CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Two Little Words
A few hours after my disastrous lunch with Adam, I got a worried call from Nick. Someone from his agent’s office had been having lunch at Bouchon and witnessed the whole thing. He said he wasn’t jealous, just concerned for me, which was nice to hear, even if I only half believed it. I wanted to see him, but our weekend of debauchery had left me sore and exhausted. We agreed he’d come to my place for dinner the following night. It gave me a chance to pursue other sources, since Adam was a dead end. Whether I uncovered anything or not, I promised myself I’d come clean with Nick when I saw him.
I made some calls to other reporters and asked if they’d heard about any big celebrity exposé in the works. Though I didn’t mention Nick’s name, he invariably came up, not in the context of a scandal but in reference to me. He wasn’t just an eligible bachelor in Hollywood, he was considered an unattainable one. And rumor had it I’d landed him. I had to evade a dozen questions about our relationship, but didn’t turn up anything useful for the story. I moved on to the internet. I’d researched him before the junket, so I knew the results would be limited, but I figured it was worth another try. All that came up was the same few facts I already knew. Born and raised in Seattle. University of Washington, or “U-Dub,” as it was known to students and alumni. There weren’t even pictures of him before 2009. It was like he had no past. Frustrated, I blew off some steam by going for a run in Griffith park, took a shower, and called Madison. But none of my usual stress outlets did anything to ease the knot of anxiety tightening in my chest.
By the time Nick showed up at my apartment the next night I hadn’t made any more progress. I hadn’t been working on the pitch at all. Instead, I’d spent the day planning out what I was going to say to him and shopping for a bottle of good, expensive wine to loosen us up. I set out the wine and a pair of glasses on the coffee table, along with bowls of nuts and olives, and some of the stinky gourmet cheese he liked. I wanted him to feel at ease, like he could trust me, though after what happened the last time I’d been assigned to write about him I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t.
As soon as I opened the door, though, Nick upended my plans with three little words: “Let’s go out.”
He was dressed for it. He had on a slim grey slacks and a sharp vest over a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves. He looked almost as dashing as the night he’d first kissed me. I breathed him in, so much better than the shirt I had stashed under my pillow.
“Out?” I said, surprised. “Like out out?”
He stepped through the door and closed it. “Ooh, nice,” he said, noticing the spread on the table. He sat down on the couch and popped an olive into his mouth. “I’m tired of hiding. Fuck it. Everyone knows anyway. Let’s go public.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that,” I admitted, taking a seat next to him.
“I know.” He scooped up a small handful of nuts and ate them, one at a time, with pinched fingers. “We’ll start small. I bought out Craig’s for the night. It’ll be just you and me.”
“A whole restaurant to ourselves? That’s not exactly public.”
“Like I said, one step at a time.” He took my hand and squeezed it.
Another thought occurred to me. “What about the paparazzi?” It was a miracle we’d gone this long without having our pictures splashed over every supermarket tabloid.
“If they’re there we’ll deal with it. You might as well get used to them.” He leaned over and gave me a salty kiss. It still stunned me when he did that. There were times when I saw him as Nick, my sweet boyfriend with the delicious body and dazzling smile. Other times I saw Nick Archer the movie star, who dove off piers and appeared on magazine covers and made women swoon. It wasn’t always easy to reconcile the two — one was in love with me and the other was loved by millions of strangers.
The kiss became deeper, more sensual, our tongues intertwining. He ran his hands through my hair, down my back. My head was swimming, for a whole mess of reasons. He broke away, a glint in his eyes. “We have some time before the reservation,” he said, eyebrows raised.
I was not built to resist him, so I said, “I’m sure we can think of something to do,” and kissed him again.
I could feel his smile against my lips as he guided me down towards the couch cushions. He wedged my legs apart with his knee, positioning himself between them. He was wearing too many layers, so I unbuttoned his vest and helped him out of it and then pulled his shirt over his head. Now bare-chested, he lowered himself back down, muscles flexing as he held himself over me. We found our familiar rhythm, hips grinding against each other in a way that drove me wild with need. He awakened emotions in me I’d never felt with anyone before — passion, connection, and a powerful longing that split me open every time we were close. I loved the way he reacted to my touch and the expressive sounds that escaped him when he gave up control. We shed the rest of our clothes with haste and lost ourselves to the sweet oblivion of our perfect union.
As our panting breaths slowed he settled behind me on the couch, one arm around my shoulder, the other resting between my breasts. I reached for my phone to check the time.
“It’s already 7:15.” I showed Nick the display on my phone. “When’s the reservation?”
“8:00. We should probably get moving.”
Though I would have been happy to stay with him like that all night, I was looking forward to having dinner together in an actual restaurant, with menus and waiters, like regular people. Well, regular people who had the ability to reserve an entire restaurant for themselves for the night. There was just one thing I had to do first.
“Before we go, I have to make a quick call,” I said. I gave him one more kiss, then left him there, flushed and naked on my couch.
I cleaned myself up in the bathroom, then went into my room and threw on some comfy clothes. I’d promised Jackie I wouldn’t ghost her again and I was going to keep that promise. She would have to accept that I wasn’t going to be an embedded — no pun intended — reporter in the life of Nick Archer. Or she could fire me. Honestly, I didn’t care anymore. I would be there for Nick, in whatever way he needed me.
