Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) Page 7

  The driver pulled the limo to a halt alongside the curb in front of the TCL Chinese Theatre. Paparazzi and fans instantly crowded the limo, trying to see through the dark-tinted windows to find out who had arrived. The security team struggled to keep them back but barely stood a chance against the excited crowd.

  “Ready to face the hordes?” Russ asked.

  Grace snapped open her compact and checked her hair and makeup.

  “Don’t worry,” Nick whispered in her ear. “You look beautiful.”

  No longer sure if it was a sincere compliment or just what he thought she wanted to hear, Grace simply said, “Thanks,” and nodded at Russ.

  The driver got out and opened the door for them.

  Nick climbed out first and reached back to offer Grace his hand.

  Grace took one last deep breath and put on her screen-goddess persona everyone expected to see before she took his hand and stepped out of the limo.

  Cameras clicked and flashes erupted around them, blinding Grace for a moment as the paparazzi snapped picture after picture. Dozens of voices called out her name.

  “Grace! Grace, turn this way!”

  “Give us a smile, Grace!”

  “Look this way!”

  “Over here, Grace!”

  Grace turned this way and that, posing for the cameras the way they wanted, and kept smiling through it all, even though her face was starting to hurt and her strappy stilettos were already making her feet ache.

  “How does it feel to have to watch Russ being immortalized this way instead of leaving your own set of handprints on Hollywood Boulevard?” one of the reporters shouted.

  “It feels wonderful, thanks for asking,” she answered with the biggest smile she could manage. “I’m very proud of Russ.”

  “We all are,” Nick added.

  She held on to Nick’s arm with one hand and wrapped her other arm around Russ. Together, the three of them made their way toward the roped-off area in the theater’s forecourt, where hundreds of famous actors and actresses had already left their handprints and footprints in cement.

  “Remind me again why we put up with this,” Nick whispered out of the corner of his mouth.

  “Because we’re crazy,” Grace whispered back.

  “Yeah, we established that this morning.”

  They grinned at each other, and for a moment, Grace wondered why they were going through with the divorce. He was her best friend and, with the exception of Jill and her mother, the only person she trusted in this crazy town. Because that’s not enough. He deserves more—and so do you.

  Russ went ahead to where the block of wet cement was waiting for him.

  “Wait up, Russ!” Nick called and followed him. “I’d better join you in case you get stuck and need me to pull you out.”

  Grace stayed back, glad that she wasn’t the center of attention for once. She waved at the fans behind the barricades, who were holding up their camera phones, busily snapping away. For a moment, she didn’t pay attention to where she was stepping. Her high heel caught on something, making her stumble.

  A strong hand closed around her forearm, catching her and holding on until she’d regained her balance.

  Grace thought it was one of the security guards, but when she looked up, she gazed into Lauren’s eyes, which glittered like gold in the sunlight.

  “Careful,” Lauren said. “I don’t want to deal with headlines like ‘Grace Durand breaks her foot on red carpet’ tomorrow morning.”

  A grin formed on Grace’s lips. She marveled at how different it felt from the trained Hollywood smiles she’d given the paparazzi. “Thanks for the heartfelt concern.”

  Lauren doffed a nonexistent hat.

  Compared to all the actresses and celebrities around, she should have looked average at best, but to Grace, she stood out in a pleasant way. Lauren was wearing tailored trousers, sensible leather shoes, and a short-sleeved blouse that revealed toned arms. Her sunglasses were shoved up on top of her head, keeping her wind-tousled hair from being blown into her face.

  Grace envied her a bit for being able to dress comfortably instead of wearing what was expected of her.

  The crowd started cheering, making Grace look away from Lauren and toward Russ.

  He knelt on a red velvet cushion and pressed his hands into the wet cement. Flashes went off when he stood and stepped onto the cement, leaving his footprints as well. Finally, he signed his name and the date in the corner of the concrete block.

  Someone—Grace wasn’t sure whether it was one of the organizers of the event or a studio lackey—ushered her over to Russ and Nick so more photos could be taken of them posing in front of the cement block.

  Russ leaned close, pretending to grab her ass with his cement-smeared hands.

  Grace smiled even though she wanted to slap his hands away. She just hoped that they had more chemistry on-screen than off-screen and tried not to think about how their romantic movie, Ava’s Heart, would do at the box office come August. Her gaze swept the crowd in search of Lauren, and when she found her, she sent her a secret get-me-out-of-here gaze.

  Lauren just shrugged and grinned.

  After what felt like hours, the cement was covered to cure, and the stars and their guests relocated to the theater’s lobby for a party. By now, Grace’s feet were killing her, but she circulated through the room with an ever-present smile, exchanging chitchat with the movers and shakers of the entertainment industry. It was part of her job—not a part that she liked, but a necessary one. Being nice to the top producers and directors might pay off when it was time for them to pick the actors for their next blockbuster.

  From time to time, she saw Lauren doing the rounds too. Her publicist clearly knew how to work a crowd. She shook hands and talked to all the important power players in the room.

