Total Trainwreck (8 page)

Chapter Eleven

“Safe and sound?” Maria asks from an ocean away.

“Yeah, just touched down in the unfabulous frozen north.” I exhale a steady stream of smoke and steam and crush my cigarette butt under the heel of my boot. “Did your check come in?”

“It did. I really don’t like taking your money, though.” Maria sighs again. She put up the biggest fight about me giving her money. So big I thought Jerrie had gotten to her. But I know it comes down to pride with Maria. Always has. I told her to use it as her backup fund when Ryan got too annoying and she needed to disappear.

“Good,” I answer, and light up another cigarette. These damn nicotine patches cannot even begin to touch the cravings I have after flying fifteen hours without a smoke. My life is pretty much in shambles right now. I slapped three medicated stickers on my arm, knocked back five airplane vodkas and ate a Unisom to pass out and ignore the need. Now I am standing outside in the snow burning an entire pack. Where the fuck is my ride?
“Have you gotten in touch with any Realtors?”

“Doing that today. Just rentals, right?”

“Yep. WeHo, Los Feliz or Bel Air. Something nice with a yard and a pool. I’m sick of beige walls.”

“You got it. Oh, don’t forget to check the mail I tucked into your carry-on. Something in there looked official. See ya.” Maria kisses into the phone and hangs up.

Official? I rummage through my carry-on and find the letters right as a familiar black town car pulls to a stop in front of me. My heart stops. Is
he
in there? The front window rolls down.

“Miss Klein?” an accented man asks. I nod and he steps from the car to take my bags. Relief washes over me. Not that I don’t want to see him. I do. But he still hasn’t given me an answer. The few days between the party and today were a whirlwind, leaving little time to do anything but pack. Aside from late-night cryptic messages, I haven’t spoken to him. Other than texts like
We can’t be over,
or
I’ll make this right,
it’s been radio silence. Don’t get me wrong. I love getting messages like that. But I’ve held my ground. I refuse to be the other woman.

I was excited to get back to set. To get back to him. Until I stepped on the plane this morning. Our liaison is dangerous for my career and my heart. That much I know. And when he’s not with me I can be a rational human being about the whole thing. But all that rationale and sensibility will mean nothing the instant our flesh meets. We both know that.

“If you please.” The driver opens the door and waves me forward. I crash into the backseat, thankful for the warmth.

“Whoa!” a startled voice says. I nearly jump from my skin.
What the hell?
A similarly blonde girl about my age with a big toothy smile carefully protects her lapful of stuff when I slide in beside her and nearly take her out.

“Who the hell are you?” I bark, releasing a drag of smoke inside the car. She stifles a cough and waves the cloud away. I flick the cigarette, shut the door and run an appraising eye over the new girl.

“Jane Whitney.” She offers her hand and another smile. “I’m your new assistant.” She beams at me like we’re already lifelong besties.

“I didn’t hire you.” I shake my head.

“No, the studio did. How was your flight?” she asks, rummaging through her bag. She produces a packet of something and a bottle of smartwater. She empties the powder into the water and swirls it around until it dissolves. Then offers it to me. “It’s a vitamin C and B-complex boost. Should help with jet lag and any bugs you might’ve picked up on the plane.” I side-eye the cup. “Oh, and it’s lime flavored.” She smiles even wider, obviously knowing.

Assistant. I could get used to this
.
I accept the drink with a nod and take a tentative sip
.
Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.

“Jane, was it?” I ask. She nods. “Tell me what exactly it is you do for me.”

“Anything that will make your life easier. Whatever helps you focus on your role. I can do laundry, grocery shop, whatever.”

In my hand, I still hold the stack of letters Maria put in my bag. “Read these. Let me know what’s important.” I toss the stack into the space between us and lean back against the seat, still studying her. She seems nice enough. In a pinch she could be my stand-in on set, which might be why they hired her. Two for the price of one. Cheap bastards. She gets busy, opening the letters and reading through them one by one. I take the airplane vodka roadie I stashed in my jacket pocket and rip the top off. Her head snaps up at the sound and she watches wide-eyed while I down the entire thing in one chug. “Yes, I’m drinking again,” I answer defensively. “But I can handle it.”