She picked up right away. “Kate. I’d all but given up on you,” she said. “What have you got for me?”
“I don’t have anything,” I told her. ”I’m sorry, but I’ve thought about it and I’ve decided it’s unethical for me to cover Nick while I’m in a relationship with him. I’m not going to do it.”
“That’s your final decision?”
“It is. I have some other ideas to pitch to you, though,” I switched the phone to my other ear and climbed on the bed, knees tucked underneath me. I had a notebook sitting at the bottom of a desk drawer filled with ideas. There wasn’t time to grab it now, so I gave her my best one. “How about an investigation of the use of steroids in Hollywood? It’s just as pervasive as professional sports, but nobody talks about it. I have some sources I could contact. Maybe get a doctor on the record—”
“Stop,” she said, cutting me off.
“Excuse me?” I gestured with my hands, though I knew she couldn’t see them.
“I don’t want to hear any other pitches. I gave you an assignment. I told you it was your last chance. Do you want to be an entertainment journalist or not?”
The more I thought about it, the clearer the answer became. “I guess I don’t.” As soon as I heard myself say it I knew it was true. If the only way to move up from being a glorified stenographer was violating my principles and hurting someone I cared about, it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life.
“Then we’re going to have to have another chat. My office. Tomorrow morning.”
“If you’re planning to fire me, don’t bother. I quit.”
She didn’t skip a beat. “Okay, then. I’ll need your written resignation in an e-mail, and copy HR. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up. Is this effective immediately or are you giving two-weeks notice?”
The escalation and finality of it was staggering. Jackie didn’t mess around. When I made the call I expected she’d be pissed, but understanding given the ethical predicament she’d left me in. I should have known there were no third chances with her. Maybe she was right and I was being naive. Now that I was unemployed, though, it was like a weight had been lifted.
“Immediately,” I said.
“You’ve been a good employee up until now so I’ll give you the rest of the week to reconsider. Otherwise, I’ll look for that e-mail on Friday.”
I didn’t need the rest of the week. I’d already started composing it in my head.
I returned to the living room and was somewhat disappointed to find Nick fully dressed on the couch. He was hunched over his phone, nibbling on a piece of cheese, and didn’t hear me enter. I leaned against the archway in the hall and watched him. He was a different person when he thought he was alone. Sadder. He didn’t just act for the cameras, he put on a show for everyone all the time, even me. I saw it sometimes when he was too tired to keep up the facade, the weight of his secrets. My heart ached for him. Whatever pain was in his past, it followed him around like a ghost only he could see.
I stepped into the room and he turned his burnt-out eyes to me. It took a moment, but the clouds parted and the Nick I knew shined through again.
“Is that what you’re wearing?” he joked, referring to my threadbare shirt and workout shorts. “I’m suddenly feeling overdressed.” He noticed my pensive face and his smile faded. “What’s wrong?”
“I just quit my job.” I flopped down on the couch. I should have been freaking out, but I was calmer than I’d been in a long time.
“Seriously?” He put his arm around my shoulders.
“Yep. I’m officially unemployed. Well, I have to e-mail my resignation. But basically it’s done.”
“Wow. Are you okay?” He was prepared to pick up the pieces if I fell apart.
“I’m great, actually,” I said. The future was uncertain, but for the first time I felt like I was in control of it. He gave me an incredulous look. I took his hand. “No, really. I feel . . . free.”
“What happened?”
I took a deep breath and extracted myself from his embrace so I could face him. This wasn’t how I’d planned to tell him, but I couldn’t keep it from him any longer. “Jackie wanted me to write a story about you. Apparently someone has been going around trying to sell some information about you to magazine publishers. She wanted to beat them to it. I was trying to find out more so I could head them off.”
“You were investigating me? For a story?” The hurt expression on his face pained me. I didn’t want him to think of me as a reporter first and girlfriend second, though admittedly that’s how I thought of myself at times.
“No. Maybe. I don’t know. I’m definitely not going to write it now.”
He relaxed a bit, though his voice was strained. “You could have asked me.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I knew more. I guess I was trying to protect you. It sounds stupid now.”
“No, I appreciate what you were trying to do. I can’t say I’m surprised.”
I wanted to help, but how could I when I didn’t know what haunted him? “Nick. I know there are things you haven’t told me about your past. It’s okay. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. But I’m here if you need to talk.”
“I know. Soon. Not tonight. For now, I think we both need a night out.”
I expected him to be more shaken by the news, upset, mad, something. But he just sat there, his expression fixed and blank. “You seem pretty calm, considering,” I said.
“There’s nothing I can do about it tonight. So we might as well have a good time.”
He wasn’t wrong. I returned to the bedroom and put on a nice dinner dress. Some dangly earrings, a few light touches of makeup, and a pair peep-toe heels completed the outfit. I twisted back and forth in front of my antique full-length mirror, inspecting myself. I looked more put-together than I felt. The relief of quitting my job was starting to fade as panic and uncertainty set in.
Over my shoulder I caught Nick leaning against my doorframe, quietly observing me as I’d observed him earlier. He came in and stood behind me. “You look great,” he said to my reflection. “Are you up for this?”
“Sure.” I wasn’t fooling anyone.
“It’s going to be fine,” he said, wrapping his arms around my waist. I really wanted to believe him.