Star bright, p.9
Star Bright, page 9
“Yeah.” She blew out a breath. Either way, it’d be over in two days. By Sunday she’d be back in Spencer’s arms again.
But for how long?
This week was only the first and shortest in a long line of separations ahead of them. They’d barely have two weeks together after her return from New York before she’d be leaving again—back to Hungary for a month of reshoots on Empire of Otherwhere. After that she’d be in LA for less than a week—hardly even enough time to recover from the jet lag—before she was off to Atlanta for three whole months to do a Jerry Duncan picture she was really, really not looking forward to.
She’d been missing Spencer a lot more this week than she’d expected. It wasn’t like her. She wasn’t this person. She didn’t get attached to people. She wasn’t clingy. Usually by this point in a relationship she’d be itching for space. Reveling in the freedom afforded by their separation. But she didn’t want to be free of Spencer. Not even for a minute, much less a whole week.
If she was feeling the effects of a mere week apart this strongly, how was she going to handle three months apart? Three whole months without Spencer’s touch, without the smell of his skin or the taste of his mouth, without his warm, soothing presence in her bed.
“Hey,” he said from three time zones away. “Talk to me.” He could always read her so well. Somehow even with a continent between them, and without being able to see her face, he could still tell when her thoughts started to run away with her. He always knew when something was wrong and knew exactly what to do to make it better.
So instead of dissembling like her instincts wanted her to, she told him the truth.
“I miss you.”
He let out a breath, his soft exhalation magnified and sharpened by the mic on his phone. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and a little rough. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear you say that.”
“You are?”
“I was just sitting here wondering how I’m going to survive two more days without holding you in my arms. This week has been hell without you.”
“At least we’re both miserable.”
“But it’s the best kind of misery, looking forward to seeing you again.”
A smile curved her lips as she ran the pad of her thumb over his ring. “You’ve ruined me, you know that?”
“How’s that?”
“I used to like being alone. It was easier, not having anyone else around. I didn’t have to keep up an act or put on a show. I could be myself with no pretending or lying. Even with Luna—” She stopped, trying to decide how much she really wanted to admit.
Spencer waited, not saying anything or pushing. Giving her the space she needed. It didn’t come naturally to her, making these kinds of confessions, but it was getting a little easier every day. Because of him.
“Even with Luna,” she finally said, “I’m always trying to be strong so she won’t worry. Because I know she already worries so much. When I hired her, I made it her full-time job to worry about me, and I think I feel a little guilty about that.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d worry about you whether it was her job or not,” Spencer said.
“She would.” Kimberleigh smiled, remembering how Luna had mothered her almost from the day they first met, their sophomore year of high school. Kimberleigh had just been placed in a new group home, her last placement before she’d aged out of the system and transitioned to emancipated adulthood. Luna, a bit of an outcast herself, had taken one look at the new transfer student sitting alone in the cafeteria, and made it her mission to befriend her. The two of them had been inseparable ever since. “She’s always looked out for me.”
“I’m sure you look out for her too.”
“I try. But she’s never needed me as much as I need her. So I mostly end up trying not to be a burden.”
“Kimberleigh.” Every time Spencer said her name was always a little different. Always suffused with so many layers of meaning. This time it sounded fond but gently chiding—and also a little sad. “You’re not a burden. You’re a gift.”
She actually believed him. That was the strangest part of all this. When he said her name like that and told her these sweet things that sounded too good to be true, she believed he meant every word. Everything about Spencer was too good to be true. And yet, here he was, continuing to be real.
“My point is,” she said once his words had finished wrapping themselves around her heart, “that we’re going to be spending a lot more time apart like this. More time than we’ll have together probably. And I keep thinking about how much I miss you now, and how much harder it’s going to be when I’m in Hungary next month, or in Atlanta the month after that.”
“I know,” he said with a forlorn-sounding sigh. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”
Her chest squeezed. Despite what she’d said earlier, she didn’t like knowing he was miserable. “I think I’m actually a little mad at you, to be honest. I don’t need this additional stress in my life.”
The sound of his laugh brought a smile to her face. “I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m really not.”
“Selfish,” she teased, knowing how far it was from the truth.
“Kimberleigh.” This time when he said her name it was full of longing, and she could hear the smile dying on his lips as his tone grew serious once more. “It’s not going to be easy.”
“No, it’s not.”
“But when have either of us ever settled for easy?”
She huffed out a wry laugh at that. “Never.”
“See?” he said. “There you go.”
The smile had come back into his voice. If she closed her eyes, she could picture it perfectly.
“We’ll be all right,” he said, his voice strong and full of confidence. Leaving no room for doubts.
And once again, she believed him.
eleven
“I saw you on SNL last week. You slayed it.” Poppy signaled the waitress for another drink before turning back to Kimberleigh. “Straight fire.”
They’d finally managed to get together, almost two months after their meeting on the Golden Globes red carpet. Poppy wasn’t an easy person to pin down. Her social calendar was booked solid, and she also wasn’t great about returning texts. It had taken weeks of back-and-forth before they’d finally agreed on a time and a place.
