me.”

Ben sauntered into the room. “Em wasn’t at her desk.”

“Daft broad quit.” Archie bounced his hand on his desk. He’d done that when they’d read Chemistry in school. Archie had hated Chem. “What’s up?”

“I’ve been to L.A. to read for the Weathermore role in
Partners in Time
.”

“Great. You can’t take it, of course. It conflicts with something else I’ve got my eye on for you. Still, the exposure to U.S. casting agents will pay off eventually.”

“I have taken it.” Ben perched on the edge of his chair. “Imagine my surprise when I found out you didn’t put me in with the casting agent.”

“I did so.” Archie’s hand went flat and still on the desk. He did
that
on poker nights at Noah’s. Every time he had a crap hand.

“Then why did they think Fe was my agent?”

“Fiona? The barmy bint doesn’t understand anything about this business. That role isn’t the right one for you. I’ve got an ace project on the hook. It’s a remake of—”

“No, Archie. This one.”

“So you’d rather work with a rookie producer, a small studio, and a nobody screenwriter?”

“The script is blinding and the team making it is a great lot.”
And she isn’t a nobody.

“You’ve always trusted me to do what’s best for you.”

“About that.” Ben tugged the picture from his wallet.
I swear, I’m either going to laminate this or throw it away
. “Did you steal this photo?”

A greasy grin slid across the agent’s face. “Look, mate. Hillary is everywhere. Everyone is talking about
her
. They need to be talking about
you
.”

“So you decided to get me into a tabloid headline war with my ex-girlfriend? Are y’ off yer onion?” Ben gained volume as he stood and leaned over the gaudy desk, and even the bric-a-brac lining Archie’s bookshelves trembled. “You betrayed my family’s trust. You took the happiest point in my life and made it a shitty piece of paper.”

Wide-eyed, Archie leaned back in his chair. “Look, I’m sorry.”

“You almost cost me a job, and you’ve made a headache for my new director and producer.”

“I thought—”

“I’d like my file,” Ben demanded. “Straight away.”

The defeated man pulled the documents from his desk, and Ben took them. “I’m gutted to end things, but this is unforgivable.”

“Who’s the bird?” Archie asked.

“Someone I’ll go through hell to get back.” He indicated the creased piece of tabloid crap still on Archie’s desk. “You can keep that as a souvenir.”

He returned to Fe and Noah’s home and they spent the rest of the afternoon plotting their next moves. It was almost dark when Ben walked back into his mother’s home and sat at the table with a cup of tea. It grew cold as he told her everything from the past few weeks. He ended it with his head in his hands.

“Grace is the author of the book you were reading on vacation?” his mother asked. “She never figured it out?”

“We weren’t exactly having book club, Mother.” Ben dragged his hands free, grimacing at his colorful explanation. “Sorry. I’m shattered.”

“And you blamed her and Sunny for the picture?” When he nodded, her face melted. “Bennett, how could you?”

There wasn’t an answer, so he simply shrugged. “Mum . . .”

“You inherited your father’s temper.” She laid her hand on his jaw and rubbed her thumb on a worry line. “And his good looks.” She sighed and checked the clock. “I need to ring Sunny.”

His spirits rose. Grace had gone home. She was with her mother. “Would you—could I—”

“I’ll ask, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

She walked into another room, and Ben listened to her side of the conversation.

“Hello, Sunny. Dearest, I cannot tell you how sorry I am for Bennett’s recent behavior. What he did to Grace was . . . Wait, what? You don’t know?”

Ben scrubbed his hands over his face.
God, this day just sucks.

Jetlagged, weary from grief, and unaware of the drama brewing around her, Grace shuffled out of her bedroom for a drink of water. She was blinking in the glare of the refrigerator light when her mother burst through the door. Her mouth was set in a hard line, but her eyes were as soft as the sweater tossed around her shoulders. She held her arms wide, and Grace walked into them.

“When were you going to tell me he broke your heart?” Sunny whispered.

“Who told you?”

“Camille. She called to apologize,” Sunny sighed. “Poor thing had to tell me the whole sordid tale.”

