Hollywood Ever After

  Hollywood Ever After

  Sasha Summers

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, places, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  If you purchase this book without a cover you should be aware that this book may have been stolen property and reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher. In such case the author has not received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Hollywood Ever After

  Copyright © 2012 Sasha Summers

  All rights reserved.

  Paperback ISBN: 978-0-9851483-3-1

  ePub ISBN: 978-0-9851483-4-8

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2012940443

  Inkspell Publishing

  18, Scott Court, C-4

  Ridgefield Park

  07660 NJ

  Edited By Megan Qualls

  Cover art By Najla Qamber

  You can visit us at www.inkspellpublishing.com

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The copying, scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic or print editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  This book is dedicated to my parents,

  Jeannie and Skip Summers,

  for giving me my love of stories

  and nurturing my every dream.

  I love you both so very much!

  Chapter One

  Shannon squealed when I came through the baggage claim doors.

  An answering grin tugged at my mouth as I ran to meet her.

  “Oh. My. God,” Shannon exclaimed, hugging me. I was briefly engulfed in her sweet honeysuckle scent, then she pulled back to look at me. Her eyebrow arched as she inspected me. “Claire, what the hell happened to you?”

  “I kind of fell asleep. Do I look that bad?” I tried to smooth my hair. Did I have bed head? My eyes felt puffy and dry; I hated dozing on airplanes.

  “Holy shit.” She grabbed my hand and spun me around. “You’ve lost half your ass.”

  “Oh, there’s still half there, I promise.” I laughed. “When did I see you last?”

  “Will was a baby.” She shook her head. “Too long ago.”

  I nodded. “Well, I’ve been working hard to get back in touch with me.”

  A solid year of stress had taken its toll on my body. An abusive husband and a hellacious divorce tended to do that. Once all of it was over, I focused on getting my priorities straight. I’d spent the last year turning my mega-scary weight loss into a positive thing–making me fit and stronger. I had to take care of me now, for the kids.

  This trip, this “relaxing vacation”, was a surprise birthday present from my baby brother. And it was the first time I’d been carefree, and kid-free, in a long time.

  “Well, you are really thin and a wee bit ripped.” She surveyed me with a smile. “No fair. You still have your boobs. I lose a pound and it comes straight out of my bra.” She sighed. “We’re going to have so much fun!”

  “What did you have in mind?” I was getting a headache and desperately needed caffeine. “Does it include coffee?”

  “Sure. We’ll get you some nasty low-fat fake sweetened coffee and then I get to pretend you’re a life-size Barbie doll.” She was chattering away while I pulled my lone blue suitcase from the luggage carousel. “We’re going to the biggest party tonight with an invite list full of celebs. So finding you the perfect hot and sexy ensemble is the order of the day. Ooh, fun.” She was excited.

  “Shannon, ‘hot and sexy’ aren’t words in my personal vocabulary.” I frowned. “And how did I get invited to this party?”

  “Well, darling, you’re connected now,” she said. “I told you I’ve been working on more high-profile features. I’m now making my way up the list of borderline A-list assistant directors. Tonight just happens to be one of the perks. Trust me. You’re going to have a blast, Claire.”

  “Can you go without me? The only thing remotely dressy I have fit me three sizes ago.”

  “No.” There was a hint of exasperation in her voice. “We’re going shopping.”

  We were out of the airport and climbing into her car in the thirty-minute parking lot before I had time to catch my breath.

  I smiled, looking around at all the sights. “I can’t believe I’m really here.”

  It was amazing, and exactly the way I imagined LA. Palm trees, blue sky, and lots and lots of cars on the road.

  “Isn’t it awesome? I don’t know many baby brothers who send their sisters to Los Angeles for a birthday present. Joe so earns Brother of the Year for this one, huh?” She winked at me then focused on driving.

  I tried to relax as she swerved in and out of traffic without hesitating.