“Thanks.” Kimberleigh was still on her first vodka soda, and she shook her head when the waitress pointed at her drink. “So what’s up next for you? You said you were doing a movie with Scotty Deacon?”
“Yep.” Poppy bobbed her head, twirling a lock of her long, brown hair around her finger. “I’m off to New York in a couple weeks for a Dior shoot, but after that I head to New Orleans to do this thing with Scotty.”
“You said Joe Lincoln was directing, right?” Kimberleigh sipped her vodka soda. “I’ve heard great things about him.”
Poppy shrugged as she drummed a restless fingernail on the tabletop. She’d been a ball of kinetic energy since they sat down, fidgeting and talking a mile a minute. “This whole project is really Scotty’s thing. I’m just doing it as a favor to him and Robbie.” She flashed a dazzling smile at the waitress as she set a fresh gin and tonic in front of her. “Thanks, babe. You rock.”
“So you guys are all still friends?” Kimberleigh asked. “I’d heard Robbie and Scotty had a falling out.”
Poppy shook her head as she reached for her drink. “That was just one of those things. It was hard to stay friends with Scotty back then—you remember what he was like. He pulled a lot of shit and fucked a lot of people over. But he and Robbie are as tight as ever now. Scotty and I stayed friends too, but things with me and Robbie are a little weird, you know, after what happened.”
Kimberleigh hummed in sympathy. “What did happen? If you don’t mind me asking?”
“Oh, well.” Poppy waved her hand vaguely. “We just weren’t meant to be. Like, I love the guy, but I didn’t want to be married to him. I feel bad it took me so long to figure it out, but that’s how it goes sometimes, right? It’s fine though. Robbie and I still see each other a lot because of Scotty. We both stuck by Scotty when he bottomed out—helped him get into rehab and everything. We’re like the only two friends he has left these days.”
“But he’s doing better now, you said.”
“Tons better. You wouldn’t believe it. After all the stuff he’s been through and the things he had to do to climb out of it, he’s like a completely different person. Focused, disciplined, sober as a judge. Basically the opposite of me in every possible way.” Poppy let out a throaty laugh as she sucked down more gin and tonic. “But obviously no one wanted to work with him after all that bullshit he pulled before, so Robbie found this project for him and signed on as a producer with the stipulation they give the lead to Scotty. I think Robbie basically just handed them a big pile of money to buy the part for Scotty.”
“That’s nice of him.” Kimberleigh wasn’t sure she’d be able to give anyone that many second chances.
“Enough about Scotty, I want to hear about you.” Poppy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “How are you?”
“I’m good,” Kimberleigh said. “It’s been nice to have a little time off to recharge, but I’m leaving for Hungary in a few days for Otherwhere reshoots. And after that I’ll be in Atlanta to do a Jerry Duncan picture.”
“Ugh.” Poppy’s lip curled. “That guy.”
“You’ve worked with him, right?” It was one of the reasons Kimberleigh wanted to catch up with Poppy—to get her perspective on the infamous director. “Is he really that bad?”
Duncan’s adrenaline-fueled action blockbusters were as close to a sure thing as you could get in this business, every one of them a runaway box office hit. He worked with the top talent and commanded the biggest budgets. It was why Kimberleigh had signed on to the project, despite Duncan’s reputation for being a total nightmare to work with. He’d cemented a lot of stars’ careers by putting them through hell on- and off-screen.
“You can pretty much assume every bad thing you’ve heard about him is true. But don’t worry”—Poppy reached across the table and gave Kimberleigh’s hand a squeeze—“I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
Kimberleigh nodded, letting this bad news sink in. “Got any advice for dealing with him?”
“Yeah. Don’t be alone in a room with him.” Poppy let out a little laugh like she was joking, but the brittleness of her smile very clearly said she wasn’t.
“Poppy,” Kimberleigh said softly, both an expression of sympathy and an unspoken question.
“It’s not like that.” Poppy waved a hand. “He’s a bully, not a predator.”
“Is there that much of a difference?”
“Yes,” Poppy said, and that one word carried so much meaning, so many awful and sad implications, that Kimberleigh was the one who reached across the table this time to take Poppy’s hand. Poppy squeezed back and gave her a tremulous smile. “Jerry’s just—he’s a dickhead with a bad temper. Too emotional, glass ego, easily stressed. Your typical manbaby on a power trip.”
That was a relief. For a second there, Kimberleigh had been considering how bad it would be if she pulled out of the project at this late date. Fragile male egos were manageable—she’d dealt with enough of those in the past. But knowingly putting herself into the path of a sexual predator was another matter altogether.
“Just don’t let him talk to you alone if you can help it.” Poppy paused to down the rest of her gin and tonic before waving at the waitress again. “He’s bad enough about losing his temper in front of people. But without witnesses around, the crazy-mean shit he says is even more out of control. And don’t ever let him know he’s getting to you. If he senses any insecurity or weakness, he’ll try to exploit it. Do what he says, but try not to react to him at all. Don’t show any emotion unless it’s for a scene.”
“Be an ice queen,” Kimberleigh said wryly. “I should be able to handle that.”
“I know you can,” Poppy said. “That’s why I know you’ll be fine.”
