Damage Control (The Hollywood Series Book 2) (17 page)

“Oh, that’s Tramp.”

“You mean Jill’s dog?”

“Yes. Let me tell you about my first meeting with Tramp.” Grace pulled her mother over to the uncomfortable white designer couch. She’d probably get an earful from her mother, but she’d promised to involve her more and not make her feel left out. A promise was a promise, after all.

CHAPTER 12

Lauren dragged her tired self out of bed at eight. She stared at her red eyes in the bathroom mirror. “What am I doing?” It was Sunday, and she’d worked late last night, getting some of the gossip rags to print retractions and admit that they’d jumped to conclusions about Grace and Jill. Why was she getting up instead of staying in her cozy bed for some much-needed sleep? Clearly, she’d worked in Hollywood for too long and all the craziness had rubbed off on her.

Speaking of Hollywood craziness…
She made herself a cup of coffee and settled on the couch with her laptop. A notification popped up on the screen when she opened the lid, informing her that she had new e-mail.
What else is new?
She always had new e-mail. Ignoring the notification, she opened her screenwriting program instead.

It had been a while since she’d last found the time to work on her script, so she started by rereading the last few scenes. She liked the parts in which her characters struggled to survive the earthquake and then the fires destroying the city, but the scenes that came afterward somehow fell flat. Her third act wasn’t working, and she had no idea why. What was she missing?

She reached for her mug and took a sip of coffee, making a face when she realized it had gotten cold. She got up to reheat it. While the mug rotated in the microwave, she poured chocolate cereal into a bowl and opened the fridge.
Damn.
She’d forgotten to buy milk during the media crisis of the last few days. Now she would have to do without.

She carried her now-hot coffee and the bowl to the couch and made herself comfortable again. Inspiration still refused to strike. She typed a line of dialogue and then deleted it again when it didn’t ring true to her characters. In moments like this, she was tempted to delete the entire script and never write again. Why was she even bothering? Even if she finished this script at some point, it didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell of ever being made into a movie. She wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted anyway. Becoming a screenwriter would make her a part of the Hollywood factory, something she’d sworn she’d never be. But every time her finger hovered over the delete button, she just couldn’t bring herself to press it.

Writing called to her in a way that even working in PR didn’t, so she finally decided that she’d dabble in it just as a hobby, with no intention of ever letting anyone see one of her scripts. No harm in that, right?

But even with that resolution, the words wouldn’t come today. She stared down into the dry cereal.
I might as well pretend it’s popcorn and see what’s on the tube.
Maybe watching a few lines of a good movie would inspire her.
Yeah, right.
Even knowing she was procrastinating, she reached for the remote control. Her laptop still open next to her and the bowl on her lap, she flicked through the channels and crunched a handful of her improvised popcorn.

She nearly choked on the cereal when Grace’s face appeared on her TV screen. It seemed there was no getting away from her clients, even on a Sunday. Still, she didn’t change the channel. Glued to the scene on the screen, she popped a handful of the chocolate-flavored cereal into her mouth without looking at the food.

It had to be one of Grace’s many romantic comedies, probably an early one, because she appeared to be several years younger. In this scene, Grace—or rather the character she played in this movie—walked down the aisle in a dream of a wedding dress that enhanced her generous curves and revealed just a hint of cleavage.

Lauren stopped chewing.
Beautiful.
She rolled her eyes at herself. Of course Grace was beautiful, but so was every other person in the movie. They made a living looking good for the camera, after all. Still, Grace stood out. She was also the most talented actress in the movie by far. The tears in her eyes looked real as she repeated the marriage vows. Lauren wondered what she’d been thinking of to make herself cry. Grace’s fingers even trembled as she pushed the wedding ring on her fictional groom’s finger. Her acting skills were totally wasted on the type of movies she made, Lauren decided.

The happy couple on her TV screen met in a kiss, Grace’s full lips moving against those of the lucky guy who played her new husband. Lauren swallowed against her suddenly dry mouth. With a grunt, she dragged her gaze away and flicked off the TV. She didn’t need that kind of inspiration; she wasn’t writing a love story after all, and she certainly didn’t need any more erotic thoughts about Grace.

