Kitabı oku: «Redemption of a Hollywood Starlet», sayfa 3

CHAPTER THREE

FINN didn’t need to watch the filming—in fact, he probably shouldn’t, since Farrell was notoriously temperamental and quick to bite when he felt his directorial turf was being trod on—but something drew him tonight whether he liked it or not.

Cait’s parting shot bothered him. Oh, he’d been well aware before that she was carrying some kind of grudge against him—which was totally undeserved, because he wasn’t the bastard in this situation. He wasn’t the one who’d walked out.

So she wanted someone to blame? For what? It nearly destroyed me—personally and professionally. That did explain a lot of the shouting the night she’d left. He’d known she was starting to get a bit of backlash from their adventures, but “personal” hadn’t come into it.

Or so he’d thought.

He’d chalked it up to overreaction from not getting the chance to read for that part she’d wanted in some film, and expected her to be back after she’d calmed down. The next thing he’d heard, she was in London.

She’d left the damn country without even saying goodbye. That still left a bad taste in his mouth.

London had changed her; she wasn’t that fun-loving free spirit she’d been back then. She looked the same—he ignored the memory of the flash of heat that had moved over him when he’d walked into her trailer and found her dozing on the couch in just her underwear—but she wasn’t the same. This new Cait was reserved, careful and locked down tighter than a maiden aunt—and equally disapproving. Every now and then she’d let something slip that made him think she was merely pretending to be someone new, but the mask always fell right back into place, making him wonder if he’d imagined it. What had happened to her in London to damp that inner fire that had once drawn him like a moth?

Not that he wanted to go there again.

Nonetheless, he was standing there watching, even when he had a ton of paperwork waiting for him. He could easily list a dozen things he should be doing instead of sitting here watching Cait prepare to make out with Jason Elkins.

His earlier compliment to Cait hadn’t been empty flattery. In fact, he’d been astounded by how good she was as Rebecca. He snorted when he remembered that Cait’s mother envied her the part. Even thirty years ago Margaret Fields-Reese would have been totally wrong for Rebecca, and if he wanted to be honest—privately, at least—Cait’s mother couldn’t have pulled it off at Cait’s age. Cait might have spent the last ten years in the shadow of her parents’ talent, but she was about to grab the spotlight all on her own.

That much he understood better than anyone else here, and he couldn’t help but be proud of her.

Still, his brain had a hard time reconciling the Cait he knew and the roles she’d used to play with the woman now dominating each scene with quiet, heartbreaking strength. No wonder Naomi was spitting nails. Cait owned this film now. She would rule award season.

But even knowing Cait was simply in character, doing her job while the cameras rolled and thirty people watched, Finn was surprised at the strange kick that landed in his gut when Elkins kissed her.

And it only got worse when Cait kissed him back. The passionate embrace seemed to go on forever.

Farrell finally called cut and Cait rolled out from under Elkins immediately. Two women hurried over to fix her lipstick and hair while the crew readied for the next take.

“Not jealous, are you?” Dolby spoke from behind him.

That feeling wasn’t jealousy. “Why would I be?” he asked casually.

“Don’t know. All I do know is that the second he put his hands on Cait you looked like you would like to beat Elkins into a mushy pulp.”

The truth was good enough here. “I just don’t like him.”

“Ah, but every woman between the ages of fifteen and fifty does.”

And that equaled money at the box office. Finn shook his head. He knew all too well that personal likeability had nothing at all to do with job performance. Hell, his father was a prime example of a lousy person doing a good job, so his distaste of Elkins made little sense under close inspection. He’d had a lifetime of practice in keeping personal dislike separate from professional needs. It made things much easier. It took practice to keep everything in its proper box, but it worked well—until someone like Cait came along and screwed it all up.

As Brady would say, he needed to keep the bigger picture in focus. Folly was the important thing, and he needed to keep his focus there and there only. “I still don’t like the idea of sending Cait out with him to bait the paparazzi. He’s a womanizer.”

“Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, I think.”

For the second time in two days Finn really wanted to punch Dolby in the mouth. It was the only the third time in the entire seven years they’d been partners he’d been pushed like this, and Finn recalled Cait had been part of the reason that other time, too.

“The difference is that I actually like women. He’s nothing but a user, and I feel like a pimp encouraging this.”

Dolby raised his hands and stepped back. “Whoa, there, Lancelot. Lay off the talent. We need them. What did Caitlyn say when you told her?”

“That she’s a team player. She’ll do it, but I don’t think she really likes the idea. I don’t blame her.”

