She's a Star (a Hollywood Hotwife story) (24 page)

Meanwhile, I could also use the great facilities in the hotel—the five restaurants, afternoon tea, the spa, and not worry about much day-to-day concerns since my room was paid for by the movie, officially for a production assistant.

But while Hayley engineered various opportunities for me to witness her sleeping with Aaron, I did well to avoid the man himself. I lived in constant fear that he would somehow discover me, he would find out I was at the hotel while he and Hayley were, leading to awkward questions about what I was doing there. It was almost more dangerous than catching the interest of the paparazzi.

Hayley kept the fact that she was still seeing me to herself.

“I don’t know what he’d do if he found out,” she said when I remembered to ask whether she’d told Aaron. “I’m not sure it’s worth the risk of telling him.”

“But he still thinks that I think the affair is fake?”

She pondered my point. “I guess so. But I think he’s under the impression that I don’t…that we don’t…sleep together much—because we’ve been married so long.”

“I guess that is the stereotype.”

“He’s never really been with someone who’s still married to another guy,” she said.

Then one evening I was using the gym equipment in the hotel’s Fitness Studio—as I often did in the evenings after an afternoon of touristy activities with Liona—when I noticed that I didn’t quite have the exclusive. And the guy now training with the free weights was none other than Aaron Simpson.

It was startling to see him there. I almost bolted, worried that he’d recognize me—we had met, briefly, at the premiere back in LA. He didn’t, apparently. As I continued to work out, the two of us kept out of each other’s way, but then at one point he did catch me giving him a quick glance.

“Hi,” he said. “How are you?”

“Good, thanks.”

We nodded at each other and smiled, as strangers do. Relief flooded through me that he did not recognize me at all, had no idea who I was. And I think he seemed relieved that either I was so far removed from ordinary life that I didn’t know who he was, or I was simply not going to make an issue of it, that he seemed to visibly relax as we continued to use the gym.

I’d say it was about half an hour into my work out when Aaron came quietly over to me, and waited patiently a moment or two until I came to a break in using the leg press.

“Hey buddy, you mind spotting me for a few moments?” he asked me.

“Sure, no problem.”

It felt more than a little strange to be helping the guy on the bench press like that—though I did little to help him, since he was disturbingly strong. In his gray tank top, his muscular frame was as impressive as it looked on screen—this was no special effect. I guess when you get paid millions for your work in the movies, it give you an incentive to be that built.

Aaron said, “You’re American?”

“Uh-huh,” I said, feeling slightly awkward. This guy was sleeping with my wife, and he had no idea who I was.

Should I tell him who I was? What if he was hiding the fact that he knew who I was? But then, why would Aaron Simpson do that?

“In town on business, or pleasure?” he asked me.

“Uh…pleasure,” I said. “I’ve never been to London before, so…you know…seeing the sights.”

Aaron smiled as he continued to lift the weights. “London’s great, isn’t it? I only wish I had more time to see it.”

“You must have a busy schedule,” I said, and for the first time acknowledged that I knew exactly who he was.

There was another grin at that, it seemed to me that he realized I had simply been giving him space, respecting his privacy, during our joint work out session so far, instead of being none the wiser to who he was.

“It’s fun, sometimes,” he said. “Seeing so many people, partying with so many people. Different places all the time—never sitting still. But you don’t get to see much of the sights while you’re visiting places.”

“Seems like it’s been successful, though. All those headlines I keep seeing.”

“Yeah, it’s been pretty great. We’re the number one movie in the UK, France and Germany—and still in the US, too.”

“The papers can’t get enough of you.”

He smiled dreamily. “The papers can’t get enough of Hayley. I guess I can’t, either.”

He signaled for me to grab the weights a moment, time to call it a day. “You know, you look familiar,” he said.

I froze. Shit. He did recognize me. I scrambled to think of some way out of this, glancing at the door. Could I make it out before he caught me?

“You’re here with Liona, right? I’ve seen you two around.”

I shuffled a little. “Yeah. I’m tagging along.”

“So you coming to the party tonight?”

Was he inviting me to something? If we went out, he might not recognize me, but the paparazzi would eventually figure out who I was. What kind of headlines would that generate? I’d get off lightly if it was simply “Aaron Simpson hangs out with Hayley’s ex”. Perhaps it would be “Aaron confronts Hayley’s stalker ex”. Either the whole story would have to come out, or Hayley would have to dismiss me as simply some creepy guy who was stalking her after our marriage broke up.

“Uh…Liona hadn’t mentioned a party,” I said, as I started feeling my hesitation going on too long.

He said, “Huh. Well, we’re having a little celebration tonight—just something we’ve thrown together in my suite. Not too many people, but it’ll be good.”

“Okay….” I said, less than certain. At least it was private.

“Fantastic. We’ll see you then?” he said, but then paused on his way out the door. “Hey, I never did get your name?”

“Uh…David,” I said, stupidly, my lips unable to get any other noise out of my mouth in response to that question.

“Great to meet you, David. I’ll see you later.”

*

Back in my room, I sent a quick text message to Hayley:

>Ran into Aaron in the gym. He thinks I’m here with Liona. He invited me to a party tonight.

I took a shower as I waited for her to reply, and her message was there on my phone when I stepped out and dried off:

>Very interesting! He said he met Liona’s boyfriend in the gym, and that he was cool I had no idea he was talking about you!

I wrapped the towel around my waist and perched on the edge of the bed. It felt like Hayley was taking an overly simplistic view on what it meant for Aaron to invite me to a party. I replied to her:

>Okay, but aren’t you worried he’ll figure out who I am? And if he doesn’t, someone else at the party will, then the game is up?