Grace wrapped her arms around her mother and sobbed.

After a long while, they sat in the living room watching the lake reflect the moon.

“His agent did it,” Sunny explained. “Archie someone. Camille said Ben fired him.” She fell quiet for several minutes. “He wants to talk to you.”

Grace ached to hear his voice, but she was afraid of what he’d say, and she had no idea how to respond. So she sat and let her mother stroke her hair.

“Are you sure you can work with him?”

“He’s the perfect actor for this role,” Grace said. “Regardless of everything else. It wouldn’t be professional to get in the way.”

Chapter 14

Meg and Paul’s home was full of the cast and crew. Unlike any other party her friends hosted, Grace couldn’t hide from this one. She stood firmly at the center of the storm.

“I’m sorry, Morris, what did you say?” she asked.

“Susan’s been on cloud nine since your first meeting. She’s been looking for something to pull her out of the supporting action-figure roles and into something more substantial. But now I can’t get her nose out of your books.”

“Thank you.” Grace turned from Susan Wright’s bald, banker husband to their director, who reminded her of a lion with a silver-white mane. “Ted, you don’t mind if she reads ahead, do you?”

The smile transformed his severe features, making him more approachable. “As long as she doesn’t want to direct the sequel.”

Sequel, geez. No pressure.

“What are you three talking about?” Susan asked as she joined the group with cookies for her husband.

“Your ambition to direct,” Grace teased, using her favorite actress as a distraction from her raw nerves and roiling stomach.

Susan Wright had always been her model for Zadie. She was down-to-earth, funny, and talented, and it showed in every role. Plus, she wasn’t afraid to kick some ass.

Though thrilled she’d accepted the role, Grace had worried about actually meeting her. She shouldn’t have. After ten minutes, the two of them had been talking and laughing like old friends.

“We all want to direct at some point, don’t we?” Susan asked as she looked past Grace to address a new arrival.

Grace knew it was Bennett without looking. Spending the evening avoiding him meant she knew where he was at all times.

“We’re all lured by the power at some point,” he said. “Maybe it’s the chance to tell other people what to do.”

“Reversal of torture?” Susan asked.

“Exactly.”

Grace forced herself to meet his gaze. “Have you met everyone? Bennett Br—um, Oliver.” He wasn’t her Ben anymore. He was Bennett Oliver, co-worker and movie star. She took a deep breath and then nodded to indicate each person. “Morris Wright is the financial genius helping Paul with the financing.”

“And your co-star’s husband,” Morris explained as he extended his hand. Bennett leaned closer to accept the greeting, and Grace stepped back.

“Ted Horner is our director,” she continued.

“Of course, Ted. It’s a pleasure. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“Same here. I worked with Dan Lybrand a few months back, and he called when he heard the casting news. Says to tell you hello and offer you another shooting lesson.”

“He had his hands full with me as a student,” Bennett laughed. Grace gritted her teeth.

“And of course, Susan Wright,” she said.

Bennett extended his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m looking forward to having you kick my sorry arse.”

“And I’m looking forward to doing it,” Susan quipped.

They stood in a circle and everyone else listened to Ted and Morris discuss financing needs and shooting schedules. Grace watched Susan and Bennett—
Zadie and Ian
—side by side.

This was really happening.

Warm fingers closed over hers, and she let her gaze travel from her hand, up Bennett’s arm, to his face. Holding her gently, he spoke with Ted as if nothing had happened.

Not again.
She slid free from his grip and ignored his twitching fingers.

Tucking her hands behind her back, she continued watching her stars. Something was off. Susan’s wide smile was cold. She paid attention, but her eyes were hard. Her shoulders were stiff.

She didn’t like Bennett.

How could she not like him? Grace fought the urge to pull the actress aside and extol Bennett’s virtues and list his good deeds.

“Excuse me,” Grace whispered to no one in particular before she walked away, willing herself not to run to the bar in the far corner of the room.

“Hey, Ms. Don—Grace.” The bartender corrected himself as he greeted her. “Refill?”

