When Simon woke up, he found Ian and Gail sitting on either side of his bed, glaring at each other.
“Why all the hostility?” he muttered.
Gail came to her feet. “What hostility?”
Whatever they’d given him made him groggy, but even then he could tell she was covering up. “You two act like you want to choke each other.”
“So what’s new?” She laughed, and Ian did, too, but their eyes were cold when they met and their smiles seemed brittle.
“Something. I can feel it.” He glanced between them. “I thought we’d called a truce, that we were all playing on the same team again.”
“We are,” Gail told him. “Ask anyone—you and I are madly in love and having wild sex at your Beverly Hills mansion. Everything is fine. Right on track.”
Except that she was treating him like he’d lost his mind—was probably wondering what kind of crazy man she’d gotten involved with.
Damn... Somehow, despite all his good intentions and effort, he’d screwed up again. “Wild sex, huh? That’s what they think?”
“How do you feel?” Ian stood up, too.
Simon had never seen his business manager so serious. “Drugged. What happened?”
“You don’t know?”
He lifted his right hand to examine the bandage that made his arm look liked it ended in a club. “Nurses told me I cut my hand. They said it wasn’t too bad, but they were somber as shit and it has to be more than a scratch or I wouldn’t be here, right?”
Gail bumped up against the steel rail of his bed. “You don’t recall the accident?”
He honestly didn’t. The last thing he remembered was getting a text from Bella—a short video of her having sex with some guy and a note that said, Ty’s new daddy. “No, I was exhausted, completely out of it.” He realized how that sounded and hurried to amend his words. “But I wasn’t drinking. At least... I’m pretty sure I wasn’t drinking.” He’d considered it. Had he given in?
“No, you weren’t drinking,” she said.
“There’s a bright spot.” He grinned, but when she didn’t lighten up he stopped trying to charm her. “So...what? Are you backing out? Cutting me loose?” Why wouldn’t she? He knew how this looked. He could tell by some of the questions the doctor had asked that he hadn’t called for help when he should have.
They wondered if he’d purposely hurt himself. And maybe he had. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to attempt suicide by power saw, but subconsciously he might’ve been sabotaging his own efforts to reform, or trying to save himself from failing through lack of willpower. He’d always been his own worst enemy. His father told him that all the time, even though it felt more like his father was his worst enemy. Their relationship had never been a strong one, but recently they’d become completely estranged.
He let his eyes slide closed. “You’re off the hook, if you want.”
He expected her to jump at the chance, provided he agreed to a stipulation that saved her business, but she surprised him.
“That’s not what I want.”
Opening his eyes, he found her and Ian watching him a little too closely. He nearly assured them he was stable, that he could cope with whatever he had to, but he’d been saying that for too long. His actions hadn’t backed it up, so why bother? “Then, what is?”
She nibbled at her bottom lip. “I want to take you to Whiskey Creek.”
Had he heard her correctly? “Isn’t that where your family lives?” He didn’t bother hiding the skepticism in his voice.
“That’s right.”
“We already discussed it.”
“We did, but...” She folded her arms, which told him she was anticipating a fight. “A few things have changed since then and...now I think it’s imperative to the success of our marriage.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Why? What difference does it make whether or not I meet your family? Are you trying to drive me to drink?”
He thought she could at least smile at his joke, give him credit for the effort he was putting into pretending he was okay, but Ian piped up before she could react.
“It’ll mean canceling everything you’ve got going for the next three months.”
So Ian wasn’t excited about this change of plan.... Simon rubbed the beard growth on his chin. “I’ll miss starting my next movie.”
“Yes.”
“That’s a long time to be in Whiskey Creek.”
Gail stood taller. “Given your injury and our wedding, you have a good excuse, a believable excuse, to clear your schedule without losing face. Take the out. It’ll only make our marriage look more genuine.”
He scowled at her. “How is Whiskey Creek going to do that?”
“It’ll suggest you care enough to spend time with me and my family. And dropping out of public view will ultimately make it easier for you to regain custody of Ty.”
The sex video Bella had sent and those taunting words—Ty’s new daddy—floated to the forefront of Simon’s brain. The images turned his stomach. But it was the idea of the man who was screwing his ex-wife replacing him as his son’s father that hurt, as Bella knew it would. “You really believe it would make enough of a difference?”
“You couldn’t go wrong in Whiskey Creek even if you wanted to.”