I was picking out some clothes to wear when there was a knock on my door. I was so distracted by this strange turn of events that I didn’t even look through the peephole.

“Liona!”

“Hey!”

She was wearing a black sequined cocktail dress that hung from her shoulders on tiny straps, revealing plenty of cleavage and the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her blonde hair was swept up into a twist more elegant than casually professional.

“Hey, there, boyfriend,” she said.

“You heard.”

I saw my phone flash with another message from Hayley.

She said:

>You worry too much. Everybody thinks my husband is back in LA, and that he’s old history. Only person at the party who will know who you are will be Liona, who you’re “dating” lol

I nodded to myself. I did actually feel a little reassured. And she was right, I had Liona there, too, someone to talk to.

“Everything okay?” she said, gesturing to my phone.

“Oh, yeah. I just had to check with Hayley that I’d get away with going to the party, you know?” I picked up the shirt I’d laid out on the bed, and started pulling it around my shoulders.

Liona stood up. “Please tell me you’re not wearing that shirt to the party.”

I paused. “What? You packed it.”

She shook her head. “Not for a party, David. Here, let me find something….”

I dressed, even with Liona present, with the sharp blonde telling me once again that I didn’t have anything she hadn’t seen before when I mentioned the fact that a married man ought not to be getting dressed in front of a woman who was not his wife.

But it was nice to have her company, and took the edge off the nerves as I finally stepped out of my room and headed for the elevators to make the trip to Aaron’s suite.

Chapter Twenty-Two

There were a lot of people packed into Aaron’s suite, but the huge space didn’t seem overwhelming, thankfully. Once again at a Hollywood function, my lack of achievements or contacts in the entertainment industry allowed me to become virtually invisible—a few people stopped to greet Liona as we milled around the place, giving me only a passing glance.

Of course, this crowd was all for Hayley, and I couldn’t blame them. The first time I laid eyes on her, I did a double take. Her red hair was blonde now, dyed golden all the way through. Coupled with the short, white dress that fastened up the front with large buttons and she was every bit the Hollywood starlet. She moved with the confidence of one, too, greeting everyone with the same, bright enthusiasm that spoke of a bona fide movie star.

We kept away from one another for most of the party, and I really didn’t blame her. She flashed me a few smiles, and I responded in turn when I thought we weren’t being seen, but there was a risk that if I was seen talking to her, other people might start asking who I was.

Aaron Simpson seemed entirely tied up with someone or other from the movie, and I wasn’t going to break in to say hello. I even started wondering if he’d forgotten me entirely, which would have been completely fine with me.

So I hung out with Liona, chatted to a few random strangers who, thankfully, appeared more interested in talking about themselves than finding out who I was, and generally soaked in the atmosphere, the wonderful food and the free Champagne.

As midnight approached, the numbers started to thin out, and Liona excused herself to go talk to a minor actor on the far side of the room about the possibility of poaching his representation contract. I was chilling out, trying not to let it affect me that a couple of guys felt it was safe enough in the middle of a party just to break out the white powder and start sniffing lines right off the coffee table in the middle of everybody. Shocking as that was, I could also smell a hint of marijuana in the air as well—enough to help me deal with this scene as I drifted through the suite.

I didn’t see Hayley coming, but suddenly, there she was, locking an arm in mine, a bright light dazzling me if I looked her way.

“Don’t leave!” she hissed, clutching me close and apparently dragging me off toward a quiet corner.

“I wasn’t leaving,” I insisted. “But…maybe it would be safer, if it gets late?”

“Not at all. Nobody knows who you are. You look completely different with your hair like that, and those glasses. You’re perfectly safe.”

“Okay.”

We found a couch in a shady part of the suite, a monkey puzzle tree in a pot, which I couldn’t tell whether it was real or fake, gave added seclusion. We still sat carefully on either side of the couch, though—familiar, friendly, but avoiding the suggestion we were a couple.

“How are you doing?” she asked me.

“Oh, fine…you know. People are pretty nice. I’ve been with Liona a fair bit. It’s been okay.”

Hayley grinned. “Liona likes you, you know that? She was thrilled when Aaron thought you were her boyfriend.”

We could see the aforementioned blonde spitfire across the other side of the suite, trying to pitch to an actor who I recognized as being another of the prison guards from the Prisoner’s Wife.

“She’s very nice,” I said. “It’s definitely helped having her around while you and Aaron have been…occupied.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “Very.” Then I switched the conversation back to my immediate concern, “You think Aaron will figure out who I am? I mean, I told him my name was David.”

Hayley grinned. “Stop being so paranoid. He meets so many people. He is absolutely useless with names and faces unless you see him a lot. Trust me: You’re okay.”

“You think I should keep up the pretense? That I’m…with Liona?”

“I’d say so. Relax, seriously. He’s more preoccupied with making sure the financiers are happy, sounding them out about the sequel.”

A young man in a black-and-white hotel uniform offered us both a top-up on our Champagne, which we both duly accepted. It was good Champagne.

“So it’s really happening, then, your sequel?” I asked.

“Looks like it.” She grinned. “She’s a blonde in the next one, you know that?”

I laughed, “Prefer your natural color, but it's fun for a change.”

“I always fought it—I like being a redhead, and I never wanted to be just another Hollywood blonde. But Aaron said she should be blonde now that she’s a fugitive…”

I nodded. Aaron wanted her as a blonde, and so she was a blonde. It was kind of hot, though, that he was getting her to try things she’d never tried before.