“Of course you can.” Jane’s answer shocks me. I’m so used to everyone telling me why I can’t do things. Jane and I may be buds after all. She studies a letter for several minutes, then leans over and shares it with me.

“What’s that?” My eyes refuse to focus on the small print.

“It’s a summons from the L.A. County DA’s office requesting a statement.” Her voice drifts off as she continues reading. “Something to do with a Jack Klein?”

“Ugh,” I moan, and drag a hand down my face. “That asshole!” Only my dad would be irritating enough to leave me with shit to do after he’s gone. He couldn’t just die and be dead like normal people. He has to find a way to continue fucking up my life from the grave. “Send a copy of that to my attorney. Do you have his number?” Jane shakes her head. “Do you have Jerrie’s?” She nods. “Good. Jerrie can tell you where to send it. Just whatever. I don’t want to be bothered by it. Let the attorneys deal with it.” I wave my hand dismissively and slouch further down in the seat. “Wait, isn’t that our turn?”

“For what?” Jane asks.

“For the hotel.”

“Oh, right. You have a house this time.”

“A house?” This is unexpected but ridiculously welcome news.

“Security reasons,” she explains. “The hotel is swarming with photographers.”

“Bastards.” I turn up the vodka and patiently wait for the last drop to drip onto my tongue.

“Your new housing is at an undisclosed location. It isn’t printed on any set material. This is Eddie.” She leans forward and pats the driver’s shoulder. “He’s your personal driver and the only one who knows your home base.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Klein,” Eddie says, nodding at me in the rearview mirror. His accent is unrecognizable. A holstered Glock rests on the passenger seat. What? This is crazy, but I do love it when a fuss is made over me. I return the solemn nod and then busy myself looking for some Chapstick. We slow and turn up a gated drive.

“Oh, this is cute!” I thought everything in the town was barren and bleak and just
ugh.
But this is nice—cozy and quaint, homey even. The sprawling compound includes several additional buildings with vast yards. A tall stone security fence surrounds everything. This is a life I could get used to. Eddie opens the door and ushers me in like I’m the Queen Mum before returning to get my bags. It’s totally overkill, but I’m enjoying every minute.

Inside there’s a relatively modern kitchen, for Siberian standards. A fridge full of smartwater. The thick fur parka I always wear to set hangs on a nail. There’s even a bowl of limes on the counter. Eddie unloads my bags by the front door. I crash onto a couch, smiling dumbly and running my hands back and forth over the smooth fabric. I can certainly get used to this!

“Where do you stay?” I ask Jane, hoping I don’t have a roommate.

“I’m at the hotel. But don’t worry, I’ll be here early every morning and stay as late as you need me to in the evenings. Whatever you need. Just ask.”

“Right now, I need to pass out,” I say with a yawn. “What’s my call time?”

Jane consults her phone. “Tomorrow is 6 a.m.” She frowns over the screen and sticks out her tongue in a fake gag. Yeah, I like her. “Would you like for me to send dinner over this evening?”

“Nah. I’ve got some stuff in my bag if I get hungry.”

“Okay then. I’ll be here at five. Unless you need me before then. And I’ll send this to your attorney as soon as I get back to the hotel. Anything else?” Jane is as perky and prompt as Ernest.

“That’s all,” I answer with an amused smile. Wow. This assistant thing is pretty freakin’ awesome. I should have done this a long time ago.

“Hey, Jane.” I stop her in the doorway. She turns. “Has Devon arrived yet?” I ask before I realize what I’m saying and how desperately hopeful my voice sounds.

“Oh, um...” Jane drags out her answer. She looks to the floor, to me, back to the floor. Then she raises her head and looks to the doorway behind me. I follow her gaze over my shoulder. You’ve got to be kidding me.

Looking every bit the sex symbol, he leans against the hallway doorframe in jeans and a thick wool sweater, hands loosely tucked in his back pockets. Jane clears her throat.

“I’ll be leaving now, Miss Klein,” she says quietly. I don’t even look her way. The front door closes and locks. I stand, turning to face him, a mix of fear and anticipation tumbling through me.

He shrugs off the doorframe, walking slowly, confidently my way. His eyes bore deeper into me with each step. I try desperately to read his face, looking for some sign of what he’s thinking. I’ve promised myself I will not fall back into bed with him. Not without some sort of resolution to this problem. I cannot be that weak. But looking at him looking at me like he does, all my good intentions and resolve prove utterly useless.

