Lucky Star: A Hollywood Love Story (29 page)

I didn’t even try to hide my sigh of frustration. “I’m in Canada mother. I told you this two days ago, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right. You said something about an island so I just thought you were going to Hawaii. You know if it’s not in the Caribbean, I can’t be bothered to remember.” She said this as if it were the same thing as not being bothered to remember to pick up mustard at the grocery store. Sadly, she wasn’t exaggerating. She literally could not be bothered to remember anything if it didn’t immediately impact her life.

“Anyhow, that’s not why I’m calling. I’m worried about you pumpkin.” My mom only called me “pumpkin” when she was genuinely worried so I tried not to be too mad at her. “That Cameron isn’t good for you honey. He’s too handsome and this whole movie business has completely gone to his head. First he hooks up with his co-star and now he’s been spotted boarding a private jet with some beautiful red head who apparently has huge tits.”

The fact that my mother resorted to speaking a word as crass as “tits” instead of calling them “bosoms” told me just how upset she actually was. That she was distraught Cameron had been spotted supposedly stepping out
on
me
with me
was too hilarious for words. Laughing, I asked her to share the description of the woman Cameron was seen with.

“Well, I only know what I read, darling, and I don’t want to hurt you any more than you must already be hurting.” She took a deep breath to launch into her story. She might not have wanted to hurt me, but she was going to do. Even though, you know, it wouldn’t actually hurt this time. “But I feel like you need to know the truth about that man of yours.”

“Thank you mother, I’m sure it’ll be very enlightening.” I didn’t need to hide my sarcasm because she wouldn’t hear it anyway.

“The article was very short but it said he was seen at the airport booking a private jet up to Canada for work and that he was with a very pretty, very voluptuous red head who couldn’t take her hands off him. The woman who checked them in for their flight said that his ‘sidepiece’ was extra hands-on, if you get my drift, and had not an ounce of shame that she was all over a man everyone knows has a serious girlfriend. I’m just so disappointed for you my dear. When you told me that story about that PR thing I thought it sounded fishy, but now between his co-star and this red-headed harlot, I’m really quite worried you’re fooling yourself dear.”

When she had said her peace, I cut in, harsher than I intended to. “Think about this for a second mother. Red hair. Voluptuous. Big tits. Can you think of
anyone
you might know who fits that description?”

Wait for it … wait for it …  and there it is! “Darling, that’s you! He’s replaced you with someone who looks
just
like you.”

Oh for fuck’s sake!

Gritting my teeth, I bit out, “No mother, Cameron has not replaced me with my doppelganger. That woman at the ticket counter with Cameron? That was me. We’re in Canada together. In fact, we’re getting coffee and Cameron’s inside talking with some people who know the woman who was the source of the gossip you saw.” I breathed in and out to calm myself. “Speaking of, how do you hear all of these things before anyone tells us?”

Her light, tinkling laugh told me she wasn’t bothered in the least by my harsh tone. “You mean to tell me you don’t have a Google alert set up for him? How do you keep track of everything that’s written about him?”

“In general, I don’t pay attention to it. Clearly a lot of it is gossip and innuendo. Besides, who needs an alert when my mother calls to tell me all the salacious details herself? You’re my own private Google alert.” Once again, the sarcasm went straight over her head.

Or at least I thought it had.

“Well, there’s no need to be nasty about it. I’m just looking out for you. That man is far too pretty for his own good and I don’t want you getting hurt when he decides all those Hollywood women are more to his liking.”

By that point, I was pacing the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. I had my head down felt Cameron watching me, a concerned look on his face. I shook my head to let him know I was fine. He didn’t need to leave his conversation to come rescue me. I’d been dealing with my mom for 33 years. She was a special type of cross only I could bear.

“And why would he decide someone else was more to his liking? Are you implying he’s too handsome for me? That because of the way I look he’ll find someone else?”

Finally sensing my rising anger, she sputtered and tried to take back her words but those fumbled attempts simply dug an even bigger hole. “No honey, you know I think you’re lovely, all that pretty red hair from your father’s side of the family, and you’re so smart and generous and everyone loves you.”

