The Game (2 page)

"I said I wanted to. I didn't actually hit her, you know," I said. "What's the big deal anyway? So she spread some stupid little rumor about me. Let her talk. She's just jealous."

I'd been through worse things than being gossiped about. Hell, it's all anyone did in this town. If you weren't being spoken about, then you didn't matter. Charlotte had told me that herself, so I didn't get why she was so bent out of shape over what some has-been actress was saying about me. I knew the rumors weren't true, and anyone with two eyes could see that too. Harry Barnes was old enough to be my grandfather.

"How many times do I have to tell you, Emilia? Image is everything. There's nothing that people hate more than a home wrecker."

"First of all, I'm not a home wrecker--"

"Then you shouldn't have announced that you were in a bar full of people! And to the wife no less."

"I know that now, but don't you think you're overreacting a little? I mean the wrap party was ages ago. Why would she wait so long to run to the press?"

"Cause she's a vindictive bitch," Charlotte said. I stared at her in shock. I'd never heard Charlotte swear so much in all the eight years I'd known her. "God Emilia, you're one of the most determined and hardworking people I know. I don't understand how you could risk your career over something so trivial.

"All right, how about I just keep a low profile until this whole thing blows over," I said, trying to appease her.

"It's not that easy. If the story runs in the papers, then it's going to be a nightmare. You can kiss your chances of winning any award this season goodbye."

"What?!" I sat up from the couch and stared at her. She had my attention now. For the past few weeks, my name had been garnering a lot of buzz to sweep the awards this season for my film
Letters to Zelda
. I was on the cusp of reaching my dreams and wouldn't let anything stand in my way.

"All I'm saying is the negative publicity isn't going to help you. People hate to see a cheater succeed, especially if you're the other woman." She held up her hand, stalling me. "Yes yes, you've said you didn't do it, but that doesn't mean jack. There are witnesses and a scorned wife who hates your guts. If this story gets legs, it's going to be an uphill battle to keep your reputation intact."

I let her words sink in as the initial shock washed over me. In its place, a heavy, uneasy feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Kelsey had planned this all along. She waited for just the right time to float the rumor out there to torpedo any chance I had. I could have smacked myself for being so foolish and playing right into her hands.

"Well, there goes that," Arnie said as he ended his call and tossed his phone on the coffee table in front of me.

"What happened?" Charlotte asked.

"They're running with the story," he said. His voice sounded weary and irritated.

"Fuck," Charlotte bit out.

I didn't even bother to be shocked by Charlotte's colorful choice of language. I knew as well as she did that my life, and hers, had just gotten ten times more difficult.

"Tell me about it. I tried to get them to bury the story, but the bastards seemed almost gleeful about it."

"Yeah, like they've been waiting for Emilia to slip up," Charlotte added quietly.

Her words just added another layer guilt and weight on my shoulders. I knew I should have been more circumspect, and controlled my emotions better.

"What can we do?" I asked. "There must be something to stem the tide of bad publicity."

Arnie shot me a thoughtful glance before turning to look at Charlotte. They remained locked in some silent conversation for what felt like hours. "Well? Is someone going to fill me in?" I asked, pushed beyond my patience.

"We could try to take the offensive," Arnie said. "I mean they're running with the story anyway, but maybe if we gave them something bigger and juicier, they'll forget all about Harry and Kelsey."

"What do you have in mind?" I asked. I knew I would agree to just about anything at this point. I didn't work this hard to climb my way to the top only to be taken down by some stupid rumor. "I'll do anything short of a sex tape."

Charlotte shot me a withering glare before she turned her attention back to Arnie.

"I'm not saying this will be easy or it will even work--"

"Just spit it out!" I demanded.

"All right. What if you were to get engaged?" he suggested.

"What? Are you serious right now?" I asked, in part disbelief and part hysteria. If the consequences weren't so dire, I probably would have thought it was a great joke, but no one else was laughing. "You can't be serious with this?"