  “You look terrific,” I said. She did, golden and calm. If I focused on her, maybe I wouldn’t worry about the likelihood of a fatal collision. “Tell me what’s going on with you. What’s new?”

  “Pretty much everything: house, car, promotion.” Shannon smiled; her face lit up. “Forty-two is my lucky number, I guess.”

  “So you still love Hollywood?”

  She nodded. “I’m doing what I’ve dreamt about; very ‘happily ever after.’”

  “It’s nice to see good things happening to good people—outside of Lifetime movies and paperback novels, that is.”

  She nodded, her smile turning a bit ironic. “I wholeheartedly agree.”

  We bought my coffee then flew, barely missing the shiny bumper of a new SUV, to Shannon’s destination: rows and rows of shops.

  “When’s the party?” I asked, looking down at the track pants and white t-shirt I’d pulled on after my hasty shower earlier that morning.

  “The show’s tonight at eight, but the party won’t start until eleven-ish. This is Hollywood, baby. By the time we’re done with you, you’ll look like a star.” Shannon used her best movie promo voice as she spoke.

  “I’m really happy to sit this one out. You know, sleep for the next two days or so. I haven’t had a nap in about six years.”

  “You can nap tomorrow.” She parked the car. “But not right now. Come on. You could pretend to be excited about this, for me.”

  I glared at her, sighing in exasperation.

  “Pout all you want, woman. We’re still shopping.” And with that, she hauled me into the first boutique.

  ***

  By seven-forty-six, I sat, exhausted, in a limo in LA, going to a red carpet premiere. I was beginning to wonder if this was a hallucination or one hell of a super-realistic dream. Shannon seemed oblivious to my dazed state, which was probably for the best. This was a pretty big deal for her, so my supportive smile was pasted in place as Shannon explained what tonight’s fanfare was about.

  Shannon’s studio was promoting its new movie, her first real assistant director job. She had to help with PR. Not on the same level as the stars or the director, but she was expected to be there. She was pretty excited and very nervous. Somehow she thought I’d help her deal with that, which was why I’d reconciled myself to enduring the evening. My intent had been to blend into the background—a plan Shannon seemed determined to foil.

  “God, you look so amazing!” she said.

  I shook my head.

  She held her phone up and aimed, clicking a picture. “I’m going to send a picture of you to Natalie.”

  “I guess you can, since you got her the phone.” I shot her a look. Shannon had tried to get my daughter a phone when she turned nine, which had
been ridiculous. Now, four years later, I thought the phone was a pretty good idea.

  “She’s thirteen, Claire. Thirteen-year-olds have cell phones. I know where you live. Even kids there have cell phones.” She took another picture with a muttered “Smile” before she answered an incoming call.

  I sat, trying to calm my nerves as we drove to the cinema. Shannon’s afternoon of beautification had been glorious, no way to deny it. I’d been exfoliated and moisturized, massaged and plucked. I had no idea my hair could be so straight. I ran a hand over the soft tresses, distracted by their uncharacteristic smoothness. There was something unexpectedly seductive about the feel of my hair against my almost bare back—silk against skin.

  Shopping had been another matter. Shannon had accompanied me into the dressing room and the horror began.

  “Claire. You cannot be serious.” She’d stared at my white cotton utilitarian bra and underwear. “Those are so sad! We’re getting you some lingerie that fits.”

  “I don’t wear lingerie, Shannon. I wear underwear.” And yes, they were pathetic.

  “With this bod? You’ve got to try new things. Live a little. Try some ridiculously indecent and sexy stuff. Just to see.”

  And I’d tried on lingerie, evening attire, pajamas, shoes, pretty much anything Shannon could find that was in my size.

  Now here I was, wearing a lacy red thong and no bra under my teeny tiny dress, wobbling on ridiculously high strappy stilettos. You’re not going with the flow. Where was my gratitude? It had been a totally new—and not unpleasant—experience. I smoothed my skirt over my thighs again.