She’d complimented my hair – so dislike her own, mind you – and reassured me I was a lovely person others adored. It was only a matter of seconds until she dropped the thing no woman in the history of ever wanted to hear uttered about herself.

“And you have such a beautiful, vibrant personality,” she finished.

Of course she went there.

When I didn’t speak, she must have heard my angry breaths echoing across the line because she kept on digging that damn hole, trying to find her way out of it.

“Well, it’s just that … umm … you’re not exactly thin, are you darling? And men like Cameron? Well, you see it all the time. They want petite little trophy wives.”

“Like you?” I couldn’t keep the disdain from my voice. It was one thing for people like Aerin Shandy to say Cameron needed to be with someone who was as beautiful as he was, but it was an entirely
other
thing to have your own flesh and blood say you weren’t pretty enough for a man like him. That you were
nice
enough and
sweet
enough but that at the end of the day, you just weren’t the right type of woman.

Except, you know, I was. Exactly the right type of woman for a man like Cameron.

“Goodbye mother.” I hit the button to end our call. The situation with Cameron was hard enough as it was, I didn’t need the woman who had birthed me making it that much more difficult. I turned off my ringer and shoved the phone into my back pocket. Facing the street so Cameron couldn’t see me, I steeled my nerves and pasted a false smile on my face, then rejoined the group.

“Well,” I said, interrupting their conversation. “It looks like we’ve been found out. Seems the enterprising Dolly has a direct line to someone who has a direct line to
Us Weekly
.”

Cameron had said he didn’t care if we were found out, that he was tired of hiding. Now was his chance to put his money where his mouth was. Possibly in the literal sense if Broderick sacked him.

A worried look crossed his face but then he masked it just as quickly as it had come on. He glanced out the window, stared at the deserted street outside, and turned back toward me. The concerned frown I’d seen a moment before had been replaced by a blinding smile. “Don’t be sad baby, this is great news. Exactly what we wanted. Remember, we get to come clean and Broderick gets more PR for his movie. Everybody wins.”

With him so excited that everything was going according to a new plan, I couldn’t let my mother’s negativity weigh me down. I brushed off her comments and vowed not to let them linger in my head – or my heart.

“The ball’s in Broderick’s court now,” he added, pulling me in for a kiss.

Was it wrong that when Sarah was in the shower, I went through her list of incoming calls to see who had made her so upset back at the coffee shop? Yeah, probably. Was I going to apologize for it? Hell no. She assured me the tears she’d tried – and failed – to hide had nothing to do with my email to Broderick or the whole fucking mess with The
Ties That Bind
which, I’ll admit, was a relief.

When the shit
did
hit the fan – because let’s face it, it was definitely going to – it needed to splatter on me. I’d meant it when I told Sarah I was done with her taking on most of the burden, and that included her being made the patsy for why I’d decided to pull the plug on the PR campaign. Because as sure as I was of anything, I knew Aerin was going to try to blame my actions on Sarah. Since she couldn’t openly malign me, the star of the movie, she’d need a fall guy. Or woman, as the case may be.

Given the call
hadn’t
been from Broderick, I wasn’t surprised to confirm it had been her mom on the phone. To say that Jane Travers and I had a relationship fraught with mistrust and disgust would be an understatement. Two Christmases ago her parents had surprised Sarah by showing up unannounced for a two-week stay just before the holidays (Sarah swore she had no idea they were coming while her mom insisted she’d invited them). Sarah had planned a big dinner and gift exchange on Christmas Day for those of us who were stuck in California but when her parents landed unexpectedly in L.A., Sarah had tried to cancel which Jane wouldn’t hear a word of. And so the party went forward, much to Sarah’s worry.

On the day of the party, I arrived before everyone else because I’d wanted to help Sarah set up extra tables and chairs in her courtyard. Also, I wanted to give her my gift away from the prying eyes of all our friends. Alright, I’d arrived at 8 a.m. because I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible because it was Christmas and I loved her and since I couldn’t tell her, I just wanted to be around her. Unfortunately, Jane clung to Sarah like a sucker fish, putting the kibosh on all my plans. I’d spent the morning talking sports with Sarah’s dad Gerald instead while Jane downed several mimosas and complained about Sarah’s choice of food. When other guests began to arrive, Sarah was able to slip free of her mom. Unfortunately, that left Jane unattended with a full liquor cabinet at her disposal.