“Well, she needs a big name in order to overshadow yours and point the cameras in another direction. Jason Elkins is about the only one who fits that bill. We could always go back to Plan A and put you two in front of the shutterbugs …”

“And I’ve already said that’s not going to happen.” Even if Cait were game, he certainly wasn’t.

“You’re so touchy about this. Three weeks ago you’d have let me sacrifice kittens on the set if it would be good for Folly.”

“Three weeks ago we were simply shooting. Now the entire project is just a backdrop for a freakin’ soap opera.”

“Dude, you need serious therapy.”

Finn couldn’t argue with that, but damned if he’d admit it.

The director called for quiet and cued the cameras. Cait lay beside Elkins, her face buried in his neck as her hand found his and their fingers twined together. It was beautiful, powerful … and completely sickening. Cait slowly sat up, her hair falling like a curtain over her face, and when she tossed it back the seductive smile she wore ripped into his stomach, spreading remembered and familiar heat and want through his veins. He recognized that smile, knew it, had had it directed at him when he … When they … Disgusted, Finn turned and walked away.

Dolby trotted beside him. Once they were safely out of range, he spoke quietly, “If this thing with Cait is going to be a problem, I’ll stay and you can go back to L.A.”

Why wouldn’t Dolby just let it go? Probably because he knew far more than Finn was really comfortable with at the moment. “There is no ‘thing’ with Cait, so there’s no problem, either. I refuse to make a big deal out of this. The set is closed, Cait’s going to go out and pretend to be hot for Jason Elkins and I’m going to produce this movie. If everyone will just do their damn jobs, it will all be fine.”

Dolby threw up his hands in surrender. “Fine. Folly is all yours.”

“How kind of you.”

The assistant director waved them down and Dolby went to see what he needed. Finn went to the trailer housing the production office and tried to lose himself in the seemingly endless number of emails. About twenty minutes later, the subject line on one brought him up short: Comment on Caitlyn Reese’s return?

Finn sighed. On the off-chance it was actually something worthwhile, he clicked it open. Nope. No questions about Folly or the role of Rebecca or anything else that might be considered anything other than tabloid-ready gossip.

Good Lord. When he’d left for Monaco, Folly had been newsworthy because of the importance of the project. The book had a nearly cult-like following, and was required reading at many universities, so film companies had been trying to buy the rights to the book for decades. Dolfinn’s success had been hailed as the get of the year.

He wouldn’t care if the attention shifted to one of the cast or the director, because that would be equally valid. In the last few days, as word had spread that not only had Cait been cast but that he would be on the set, Folly’s buzz had shifted toward the tawdry. The media was circling, but not in a good way.

He deleted the email without responding. The invasion of his private life didn’t really bother him. Hell, he’d never had much of a private life. The Marshall family was always in the news: being rich and politically connected equaled fame, and he’d grown up in the fishbowl of power politics. It wasn’t personal. And if it was personal, well, he’d learned long ago not to let that faze him.

He’d built his own reputation in L.A., proving that Marshall DNA wasn’t destiny, but his connections and success only increased the glare of the spotlight. Honestly, he didn’t care what was said about him; he lived his life exactly as he damn well pleased and the rest of the world could shove it. That was the one lesson he’d learned from his father that had served him well. Professional success came with personal scrutiny, but enough success meant his private life couldn’t outshout it. Fame, fortune and power made him blog fodder, but they also meant he didn’t have to answer to anyone about anything.

Why, then, did this sudden Cait-fueled interest irritate him? God knew there was nothing about their previous relationship that hadn’t made the tabloids, and he’d never given that a second thought.

Until now. And he was finding out it was something he really didn’t want to think about.

It made no sense at all.

“Beautiful, Caitlyn. Absolutely wonderful. You and Jason are just magic together.”

Caitlyn accepted the compliments with a smile as she waited for the crew to reset the shot and the makeup artists swooped in to fix her hair and lipstick. She reached for a bottle of water and sipped gently through the straw. What she’d really like to do was swish and gargle to get the taste of Jason out of her mouth, but that probably wouldn’t go over well.

She bit back a laugh. He looked good, smelled even better, and women everywhere would kill to be in her shoes right now. If only the teen magazines knew that their current cover hottie and winner of “Best Lips” should actually take home the title of “Worst Kisser.” Not that a screen kiss would ever equal a real kiss, but jeez … There were close-ups involved, so chaste, fake kisses just wouldn’t do. At their last rehearsal Walter had thundered on about authenticity and making it real, and she was really doing her best. If this was the best Jason could do … Well, Caitlyn felt a little bad for the women he dated.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Finn and froze. What the hell? It wasn’t that he didn’t belong here—he had full run of the set and there was a good chance he had a legitimate reason for observing the filming—but something slithered down her spine at the thought of him watching her do this.