  “Stop fidgeting,” she said. “You look fantastic!”

  “Shannon, I’ve never worn anything remotely like this. Ever. I’m not sure I’m comfortable going out with so little on.” I held my arms out to encompass my complete transformation.

  “Well, happy birthday!” She smiled. “Thirty-five looks good on you, girl.”

  Shannon and the stylist, Francesca, had been delighted by the results. My hair had been colored, straightened, primped, and arrayed to look windblown. My eyes and lips were very dark and brooding, while my skin looked creamy and soft. I’d stared at my reflection in the salon mirror, slightly awed. I didn’t look like me, really, but I looked great. I stayed overwhelmed and stunned for the entire process. Normally I took thirty minutes to get ready, tops.

  I wasn’t sure which I should worry about more: falling on these heels or having a wardrobe malfunction with my dress. The dress was backless, falling into a low cowl at the very base of my spine. I felt like a sudden cool wind could expose my butt—Shannon had assured me it was there, covered, and looked terrific—to the world, while the front of the dress plunged down low enough to provide a tempting peek at my breasts. All in all, Shannon and the saleslady had “oohed” and “aahed” so much, and I’d been so done with shopping, that I’d let them pick. Now I seriously regretted that decision.

  When the limo stopped, the door opened and Shannon emerged to a throng of screams.

  I took a deep breath and clung to the driver’s hand as he helped me out of the car. My ankles teetered a bit on my new spiky heels. Shannon had a cruel sense of humor about appropriate footwear. I wobbled a bit before I took a cautious step toward Shannon, my steps measured and small.

  I was amazed. As much of a cinematic junkie as I was—and I definitely was—the lights, the screams, the people were more than I could have imagined. The flashes were momentarily blinding and the noise was completely deafening, a loud roar of unending squeals. I made my way slowly behind Shannon. I was introduced to Shannon’s assistant, Amy Mayes. Amy smiled and motioned me to her side, so that Shannon could do all the talking.

  I let my eyes wander as Shannon answered several questions effortlessly.

  “So excited. Just thrilled,” she was saying. “I’m just so happy to have been a part of this project. This film was such fun! We know it’s going to do well.” Amy barely tapped Shannon’s elbow—I assumed that was the signal to move on. Shannon thanked the reporter and moved a few feet down the carpet, smiling as the camera flashes continued.

  I blinked in an attempt to adjust to the rapid bursts of white light.

  I stumbled on a cord and tipped back, mortified. To fall, on the red carpet? I’d be forever humiliated.

  Two large hands caught me from behind.

  “Thank you.” I blushed as I looked back at my rescuer.

  “All right?” my savior asked with a clearly enunciated British accent.

  Not now I wasn’t.

  I knew without a doubt that I was staring. My heart was already pounding from my almost-accident, yet it picked up considerably. There had been air in my lungs, but it was gone now. The crowds, the photographers faded into the background.

  He was tall and broad, but lean versus thickly muscled. His dirty-blond hair was tousled, falling every which way. He had a strong profile, with a square jaw and classic chiseled features. His eyes were hazel, golden and mesmerizing, as he regarded me. He was young and absolutely gorgeous and my heart was pounding like a bass drum.

  I was mortified. Where was this reaction coming from? Why was I staring? And blushing? And speechless? He was a movie star, and years younger than me—as if that was relevant, for crying out loud.

  “Yes, thanks. Sorry,” I finally spoke, stammering a bit as I stepped out of his hold.

  “Josh!” Shannon gave him a one-armed hug.

  Amy led me off the main thoroughfare, giving me time to gather my wits about me. The press was snapping furiously at Shannon and Josh. Amy smiled at me, explaining, “This is his movie: Josh Wiley. He’s headlining; a break-out role. The studio just loves him!”