An hour or so before dinner Duke had reached maximum hyper activity level so I’d taken him for a walk to try and tire him out. I was putting him back in his crate in Sarah’s bedroom when I heard the door open and close behind me. I didn’t think too much of it, but when I stood and turned, that’s when my balls practically jumped back up into my body.

“Well, aren’t
you
the handsome devil,” Jane mumbled while stumbling into the room.

For every step she took, I took two steps back, eventually coming hitting the wall next to Duke’s crate. When I banged the back of my leg on the metal, he looked up at me with eyes that seemed to say, “Sorry man, you locked me in here so you’re on your own.”

It didn’t take much for me to understand her intent. Jane Travers was drunk as a skunk and looking to score. That I was her target made my stomach curdle. I tried to reason with her, get her to return to the party, but no matter what I said she only became more committed to her cause.

“Gerald and I haven’t had sex in five years,” she slurred once she was directly in front of me. With nowhere else for me to go without jumping over Duke’s huge crate, she slapped her hand onto my chest in what was supposed to have been a seductive caress but because she’d lost control of her fine motor skills, actually came out a bit violent. “I’m dying for a man to make me feel like a woman again. And that man is you!” Another slap to my sternum.

When I realized no amount of cajoling on my part was going to convince her to give up, I’d grabbed her by her arms (to which she’d cooed), then, backing her up, plunked her down on the bed (which elicited a high-pitched moan I was afraid would be heard in the rest of the house), and then high-tailed it out of there. I’d hidden in the guest bathroom until I heard the unmistakable trill of her intoxicated voice telling one of Sarah’s co-workers about the wonders of Botox.

Naturally, I’d never mentioned a word of this to Sarah. I’d told myself it was because I didn’t want her to think less of her mother, but there’d been a small part of me that was worried if her mom claimed I’d come on to her, she might believe her parents’ version of events. I knew that wasn’t giving Sarah enough credit, but mother/daughter relationships were a funny thing and I didn’t want to get in the middle of theirs.

That’s not to say the whole debacle had remained a secret. Later that night, once all the other guests had left, Gerald took me aside to tell me he knew what had transpired. I’m not going to lie, I almost shit my pants as he approached me. In the end, I needn’t have worried. Shortly after I’d left her, Jane had cornered him and, crying, told her husband she’d tried to sleep with me but just like him, I’d rebuffed her advances. Handing me a glass of expensive whiskey from a bottle he’d hidden away, Gerald apologized for his wife’s behavior and promised it’d never happen again. When I left later that night, he shook my hand at the door while Jane shot me daggers from across the room.

I’ve seen her a few times since then and she insists on behaving antagonistically toward me, making snide comments about my career and trying to emasculate me in the eyes of her daughter. That is, when she’s not too busy trying to tear Sarah down. Jane’s scorn meant little to me but the woman was toxic to the woman I loved and that was unacceptable.

“Hey Sarah,” I called out loud enough for her to hear me over the sound of the shower.

“Did you call me?”

“Yeah, how much longer are you going to be?”

“Good Christ, man. Can’t a girl enjoy a long, hot shower?”

So a lot longer then. Good. “Yeah, just wanted to see if I had time to …” Shit. Time to do what?! “Go for a jog on the beach.” I hadn’t gone for a run yet so that wasn’t a completely inconceivable lie.

A few seconds passed before she answered. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll go with you?”

Tired of hollering, I stepped into the steam-filled bathroom. “You want to go for a jog after just showering?”

She popped her head out the glass door again. Chuckling, she said, “If you don’t want to get sweaty with me, I’ll understand.”

Stepping as close to the open shower as I could without actually getting in, I whipped my hand out and pulled Sarah up flush against my body. Planting a hot, open mouthed kiss on her, I murmured, “I always want to get sweaty with you.” Then I stepped out of her reach as I laughed over the shocked look on her face.