  Eventually, they both ended up in the same corner of the room. When Grace walked past Lauren to greet the director of Ava’s Heart at the other end of the room, she overheard a bit of Lauren’s conversation.

  “What did you have to pay them to let Russ leave his prints?” Lauren asked a woman who was old enough to be her mother.

  Grace blinked and stopped midstep. She didn’t disagree—there were many actors who would have deserved to have their prints on Hollywood Boulevard before Russ—but she couldn’t believe that Lauren would talk so openly to someone who clearly stood above her in the Hollywood food chain.

  Then the woman shifted a little, allowing Grace to see her face more clearly.

  Isn’t that Olivia Pearce? She’d met the successful producer once at a charity fundraiser, back when Mrs. Pearce had been the president of production at Universal Pictures, one of few women to head a film studio in Hollywood. Wait a moment! Pearce? The woman wasn’t just old enough to be Lauren’s mother; she probably was her mother.

  They didn’t look anything alike—Lauren had a more solid frame compared to her almost fragile-looking mother—but they both had that intense gaze.

  Grace realized that Mrs. Pearce had caught her looking and turned toward her. “Good evening. It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Pearce.”

  “Olivia, please.” The producer pointed to the man next to her. “Have you met my husband, Leonard?”

  Grace hadn’t yet met Leonard, but she’d heard of him, of course. He’d given up acting for the most part and had drifted into directing, but he was still very handsome. His tan looked as if he spent more time on California’s beaches than in the director’s chair.

  They shook hands.

  “Nice to meet you,” Leonard said. His gaze swept down, away from her eyes.

  Had he just checked out her cleavage with his wife right there, watching him? Grace pulled back her hand as fast as she could without being impolite.

  His wife ei
ther hadn’t noticed or didn’t care. “And this is my…our daughter, Lauren.”

  “We know each other, Mom,” Lauren said. “Grace is one of my clients.”

  “Lucky you,” Olivia said to Grace. “Lauren is the best publicist in the business.”

  Lauren groaned. “Mom…”

  Grace watched with amusement as the normally confident woman blushed.

  “What? It’s true, isn’t it, Leonard? She really should go into producing.”

  As much fun as it was to see Lauren squirm, Grace decided to step in before they could embarrass Lauren even more. “I hear we’ll work together next month,” she said to the director.

  “We will?” Leonard blinked.

  Grace nodded. “I’m guest-starring in one of the Central Precinct episodes you’re directing.”

  “Oh, wonderful, wonderful.” He launched into a discussion of camera angles he thought worked best for a fast-paced TV show like Central Precinct.

  Lauren and Grace peered at each other.

  “You’ll have to excuse us now,” Lauren said after a minute. “Grace and I have a lot to discuss.” She gripped Grace’s elbow and led her away before either of her parents could protest.

  One of the waiters circulating the room walked up to them with a tray of champagne glasses.

  “Thanks.” Lauren took two of the glasses and handed one to Grace before taking a long swig. When she lowered the champagne flute, it was half empty.

  Grace took the offered glass because she knew it was expected of her but just held it in her hand without drinking.

  “Sorry,” Lauren said, gesturing in the direction of her parents.

  Grace smiled. “No need to apologize. They’re proud of you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “I guess.” Lauren took another sip of champagne, not gulping it down this time. She craned her neck and scanned the crowded room. “I thought Jill Corrigan was supposed to be here.”

  “I thought so too, but the studio’s driver said she couldn’t make it.”

  “Missing this shindig isn’t going to earn her any points with the studio. She has to know that. What’s going on with her?”

  Grace rolled the stem of the champagne flute between her fingers. “I have no idea. I couldn’t reach her all day.”

  “Want me to take that for you?” Lauren asked.

  Grace looked up, startled. “Uh…what?”

  Lauren gestured at the glass. “Everyone else around is on their third glass, and you haven’t even taken a sip. You obviously don’t like champagne.”

  I liked it a little too much. At the last moment, Grace held herself back from saying it. Christ, what’s wrong with you? Just because she’d told Lauren about the divorce didn’t mean she had to spill all her secrets. “I’m just not thirsty.” She put her untouched glass on the tray of another waiter and breathed a sigh of relief as he carried it off.

  Lauren looked from the bubbles in her own glass to Grace’s face. “How long has it been?”

  Grace stared. She couldn’t be asking what she thought she was asking, could she?

  “Since you last had a drink,” Lauren said, her voice so low that no one else around could hear.

  Only years of practice kept Grace’s smile from faltering. Damn. Was it that obvious, or was her new publicist just too observant for her own good?

  “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Lauren looked around. “Want to get out of here and see if we can reach Jill?”

  Grace nodded.

  It took them fifteen minutes to make it to the door because people kept stopping one or both of them to talk.

  Grace detoured toward Nick, who was demonstrating what was either a dance move or a stunt choreography to a captive audience.

  When he saw her coming, he stopped and wrapped his arms around her, drawing her near so no one could overhear them. “You okay?”

  “Yes. I’m leaving.”

