Damage Control Read online

  Rush hour still hadn’t ended, so it seemed to take forever until Lauren reached Glendale. When she finally turned the last corner and Jill’s house came into view, she started cursing and smashed her fist against the steering wheel. Dammit. She should have known the paparazzi would get there faster than she did.

  Half a dozen vehicles lay in wait in front of Jill’s house, most of them SUVs with dark-tinted windows, which were typical for celebrity-hunting photographers.

  If she went in through the front door, she’d end up in the tabloids. The press vultures might even try to follow her in, not caring that they were breaking the law.

  Lauren stopped her car two houses down, ignoring the fact that she was blocking someone’s driveway. For a moment, she contemplated climbing the wall at the back of Jill’s property, where the paparazzi couldn’t see her, but she immediately dismissed that crazy idea. She didn’t want to even imagine what the media would write if she got caught doing that.

  Just when she was about to pull out her cell phone and call Jill, a black town car rounded the corner. It slowed in front of Jill’s house, but the SUVs were blocking the front gate. The town car stopped, and one of the doors in the back opened.

  Lauren craned her neck to see who was getting out. “Jill, if that’s you, stay in the car,” she murmured.

  Of course, it was Jill. Her red hair gleamed in the sun as she climbed out of the car.

  The paparazzi crowded around her before she could take even one step toward the gate. Cameras flashed, making Jill flinch back. One of the men pulled out a reporter’s notebook.

  “Oh, no, no, no. Don’t say anything, Jill.” Cursing, Lauren jumped out of the car and locked it hastily. As she sprinted over, the paparazzi peppered Jill with shouted questions.

  “How long has it been going on?”

  “Does Nick know about the affair?”

  “Does he know his wife is gay?”

  “Nonsense,” Jill said. “Grace isn’t gay.”

  Like a shark scenting blood, one of the reporters pressed closer. “But you are?”

  “No!” Lauren shouted and ran faster to reach them before it was too late. “Don’t say anything, Jill!”

  But apparently, Jill didn’t hear her over the snap of cameras and the shouts of the paparazzi. She had shrunk back, clutching the open door of the car for support. Now she slowly straightened. “Yes,” she said and lifted her chin. “Yes, I am.”

  More flashes went off.

  Lauren pushed past the paparazzi, nearly getting an elbow in the eye, and took up position in front of Jill. “That’s enough, gentlemen.” And I use that term very loosely. “We’ll prepare a statement with more details. If you leave me your cards, I’ll e-mail it to you.”

  The paparazzi grumbled, but when Lauren stood her ground, they finally handed over their business cards and backed off. They climbed into their SUVs and cleared the driveway, but they didn’t drive off, hanging around just in case something else exciting happened.

  Jill let go of the car door, closed it, and stumbled away from the town car, which slowly drove off. She looked at Lauren with wide eyes. “Oh, shit. Did I really say that?”

  Lauren sighed. “Yes, you did.”

  “Jesus, Grace is going to kill me.”

  Only if I don’t do it first, Lauren thought and helped the shell-shocked actress into the house.

  Jill sank onto the couch and raked her fingers through her hair, thoroughly messing it up. Tramp ran over and leaned his muzzle on his mistress’s leg, whining as if he could sense that something was going on.

  Lauren got a glass of water and pressed it into Jill’s hands. “Here.”

  Jill gulped down the water. “I wish I could have something stronger right now, but the doctors don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “What were you thinking?” Lauren asked.

  “The only thing going through my mind was ‘whatever you do, don’t say no comment.’”

  Lauren groaned. She should have instructed Jill more carefully about how to handle the press, but there had been no time last night, and she hadn’t thought things would move so quickly. Perching on the other end of the couch, she studied Jill’s face. The actress was pale but seemed to be doing better than she had last night. “So you’re gay?”

  Jill threaded her fingers through Tramp’s curly coat and looked up. A hint of humor returned to her green eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be able to tell? You’re gay too, right?”

  “Yes, I am. But it seems being chased up a wall by a dog puts my gaydar out of order,” Lauren said with a shrug.

  Jill snorted. “He hardly chased you up a wall. Tramp might bark, but he’s more likely to invite intruders in for a petting session.”

  “Does Grace know?” Lauren asked.

  The light in Jill’s eyes dimmed. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. “I don’t think so. She might suspect, but I never came right out—no pun intended—and said so.”

  “Then we’d better figure out what to tell her and the media.” Now that Jill had outed herself, even the more serious press might print articles about her possible involvement with Grace.

  Moaning, Jill buried her face in the dog’s fur and then peeked up at Lauren. “Can’t you do it for me?”

  “Me?”

  “You are my publicist, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll handle the press. You handle Grace.”

  Jill let go of Tramp and fell back against the couch. She sent Lauren a pleading gaze. “Can’t we do it the other way around?”

