Unforgettable 2 (Hollywood Love Story #2) (8 page)

She turns to me, her eyes lit up. “Yes! Do you remember it?”

Squeezing my eyes, I search my memory. My mind is a dark abyss.

“No,” I say glumly, snapping my lids open.

Disappointment is etched on Zoey’s face. “It’ll come back to you. I just know it will. Don’t give up.”

Don’t give up.
The words knock at the walls of my brain. They were spoken here. I’m positive.

“Zoey, did you say to me: ‘Don’t give up?’”

The expression on her face turns to shock. Her jaw slackens and she stammers out one word. “Y-yes.” She pauses. “Do you remember anything else?”

She looks at me anxiously while I rack my brain.
Think, man, think!
I finally shake my head no. Then, I remember one more thing. I’ve never thanked her for saving my life.

“Thanks, Zo, for being there for me. I would have been road kill if you hadn’t found me.”

I wonder what it was like for her to find me unconscious in a pool of blood. The little girl who witnessed her mother’s senseless murder and watched her bleed to death before drowning. Her watering eyes are a clue. A few tears escape. I brush them away, and while I savor their warmth on my fingertips, they’re ripping me apart.

“Zo, stop crying”

She blinks several times. “I can’t forget that day. Oh, Brandon, if you’d died, I would have—”

Almost the very words she uttered in my Bond dream! Maybe my subconscious was telling me she was the one who came to my rescue. I cut her short and put my forefinger to her quivering lips.

“Shh. I’m okay. You saved my life. I would have done the same for you.”

Her glistening eyes grow wide and she gazes up at me. “Really?”

“Yeah, really.” At this moment, I realize how much my assistant means to me. I need her like the air I breathe. So much I would kill for her. For a minute, the thought of Donatelli invades my brain and rage fills my bloodstream. The fucking bastard! I inhale deeply and mentally shove the image of him to the back of my head. Taking in the tranquil beauty around me, I flick Zoey’s upturned nose. All sadness evaporates. She flashes her dimpled smile with those sensuous lips I’ve come to adore. God, she’s cute. A ray of sunshine.

Gucci tugs at the leash and I chuckle. “Looks like someone’s getting impatient. C’mon, let’s hike some more.”

We randomly turn up another desolate winding road. The uphill path is very rustic and rocky. And narrow. It cannot be traveled by car, only by foot. Paparazzi-safe. Zoey and I walk together in silence, she and the dog a little ahead of me as the dirt road isn’t wide enough to accommodate the two of us side by side.

“You okay?” I ask her, amazed by the grace and ease with which she navigates the challenging path. And the way she moves her delicious ass.

“Yeah. This is really beautiful. I’ve never been up this way.”

“Me neither.” At least I think I haven’t set foot here before.

And then Zoey lets out a gasp. She’s stumbled on a loose rock. I catch her before she tumbles and hold her firmly in my arms.

She exhales. “Ooh, that was close. Thanks for the save.”

Letting go of her, I step in front of her. “You don’t need another trip to the hospital. I’m going to lead and I want you to hold my hand.” Her gaze meets mine. Before she can utter a word, I grasp one of her beautiful hands and then continue our upward trek. Gucci keeps up with us.

Stopping once to let Gucci take a leak, we reach the top of the canyon in twenty minutes. The panoramic view is mind-blowing. In one direction, we can see the Griffith Park Observatory, the Hollywood Sign, and the snow-topped San Bernardino mountains. In another, we can see downtown LA with its skyscrapers kissing the cerulean sky, and yet in another, the Pacific.

“Wow! I’ve never seen the ocean that color,” exclaims Zoey, still holding my hand.

“Yeah. It’s pretty amazing.” The color really is remarkable—an intense, dense turquoise. The expanse resembles a rich panel of velvet.

Soaking in the spectacular view, we share a long stretch of silence, our hands still locked together. It’s as if we’ve been connected like this forever. Panting, worn-out Gucci lies down.

A feeling that I cannot describe sweeps over me. It’s more than just the view or the acute awareness of my companion’s long slender fingers entangled with mine. So close to heaven, it’s an aliveness like I’ve never felt before. I wonder if Zoey’s experiencing it too.

Letting go of her soft hand, I gently turn her by her shoulders so she’s facing me. My heart is singing and my cock is humming. With one hand, I tilt up her chin. Her milk chocolate eyes melt into mine.

“Zoey, what are you feeling?”

“The same thing you are,” she whispers.

My lips descend. And then, she jerks away before her soulful eyes meet mine once again.

“Brandon, we should head back. You’ve got to be on the set by two and I have a shitload of work to catch up on.” Her voice is thin and unconvincing.

“Right.” The little dog barks—I’m not sure whether to second the motion or protest it.

We head back in silence, our hands and hearts and pasts entwined. Katrina nowhere on my mind.

My day on the set goes great. I’m rocking it. I’ve got my lines down and everyone’s in tip-top form. The relationship between Kurt and his assistant Mel is developing, and for the first time, Mel opens up to Kurt about her own tragic past. Just like Kurt, she’s lost a loved one, her own first true love, though from illness. While Kellie Fox, the adorable, talented actress playing the part, is making it so easy for me to deliver my lines, method-actor me draws from all the emotions I feel for Zoey. I put everything I feel toward her into them.