He could go wrong anywhere. He’d proven it. But...she seemed so convinced and, whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was starting to trust her, certainly more than Ian. Ian had his strengths, but she was smarter, more disciplined. Just what he needed at the moment. “What would I do there?”
“Anything you want. I saw the playhouse you’ve been building. It’s amazing! You like working with wood. Why don’t we rent a house while you build us a bigger one?”
Building a house with his own two hands had always appealed to him. He felt a flutter of excitement, the first in a long, long while—but Simon refused to succumb to it. He didn’t want to be disappointed. “Are you setting me up?”
“Excuse me?”
“Your dad’s going to hate me.”
“He already does,” she said. “So does my brother. But you can win them over. You can win anyone over.”
She was offering him a chance to be a regular person for a while, a chance to step out of the limelight and catch his breath.
“This’ll cause damage to certain key relationships,” Ian warned. “You’re booked solid. And if I have to buy your way out of your next movie, it’ll be pricey.”
True, but his sanity was worth any amount. Simon had learned firsthand that even piles and piles of money couldn’t buy happiness. That cliché was a cliché for a reason.
“The producers of Hellion will freak out if you postpone too long,” Ian went on. “It’ll put them in trouble with the rest of the cast, studio time, everything.”
“If they can’t wait, they’ll have to find someone else,” Simon said.
“Seriously?” Ian looked stupefied.
Simon couldn’t imagine trying to make a movie in his current state of mind. “Seriously.” He turned to Gail. “Okay, we’ll go to Whiskey Creek.”
“You’ll do it?” She sounded skeptical, and he couldn’t blame her.
He thought of all the hours he’d spent aching for his son while standing or sitting in Ty’s room. Maybe it was time for a radical change. “Why not? Let your dad take his best shot.”
* * *
They needed to get married before doing anything else. Only if Simon was legally bound to her and couldn’t be easily relegated to the “temporary” category would Whiskey Creek even begin to accept him. Gail understood that, which meant they had to change the proposed timeline of their “courtship.”
Because she’d never been engaged and had no idea of the process required to make a marriage legal, she used her smartphone while sitting at Simon’s bedside to go online and figure out what they’d need to do to get a license.
Fortunately, it was going to be easy. As long as they had proper ID and proof of the dissolution of Simon’s marriage, they could pay a fee, get a license on the spot and be married shortly after. No need for a blood test; no need to go to Vegas.
But they had to appear at the county clerk’s office together, and Simon hadn’t yet been released from the hospital so it wouldn’t happen today.
Ian had stayed, too, although Simon was too drugged to do much talking. Mostly, he slept. There were moments when Gail was tempted to leave so she could prepare for their big move. But the number of hospital personnel who popped into the room bothered her. They all came in and fiddled with this or that, pretending to be on official business. However, Gail was convinced they were merely gawking at the big movie star, which felt wrong since he wasn’t even aware of them.
How many times did a guy with stitches need to be checked? she wondered. It wasn’t as if Simon had had a heart attack or any other problem that required such close monitoring. He just needed to catch up on his sleep, and medicating him made sure he was able to do that.
“Word is spreading,” she told Ian as the door closed on yet another visitor.
Simon’s business manager sat with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. “What are you talking about?” he asked, looking up.
“That’s the fifth nurse to come in here in under an hour.”
“I know. He’d probably be getting a blow job by now if you weren’t here.”
She could tell by the sulk in Ian’s voice that he was no longer happy to be involved with her. He’d expected her to keep Simon productive so that the next two years would run smoothly. Instead, she was pulling his client out of circulation. “Simon doesn’t need a blow job. He needs a break from all the celebrity worship and scrutiny.”
“You’re sure about that, are you? Why don’t we ask him if he’d like one of these cute little nurses to—”
“Stop it.” She rolled her eyes. Ian was being crude on purpose, trying to shock her. “I’ve got a novel concept—how about if we give Simon what he needs instead of what he wants?”
“He doesn’t need you to tell him what to do. He’s a grown man.”
She lowered her voice just in case Simon was nearing consciousness. “Who’s on the brink of total collapse! You asked me to help for a reason, remember? The fact that you’re fighting what’s best for him tells me you’re as bad as his other so-called friends. You’re all vultures, hoping to pick his bones.”
Ian shot to his feet. “That’s bullshit! I care more about him than you do.”
She stood, too. “Then prove it.”