  Lauren raised her brows. “You aren’t afraid of her reaction, are you?” While Grace hadn’t reacted too well to finding out she’d hired a lesbian publicist, Lauren hadn’t gotten the impression that she was homophobic. Grace had seemed totally relaxed when having hot dogs in Lauren’s apartment with her.

  “I don’t want her to think…” Jill looked down to where she painted invisible patterns onto the armrest of the couch.

  “What?”

  “Do you know how many people pretend to be her friend in the hopes of getting something from her—her money, her body, a role in her next movie, a bit of the limelight…?” Jill shook her head. “I don’t want her to think I’m one of them.”

  “Why would she think that?” Lauren asked. “Just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you’re a gold digger or out to seduce her.”

  Jill said nothing.

  Lauren hesitated, wanting to grant Jill some privacy, but she needed to know. There’d been too many surprises blindsiding her already. “You’re not in love with her, are you?”

  “No,” Jill said quickly. A little too quickly, perhaps.

  Lauren kept looking at her.

  Red-cheeked, Jill threw a pillow in her direction, making Tramp strain to jump up on the couch because he wanted to join in on the game. Jill pushed him back down. “Oh, come on. She’s gorgeous. What dyke wouldn’t be just a tiny little bit infatuated with her?” She looked into Lauren’s eyes. “Aren’t you?”

  Images of her dream flashed through Lauren’s mind, and she again felt Grace’s soft lips on hers. She stiffly shook her head. “This isn’t about me.”

  “Oooh.” Jill’s wolf whistle made the dog bark. She soothed him before sliding closer to Lauren on the couch. “Do tell!”

  Lauren gritted her teeth. “Nothing to tell. And don’t try to change the subject.”

  “Said the pot to the kettle,” Jill murmured.

  “Jill,” Lauren said with a warning undertone. “Seriously.”

  Jill held up both hands. “Okay, okay. So, to answer your question, I might have a little bit of a crush, but I’m not in love with her. I’m her friend. How do we get the media and the fans to believe that?”

  Sighing, Lauren pinched the bridge
of her nose. “That’s the million-dollar question.”

  CHAPTER 9

  When Grace realized she had read the same page of the script three times without remembering one word, she threw the stapled stack of paper on the coffee table and got up from the couch. She restlessly prowled the house and finally settled down in the breakfast nook, where she’d left her laptop.

  Her mother looked up from the smoothie maker that she was trying to figure out. “What is it, darling?”

  “Nothing.” Grace forced a smile. “Just checking my e-mail.”

  “You really should hire a housekeeper who’s here twenty-four/seven, you know?”

  Grace got up, walked over to her mother, and put the pieces of the smoothie maker together before sitting back down. When she opened the lid of her laptop, a notification alerted her of new messages. She accessed her in-box and glanced at the unread e-mail, most of them messages from George and some that Lauren’s office had forwarded her. None of them looked urgent.

  No new messages from Lauren, though. Was she still talking to Jill?

  She frowned when she saw an unread e-mail from someone whose name she didn’t recognize. Probably just spam. She clicked on it to make sure. After reading the first sentence, she realized it was from a fan. How the heck had he found out her personal e-mail address? Great. Like things aren’t bad enough. Now she’d have to change her e-mail address—again.

  She skimmed the rest of the message. It was from someone who’d signed the e-mail “a former fan” and promised her that she’d burn in hell. A wave of anger swept over her with such force that she nearly shoved the laptop off the table. Why was someone who had been a fan suddenly sending her hate mail just because of these stupid rumors? Sometimes, she just didn’t understand people.

  Calm down. Lauren will make it go away. She took several deep breaths before deleting the e-mail and emptying the trash.

  There. The message was gone forever. She hoped she wouldn’t get another one like this but knew better. Instead of opening the other unread messages, she logged out of her e-mail program.

  Her e-mail provider displayed a colorful page of celebrity news.

  Grace rolled her eyes and was just about to close the browser when one of the pictures caught her attention.

  It showed a redheaded woman getting out of a town car, her eyes wide as if the photographer had surprised her.

  Grace’s finger froze on the trackpad. She leaned closer to the screen to study the small image. That’s Jill! The caption beneath the picture said, Yes, I am.

  Huffing, Grace clicked on the picture just to see in what clever way the tabloids had distorted the truth this time.

  The headline of the short article was set in all caps, practically screaming, YES, I AM—JILL CORRIGAN COMES OUT AS GAY!

  “Yeah, sure,” Grace mumbled and started to read.

  Jill Corrigan, best known for her role in the popular TV show Coffee to Go, has recently been photographed getting up close and personal with Grace Durand, even spending the night at a romantic little inn with her.

  We caught up with the actress in front of her Glendale home this morning to hear what’s up with the two hotties.

  When asked if she’s gay, Jill said, “Yes, I am,” confirming the rumors in true Ellen DeGeneres-style.

  Grace still hasn’t commented one way or the other, so stay tuned!