It just seemed … icky. As if it was wrong somehow, even though she knew that was ridiculous. They weren’t an item anymore, and this was professional kissing, not recreational. Then why did she suddenly feel like …?

The sound of her name pulled her out of her shock, and she realized the crew was waiting for her. Clearing her mind, she lay down next to Jason and let Walter direct her into place. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and at that moment she realized why Jason smelled so good.

That was the aftershave Finn used to wear.

Pieces fell into place and memories rushed back at her, crowding her mind’s eye too quickly for her to focus on anything else. Damn it. Now was not the time to wander down that path. But as Jason’s hands moved across her back it was all too easy to pretend it was just part of those memories. That those were Finn’s hands touching her, his breath against her neck, his lips … A shiver ran over her body.

She sat up, pushing her hair out of her face, and when she opened her eyes it was Finn’s face she saw, his eyes hooded and glowing with desire. She let the memories wash over her and take control. Her fingers shook slightly as she reached for the buttons on her blouse, then a hand caught her hair and pulled her down against a broad chest. Only part of her mind registered the crew watching and the directions being quietly fed to her; something else was guiding her.

The word, “Cut!” finally caught her attention, and she snapped back to herself. The realization of who she was actually with sent heat to her cheeks, but she forced herself to keep her face still. Looking around, she saw the big smile on the director’s face, and stunned looks from some of the crew.

Jason pushed himself to a sitting position and shook like a wet dog. Her lipstick stained his lips. “Wow, Caitlyn. Hell of a take.”

Thank God this was a professional crew. They expected realism. She was the only one who needed to know what had actually happened, and as the compliments about that “magic” started again she didn’t bother to correct anyone who wanted to gush about the chemistry she had with Jason.

That was way better than the truth. She felt as if she’d taken method acting to a whole different—and very disturbing—place. She felt shaken.

And something burned low in her stomach. One clear look at her co-star, though, assured her he certainly hadn’t lit that fire. Caitlyn looked around surreptitiously, but Finn was gone. She couldn’t decide it she was relieved or not. That had to have been one of her best performances, but maybe it was best he had not witnessed it. She wouldn’t have been able to face him knowing …

And then she had to do it again. And again. Until finally—thankfully—she heard the true magic words letting her know they had everything they needed for this scene. She was done.

On slightly unsteady legs, she covered the distance to her trailer in record time and collapsed on the couch. That was weird.

Even worse, something inside her had been released—as if the box she’d shoved everything Finn-related into had suddenly opened and, like Pandora, she couldn’t get all the feelings back in. For years now she’d been able to disconnect from the past; the memories used to be like old silent movies, but now they came roaring back in a full Technicolor, surround-sound, 3D, hi-def experience. What had been just an old flame burning in her veins was now a brush fire fanned by all those old feelings.

And not all of them were good.

Finn wasn’t good for her. Oh, he could be all kinds of fun—up for anything, unshockable, completely unconcerned about what the rest of the world thought. His “love-me-or-screw-you” philosophy had been just what she’d needed—then, at least. The acceptance had been what she’d needed.

Finn’s attitude might come from a different place—in retrospect she could put enough pieces together to know some of it had been learned as simply self-preservation—but she’d still admired it back then. She’d needed it at the time.

But she wasn’t Finn. She was living proof that his approach didn’t work for everyone. Theoretically, it was a great idea. It didn’t always translate well into real life. Regardless of anything else, she needed to keep that in mind.

So much for all those rational pep talks she’d given herself. Ancient history. We’re both adults. Time passes; people forget. No reason why we can’t work together. Lord, the platitudes sounded really weak now, and she realized they’d never actually been strong.

In her drive to move on and move ahead she’d let herself overlook one rather glaring flaw in her plan: Finn simply wasn’t forgettable. Or ignorable.

But there was nothing that could be done now. Even if she weren’t contractually obligated to this film, she wanted this part, by God. Rebecca was more than just her ticket back to Hollywood; it was her chance to establish herself as a serious leading actress in her own right. No more playing the sidekick, always being compared to her mother and always coming up a bit short. She had a legacy to live up to.

Which meant she had to get all this Finn stuff under control.

And that seemed like a monumental task.

“Not hungry, Caitlyn?” Jason put down the paper he was reading and grabbed a strawberry off her plate. He smiled at her as he chewed, and Caitlyn could only imagine the caption that would go under the cute picture of him eating off her plate.