I looked toward Charlotte, trying to gauge her reaction, but she remained silent, chewing on her bottom lip.

"Hear me out before you write it off," Arnie interjected. "The engagement wouldn't have to be real. We can have contracts drawn up specifying an end date and all the terms. All we need is to put a bigger story out there than the one they've got running now. And an engagement helps clean up your image too. It lets people know you're a good traditional type of girl, and mature and ready to settle down."

I had to chew the inside of my cheek to keep from lashing out. I knew Arnie was just trying to be helpful, but a fake engagement! It was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard of. I didn't want to be tied to some stranger for months on end, pretending to be in love. It was one thing be photographed with someone, but an engagement was pushing it. It felt so sordid and sneaky. And what would I even tell my mother when she'd inevitably call?

"There's got to be another way," I said. "Isn't there some type of rehab I can go to?"

"Rehab for what? Running your mouth?" Charlotte said.

I rolled my eyes at her. "Let's try to be professionals," I admonished. "You know this will never work. Maybe if we say I went to anger management or something--"

"If you go to rehab or anger management or whatever, you're admitting fault. You're saying, '
Yes, I screwed up and now I'm getting help
.' That's just as bad as doing nothing. As much as I hate to admit it, this might be the best option. We could let the story run its course, but that could be risky. It might just fizzle out, or it might really take off and end up burying you. For my money, I'd bet on the latter. Like I said before, people have been waiting for you to screw up so they can take you down."

I buried my face in my hands and closed my eyes, wondering how in the world I got myself into this situation. Twenty four hours ago I was on top of the world. I had everything going for me--my career was red hot, I was slated to sweep awards season in the Best Actress category, I made
People's
Most Beautiful list, and was #1 on
Maxim's
Hot 100 list.

Twenty four hours ago, a fake engagement would have been on the list of things I'd never sink to. Now, it was looking like I had no choice. One stupid moment of losing my cool, and it all came back to bite me in the ass. I could have laughed if it wasn't so tragic.

My career was the most important thing to me and I knew I'd do whatever it took to protect it. Nothing--no relationship, family, or friends--came before my career. It's how I'd lived my life for the past eight years and I wasn't about to let all that sacrifice go to waste.

"All right, I'll do it," I finally said.

Arnie clapped his hands together and beamed at me. "Great! I'll get--"

"Wait! Before you say anything else, I just want to make it clear that I'm calling the shots. I get to decide who my fake fiancé is and what this--uh--arrangement entails," I said.

Charlotte sat back and crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing me pensively. "Who did you have in mind?" she asked.

"I hadn't thought that far yet," I admitted. "Give me some time to think about it."

"We don't have time," Arnie said. "
The Daily Inquirer
said they're running the story in tomorrow's paper. We need to head this thing off before it grows legs."

"Well who did you have in mind then?" I asked.

Arnie looked over at Charlotte before he picked up his phone and began to scroll through his contacts. "I had been thinking Bryce Master would be good," he said, still scrolling through his phone.

"WHAT?!" Charlotte and I both said at the same time.

Arnie looked up from his phone and frowned at me. "What's wrong with Bryce?"

"Um hello? For one, he's gayer than a unicorn covered in glitter. No one will believe we're a real couple," I said.

Arnie looked like he was about to argue, but Charlotte cut him off. "She's right. There've been rumors about Bryce for years."

"Which is why he'd be willing to go along with the fake engagement," Arnie said. "I hate to break it to you, but there aren't exactly many hot, young, and straight movie stars lining up outside your door to be your fake fiancé. They don't need the cover."

"What about Adam Stone?" Charlotte suggested. "You worked with him on
Heavenwood
and you two seemed to have great chemistry. I'm sure his career could use a boost right about now too."

Adam was the lead star in a basic cable television show I did years ago when I just started out. He was dynamic, dark, and charismatic, and the only cast member other than me who went on to have a successful movie career. I hadn't spoken to him since the show got cancelled, but we'd always been friendly. It could work.