Later, after the sun sets, we shoot an action sequence on location. At a big deserted warehouse located in downtown LA. The cat and mouse game between Kurt and his late wife’s assassin continues. For the first time since my accident, I hold a gun and aim it at my target.
Bang!
Let me tell you, there’s nothing like having a big gun between your legs and another between your fingers you can shoot off. I channel all the rage I feel toward Frank Donatelli into my acting. The way my legendary teacher, Bella Stadler, taught me to do. The memory of this special person in my life has returned and given me a lot to think about.

The night shoot culminates with a life-or-death car chase through the dark desolate city streets with Kurt pursuing his nemesis, The Locust, in his yellow Ferrari at close to one hundred miles per hour. Adrenaline races through my veins.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Close to midnight, we film the episode’s final cliffhanger scene—a huge truck is coming at Kurt head on!

“Cut! That’s a wrap,” shouts out Director Niall Davies through a megaphone. “Great job, everyone. Enjoy your weekend and see you all bright and early on Monday.”

Wow. The week’s gone by so fast. A PA helps me out of the car.

“You were awesome, Brandon. I can’t wait to see the dailies and to find out how this season will conclude.” He hands me a bottled water.

“Thanks. You’re going to be surprised.” The twist with Mel and Kurt professing their undying love has been kept very guarded. No one except me, the producer, the head writer, and the Conquest Broadcasting execs know about it. Even Niall and my co-stars haven’t been told what’s going to happen.

Doug DeMille, the show’s Executive Producer, strolls over to me, and gives me a man-pat on my back.

“Great work, Brand-O.”

I take a glug of the water and say thanks.

“Hey, I meant to tell you I got a call from your manager. He says you’re doing
Letterman
next Thursday.”

Damn. I forgot to call Scott to cancel the appearance. For the first time all day, Katrina enters my mind. I haven’t missed her one iota. My mother used to tell my father when he went on his annual weekend fishing trips that absence makes the heart grow fonder. It always did for the two of them. They couldn’t be wait to be back in each other’s arms, big smelly fish and all. I feel nothing for Katrina except relief that she’s three thousand miles away.

“That’s a problem, right?” Fingers crossed he says yes because the last thing I want to do is fly to New York and freeze my ass off. Or play the Bratrina game with my fiancée and the wisecracking king of late night television. What’s more, I want to stay close to Zoey and her father’s investigation.

“Not at all. I spoke to the network brass, and they want you to do it. It’s great publicity for you and the show. We’ve changed the production schedule around so you’re free and clear.”

Fuck.

When I get home, it’s way after midnight. To my surprise, Zoey, clad in flannel pajamas, is curled up on my couch with Gucci sound asleep on her lap. The TV is on.

“What are you doing up so late?” I ask, striding toward her. I’m actually happy to see her. And even the little canine monster. They look adorable together.

“I was watching
Letterman
. Your publicist asked me to come up with some interview questions for him to ask you and Katrina.”

I plop down on the couch next to her. Close enough that her cross-legged body brushes against mine. She caresses the sleeping dog’s head.

“I came up with some and emailed them to her. She’s going to edit them and likely add a few of her own. She’ll send you the final questions. You’ll know in advance what Dave’s going to ask you so you won’t be caught off guard.”

“Great, thanks.”

“Your publicist said a couple of them are going to be about the Golden Globes.”

Of course, he’s going to ask how I could forget to acknowledge Katrina in my acceptance speech. The press release with my apology hasn’t quenched the public’s curiosity or doomsday speculations.

“You’ve done
Letterman
before and have always had a great time.”

Not this time.
“Zo, I don’t want to go, but the network wants me to.”

She sighs with resignation that mirrors my own. “It’ll likely be your last chance to be on his show. He’s retiring in the Spring. He announced it last year.”

Yet another thing I don’t remember. So far only scattered memories have come back. But at least I had a breakthrough at the scene of my accident.

To my relief, my assistant changes the subject. “How did your shoot go?”

I grin. It’s so refreshing to have someone ask me about my day. Katrina never does. It’s all about hers. The truth is I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone in my adult life who’s given a shit.

“It was awesome. I did a really intense scene with Kellie, and she was amazing.

Zoey’s big brown eyes light up. “The one where she shares the loss of her boyfriend to cancer with Kurt?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“I can’t wait to see the dailies.”

“Ditto. And tonight, we shot an action scene downtown. A car chase. I had to fire a gun.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! Major cliffhanger ending. The writers re-worked it.”

“Tell me!”

“When Kurt fires his gun at The Locust and says, “Get it! Got it? Good!” a big motherfucker truck heads straight into him.” Not wanting to upset her, I deliberately don’t mention that my rage toward Donatelli fueled my performance.

“Oh my God!”

She says the words so loudly she wakes up Gucci. His eyes pop open, and upon seeing us, he wags his tail.

Zoey immediately shifts her attention to the little dog. “Hi, cutie pie.”

The little dog looks up at her with love in his big brown eyes. I gaze at her with my own puppy-eyes. Our eyes connect.

“Zo, it’s late. Let’s call it a night.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” She puts Gucci on my lap. “He’s all yours.”

Is she kidding? My cock’s going to be dog food! I freeze. To my great surprise, the dog doesn’t growl or nip at me. He simply curls up. But I still don’t trust him. I think he may be bi-polar. And bi-sexual.

“Zoey…”

“What?”

“If I have to sleep with Gucci tonight, I want you to sleep with me. I’m afraid he still hates my guts and will bite my nuts.”

She giggles. “Brandon—”

I cut her off. “I mean purely platonically. You wear your PJs, and I’ll wear some sweats and a T-shirt.” I pause. “And a pair of sneakers in case the beast goes for my toes.” I should probably also wear a ball cup for extra protection, I add silently.