“I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
“At least quit pouting. You’re driving me crazy.”
“Feel free to go home if you don’t like it.”
No way. That was exactly what he’d been hoping she’d do. Then he could try to talk Simon out of going to Whiskey Creek. “Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not leaving you alone with him.”
Ian leaned toward her. “What you’re doing is crap, you know that? You’re changing everything.”
“I’m making necessary adjustments.”
He combed his fingers through his hair, hesitated, then continued in a calmer voice, one meant to sway her. “Come on, I’ll go with one month, okay? One month is plenty of time for Simon to be gone. We can put the producers of his next movie off until his hand heals but that’s it.”
“Sorry. Simon has to be out of circulation long enough to feel it, to unwind and focus on other—”
Yet another nurse popped in, but she got only halfway through the door before the look on Gail’s face stopped her dead in her tracks. Mumbling a quick “Excuse me,” she ducked out as if she’d entered the room by mistake.
Ian whistled. “You’re a freakin’ pit bull.”
“You knew what I was like before you agreed to our deal.”
“I had no idea you’d talk him into quitting work!”
“He’s not quitting work, he’s taking a break so he’ll be able to salvage his relationship with his son and his career. And call me what you will, but now that I’m committed I’m going to do whatever it takes, so get used to it.”
Simon shifted in the bed but didn’t open his eyes. “Hey,” he said. “Could you guys argue somewhere else?”
How much had he overheard? Gail exchanged a glance with Ian that essentially asked that question. But she got the impression that Simon hadn’t been paying attention to much more than the harshness of their whispering.
“Sorry,” Ian muttered. “I think I’ll take off.”
Simon’s eyes opened. “I’m surprised you lasted this long. You must be bored stiff.”
“I thought you might need me, but...you’re in good hands with Attila the Hun over there.”
“Attila was a man,” Gail snapped.
“I know that,” he snapped back.
“Sure you did.”
Ian lunged forward and gnashed his teeth. “He was ruthless, right?”
Simon put up his good hand. “Whoa, what’d she do to you?”
“How can I get some of the nurses to give me their number if she’s chasing them off?” He smoothed his wrinkled shirt.
“You that desperate?”
“Desperate enough.”
Simon didn’t press him further. “Okay. Talk to you later.”
“I’ll get your schedule cleared,” Ian said, his tone letting them know that he still thought it was a mistake.
As the door swung shut behind Ian, Simon raised his bed and turned his attention to her. “What’s up between you two?”
Stiff from sitting all day, Gail rolled her shoulders. “I made it obvious that I wouldn’t let him get in my way, that’s all.”
“And he backed down?”
“I prefer to believe he realized I was right.”
“I don’t know....” He studied her with a frown. “A blow job is never a completely bad idea.”
So he’d overheard more than she’d assumed. “If you already knew what we were arguing about, why’d you ask?”
“Honestly? That’s the only part I can remember.”
She could tell he thought she’d snap at him, tell him to keep his priorities straight, but why would she? He wasn’t serious. She was beginning to believe he purposely painted himself as shallow and hedonistic so the people around him wouldn’t realize he was so sensitive. Somehow it was easier for him to outrage everyone than to allow them to see how deeply he was hurting.
“Enjoy your painkiller,” she said. “Because that’s all the feel-good you’ll be getting here.” She offered him a facetious smile. “And after that things will really go downhill because you’ll be married to me.”
“Wait, I’m the one who’s supposed to put you down.”
“We’re getting to know each other so well, I can actually predict what you’re going to say.”
He didn’t react to her sarcasm. “So...when’s the big day? I’m guessing it’s changed. You’ll want to be married before introducing me to Daddy, am I right?”
Of course he was right. Then Martin couldn’t talk her out of it or disapprove of their living together. “How’d you know?”
“You’ve got to have some way to make them accept such—what’d you call me? A dissolute movie star?”
He was slurring some of his words but she could still understand them. “You’re going to make them accept you, not me. But to answer your question, I say we marry as soon as you’re up and around.”
“I’ll be fine tomorrow. That’s when we’ll get our rings.” His eyes drifted shut. He seemed to be having trouble remaining lucid, but he managed to say something else. “You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want.”
Given his strained relationship with his family, who else would come? One of his bodyguards? His driver or a maid? That seemed so impersonal. “Sorry, but I’ve dedicated my entire day to beating back these nurses, and I won’t quit now.”