She reached for the laptop and tried to immerse herself into her own fictional world, imagining her characters wandering the streets of their burned-down city. They would stop at the top of a hill, look down at the smoldering ruins of San Francisco, and then…

Yeah, what then?
The only image flickering through her mind was of the two women kissing. One of them suddenly looked suspiciously like Grace, even though Lauren had described her as having red hair in the opening scene, and the other one—

The phone rang, making her jump.

With a sense of relief, Lauren reached for it and accepted the call without even glancing at the display. “Lauren Pearce.”

“This is Grace. Grace Durand. I’m so, so sorry to disturb you this early, especially on a Sunday, but Jill just called me and now I have a question and I think I already know the answer, but…”

Lauren laughed. So even world-famous actresses sometimes rambled.
Cute.
“Don’t worry about it. You saved me from…”

“From what?”

My bad writing.
“Getting bored,” Lauren said. She hadn’t told anyone about her writing and intended to keep it that way. “I was just hanging out on the couch, watching sappy movies. So, what can I do for you?”

Grace was silent for a moment and then said, “I’m thinking about walking in the gay pride parade today.”

Lauren shook her head. She hadn’t expected that. Grace was certainly keeping her on her toes. “So this is the call you promised me?”

“Uh, I promised you a call?”

“Yeah, informing me when you got involved with someone, especially a woman.”

“What? No, no, I’m not…”

“Relax,” Lauren said. “I’m just joking.”

“That’s so not funny,” Grace grumbled. “You’d better keep your day job.”

Yeah, she’s got that right.
Lauren looked down at her script and then reached out with one hand to close the program. “Okay, seriously, what’s this all about?”

“Jill called me an hour ago,” Grace said. “Now that she’s out, they asked her to march in the parade, and she’s thinking about going, but she doesn’t want to do it alone, so I was thinking about going with her. It’s set to start at eleven, so I need to make a decision fast. What do you think?”

Resolutely, Lauren closed the laptop with a slap of her hand. “I’m thinking there’s no way in hell I’d agree to that.”

Grace sighed. “I told Jill you’d say that.”

“Grace, as a lesbian, I really appreciate your willingness to support Jill and the rest of the LGBT community, but do you honestly think being photographed marching between a guy in a studded leather thong and a woman in assless chaps is a good idea?”

“Thanks for that lovely mental image,” Grace said dryly. The phone speaker crackled as she blew out a long breath. “I know you’re right. I just hate to tell Jill she’ll have to go alone.”

Lauren understood more and more how little freedom Grace really had, despite all her money and fame. “I’m sorry. Maybe in a few years, things will be different for you, but right now, it would only make all the rumors start up again.”

“I know. Thanks for setting me straight…so to speak.”

Lauren gave a faint smile. “You’re welcome. Is everything else okay at your house? The paparazzi are gone, right?”

“I think one or two are still hanging out, but most of them are gone,” Grace said. “There are rumors that Amanda Clark is pregnant, so they’re probably camped out in front of her house, hoping for a snapshot of the baby bump.”

Well, if that was true, then Amanda’s partner was more talented than Lauren had given her credit for, because she was fairly sure
Central Precinct
’s leading lady was gay. She wasn’t in the habit of outing one actress to another, though, so all she said was, “Good.”

“Again, sorry for disturbing you. Have a nice Sunday.”

“You too.”

When they ended the call, Lauren stared at her closed laptop. She knew she wouldn’t get any more writing done today.
Might as well get some fresh air.
She reached for her cell phone again and scrolled through her contact list on the way to the bedroom to get dressed.

A shiver of dread skittered down Grace’s spine when her mother waltzed into her living room—again without an invitation or a warning—and threw a glossy magazine onto the coffee table.

The last two days had been wonderfully quiet on the media front, with no new headlines about her, and Grace had just gotten used to the new feeling of peace.
I should have known it wouldn’t last long.
Nothing good in her life really seemed to. What had the damn hacks written now? She reached for the magazine.

Her mother plopped down on the couch next to her. “Your friend,” she said, giving the word a derisive emphasis, “really shouldn’t make such a spectacle out of herself.”