“Thanks, Bobby.” She surrendered her glass and he moved it under the bar so no one would see her beverage of choice—plain water. After the mini-bar binge, she’d sworn off alcohol. Especially if she wasn’t eating. And she wasn’t tonight.

“Nice party,” Bobby said.

“It is, but my feet are killing me.” She took her drink. “Thanks.”

She looked for a new group to join. Her stars were now off limits, and the producers made her nervous. The cameramen talked about things she didn’t understand.

From the crowd in the center of the room, Gino Correlli waved a meaty hand. The giant of a man was the best prop designer in the industry, and this project would let him step out on his own. He’d shown his appreciation by making model swords and laser blasters for all the children in attendance. If she got close enough to the stairs, Grace could hear them playing in Meg and Paul’s basement. For the umpteenth time this evening, she considered hiding down there with them.

Instead, she walked to Gino and the special effects department. Everyone welcomed her with smiles and upraised drinks while two of the members defended their respective crafts.

“I’m just saying, actual models won’t go wonky on you if you hit a wrong key. No fuzzy trees.”

“Yeah, but you can’t put real people in a model forest. In front of a green screen, if it’s done right, you can’t tell the difference.”

“And,” Grace laughed, “Todd’s too nice to tell you his trees were fuzzy because
I
hit the wrong button.”

“Anybody could do it, Grace. I was tickled to have you in there. You smell better than Larry.”

“And she brings donuts.”

“I didn’t get any donuts,” Todd complained.

“Because she didn’t want to gum up the keys on your computer. That’s another reason models are superior effects.”

The clink of silver on crystal got their attention. Paul stood at the head of the room.

“Thank you all for coming tonight and for throwing in while we bring
Partners in Time
to life. I know signing up with a new studio is a gamble, but we’re committed to making it pay off for everyone involved. And on that note, Grace has accepted our offer to become an associate producer. She’s your boss.”

Wariness crept into the gaze of every crewmember. A few of the younger ones sat straighter, one put down his half-full beer. A few more stepped backward.
Why had Paul done this?

Her answer stood in the corner of the room. Bennett’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes never left hers.

Great. God knows what he thinks. Paulie, why did you have to rush to my rescue?

She tightened her grip on her glass. “No, Paul. It doesn’t. I got tired of you badgering me.”

The initial shock of talking in front of all these people faded, and she glared at Paul before she met the eyes of every person in the room, even Bennett. “It means I’m going to keep asking a lot of questions and getting in your way. And you have the right to tell me to let you do your job. We handpicked you because you’re the best at what you do. I’m only in charge of the story, and I’m looking forward to learning from all of you and helping where you need me.”

The music began again, the crowd shifted, and Grace accepted Gino’s hug.

“I know that was hard for you to do, Gracie.”

“Thanks. I’ll be back in a minute.”

She stalked toward Paul, but Meg was already there.

“How could anyone so smart be so clueless?” Meg scolded in a whisper. “And while we’re on the subject, he’s our guest and you were rude.”

“He was rude to who?” Grace asked.

When no one answered, she filled in the blanks and focused on her Don Quixote in a tailored suit. “Leave him be, Paulie. I’m fine.”

“He needed to know where he stood,” Paul insisted.

“And by showing him you set me back at least a month with the crew. I like these guys, and I want them to come talk to me. I want to be able to ask them things without making them defensive. It’s the only way I can learn. You promised you wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yeah, well,” Paul muttered as he looked over her shoulder to the corner.

“I wish I’d never told you,” Grace snapped. “I should have called Ron instead.”

“Ron? You just met him, and he’s a banker. What’s he know about personal stuff?”

“Exactly,” Grace snarled before she stalked off. She was going to cry again. That’s all they’d need to doubt her fitness. Bennett would think it was over him, then he’d think she really did get her job because of their relationship—their dead, pitiful relationship. Reaching the door, she escaped outside.