Needing relief from the searing navy gaze that unravels me, I turn to the kitchen to get some water. He’s the one stalking me in my own house. He can speak first. Only, he doesn’t, at least not fast enough for me.

“Are you lost?” I ask after pouring a glass of smartwater. He shakes his head with a devilish grin. Normally I love his smiles. This one is annoying as hell. “This is
my
house...” I’m about to tell him to get his indecisive ass out, but he cuts me off.

“
Our
house, Sunshine.”

“Excuse me?” Either I’m hearing things or he’s off-his-meds mad. If he hasn’t solved the Heather problem, I’m damn sure not living with him.

“This is our house. I thought you’d like it.” He looks around the den and kitchen with hopeful yet anxious eyes, like my approval means everything. It’s too much. I place my palms flat on the counter, close my eyes, hang my head and breathe deeply. After our week in Malibu, playing house with him is all I’ve ever wanted. He knows that. His using it to get me back is a blow way below the belt. Still, I refuse to give in unless I’m getting what I want, too.

“Devon, I already told you, I’m not the other woman.”

“No, you’re not.” He walks to the counter and places his hands opposite mine. I raise my gaze to find eyes tinted with enough self-doubt to break my resolve. “Hear me out?”

I sigh, shrug and pull up a barstool. He pushes away from the counter to collect his thoughts like he hasn’t had days to think about this. My patience is waning, mainly because I’m not sure how much longer I can resist him. If he touches me, it’s over. I’ll cave like a house of cards.

“Heather is a difficult woman.” His back is to me. I roll my eyes. Like that needed any clarification. “Our situation is fucked up.” He laughs to himself. I remain silent. “It’s work. Business, if you will. There’s no love, no affection. Just two extremely self-centered people using each other to get ahead. For years it’s worked.” I take a sip of water, wishing it were something else. The cabinets catch my eye, and I wonder if there’s anything stronger in them, because I really don’t give a shit about what his relationship with her is or isn’t.

I realize he’s busted me staring off into space. “Is there a point to all this?” I ask with an unimpressed glare. His brow creases and he sucks back from my ambivalence. The realization that I’m not going to be an easy catch this time finally hits home. Nope. Not me. No falling into his arms with my legs spread wide this time.

“I’ve never tried to get away from her. Not really.” He begins pacing, working his hands together as he strides. “I’ve never wanted to.” I blow at a stray strand of hair, again bored by his explanations. My last trick rattles him. In two strides, he closes the space between us. Taking my arms in a tight grip, he turns my barstool to face him and gets all up in my face. “Until you came into my life.”

Now he’s got my attention. But his hands are on me, and that’s a dangerous thing. I spin from his grasp and start opening cabinets. Jackpot! I grab the cool, slender neck of a nice Zinfandel and start rummaging for a bottle opener. He continues, once again realizing I’m not the naïve little girl he once seduced so easily.

“If you want this, Carly. If you truly want us, I’m prepared to get rid of her. For good.” My ears thrum in the silence that follows. It’s everything. The words I’ve waded through this horrible explanation to hear. I finish opening the wine, pour a glass and turn to him.

“And exactly how do you plan on doing that?” I lean against the counter and take my first sip. He clenches his teeth watching me raise the glass to my lips, but he says nothing. Instead, he steps forward, takes the glass from my hand and leads me to the den. I follow reluctantly.

He settles me on the couch, takes a seat on the coffee table opposite me and continues. “I’ve broken my back to build my career, but it’s not worth anything if I’m miserable. And without you, that’s exactly what I am.” His words soften me in the way only a lover’s words can. I swallow a smile that twitches my cheeks because this still isn’t an answer, but I do take his hand. He studies our intertwined fingers

“So what does all that mean?”

“I’ve talked to my lawyers. We’ve been together long enough for common law to apply, but I’m prepared to negotiate a separation.”

“What about her blackmailing? She’ll never walk away.”

“Yes, she will. Heather’s MO is fame and money. I’ve got more than enough of both. And while I hate the idea of buying her off, it’s the only language she speaks.”

“I’m not sure about that,” I argue. I’ve known bitches like her. They don’t give up so easily.