“Same again?” the waitress asked as she reached for Poppy’s empty glass.
“Yes, please.” Poppy plucked the straw out of her empty glass and flashed another of those dazzling smiles. “Thank you.”
Kimberleigh shook her head when the waitress looked at her. “I’m good, thanks.”
“You’re making me look like a lush,” Poppy said.
“I’m in training for my next project.”
“Sure, me too.” Poppy’s gaze followed the retreating waitress for a moment before she turned back to Kimberleigh, resting her chin in her hand as she tapped the straw on the rim of her water glass. “So what else is up with you?”
“Not much.” Kimberleigh shrugged as she stirred the melting ice in her drink.
“I heard about your breakup with Aidan. What an incredible asshole. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Kimberleigh’s shoulders lifted again. “It’s whatever. I wasn’t all that attached to him, as it turned out.”
She could have admitted to Poppy that the relationship had been fake, but it was safer to keep it all locked down, even with people she felt she could trust. You never knew who might be eavesdropping, or who might carelessly let something slip to the wrong person, or who might not be as trustworthy as they seemed. Kimberleigh had been slowly learning to loosen up around Spencer, but she was still a long way from being as open and chatty as Poppy.
“You guys seemed pretty serious. You were together for what—a year?”
“Something like that.”
Exactly that, in fact, according to the terms of their contract. Even the manner of their breakup had been carefully orchestrated to maximize publicity. A mild scandal in the form of his apparent infidelity, which generated sympathy for Kimberleigh that warmed her ice queen image and cast her ex in the role of desirable bad boy, boosting both his brand and that of his new contracted girlfriend. Kimberleigh wished them both luck, though she didn’t miss either him or the charade. He’d been professional throughout their “relationship,” but conversationally about as interesting as watching paint dry.
At some point she should probably take on a new “boyfriend.” It would help provide a smokescreen for her relationship with Spencer. Which reminded her of the other thing she’d been wanting to talk to Poppy about.
Kimberleigh leaned forward and rested her forearms on the table. “Can I ask you something?”
Poppy nodded as she chewed on her straw. “Shoot.”
“The interview you did with Spencer Devlin last year—”
At the mention of his name, Poppy’s expression went flat. “What about it?”
“Did you know he was going to ask you those questions about your father?”
“Did it look like I knew?”
“No.”
“I had no idea. It took me completely off guard.”
The waitress reappeared, and Poppy’s expression changed from sullen to radiant in the blink of an eye. “You’re an angel,” she said with a warm smile, and the waitress’s cheeks flushed pink.
It was a reminder of what a good actress Poppy was. She gave an impression of easy openness that made her a lot of friends, but was she really as candid as she seemed? Or was she just playing a role to protect herself the way Kimberleigh did? If anyone had good reason to build a defensive wall around herself, it was Poppy, who’d been pushed into this business at an early age by a controlling stage father who’d tossed her to the sharks for his own financial gain.
“Is it possible your publicity team approved the questions without your knowledge?”
“Fuck no,” Poppy said as she sipped her fresh gin and tonic.
“The publicity didn’t hurt you though, did it?”
“I guess.” Poppy’s eyes narrowed as she set down her drink. “What’s this about?”
Kimberleigh schooled her expression as she offered the lie she’d prepared. “Spencer Devlin’s been trying to get me to come back on his show, but I’m on the fence about it. I really don’t like the guy, but my publicist wants me to do it.” She gave a light shrug. “When I brought up his interview with you as one of the reasons I think he’s shady, he claimed the questions had come from your team.”
“He’s lying,” Poppy said.
Someone was lying, anyway.
But was it Poppy, Poppy’s publicist, or Spencer?
Kimberleigh desperately wanted to believe Spencer had told her the truth. She should believe him, shouldn’t she? Didn’t she know him well enough by now to trust him?
It was too awful to imagine that he might have lied to her. She had to trust him, because the alternative was unthinkable—that the man she’d invited into her life and let down her walls for might not be the man she’d let herself believe he was.
twelve
Spencer fucking hated not being able to pick Kimberleigh up at the airport when she came back from Hungary. Being stuck waiting for her at her house after their monthlong separation was the first time this whole secrecy thing had really bothered him. Usually it was fine by him. He might even concede it was better this way. More convenient. Easier not having to suffer the intrusive questions and odd looks he knew he’d get from his colleagues if they knew the truth.
But the fact that Luna was the one at the airport right now fetching Kimberleigh’s luggage off the carousel, guiding her past the paparazzi who always stalked LAX, and shepherding her into a hired car driven by a stranger made Spencer downright murderous.
With a groan of frustration, he leaned his head back on Kimberleigh’s couch and rubbed his tired eyes. Luna had given him a key so he could be here waiting for Kimberleigh when she got home. He’d worked his ass off the last few days in order to take the afternoon and evening off so he could devote every second of the next fourteen hours to showing Kimberleigh exactly how much he’d missed her.
As soon as she got here, anyway.
Her flight had landed an hour ago. He’d been following its slow progress across the country in the airline app, but he’d also gotten a text confirmation from Kimberleigh as soon as she touched down.
