The Set Piece (3 page)

“You have no family to question whatever you do next,” Knight continued. “And you don’t seem to have had any relationships, long-term or otherwise, that could compromise you now.”

Their first misstep. But how could they know about Darla? She should tell them that she was into girls. Full disclosure and all.

“And I’m broke,” she said instead.

“Yes, I guess that’s the most important factor for you,” Horowitz said. “And a major bargaining chip for us. We’re willing to make this worth your while, Ms. Kimball.”

“Okay. So we would go to dinner and movies and make appearances together?”

“No. We want to completely squash this thing before any rumors start escaping. So we would need more of a commitment from you.”

“Like what?”

“There would be dating, of course, but we need you to move into his house within a few weeks. You would have to get engaged.”

“Engaged? In a few weeks? No one’s gonna buy that. You might as well sew a rainbow flag onto his uniform.”

Horowitz suppressed a laugh, which was not the reaction Amy was expecting. “We have a fake relationship already in place. If you agree, you have been secretly dating Diego for months. He loves you desperately, but it’s a Romeo and Juliet kind of thing. His family wants him to marry a Latina and a Catholic. So keeping this kind of secret from his family has been tearing him apart. On and off the field.”

A thousand questions flew into Amy’s mind. “And Torres is completely on board with all this? He doesn’t want to meet me first?”

“We’ll get to that. But you’re his type. If he had this kind of type,” Knight said, but he wouldn’t meet Amy’s gaze. “Let’s just say, he understands the severity of the situation. All Diego needs to do is look like a movie star and produce on the field. We take care of the rest. That’s what he pays us for. And that’s why we’re prepared to pay you very handsomely, too.”

Amy gave him her best withering gaze.

“He’s met you on paper,” Horowitz added. “He likes what he’s seen.”

“Well, I would have to meet him in person first. And if I like him, how long would this contract last? We wouldn’t actually get married, would we?”

“We would contract you to six months, and no, you wouldn’t actually get married. But we do reserve the right to renegotiate as we go along.” Horowitz smoothed a non-existent wrinkle on his sleeve.

“Of course you do.” Amy bit her bottom lip.

“Not to flatter you into a decision here, Ms. Kimball. But we have been looking for some time now. We’re convinced that we have finally found the right person.” Horowitz retrieved another set of papers from his desk. He held them out to Amy. “So what do you say? This is a great opportunity for someone in your position. Are you ready to sign the real contract?”

That was the million-dollar question. She should just get up and walk out of the office without looking back and leave the contract on the table. But what was she walking out to? Wasn’t something better than nothing at all? Her mind ran through the potential outcomes, but what it really came down to was whether to jump off this particular precipice or not. The jump wouldn’t kill her. But the landing might, and that was the real problem.

“Can I think about it?”

“You can, but this offer expires at six tonight. Sharp.” Horowitz returned the papers to his desk. His expression, so eager and friendly before, had hardened.

“Gone like it never existed.” Knight waved his hand through the air as if he were performing a magic trick. “Face it. You only get one shot at this fairy tale. And the castle doors are closing fast.”

“So until you sign, I believe our business is concluded.” Horowitz pushed a button on his desk.

Rachel appeared at Amy’s side. “I’ll see you out, Ms. Kimball.”

Without a signed contract, Amy lost what little leverage she had in that room. Horowitz sat at his desk, already lost to his computer screen. Knight whipped out his phone to check his messages. Rachel directed her through the double glass doors with a grip of steel. The outer office seemed noisier now. Everyone had a reason to be here, a purpose to their day, except her. Rachel hurried her toward the elevators where Jenna stood waiting.

“Good day, Ms. Kimball.” Rachel handed her over.

“Hey.” Jenna smiled the moment Rachel turned her back. “Did it go well?”

“Not sure yet.”

“Well, they’re really good here. They’ve lots of famous clients. You never know who you’ll meet.”

Amy realized Jenna assumed she was interviewing for a job. In a way, she was.

Jenna hit the elevator button and leaned in close. “That’s Kevin Wilson over there,” she whispered, and pointed to another glass-walled office. “He does all his business here. See? That’s how good they are.”

