Relatively Famous (2 page)

“Mom?” Dani crossed the floor and slid the plate into the sink. “You okay?”

“What? Oh, sure, honey. It was a great night, wasn’t it?” Leila smiled weakly.

“Yeah. But you seem a little sad.” Dani said. “Did you think that Alan…I mean, you two have been together for ages, so were you hoping…you know, that he’d ask you to marry him tonight?”

“What? Oh, no. It’s fine,” Leila began vigorously scrubbing a saucepan. “Well, maybe I thought…but it’s all right. We haven’t even really talked about marriage. Things are so good the way they are, so why would we rock the boat, right?” Leila tried to disguise her disappointment. “I’m just happy to have such a wonderful man in my life, Dani. I don’t need to get married to know that.”

“Sure, Mom.”

Chapter 3

“I think the pink is too girly and obvious. I don’t want my Steven Meyer to think I’m trying too hard.” Sam held up one of the shirts Dani brought for her to try on and had to yell over the music to be heard.

Sam’s parents had already left for work
,
and Sam was used to getting herself up, eating breakfast, and packing her own lunch. It had been this way for as long as she could remember. Her parents were so grouchy these days that it was easier not to have them around in the mornings anyway. That’s why she spent so much time at Dani’s: the family atmosphere, the mother who wasn’t too distracted by the mountain of bills to check homework. Sam slept over at her friend’s house at least twice a week, and it just felt better to wake up to the comforting smells of coffee, eggs, and pancakes. The morning smell at Sam’s house was burnt toast.

Dani eyed the shirt in Sam’s hand and shook her head. “I disagree. Pink says you are feminine
,
and the V-neck cut is revealing but not too revealing. Try it on.”

Sam shrugged. “All right, I’ll give it a go. Cover his eyes,” she said, gesturing to the massive poster on the wall.

“Sam, honestly?” Dani laughed.

“It’s not just any poster, my dear. It’s Mark Ocean. I don’t want him to see me naked.” Sam grinned slyly and ran her hands down her torso. “I’m not fully formed.”

Dani shook her head. “I think it’s your brain that’s not fully formed.”

Sam’s obsession with Hollywood actor Mark Ocean drove Dani crazy. Dani thought his movies were lame and found their plots completely implausible. (
An ex-insurance broker finds himself caught up in an elaborate scheme to lure aliens to earth for scientific study…When the plan goes horribly awry, only our hero can save the world!
)

But it was the poster itself that totally gave Dani the creeps; the thirty-something actor was shirtless
,
and his well-muscled body had clearly been covered with what she guessed was olive oil. Granted, Dani couldn’t deny that Mark Ocean was an attractive man. Who could help noticing those dark, smoldering eyes, full lips, and perfectly styled jet-black hair? But, man, his movies were such crap. As far as Dani was concerned, if he wasn’t so handsome, he probably couldn’t have even landed an infomercial gig. It didn’t take a genius to pretend to fight aliens, did it? This loser was photographed with every dumb model and rising starlet out there
,
and Dani knew for sure that he wasn’t discussing great literature of the twentieth century with them.

But Sam adored him, so Dani dutifully played along. “Coast is clear. Mark won’t see your A-cups. Now hurry up and pick a shirt
,
or we’re going to be late for school.”

“Ta da! Okay, you were right. This pink shirt is totally cute.” Sam admired herself in the full-length mirror. The deep pink did look great with her short blond hair. Dani always envied natural blonds, but Sam wasn’t conceited about her good looks so it was impossible to resent her. She was very pretty
,
and even her limited wardrobe couldn’t hide her attractiveness. Sam had the same no-makeup rule Dani did, but she often got away with eyeliner and mascara since her parents were
n’t
home in the mornings to see her. Even with no makeup, Dani’s best friend had the quintessential girl-next-door cuteness that boys found irresistible. Sam gazed longingly at the poster. “If Mark Ocean could see me now—“

“He’d drop his idiotic L.A. lifestyle and rush out to Little Springs, Michigan
,
to suck face with you?” Dani asked.

“Exactly right,” Sam said. “I am the woman for him.”

Sam had lofty visions of moving to a large city and hobnobbing with the rich and famous. Dani, on the other hand, was pretty happy where she was. True, Little Springs was not known as the nightlife capital of the world, but at fifteen, she was satisfied. The town had a big mall, plenty of good restaurants (Alan’s was at the top of the list), and decent schools. The grocery store was a major chain and not some mom and pop country store. And, they had real seasons here. Dani loved winter and liked nothing better than curling up by the fire with cocoa and a book during a raging snowstorm. The birds in the backyard always seemed to know when a storm was coming and would flock to the bird feeders Dani had set up in the yard. Snow buntings,
w
axwings,
s
parrows… Oh, and the stunning red of the
c
ardinals against the backdrop of crisp white snow. What the heck did Mark Ocean do at Christmas? Spray expensive, fake snow on his expensive, fake lawn?

But, considering how stressful Sam’s home life was right now, Dani couldn’t blame her for dreaming about another life.

Sam cranked up the stereo to full blast and spun around the room. “One more song and we’ll go. Come on, Dani, dance with me! How can you resist Def Leppard singing ‘Photograph’?”

Sam began shaking her hips and shimmying her shoulders.

“You asked for it!” Dani grabbed a hairbrush from the dresser and joined her pal. “Sing it with me, Sam!” She held the hairbrush like a microphone.

Dani might not have the most spectacular singing voice, but Sam was majorly tone deaf. The girls collapsed on the bed, exhausted from their rendition of the ‘80s classic.