As if on cue, the door opened. When a male hospital worker walked in, Simon offered her a wry look. “I’m safe with this one.”
Gail was too preoccupied to respond to his joke. “Do you have some reason for being here?” she asked the young man.
A sheepish expression appeared on his face. “Actually, I’m a huge fan.” He held up paper and pen as his gaze darted in Simon’s direction. “I was wondering if...if maybe I could get an autograph. I’ve seen Shiver so many times.”
“If you don’t mind—don’t mind an X,” Simon said, but Gail knew he was too groggy to hold a pen. And it was his right hand that had been injured. This guy was probably a nurse or an X-ray tech or someone who should know better than to barge into a patient’s room without a legitimate reason.
“Get out and let him rest,” Gail said. “And if you don’t post a sign on the door saying that only authorized personnel are allowed in, I’ll file a complaint and then maybe a lawsuit.”
The man’s eyes rounded. “But... I didn’t mean to... What kind of lawsuit?”
“I’m sure a good attorney could think of something. If you like your job, you wouldn’t want to be the cause of all the trouble.”
“No, ma’am,” he said, and hurried out.
Simon chuckled. “Jeez, with you around who needs security?”
She sank into her chair, which felt no softer than it had before. “I’m glad you feel that way because you won’t have any security in Whiskey Creek.”
The humor fled his face. “I won’t?”
“No. No maids or chefs or drivers, either.”
He scowled. “Why the hell not?”
“It’s too insular, too alienating, especially in a place as small as Whiskey Creek.”
“Somebody’s got to cook.”
“I’ll do it if you’ll do the driving.”
“Are you any good?” he asked skeptically.
“I’m not bad.”
“Fine. Because I’m a hell of a driver. We’ll bring the Ferrari.”
She crossed her legs. “Do you want everyone to hate you even more?”
“Money’s the one thing I’ve got left. I might as well enjoy it.”
“Later. Otherwise, it’ll look like a shield—or an enticement. This is about creating a humble image of reform.”
He tried to adjust his pillow despite his bandaged hand. “You’re making your hometown sound like a real bitch.”
She’d been trying to make it sound like a second chance. That was what she believed it could be. And, unlike Ian, Simon understood, or he never would’ve agreed to go there. He even seemed a little excited by the opportunity, although she guessed that once the drugs wore off, he’d also be frightened by the challenge. It’d been a long time since he’d gone into any relationship on an even footing. In her estimation, that was why he had no true friends.
In Whiskey Creek, it would be different. Simon would be normal, just like everyone else, or as “normal” as someone so famous could be. She hoped that he’d engage others and develop some mutual trust and respect, self-sacrifice, deep feelings. Those were the things he needed right now.
“Most of them won’t kiss your ass, but you’ll survive,” she said.
“I can hardly wait.”
Chuckling, she called up the ESPN website on her phone. “Did you hear that the Lakers are taking on the Heat tonight?”
He rested his injured hand on his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Basketball.”
“I know that. I’m wondering why. You hate sports.”
“I’m beginning to rethink my position. Anyway, you used to be a big fan of the Lakers.”
“I haven’t been following them in preseason.”
He hadn’t been keeping up with a lot of the things he normally enjoyed. She thought that should be remedied, too. “I know. So?”
“So what?”
“They’ll be starting out strong if they win.”
“How many have they won?”
“Eight of their first ten games.” She filled him in on the details before going on to the rest of the sports news. Then she moved to other sites and shared snippets of information about Egypt, China, Sudan, anything that involved people outside the U.S. She hoped doing so would remind him that L.A. wasn’t the only city in the world, that there was much more out there than fame and the movie industry and his current problems.
Hearing about people being killed and driven out of their homes seemed to put it all in perspective.
“You think you’re smart, don’t you,” he said.
He’d caught on. She smiled innocently. “Excuse me?”
“How am I going to put up with you?”
“Pretending to love me will be the biggest challenge of your acting career.”
He didn’t respond for a few seconds. Then he said, “How many people live in Whiskey Creek?”
“Population 2,000, give or take a hundred.”
Sleepiness no longer seemed to be an issue. “And they’re all going to hate me?”
She dropped her phone in her purse. “Give or take a hundred,” she repeated.
His eyes narrowed. “I’ll have them eating out of my hand in a matter of weeks.”
“Glad to hear it.” She had no doubt he could do it; she just hoped she wasn’t one of them.