They were having a late, leisurely Saturday morning breakfast at a sidewalk café not far from her rented condo right off the water in downtown Baltimore. It was a trendy spot, carefully chosen to maximize exposure and photo ops for passersby. And it had worked; they’d drawn plenty of attention to themselves simply by doing nothing, and Jason’s popularity ensured that those photos would make their way to the blogs in quick order. After three days of them filming love scenes, rumors were already rumbling about their “amazing chemistry” that “might mean something more.” This breakfast would give those rumors legs, but only she knew the truth behind that so-called chemistry.

Jason reached for another strawberry without asking, and she pushed her plate across the table to him. “I don’t really like to eat for the cameras. They always manage to catch me at just the wrong moment. I’ll get something later.”

He obviously thought that was funny, even as he chowed down on the rest of her fruit and yogurt, and while there was some truth to the statement, there were plenty of other issues complicating it.

Jason went back to his magazine as she stared at her paper, and to the world they’d look like any other couple having breakfast. She’d drawn a hard line about any snuggling or other public displays of affection, so they were going for the “comfortable companionship” vibe. Everyone would fill in all the blanks they wanted without Jason or her offering anything more.

She really hated this whole arrangement on principle. It was deceitful to pretend to a relationship—of any sort—simply to up her popularity by tying it to Jason’s. She found it insulting on a professional level and personally distasteful.

At the same time it beat eating alone. Not by much, granted, but the grind of “work all day, go back to a rental alone at night” had started to lose its shine already. She didn’t know anyone in Baltimore other than the cast and crew, and after keeping hours as long or longer than hers they weren’t much for socializing, either.

She wasn’t bored, but she was getting a little lonely. Jason was a poor substitute for actual company, but at least he was a breathing human being.

He’d been reading a magazine and now pushed it toward her. “Good interview.”

“Thanks.” At least that woman had given her the chance to put some of her past in a different, more flattering light. It was a start.

“This says you went to London and took acting classes.”

“Yeah, I did some workshops, too.”

“Rumor had it you went there to check into rehab.”

She’d gone to London because it was far away from California and still in an English-speaking country. She’d considered Australia at first, but at least she knew a few people in London. She’d gone to hide and think.

“That’s why they’re called rumors. They’re rarely true.”

“Why?”

Jason was pleasant to look at, but talking to him made her head hurt. “Why what?”

“Why take classes?”

Was he really that slow? “To improve my craft.”

“You already knew how to act.”

“Yes, but there’s always something new to learn, right?”

“If you say so.”

And that explained so much about Jason. She’d now take bets that his career had an expiration date in the not too distant future. Caitlyn shook her head as Jason went back to his magazine. She’d had the talent and connections to get her start in the business, but she’d found out the hard way that it just wasn’t enough.

She’d had plenty of time over the last few years to analyze how it had all happened and where it had all gone wrong, and the disturbing return of a whole bunch of feelings she didn’t want to dissect didn’t change any of her conclusions.

In many ways Finn had been the perfect choice for “Caitlyn Reese, Actress.” He’d been a rising power player from an already powerful family, and his reputation and prestige were being bolstered by a string of successful films. She’d been the daughter of the industry’s most respected director and America’s favorite actress. Their relationship had given the papers great headlines—all kinds of garbage about the merging of dynasties.

While she had been born into Hollywood royalty, it wasn’t really her world and she hadn’t quite found her place. Oh, she’d had all the right connections to put her on a path to live up to her parents’ legacy, but she’d never really managed to get all the pieces in the right places at the right times.

Growing up in that shadow had left her lacking certain social skills, and that had led to rumors of haughtiness and self-absorption, so that by the time she’d turned twenty-three she’d had a string of great acting credits to her name but no friends and little attention outside the films.

Then she’d met Finn. Their connection had been instantaneous, red-hot and immediately front page news. Overnight, her reputation had changed completely, launching her into the public eye like a publicist’s dream.

Oh, she’d launched, all right. Right into the danger zone.

Finn had understood her—or so she’d thought. Being herself hadn’t worked out all that well, and that had made the hurt worse. Then things had just gotten out of hand. It had been totally accidental, but that original plan had fallen by the wayside for her, and by the time she’d realized how deep in she’d gone, there’d been no graceful way out. Within six months she’d fallen just as fast as she’d risen, becoming a cautionary tale about the young, rich and famous in Hollywood. It had been utterly humiliating—for her and her parents.

But then she’d run away to London, and things had been different. Her reputation had preceded her, but without Finn to help fuel the fire she’d been able to live a bit more quietly. Distance had given her perspective, and after long discussions with her agent and her parents she’d launched her new plan. Her name guaranteed her acceptance into the right circles, but she’d never used it. Instead, she reinvented herself and thrown herself into acting classes and workshops. With the confidence she’d gained she’d made a new set of friends, and created a new life that was the polar opposite of the one she’d left behind. She’d taken smaller roles to stretch her range, gained some respect for those performances, then moved slowly up the ladder to bigger parts in the West End.