"Can't. He's not suitable," Arnie said in dismissal.

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because he's got more problems than you do. He's on parole right now for punching that photographer outside of The Vine. Plus he's doing his third stint in anger management," he said.

I slumped back against the couch and groaned. Who knew picking a fake fiancé was so hard? I sat with my eyes closed, scrolling through the mental rolodex in my head of men who were not only eligible, but willing to go along with the scheme. Unsurprisingly, there were none that came to mind.

"Why limit ourselves to just actors? Why not open it up?" I heard Charlotte say. "What we need is a man who's wealthy, handsome, charming, and has an impeccable reputation."

I opened my eye and stared at her quizzically. "Good luck with that," I said. "If I ever met a man like that, I might just have to marry him for real."

"What about that man you were seeing last year? That billionaire--Ryan something. He'd be perfect," she said.

Her eyes lit up and I could see the wheels turning in her head already. I hated to be the one to disappoint her, but there was no point in letting her get herself all worked up. Ryan Marsden was definitely taken, and happily so. He and Mel Abelgard were madly in love, and I wouldn't have been surprised if they were already engaged.

"He's taken," I said. It was too bad, really, because he would have been perfect.

"Figures," she said dejectedly. "He wouldn't happen to have any friends just like him, would he?" she added, almost jokingly.

I shot upright in my seat and eyed her excitedly. Of course! Why hadn't I thought of him sooner? He would be perfect, even better than Ryan. A slow smile spread across my face, the first one since I'd arrived at the office.

"As a matter of fact, he does."

Chapter 2: Rob

I cracked open a bleary eye, blinking against the ghastly early morning sunlight streaming through the window. The effort proved to be too much and I closed it again. My head throbbed and my mouth felt like sandpaper, dry and disgusting. I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to somehow ease the freight train that was rumbling in my brain, as I vowed never to drink another drop of alcohol again. I moaned slightly as I turned to my side, and suddenly I felt something warm brush up against my shoulder.

"Mmm," I heard a soft voice mumble behind me. A second later, I felt a smooth arm drape over me. I looked down at a petite, well manicured hand lying across my hip. I peeked under the covers and was unsurprised to find that we were both completely naked.

I tried to piece together the events of last night, but the effort proved to be too taxing. Instead, I turned over to get a better look at the lady currently sharing my bed. I was pleasantly surprised to see that she was quite attractive. No beer goggles last night. She fluttered her eyes open and smiled at me lazily.

"You were magnificent last night," she said.

I nearly returned the compliment, even though I really couldn't remember much of last night. But before I could get the words out, the doors to my room were flung open. I shot up in bed, grimacing as my brain rattled against the inside of my head.

All I could see was a blur of pastel pinks and greens, and smell that familiar scent of vanilla and lavender. I groaned out loud and sunk back down to my pillow, closing my eyes.

"There you are," the crisp voice of my mother spoke to me from the foot of my bed. Even without looking at her, I could already picture the pinched expression on her face. "I didn't know you'd be here, Alicia," she added.

At her words, I remembered that I wasn't alone. I looked over to see the lady in question, Alicia, mumble a faint greeting to my mother. She remained crouched low with the blanket pulled up high on her chest. She looked mortified, and I wondered how in the world my mother knew her when I didn't even know her name.

"I have to speak with you, Robert," she said.

"I'm listening."

"In private," she said, glaring at me. She then turned her gaze toward Alicia and smiled at her politely, but the hardness never left her eyes. "If you'll excuse us, my dear, I need to have a private word with my degenerate son."

"Yes, of course," Alicia said before scrambling off the bed. She pulled the sheet with her leaving me momentarily exposed. I snatched a pillow and covered myself, feeling a growing sense of irritation and embarrassment. My mother eyed me disapprovingly, but remained silent. We both waited for Alicia to get dressed and gone. When she had finally left, I turned toward my mother and folded my arms across my chest.