  Grace blinked and reread the article. The “yes, I am gay” echoed through her head. Part of her wanted to dismiss it as fake news made up by a couple of reporters out to make money, but the photo had clearly been taken in front of Jill’s house. After her adventure last night, Grace was intimately familiar with the ivy-covered brick wall in the background of the picture. If the photo was real, maybe the rest of the article was too.

  Had Jill indeed said that? Or had the media made that up or somehow taken it out of context?

  The website didn’t provide any answers, no matter how long she stared at it. She slammed the laptop closed and jumped up. No more rumors and lies. She needed answers—now.

  She got her cell phone from the coffee table and called Jill.

  The call went directly to voice mail.

  Jesus! Can’t she pick up for once?

  Grace pressed the end button without leaving a message. She wanted answers now, not whenever Jill got around to checking her voice mail. She thought about calling Lauren but then shook her head. Lauren had probably gone back to the office by now, and she didn’t want to add more stress to the publicist’s already stressful job.

  Her mother abandoned the smoothie maker as Grace reached for her car keys. “Where are you going?”

  “I need to talk to Jill,” Grace said on her way to the door.

  “Now?” Her mother rushed after her. “But you can’t—”

  Grace stopped and turned. “I can’t just sit around here and be the last one who finds out what’s going on. This is my career. My life!” She tapped her chest.

  “Then I’m coming with you,” her mother said in a tone that brooked no further discussion.

  For a moment, Grace considered staying home. The conversation she needed to have with Jill wasn’t one she wanted to have with her mother in the room. Well, she could just tell her to wait outside and keep Tramp company. The thought made her grin despite her tension.

  “Let’s go.”

  Several cars and SUVs were parked in front of her driveway, blocking the now-open gate.

  Her mother tugged on Grace’s arm. “Let’s go back inside and—”

  “No.” Grace clutched the steering wheel. She didn’t want to be a prisoner in her own home, having to find out from the tabloids what was going on. Instead of putting her Ford Escape into reverse, she leaned on the horn.

  Four men and a woman came running around their cars and stopped at the open gate, cameras at the ready.

  Grace bit her lip. Somehow, a female paparazzo—a paparazza, she supposed—felt like a betrayal. She honked again, but they didn’t back away or move their vehicles. Slowly counting to three, she lowered the driver’s window and tried to sound civil as she said, “If you don’t mind, could you—?”

  Flashes went off in her face, blinding her. For a few moments, stars danced in front of her eyes. She threw her arm up to shield her face. “Please,” she said politely, but firmly. “Back off and let me leave.”

  The intruders kept snapping away, still blocking the gate.

  She had always tried for an amicable relationship with the press, but this was too much. “Enough!”

  More flashes went off.

  “If you don’t move your cars right this instant, I’m going to call the police!”

  “One question, then we’ll leave,” one of the men said.

  Grimly, Grace nodded at him to ask his question.

  “Are you gay?”

  Her mother leaned across Grace’s lap to shout at him. “That’s outrageous! I’ll have you sued for slander!”

  The paparazzo just grinned and snapped a photo of her. “Is that a yes?”

  “That’s a no comment!” her mouther shouted. “And now get out of the way, you insolent little punk!”

  Great. Now that her mother had waved the no comment red flag, they’d never leave her alone. Grace groaned and hastily stabbed the button to close the window before her mother could do even more damage.

  The paparazzi trotted to their vehicles, got in, and backed up enough so Grace could leave the property. As soon as she had driven a few yards, they followed her.

  Determined to lose them once they hit Laurel Canyon Boulevard, Grace kept driving, keeping an eye on them in the rearview mirror.

  Her mother pulled her phone from her oversized purse. “I’m calling that publicist of yours! She has to do something about this rabble!”
/>
  “Mom, Lauren told you she’s not a magician.”

  Of course, her mother didn’t listen. She lifted the phone to her ear, tapping her index finger against the cell phone’s plastic shell as she waited for Lauren to pick up.

  Lauren leaned back in the armchair and watched Jill return from the kitchen with a bottle of water. “I think it’s time to come out to the media and the public.”

  “I thought that’s what I just did.” Navigating carefully so she wouldn’t lose her balance, Jill rounded the coffee table.

  Lauren was tempted to jump up and help her to the couch, but she sensed that Jill didn’t want that kind of attention—which would make her next words not very popular with the actress. “I’m not talking about coming out as gay. I’m talking about coming out as someone who has MS.”

  Jill flopped down on the couch. “Are you sure I wouldn’t just be shooting myself in the foot?”

  Lauren tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

  “As an actress, it’s my job to convince people that I’m someone else.” Jill let her hand dangle down, resting it on top of Tramp’s back. “If I tell them too much about myself, especially things that contradict the roles I’m playing…”

  “I understand. You’d like to be a blank canvas.”

  Jill nodded. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t think that’s possible. People are too nosy to just ignore your private life. If you don’t fill that canvas, the tabloids will do it for you.”

  “And sling some mud on Grace’s canvas too while they’re at it,” Jill said, sounding resigned.