  Nick’s brows bunched together. “Already? It’s barely ten.”

  “I know. I want to look in on Jill.”

  “You think something’s wrong with her?” Nick asked.

  Grace hesitated but then said, “No, I’m sure she’s fine.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him good-bye, wondering when the butterflies had stopped swarming and her body had stopped reacting to his closeness. All she felt was warm affection.

  She waved at Russ and then returned to Lauren’s side.

  “You’re a good actress,” Lauren whispered as they reached the door. “That was very convincing.”

  For a moment, Grace looked at her, not sure what Lauren was talking about. Then she understood. “That wasn’t an act. I really love Nick.”

  “You’re just not in love with him,” Lauren said quietly.

  Grace didn’t answer. Followed by Lauren, she left the building.

  It had gotten dark outside, and the temperature had dropped, so it was a little chilly now.

  Genius. Grace realized she’d brought neither a jacket nor a car.

  Camera flashes lit up the night sky around her.

  Grace was tempted to try to escape or at least turn away, but she knew it wouldn’t do her any good. They would just keep following her. If she posed and smiled for them, letting them get the shots they wanted, they’d leave her in peace afterward. At least she hoped they would.

  “Why are you leaving alone?” one of the reporters shouted. “Where’s Nick?”

  Of course the paparazzi had noticed. As casually as possible, Grace pointed over her shoulder. “Still inside. Boy talk with Russ. But for me, business is calling. I have some things to go over with my publicist.” She pointed at Lauren. It couldn’t hurt to let them know who Lauren was. Otherwise, they might run a photo of them with the caption: Grace Durand leaving the party with an unidentified woman.

  Fans hurried over, handing her autograph books, postcards, scraps of paper, and even napkins to sign.

  Two studio bodyguards rushed forward, trying to stop the fans from approaching Grace, but she waved them away. Even though she was impatient to finally get away and check on Jill, she tried to smile while she signed her name over and over until her hand started to cramp.

  Luckily, some other celebrity stepped out of the theater’s lobby, and the fans and paparazzi diverted their attention away from Grace. She used the moment to step out of the limelight and led Lauren to a quieter corner, where she fished her cell phone out of her clutch and called Jill for the dozenth time that day. Once again, the call went straight to voice mail. “Voice mail,” she said to Lauren.

  “Why didn’t you leave a message?”

  “I left three already.” Grace put the phone away and rubbed her arms. “What now?”

  Lauren shrugged. “Not much we can do. Maybe the blogger called her publicist too, and now she’s laying low.”

  Grace hoped that was all it was. She couldn’t help worrying. “You wouldn’t happen to have a car here, would you? It seems my carriage turned into a pumpkin.” She gestured to the spot on the curb where her limousine had been. Another car now idled there.

  “But it’s not midnight yet,” Lauren said.

  “Apparently, modern-day fairy tales stick to different curfews.” The driver had probably been forced to circle the block and park somewhere else to make room for other arrivals. One call would be enough for her to be picked up, but she didn’t want to use the studio’s limo for what she had in mind.

  Lauren chuckled. “Seems like it. I left my car in a garage two blocks from here. What did you have in mind, Cinderella?”

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look in on Jill, see if she’s home.”

  Looking at the photographers and fans crowding around the entrance of the theater, Lauren asked, “Want
me to get the car?”

  Grace hesitated. Maybe it would have been the sensible thing to do, but she didn’t want to stay behind alone. “No. For once, I’d like to walk, like a normal person.”

  “All right. Then let’s go.” Lauren marched off, her long strides quickly creating distance between them, forcing Grace to hurry after her.

  The two studio bodyguards followed them.

  “Not so fast,” Grace called after her. “I’m wearing stilettos!”

  “I noticed,” Lauren said and slowed down to a more leisurely stroll. Oh, yeah, I definitely noticed. The four-inch heels made Grace’s legs look even longer. Lauren had also admired the white spaghetti strap dress that Grace wore. Simple but classy, it showed off Grace’s toned shoulders and just the right amount of cleavage. Not that Lauren had allowed herself to look for too long. Grace was a client after all—an especially gorgeous one, but still a client.

  Tourists with cameras around their necks started turning their heads as they passed.

  At first, Lauren thought they were admiring Grace’s dress too, but then a loud voice cut through the night. “It’s her! It’s little Amber!”

  Grace let out a low groan, but when she turned around, she was all smiles.

  An elderly lady who looked as if her hair dye job had gone horribly wrong dragged her overweight husband over to Grace.

  The two studio bodyguards jumped in to stop them, but Grace waved them away. “It’s okay.”

  When the security guards stepped back, the woman grasped both of Grace’s hands as if she were a long-lost relative, completely ignoring Lauren in the process. “Oh, I always wanted to meet you and tell you how wonderful you were on Everything That Counts.”

  Grace smiled as sweetly as the little girl she’d played on the long-running TV sitcom.

  “You were just so cute.”

  For a moment, Lauren thought the woman would reach up and pinch Grace’s cheek, but she didn’t.