Amy had heard of Kevin Wilson, the lead guitarist for Krippled Kids. Who hadn’t? Before she turned her head to gawk, she took a quick peek down Jenna’s top. She couldn’t help herself. Jenna threw her breasts around like an engraved invitation. They were large and firm and maybe even real, and were well worth the shame that flitted through Amy at peeking. At some point, she would have to get back on the romance wagon, but for now she was content to run alongside of it.

“Oh! I think they closed a deal.” Jenna’s breasts jiggled with excitement.

Amy forced her gaze toward the office.

Kevin Wilson, in jeans and a black T-shirt emblazoned with his own face, high-fived a man in a tailored suit.

“What kind of deal?” Amy asked.

“I don’t know. Record deal, maybe. Our entertainment law division is very active.”

“Really? You have an entertainment division?” Amy tilted her head and considered the scene before her. The man in the suit was now patting Kevin Wilson on the shoulder and grinning from ear to ear. Clearly they were both very happy.

The elevator dinged its arrival, and Jenna held the door back while Amy entered.

“Yes, that’s why I have to escort you in and out until you get this.” Jenna flashed her employee badge at her hip. “We take our clients’ privacy very seriously. You never know who’s around.”

“Afraid I’m gonna run over for an autograph?”

“You never know.”

Jenna stood too close in the elevator. Amy focused on the descending floor numbers above the door. It was too easy to succumb and cop another look down Jenna’s top, but she withheld. She had been on the receiving end of the same stares too often at the Valley Arms; it felt cheap doing the same thing to Jenna.

In the lobby, she said her good-byes and went over to the bench seats on the far side of the entrance. She turned on her phone. Simon had texted her about a million times wanting to know where she was and if she was okay. She swiped the messages off her screen; she would deal with Simon later. In an instant, she brought up Paul Knight’s info. Her thumbs froze over the keyboard as she rocked gently back and forth, considering her next move very carefully.

She needed to take her own advice. There was no way to know if jumping, metaphorically, into bed with Torres was a bad or good idea until the six months were officially over. She could roll the pros and cons around in her head until 5:59 p.m., and still she wouldn’t know one way or the other. All she had to do right now was decide if she was going to jump at all. And why not? She didn’t have a job, or any money. She had to find a way to move forward.

Her thumbs flew over the keyboard.
I’m in. With one condition. Non-negotiable.

If she liked Torres enough to sign on, she would get a music contract for Simon, and hope against hope, that one unselfish act would buy her enough karma for that safe landing.

CHAPTER 3

Amy’s Civic putted loudly into
Knight’s driveway. She killed the engine and puffed a sigh of relief. The temperature gauge had hovered right below the big H all the way up the hill. She hadn’t been sure she would make it. Knight lived on the mountain crest that separated the Valley from the trendy Westside. The sleek lines of his house gleamed in the sunlight. It must have cost a pretty penny. No wonder he was so anxious to get this party started. Diego wasn’t the only one in jeopardy here, Amy realized. A lot of fancy incomes rode on this plan working.

Knight opened the door before she could ring the bell. He ushered her into his living room where Diego Torres, as breathtakingly handsome as his billboard posters, stood in the middle of the room holding a bouquet of white roses. His handsome, chiseled features were softened by warm, brown eyes, and his crisp linen suit enhanced the athletic body underneath.

Amy felt shoddy, dressed in the same casual sun dress she had worn to Horowitz’s office only a few days before. It was the nicest dress she had, and she knew it highlighted her long legs, but still, she’d need to acquire a whole new wardrobe for this gig. “Hi. I’m Amy. You must be Diego?”

“Pleased to meet you.” His slight accent made his voice almost musical. “These are for you.” He held out the roses.

“I told Diego he didn’t have to bring a bouquet. This isn’t a real date,” Knight said.

“Yes, we know, Paul. But any fake relationship that starts with flowers has a chance to turn into real friendship.” Diego flashed his thousand-watt smile.