  I nodded. I could see why. If he was half as talented as he was handsome, the kid would have the world at his feet. My eyes traveled over the crowd. “They’re not alone.” Glossy pictures of him were waved frantically from amongst the crowd. A few held handmade signs praising his acting, his eyes, his voice—and other things that shouldn’t be on public display.

  Shannon spoke with Josh quickly, then gave him a peck on the cheek. A tiny twinge of envy shot through me before we headed off again.

  I was amazed; the line of reporters seemed endless. Amy led Shannon through them, kept her on time, and moved her along. After the first few interviews the questions lost some originality, and by then Shannon had her answers down pat. I let my eyes wander with a mix of horror and fascination at the clamor for attention taking place on both sides of the barricades. I knew I’d never be comfortable with this kind of attention.

  “It’s a bit of a madhouse.” Josh Wiley’s voice startled me. He was leaning forward so I could hear him.

  I nodded, determined to keep my eyes off him. “It can’t be good for your hearing.” I winced a bit as a loud chorus of “We love you, Josh!” came from the crowds.

  He smiled at me—a really beautiful blinding smile that set the girls off with more gusto. I felt a little weak-kneed myself, so I turned my attention back to Shannon, hoping Amy would be there to lead me away…quickly. Amy was there, but she snagged Shannon and moved on, leaving me stranded without a backward glance.

  “Keep me company?” He watched and waited. I was trying desperately not to stare back.

  “Um…” Please don’t look like an idiot. “Sure.” That was sweet of him, rather gallant, actually.

  “First premiere?” He was smiling at the flashing cameras. His eyes flickered over the crowd quickly. He waved slightly, eliciting more shrieks from the fans. His eyes were sparkling when he turned back to me.

  “That’s a rhetorical question, right?” I sounded nervous. I wasn’t sure, but my attempt to not stare at him didn’t seem to be working the way I would’ve liked.

  He moved closer, taking my arm to help steer me forward. The instant his hand closed on my arm, my skin tingled. I drew in a quick breath, aware my heart was racing. Our eyes met and he smiled another unbelievable smile. He leaned in closer, his mouth by my ear.
“Your accent.”

  “I have an accent?” I cocked an eyebrow, surprised. “Really?”

  He laughed, his eyes crinkling in the most devastating manner. I was distracted by his mouth, which seemed very close. “Somewhere in the South?” He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

  “I have a Texas accent?” I knew I sounded mortified. I was mortified.

  “Not Texas necessarily,” he drawled, his attempt at a Texas twang totally surprising and comically horrid.

  I laughed before I could catch myself, covering my mouth.

  His smile changed. I don’t know if I’d offended him, but he was staring at me. Not rudely, just intently. It was as if he was really seeing me for the first time, and that maybe he was intrigued by what he saw.

  A knot twisted in my stomach; an unsteady hitch echoed in my breath. My hand dropped from my mouth and I smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” His expression grew thoughtful as his eyes burned into mine expectantly. The knot tightened; warmth spread through my stomach and into my chest. Heat flooded my cheeks. After feeling nothing but apprehension in the presence of men, my reaction to Josh caught me completely off guard. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but decided not to analyze it. I doubted I’d ever see him again.

  “Sorry.” Shannon was at my elbow. “Sorry, sorry. Josh, thank you. Claire, I’m sorry. I’m like a deer in headlights.”

  My gaze dropped from his while I tried to breathe normally, though I felt his eyes still on my face. “I just need to keep up.” Did I sound as rattled as I felt? I didn’t look back as we walked away, but it took an effort.

  ***

  The movie was decent, a big-budget piece with lots of CGI, invigorating music, over-the-top action, and a completely predictable plot. By the end of the first fifteen minutes, I was totally smitten with Josh Wiley. Besides a beautiful face, amazing physique, and expressive hazel eyes, he had talent.

  After the movie credits rolled, Shannon and I climbed back into the limo. She sighed and giggled a little, then stared at me with expectant eyes. “Now the real fun begins.” Shannon shook off her shoes and curled up on the seat. “Spill.”