It was exactly what I thought it would be. No, actually, it was so much fucking better.

It was like coming home. But it was like coming home to find that your house had grown up and gotten a fantastic fucking pair of tits.

Okay, maybe that metaphor’s pretty fucked and mixed to hell but whatever. Kissing Tara was better than I expected, and I had some high expectations.

I’ve been thinking about seeing her again and finally kissing her one more time for years. There were some dark points overseas where the thought of holding Tara in my arms one more time kept me fucking going. I thought about her over and over again, used the memories I had of the two of us to keep me going. She’ll probably never really know how much she saved my life. There’s no way she could understand, even if I tried to explain.

I’m understandably distracted an hour after I finally got to kiss the woman I’ve been dreaming about for so long when my agent calls me.

“You got dinner plans,” Mickey says to me.

“I do?” I ask him, just getting into my apartment.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ do, so get dressed. There’s a car coming in an hour.”

I smile to myself. Normally this would annoy me. I hate when Mickey forces me into these last minute fucking glad-handing networking bullshit dinners, but whatever. I’m in a good mood today.

“All right,” I say to him.

He pauses. “That’s it? Just all right?”

“Yeah,” I say. “What, you want me to argue?”

“Hell no. The producer of your film wants a meeting with you, so you better be on your best behavior.”

That gets my attention. “Any specific reason?”

“Not that I know of. Just go and enjoy a free meal on their dime.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

“Have fun. Be charming!” He hangs the phone up before I can tell him that I’m always fucking charming.

I’m still in a good damn mood as I shower up and get changed. I’m in the back of the car exactly an hour later, still smiling to myself and still reliving that kiss over and over in my mind.

The car takes me up into the hills, and the houses get bigger and bigger. Eventually it stops outside this fucking huge mansion, which I assume is the producer’s place. I don’t know much about him, although I know he’s filthy rich and named Harold. I’m sure I was told more, but I don’t really pay attention sometimes when Mickey goes on and on about the important people.

I ring the bell and a man wearing a waiter’s outfit opens the door. He leads me in through this huge entrance hall, complete with a chandelier that probably costs as much as my car, and out through the back.

The porch is large and mostly open, with a beautiful view of a deep, gorgeous in-ground pool and the sprawling LA cityscape spread out below. The sun is setting slowly as I step over toward the table and size up what I’m dealing with.

Sitting at the head of the table is Harold. I vaguely recognize him from the first table reading. He stands up and grins at me. He’s balding, with a hawkish nose and deep-seated blue eyes. He’s shorter than I am, though most people are.

Next to him is a guy I don’t know. He’s shorter than Harold, with thick dark hair and a dour expression on his face.

And sitting across from him is Holly Hart.

“Jackson!” Harold says, coming over to me. “Great of you to come, I’m really glad.”

“Yeah, of course,” I say, shaking his hand.

“This is Franklin, an executive from the studio.” The other guy nods at me and I nod back. “And of course, you know Holly.”

“Evening, stranger,” Holly says, smiling at me.

I smile back. “Evening, lady.”

“Come on, sit down. Food’s ready if you’re hungry.”

I take my seat at the other end of the table and a waiter appears with a tray of food. I take a little surf and turf type deal, with a lobster tail and a nice cut of steak. He also hands me a glass of whisky. Obviously they did their homework about me.

“You know, Jackson, the studio thinks this movie could be huge,” the executive says as I dig into my steak. I’m fucking starving.

“I bet,” I say to him. “We’re killing it. All thanks to Holly.”

“No, we hear it’s all thanks to you,” Harold says quickly.

I glance over at Holly and she frowns but says nothing.

“Really, Jackson, I saw a daily. Those action scenes? How do you do it?” Harold asks.

“I just picture the Taliban and go from there.” I grin at him a little bit. SEAL shit like that usually goes over well.

Both men laugh and Holly just gives me a polite smile. She’s not buying my bullshit, which is fine by me.

“Seriously, it’s all the training and the stunt guys. I just do what I’m told,” I continue, sipping my drink.

“Well, whatever it is, keep doing it,” Harold says.

The others start eating and I notice that Holly looks a little nervous. I don’t know why, but she’s not looking at me. Things have been weird since I rejected her, but I don’t think that’s the reason.

“Tell me, Jackson, how’s that director working out?” Franklin the studio guy asks me.

I shrug a little bit. “He’s fine. A little weird. But he knows what he’s doing.”

“We’ve heard stories,” Franklin says. “Are you sure you’re comfortable with him?”

I narrow my eye in his direction. “Would it matter if I’m not?”

“Of course it would,” Harold says, cutting in. “We want you to be happy.”