“I should have been a child of the ‘80s. I would’ve loved it.” Sam squealed. “All that neon and crazy music and big hair…”

Dani turned to her. “If you’d been an ‘80s kid then I wouldn’t have you. And I wouldn’t trade my best friend for anything. Atrocious singer or not.”

She rolled out of the way before Sam could whack her with a pillow.

Chapter 4

Leila took a sip of her coffee and glanced at the clock on the microwave. Eight o’clock. She still had twenty minutes until she should leave for work. That was the good thing about being your own boss: you could show up for work late and not catch heat from anyone. And this morning, Leila was in a rotten mood. A little more caffeine might perk her up.

Leila shifted in her seat and smoothed down the newspaper in front of her.
Another stupid article about another stupid actor.
This action star had a movie coming out in a month
c
and the critics were already predicting another bomb.
So much for summer blockbusters this year.
Leila stared at the photograph of a dark-haired man with his arm around an unnamed woman. Leila scoffed at the woman’s barely-there dress—she had more hair than clothing! Two weeks ago, the same actor had been photographed with a different, equally idiotic-looking, bimbo. Leila shook her head in disgust. And the actor? Leila had to admit that Mark Ocean was attractive. She’d even seen a few of his movies. Not in the theater, of course, since she couldn’t stand paying the price of a ticket to see such junk. But his movies were the sort that ran repeatedly on cable networks
,
and it was nearly impossible to live in America and not see some Mark Ocean movies. In fact, sometimes Leila couldn’t resist peeking at a car chase scene with him or watching him hang onto the edge of a cliff with one pinky finger.

“Why are you reading that garbage?” Alan’s voice shook Leila out of her fog.

“I opened the Arts section and there it was.” She leaned her head back and pursed her lips. “Give me a kiss.” Alan bent down and kissed his girlfriend.

He ran his hands through his mussed hair and yawned. “Is there more coffee?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Leila continued to stare at the paper.

Alan glanced at the newspaper and placed a mug firmly on the counter. “I’ve told you a thousand times that secrets have a way of coming out. It’s your decision, but I think you are going to have to tell her sometime. And sometime soon.”

Leila closed her eyes. She didn’t want to have this conversation again with Alan. He just didn’t understand. “You’re up early, huh?”  she said. “Does this mean you’ll be here for dinner?”

“Changing the subject, my dear? Yes, I’ll be home for dinner. Call me at the restaurant later and let me know if you want me to bring home anything special for my girls.” Alan filled his mug, kissed Leila on the top of the head, and whispered in her ear. “It’s better she hear it from you.” Alan padded out of the kitchen and headed for the shower.

Leila stared at the photo again, crumpled the newspaper with both hands, and tossed it at the trash can. A perfect shot.

Alan was right about most things, but in this case, he was dead wrong.

Some secrets
are
meant to be kept. Forever.

Chapter 5

Mark Ocean drove his Mercedes SUV up the on-ramp and veered into the highway traffic, cutting off another car. The other driver leaned on his horn, and Mark quickly honked back. He pressed his foot to the gas and sped up, leaving the offended driver behind.

“God, slow down, Mark!”

“Don’t worry, babe. I’m a good driver. These guys just have to learn to stay out of my way.” Mark didn’t bother to look at the woman in the passenger seat. Was it Suzie or Swoosie? He hadn’t bothered to remember, but she had some great legs.

Mark had more important things on his mind. His plummeting career, for instance.
The Clone Faction
was premiering in a month
,
and even Mark knew the movie was awful. Five years ago, he was the most sought-after action star in Hollywood, but these days Mark was making one bad movie after another. What was the problem? He was only thirty-five, he worked out for two hours a day, and he still had his good looks and a great head of hair. He tried to stay in the public eye and ate at every celebrity hot spot where the paparazzi were camped out twenty-four hours a day. But, Mark had to admit, the cameras were turning toward him with less urgency these days.

Furthermore, getting turned away at that club last night had been humiliating. They used to beg him to show up and always kept a reserved table ready! He had been forced to go to another club owned by some overpaid teen actor who wasn’t even old enough to drink. The only other celebrity in sight had been an American Idol reject—and not even one of the top twelve, for God’s sake.

Mark had played virtually the same character in his last four films. He was bored. Worse, there was a time years ago when he took interesting jobs between the action movies and was praised for his range and depth. Sure, Mark could still demand multimillion-dollar paychecks for his movies, but that wasn’t the point.

If he could just get a meeting with the producer, Evan Dodd, who had it all—several commercially successful movies
and
an Academy Award. Right now he was producing a romantic comedy that Mark was itching to star in—a
Jerry Maguire
role that could transform his image overnight. But what could he say?
Gee, Evan, I know I’ve been phoning it in for the last few years, but I’m ready to get back to the good stuff
. No. He needed to convince Evan that he was a changed man.

He couldn’t wait until his agent
,
Renna Martin
,
got back from her Buddhist retreat in Santa Barbara. She had been completely out of touch
,
and Mark had been told she was “unreachable.” He needed her back in L.A. where she belonged. She had been his agent from the beginning
,
and there was no one he trusted more in this city than Renna Martin.

After leaving college and arriving in California, broke but determined, Mark spent weeks schlepping from agency to agency, praying someone would give him a chance. No one would take the risk of signing an unknown stage actor. No one, that is, until he met Renna. She had just been promoted from assistant to agent, and she took pity on Mark, agreeing to have dinner with him. At three in the morning, after consuming an obscene number of martinis, she agreed to sign Mark. He was her first client
,
and she was his first friend. The pair had risen to the top together. Now Mark’s career was taking a dive
,
and he needed Renna back from her spa retreat.