“That’s no fair,” she mock pouted. “Now I’m all hot and bothered.”

“Well, you’re already in the shower. Turn the temperature to cold; that should do the trick,” I joked as I backed out of the room and away from any flying objects that may come zooming my way.

“You’re a cruel man, Cameron Scott. Cruel, cruel, cruel.”

“Twenty minutes!” I reminded her.

Grabbing Sarah’s phone on my way out of the room, I scrolled through her contact list until I reached her father’s name. Not dad, just Gerald. I shook my head. The Travers were a strange, strange family. I hit the button and waited for him to answer. After three rings, I anticipated the call going to voicemail when a gruff, tired voice answered.

“Sarah?”

“Um, hi Gerald. It’s me, Cameron.”

“Cameron.” He came instantly alert. “Is everything okay? Why are you calling me from Sarah’s phone?”

“Sarah’s fine. Well, not really. That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“She had another row with her mother, didn’t she?” He sighed, and I pictured his chin dropping to his chest. It was a gesture I’d seen often enough whenever I was around her parents.

“Yes. No.” Now I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? Why are you calling then?”

“Your wife called Sarah earlier this afternoon and they talked for about twenty minutes. During the entire conversation, Sarah was pacing back and forth and the longer the call went on, the more agitated she became. By the time she hung up, she was crying.”

“Not again,” he murmured loud enough for me to hear, although I got the impression it wasn’t said for my benefit.  

“I’m going to be honest with you, Gerald. Sarah goes out of her way not to speak ill of Jane, even when I can tell she’s hurting over something your wife has said. When I asked what happened earlier today, while her eyes were still red from crying, all she said was ‘you know how my mom is.’ Now, you and I both know I know
exactly
how Jane is, which, incidentally, I’ve
still
not told Sarah about.”

I let that sink in for a few seconds because I wanted him to understand I was perfectly okay holding that afternoon over their heads if it meant keeping Jane Travers on the straight and narrow. Of course, I was only bluffing but he didn’t need to know that. I would never tell Sarah because it would be too hurtful. He just didn’t need to know that.

“You have got to do something about her Gerald. Every single time Sarah gets off the phone with her, she looks like a kicked puppy. I don’t know why Jane can’t even try to be nice to her own daughter, but she needs to start. Now.”

“I’ll talk to her.” And then under his breath, he added, “Again.”

“Thank you,” I sincerely meant it but I doubted it’d make a lick of difference.

By now I’d decided reasoning with Jane was the least realistic route to gaining her compliance. The only thing that would work would be for her husband to without her spending money. If he finally put his foot down and told her she had to be nicer to Sarah or he’d cut off all her extracurricular spending, I was sure the woman would make a
very
conscientious effort to be the best mom ever.

“I love your daughter, Gerald, and I only want what’s best for her. Right now, your wife –
her mother
– is the exact opposite of that. For some reason Sarah seems to think she has to accept her abominable treatment because she gave birth to her. She deserves better than that.”

“What are you saying, Cameron?”

Bluffing, I put force behind my words. “I don’t want to cause any strife in your family, but I can’t let Jane continue to treat Sarah like this. If something doesn’t change, I
will
tell her about Christmas.”

“That would destroy her,” he whispered, a touch of anger lacing his words.

“Yes, it would,” I concurred. “But not for the reason you seem to think.”

“You’d sacrifice your relationship with her in order to hurt the relationship she has with her mother?”

“I’d sacrifice
everything
for Sarah, but you’re missing the point.” I glanced at the clock. I’d been on the phone for a little over ten minutes. If Sarah stuck to her twenty-minute time table, I still had plenty of time to wrap up the call and get her phone back to its spot on the nightstand.

“Sarah’s relationship with her mom is already broken and it’s your wife’s fault. She acts like she hates Sarah. I can’t say if that’s true or not, but if it is, she needs to stop calling because all she’s doing is messing with Sarah’s head. I’ve heard some of these conversations Gerald, and they’re ugly. Your wife can be mean and vile which is pretty fucking shocking seeing as how she’s talking to her own daughter.”