I look at them a little and shrug. “He’s good. I’m comfortable.”

They nod and smile at me, but I’m feeling a little weird. Actually, this whole thing is strange. Why is Holly here, and why would both of these guys need to be at this one dinner? These are two powerful guys, they don’t take meetings like this for no reason.

I finish off my steak and sip my drink as conversation turns to trivial things. Holly is quiet so Harold does most of the talking. When everyone is finished and leaning back in their chairs, I notice Franklin giving Harold a little look, and I don’t like it one fucking bit.

“So boys,” I say to the two men. “I have to ask this. Why are you two sitting down with both me and Holly right now?”

Harold smiles a little at that. “You don’t like to play games, huh?” he asks me.

“Not really,” I admit. “I’m just wondering why the producer and a studio executive would want to have this little meeting.”

The two men share a smile and Harold sighs. “Okay, so you see through it. This isn’t some social call.”

Holly turns ghostly white. I try and ignore that. She’s been in this business longer than I have, and I can only imagine what she’s thinking right now. Maybe we’re about to get fired or something.

“Here’s the thing,” Harold continues. “Like I said, we all think this movie can be big… and we think it can benefit from some publicity.”

“You see,” Franklin cuts in, “your relationship with Holly here is an integral part of the film, right?”

I hesitate a second. “You mean the relationship our characters have,” I say to him.

“Not exactly,” Harold says. “I mean literally, your relationship with Holly.”

I glance at her and she looks back. She smiles a little sheepishly, but the color’s returning to her cheeks.

“Spell it out for me,” I say to Harold.

“We want you and Holly to date,” he says simply.

I stare at him for a second and then start laughing. I can’t help myself, it’s just such an absurd thing to say. Holly looks a little insulted.

“What’s wrong with dating me?” she asks me.

“Nothing, nothing at all,” I say, grinning my face off. “It’s just, goddamn, are you really asking me to date her for the sake of the movie?”

Harold smiles a little and exchanges another look with Franklin. “This isn’t unheard of,” he says to me. “Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise did it for years. Brad and Angelina. Jay Z and Beyoncé.”

“Wait, hold up,” I say, shocked. “You mean Jay Z and Beyoncé aren’t really in love?”

Harold laughs and gestures at me. “This is Hollywood, Jackson. Nothing is real here, not even the music people.”

I’m fucking appalled. I feel like my whole world is collapsing. If Jay Z and Beyoncé aren’t really in love, then nothing is true. I don’t know if I can even believe in real love anymore.

“It won’t be so bad,” Holly says. “My last boyfriend was fake.”

“It’s a tried and true promotional thing,” Franklin adds. “People love seeing movies where the leads are together in real life.”

“It’ll supercharge the box office,” Harold says. “You two date, do the press tour together, and when the movie comes out on DVD, you break up.”

“Which’ll drive DVD sales,” Vincent chimes in.

“Fucking hell, you guys have it all planned out,” I say, shaking my head and smiling.

Harold smiles at me, leaning toward me over the table. “Look, Jackson, I know you’re new at this, but trust me. This is a regular part of it. Your relationship with Holly won’t be real.”

I glance at her again and she shrugs a little at me. “Like I said, I’ve done it before. So I wouldn’t mind giving it another shot.”

I sigh and sip my drink, stalling for time. They’re all looking at me, waiting for me to say something, but I don’t know what to say.

“I’m not interested,” I say finally.

Vincent and Harold exchange another look. “I think that’s a mistake,” Harold says.

“Why?” I ask him. “Going to replace me, reshoot everything I already did? Truth is, guys, I hate this Hollywood shit. I’m not selling myself that much.”

I push back from the table and stand. Harold stands with me and walks by my side as I head back through the house.

“Okay, Jackson, listen, just think about it,” he says to me. “Understand? Just think about it.”

“Nothing to think about,” I say to him as I reach the front door. “But if you’ve got something real for me, come and find me.”

He smiles at me. “I gotta say, I respect you for standing up like this, but it’s a mistake.”

“Maybe,” I say with a little shrug. “We’ll see.”

I push out the door and head back down the driveway toward the car that’s still waiting for me.

I can’t do this fake relationship shit, not when Tara is already jealous of Holly. It’ll wreck her and wreck what he have. We just kissed and she’s finally starting to open up to me a little bit. If I do this fake relationship, it’ll destroy her.

I won’t do that to her again. I can’t do it. Even though they’re making it sound like a totally normal thing, it’s fucking not. I won’t get sucked into the Hollywood way of thinking and looking at things, not if I can help it.

I’m above that, or at least I want to be. I need to do better, for her sake as well as for my own.