Amy was dazzled—not by his star power, although she could see its draw, but more by what was underneath the smile, a slight twitch at the edge of his bottom lip. Diego was as nervous as she was.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the bouquet. “White roses are my favorite.”

“I know. It was in the file Paul gave me.”

“Was it? I don’t remember that.” Paul shrugged.

Amy found the idea of a dossier creepy, but the fact that Diego had studied it felt sweet. Diego shuffled on his feet. Unlike Knight, he knew that this thing could go either way. His unease tugged at her. “They’re lovely.” She tried to put him at ease.

Diego motioned to the couches. Knight grabbed a tray of sparkling water and fruit kebabs from the kitchen.

“I don’t eat anything with added sugar during the season,” Diego said apologetically as Knight set the tray on the coffee table.

“No, these look great.” Mangoes and fresh coconut were the kind of fruit she and Simon couldn’t normally afford. “Paul, did you put these together?” She stifled a laugh as she imagined him in an apron sliding the fruit onto the sticks.

“No,” Diego said, “They are from a fruit cart from my old neighborhood. I was out there visiting my parents. Normally they would come with chili powder and lime, but I thought you might want to ease into my native cuisine slowly.” He smiled.

“That actually sounds really good.”

Diego smiled again, this time without the twitch. Knight made a happy clucking noise from his chair.

They started talking about Mexican cuisine, and Amy found she was genuinely interested in the conversation. She also learned that Diego had a wry sense of humor as well as a natural humbleness about his athletic ability and movie-star looks. Much to her surprise, she actually liked him.

Toward the end of the meeting, Diego leaned toward her. “I know this whole thing is…unconventional, to say the least,” he said. “But I’m in a real bind, and you’re perfect. I hope you can see your way to help me.” Diego addressed her like an equal, and suddenly the business proposal that had seemed seedy became a compliment, all wrapped up in a personal favor to him. “Do you think you could?” he asked.

Amy gave him a soft smile. “I think I’d like to try.”

TOP STORY: Internet Edition

SOCCER HEARTTHROB! SERIOUS SECRET GIRLFRIEND!

By Diane Garza

Diego Torres, of the LA Atoms has been keeping a secret, and it’s a BIGGY.

Torres introduced his twenty-five-year-old girlfriend, Amy Kimball, via social media Friday, sharing a selfie of the happy couple at the Atoms’ training facility. The couple met at a publicity event in Calabasas, California, in the spring and have been hot and heavy ever since.

“She’s everything I’ve always dreamed of,” the hunky soccer star captioned the photo.

Sources close to Torres claim that he had been keeping the relationship under wraps in deference to his ninety-three year-old great-grandmother, who begged him to date within his culture and faith. Kimball is neither Latina nor Catholic. Keeping this secret from his loved ones has taken its toll on Torres on the field, who has not scored in the last five games.

When asked about the relationship, Kimball, a soccer player in her own right, joked, “We’re having a ball.”

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“Wanna tell me what this is all about?” Simon stood before her in nothing but his shorts in the hot and airless apartment. He thrust his cell phone in her face.

Garza’s news item was splashed all over the screen. Diego had taken the selfie, his free arm wrapped around Amy, who was snuggled into him, laughing at whatever he was saying. They looked like a happy, natural couple, and very much in love.

“Oh my God. Is it up?” Amy snatched the phone and examined the flattering photo. Her easy smile popped out from the screen. She looked fun and approachable. Her freshly washed hair fell in waves, and the bags under her green eyes were gone since she was finally sleeping these last few nights rather than working shifts. Though she wouldn’t put it past Paul Knight to have had them airbrushed out. It was the most perfect, supposedly spontaneous, photo to introduce her and Diego to the world. Knight had rejected about a hundred other supposedly spontaneous moments. No question about it, he was good at his job, like most control freaks.

“So you know about this?” Simon ran a hand over his close-cropped hair and fixed her with a narrow-eyed gaze.

Amy hoped it was because he was hot rather than upset with her. “Of course I do. He’s my…boyfriend.” She tried to infuse happiness into the word, but it just came off as smug. Her stomach dropped when she saw the hurt in Simon’s eyes.