So this wasn’t about her and Nick. But Grace couldn’t relax just yet. Had Jill somehow gotten herself in trouble? She flicked through the magazine until she got to a headline saying,
Out and proud—Jill Corrigan living it up at the LA Gay Pride parade.

Grace glanced at the first picture and rolled her eyes. In jeans and a T-shirt with a rainbow-colored peace sign on the front, Jill looked downright tame compared to the guy in drag next to her and a half-naked man behind her. “She’s hardly living it up, Mom. I think she’s just celebrating that she doesn’t have to hide anymore.”

“Volunteering for an MS fundraiser would have been a better way to do that,” her mother said.

“You know what? That’s actually a good idea.” The pride parade was a little too wild for Grace’s taste too, but if it was Jill’s idea of fun, she had still wanted to support her. “Maybe Jill and I should look into that. We could—”

The ringing of her cell phone interrupted.

Grace smiled when she saw who was calling her.
Speak of the devil…
She swiped her finger across the display to accept the call. “Hi, Jill.”

Her mother let out a huff and stalked to the kitchen.

“I hear you were living it up at the parade,” Grace said into the phone.

Jill snorted. “Who said that?”

Grace looked up to make sure her mother was out of hearing range. “A little bird brought over the newest gossip rag.”

“Oh, I think I know that mockingbird.”

“Jill…”

“I don’t know why you keep defending her,” Jill said.

Grace lay back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “She’s my mother.”

“And that gives her the right to control everything you do, including who you make friends with?”

“No, of course not. It’s just…” Grace didn’t want to get into this topic now. “Tell me about the parade. How was it?”

“Crazy,” Jill said with a laugh. “But it was really cool to see all the people out on the street, supporting gay rights. Must have been a few hundred thousand. It was such an empowering feeling. I wish you could have been there.”

Grace rubbed the back of her hand across her forehead. “I’m really sorry you had to go alone.”

“Who says I was alone?” Jill said, a hint of teasing in her voice.

“Oh.” Grace had never known her friend to date, but maybe Jill just hadn’t told her because she’d dated women and hadn’t wanted Grace to know. Or had she attended the parade with an acquaintance? “You weren’t?”

“No. Guess who called me and offered to go with me?”

“I have no idea. Angelina Jolie?”

Jill laughed. “I wish. No. Lauren.”

“Lauren who?” Grace’s eyes widened. “You mean our Lauren? Our publicist?”

“Yes.”

A warm feeling flowed through Grace, and she smiled into the empty living room. Lauren had gone with Jill because Grace had mentioned that she hated for her friend to go alone—and she hadn’t said one word about it. Their publicist was one classy lady.
Amazing.
Few people in Grace’s world would do something so selfless, giving up her own weekend plans and maybe even risking her boss’s disapproval for ending up in a gossip rag instead of creating PR.

“Guess your little bird didn’t tell you that, did she?” Jill said.

“No, she didn’t. Let’s see…” Grace reached for the magazine on the coffee table and took a closer look at the pictures of the parade.

There she was. In one of the photos, Lauren was marching next to Jill, laughing about something that Jill must have said. Instead of the tailored business suits that Grace was used to seeing her in, she was wearing jeans and a simple white T-shirt. A pair of sunglasses dangled from the T-shirt’s V-neck.

“She looks good in her lesbian uniform, doesn’t she?” Jill said as if she knew what Grace was looking at.

Yes, she does.
Grace glanced at the picture again before closing the magazine and throwing it back onto the coffee table. “I guess.”

“Oh, come on. You’re straight, not blind. Even you can acknowledge when another woman looks good, can’t you?”

“All right, she does look good. Happy now?”

“Yes,” Jill said, sounding as if she was grinning broadly.

“By the way, I thought the lesbian uniform was a plaid flannel shirt?”

“Not in LA,” Jill said.

“Right.” Grace sat up. “So, no regrets?”

“About the way Lauren dressed for the parade?” Jill laughed. “Heck, no.”

“About coming out.”

Jill hesitated for a moment. “None so far, but it’s too soon to tell if or how it’ll affect my career.”

“Do you have anything lined up for the rest of the year?”