The constant exchange between the West End and Broadway meant she’d known plenty of people in New York when she’d arrived six months ago. Mentally, emotionally and professionally, she’d managed to end up in a good place.

A true redemption story, ready to be told.

But now … She was starting to feel a little restless and alone. The feeling was familiar, but not fun. And she could feel the pressure mounting already: she needed to be “out there,” making the magazines, getting her name on people’s lips again … Living up to her legacy.

Thankful for the sunglasses that hid her eyes, she glanced at Jason again. Yet, somehow she’d already been reduced to this.

Four more weeks. Only a month. She could handle it.

“You ready?” Jason’s voice cut into her thoughts.

“Yes.” Finally, she added to herself as Jason paid the bill and they left, setting off a new flurry of whispers when Jason put his hand on her lower back to guide her out.

Jason had left his car in front of Caitlyn’s temporary home, and they walked the few blocks back. After they turned the first corner no one seemed to be paying any attention, and she felt her shoulders relax.

“I’m not really sure I like this idea of pretending we’re something,” Jason grumbled.

Surprise caused her to miss a curb and stumble a bit. Jason loved the attention from the press. Courted it, even. Maybe she’d pegged him wrong and he did have a conscience when it came to stuff like this. “Really? Me—”

The corners of his mouth pulled down as he shook his head. “You and Finn were high-profile. I don’t want to look like I’m taking seconds or just your fall-back plan.”

Her dislike of Jason grew a little more every day. “Or people might think that, given the choice between you or Finn, I chose you.”

“I hadn’t thought of that …” He brightened considerably. “I like that interpretation.”

Of course you do. “Honestly, though, I don’t want this to be any bigger than it has to be. I don’t want anything coming back to bite me later, or anything that will look like we were intentionally trying to make people believe something false.”

“But we are.”

He just wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. “No, we’re not. We’re just not correcting their erroneous conclusions yet. We, as colleagues, had breakfast together. We might even catch dinner one night. People do it all the time, you know. I want to be able to honestly say we are just friends and make sure they’ll have nothing solid to point to that might suggest otherwise.”

“Then what’s the point?”

She appealed to the one thing she knew would work: his ego. “You don’t want Finn overshadowing you on Folly, do you? The producer shouldn’t get more attention than the lead actor, right?”

“You’re right.”

“We’re really just keeping attention where it belongs, instead of letting Finn run away with it.”

“Good point.” They paused in front of Jason’s rental car. “Want a ride in?”

I’ve had about enough of you this morning. “Thanks, but I’ll drive myself.”

“See you later, then.”

As Jason drove away she realized she was right, and that knowledge relieved her own conscience and brightened her outlook considerably. Not only would they keep the media’s attention where it belonged—on Folly—they would keep hers there as well. Maybe this plan wasn’t the worst idea, after all.

Provided it worked.

In the half-hour it took for her to drive from Baltimore to the set on the Patapso River, Caitlyn repeated every mantra and affirmation she could bring to mind so many times that she nearly believed the plan might actually work. Her mood began to lighten, only to crash when the very first person she ran into on the set was Finn.

Why was he hovering over the production like some first-timer who didn’t trust the crew to do their jobs?

Finn looked mildly surprised to see her, but the explanation came quickly. “I thought you were having breakfast with Jason.”

And good morning to you, too, Finn. There was an edge to his voice, though, that kept the retort behind her teeth. “I did.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at her. “So where is he?”

That eyebrow grated across already raw nerves. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not his keeper or his manager.”

“But it went well?”

Define well. “The restaurant was lovely, and plenty of people saw us. That’s what you wanted, right?”

“That was the plan.”

This conversation was stilted, awkward and bordering on antagonistic. There was a set to Finn’s jaw that she recognized as irritation held in check, but she couldn’t be the cause. She’d just gotten here, for goodness’ sake. She knew the root cause of her attitude, though, and while Finn was to blame, she knew it wasn’t really his fault. She would just have to get hold of herself and get over it. And that would best be done at a safe distance from Finn Marshall.

“I’m sure Jason will be along shortly, and if I see him I’ll let him know you’re looking for him.”

Finn shrugged. “Don’t bother.”

Okay, now I’m lost. “Then I’ll just be in my trailer if anyone needs me.” Beating my head against the wall, trying to knock the stupid out.

He nodded once, then walked away, leaving her standing there feeling rather foolish.

Once again, it was a feeling she was used to.