The sun was disappearing into the ocean, and nature had gone quiet in anticipation. Even the tide had hushed. The wind tugged her hair and cooled her skin. She let it dry a tear and watched as the water turned gold and orange. It reminded her of her lake at home. Home, where she was safe and quiet-where she wanted to be more than anywhere else in the world.

“Grace?” Bennett whispered.

Keeping her eyes on the fading horizon, she tightened her grip on the cold wrought iron railing.

“I wish he wouldn’t do that,” she sighed. “He always tries too hard.”

“You’ve earned it.”

She shook her head. “So far, all I’ve earned is a screenwriting credit, though I was making progress. Now I’ll have to start over.”

“You’ll go down a storm,” Bennett reassured her. “Do what you do best.”

Great. What’s he think? That I slept with a whole room full of people?

“They didn’t offer me the position because of—”

“I know.” He stood beside her. “Instincts, remember? I forgot to listen to them. If anything, I probably owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Everyone knew you were the perfect actor for this role.”

She wiped away a persistent tear.

“Don’t cry.” He cleared his throat. “If Paul thinks I’ve upset you, I’m headed on a one-way ride into the desert.”

She choked back a laugh. “He didn’t.”

“He’s worried about you.” His smile highlighted each word.

“He’s the brother I never had. I’ll talk to him.”

“Don’t, please,” Bennett said. “I earned this all on my own, and I’ll get it sorted. The best way to do it is to show everyone my sane, charming side and do my job.”

She nodded and turned toward the house.

He moved closer and whispered in a rush. “I’m sorry, Grace. Fiona has always said my ego overloads my brain. But that picture . . . While Hillary and I were together, she made sure pictures and stories were splashed everywhere in London. I’ve had to struggle to regain my privacy.”

“You picked a weird career path.”

“I’m good at it, and I like it.” He shrugged. “It’s no different than being an accountant or a teacher. I just happen to be on screen.” The breeze whispered though the silence between them. “But I should have known you’d never do something like that.”

“Yes, you should have. Why did Archie do it?”

“He claimed he wanted me to come out of the debacle with Hillary with the better publicity, and seeing me happy would get even.”

“She’s quite beautiful. You two made a stunning couple.”

“We made a lousy couple, but we were pretty to look at.” He took a deep breath. “All that press is utter
shite
. It’s not who I am.”

“You know most of the crew will have seen the picture of us. The ones who haven’t will soon. I need to get in front of it.”

“
We
do,” he emphasized. “We’re both in it.”

“Okay, then. We’ll do it in the morning at the orientation. Right now, we should go back inside before people start to wonder.”

She braved the curious glances for the remainder of the party, and then again the next morning through Paul’s brief announcements.

As the departments grouped together and prepared to leave, Grace walked on wobbly knees to the microphone. Bennett joined her, standing too close, and she inched away. No one needed to see them as a couple
.

“If I can have your attention,” she croaked. “This won’t take long.”

The speakers echoed through the room, amplifying the shake in her voice. She tightened her grip on the edges of the podium. Everyone stopped, some in mid-stride. They all waited.

She gulped and it echoed back to her, but she managed to nod at Gino who flipped the light on the projector. She watched the expressions fade from confusion to understanding or, in this case, misunderstanding. She really hoped they couldn’t hear her knees banging together.

Bennett took half a step forward, and she stilled him with a look. At least the telepathic part of their relationship had stuck.

“I—we want to address the elephant in the room,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “If you’ve not seen this, I’m sure you will at some point during filming.”

She focused her gaze on Gino and his encouraging nod.

“I finished the screenplay before we met,” she recited from memory. “Bennett auditioned like everyone else. We have dated, but we don’t anymore. We’re okay with it, so don’t be uncomfortable. Thanks. Have a great first day.” She stepped away from the microphone and fled down the stairs and to work.

She kept her nose to the grindstone all day, then stayed late to make sure everyone knew she and Bennett didn’t leave together. Relying on her GPS, she wound her way back to Malibu, though Meg and Paul’s gate, and to her temporary home.

After making popcorn for dinner, she stood in her borrowed living room, her phone on her shoulder, and talked to Pam Reynolds, her cover artist.