“Really? You never told me.” He reached for his phone and immediately cleared the screen.

“I couldn’t tell anyone.” She had begged Knight to be able to ease Simon into her new reality before the story came out, but he hadn’t wanted to risk a leak. She had caved to his demands, partly because she had been dreading this exact moment. Now, she struggled for a way out, whishing she hadn’t been such a coward. “Diego wanted to tell his family first.” The lie rolled thickly off her tongue, but she managed to push it out. She’d known this moment would be hard but not this hard.

“Ames, this doesn’t make any sense.”

“How so?”

“Well, for starters, when did you have time to have this relationship no one knew about?”

“Um… I wasn’t really sick a couple of weeks ago.” She marveled that it took another lie to tell the “truth” and that there was no shallow end to the pool she was now floundering in. What a mess. The last thing she had wanted to do was hurt Simon.

“Your head cold was fake? That was some good acting.” Simon considered her carefully, shifting from one foot to the other.

“And I actually quit Starbucks weeks ago. I’m sorry, Simon. I had to keep it a secret.”

Simon opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “I always kind of thought you were gay?”

Me too.
Amy pursed her lips. “No,” she said softly.

“I mean, if you really liked guys…” He shook his head and started again. “I would have… I… Things might have been different.”

Amy knew what he meant. But it had always been a non-starter. Even so, she clenched her jaw so the truth wouldn’t spill out. She was bursting to tell him that no matter how crazy all it seemed, she hadn’t forgotten about him. That he had to trust her and things would be better for both of them. That he shouldn’t worry because she had it all under control.

But did she, really? Diego was a great guy and all, but had she signed away her integrity with a Mont Blanc pen? Silence fell between them.

“You’re really going with this crazy story?” Simon asked. Clearly he didn’t buy any part of it. “Ames, we tell each other everything. Are you sure there’s nothing else you want to tell me?”

There was. A million things. Like since the moment she had left Horowitz’s office with the final contract signed, she breathed a little easier. Or that she slept through the night now that her bank account was no longer hovering around zero, or that not having to endure Reggie and all his crap at the Valley Arms had freed her soul.

Amy wanted to mix up a batch of margaritas with her best friend, knock back a few, and then laugh as they threw ice cubes at each other in the sweltering heat. Mostly she wanted to tell him that she taken his advice to move forward, and that above all she didn’t want to lose him. Instead, she said, “Yes. You should know that I’m moving in with the guy.”

“What?” Simon’s response was choked.

“He’s worried about the publicity and everything, and he thinks I’ll be safer if I’m with him.” Amy rushed through the explanation. There was no getting out of this well, so she decided on getting out of it fast.

“Wow.” Simon took a step back, the hurt in his eyes spreading to his whole face.

Amy shrugged as if it was no big deal; another action she instantly regretted. She fumbled trying to make it better. “Don’t worry. I’ll still pay my half of the rent. Until you can find another roommate and all.”

Simon’s expression hardened.

Amy bit her lip. Another terrible misstep. Why hadn’t she prepared for this better?

Simon shook his head at her. “Good. Because that was my only real concern.” His sarcasm rolled at her in waves. “I’m not sure what you’re up to, Amy, but I hope you’re being smart about it.” He turned toward his room. The door made a soft pop as he closed it. Amy wished he had slammed it on her. It was what she deserved.

“Me too,” she told the empty room.

Two days later, Knight pulled up in his gorgeous blue Jag to take her to Diego’s house. Simon was nowhere to be seen. Amy said her good-byes to him in a note. It said,
See you soon.

Amy silently stared out the passenger side window for the twenty-minute drive. She slid her finger down the window and traced a small S.

“What’s the matter?” Knight finally asked.

“Nothing.” Knight was the last person she wanted to share any of her personal feelings with.

“You better get your game face on, princess. You’ll need to hit the ground running as soon as we get there,” Knight said. “Diego may be out of town, but everyone else will be there. You remember their names and what they do, yeah?” He fiddled with his phone.