The Love Script, page 15
I bit my lip. How had a mere kiss directed us to a boundaries conversation? What was I doing with Lamont? Where could this relationship possibly go? Though maybe the bigger question was, How could I keep my heart safe through the process? I knew a kiss would only hook my feelings in further. Now Lamont was talking about linking with a person. I’d heard talks about why abstinence was so important. Was I ready to marry Lamont in the eyes of God?
I couldn’t possibly be blessed enough to ride off into the sunset with the leading man, could I? That wasn’t the current script or direction my life was going.
“You okay?” Lamont asked.
I nodded. “Thinking.” We needed a change in topic. “What should I expect tonight?” I’d never done anything like this before.
“A lot of schmoozing. Some celebrities will be polite, and some will show you their true selves, which won’t make you a fan.”
I wondered which celebrities were snobs and which were genuinely nice. “So I should . . . ?”
“Be yourself. We’ll mingle with the cast, sit through the charity dinner, and maybe even dance.”
“That sounds nice.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do.”
The car slowed, and I attempted to peer out of the tinted windows. “Are we here already?”
“Looks like. You ready for this?”
With the way my insides went on high alert, probably not. Except there was no turning back. “I’ll have to be.”
Lamont held out his hand. “I’ll be with you the whole night. We’ve got this.”
“Then let’s go.” I slid along the bench seat, took his hand, and sighed.
Lamont lowered the partition. “We’re ready.”
“I’ll be right around, then.”
The partition closed, and Lamont looked at me. “There will be lots of flashes. Trick is to look down the red carpet. If we need to stop and talk with a reporter or pose for a picture, I’ll squeeze your hand. If we’re answering questions, I’ll wrap an arm around you and respond to the question first. If it’s a picture, I’ll whisper, ‘Smile,’ and guide us into a pose. Good?”
I nodded as my mind shouted, No, no, not ready!
Lamont stepped out of the sedan, and immediately, flashes went off. Somehow, he ignored them, turning toward me to offer his palm. Thank the Lord I could squeeze the life out of it as I came to my feet and did my best to look unaffected. Was this why stars wore sunglasses on the red carpet? Here I always thought the reason purely egotistical, but they were probably saving their retinas from flashbulb trauma.
Lamont and I strolled down the walkway as if we had all the time in the world. Thank goodness I skipped dinner, or my stomach would have ejected the contents, making headlines for mortifying reasons.
“Lamont, over here! Lamont!”
Left and right, journalists clamored for his attention. It wasn’t until a Christian vlogger—seriously, Ann Grace was shoulder to shoulder with other reporters—called out to him that he squeezed my hand and guided us over, placing his arm around my shoulders.
“Lamont and Nevaeh, thank you for stopping by. Inquiring minds want to know what your favorite Bible verse is and why that verse?” She thrust her recording device near Lamont’s mouth.
“That’s easy. I have Ezekiel 36:26 framed and hanging in my room. Knowing that God reformed me and gave me a new heart and spirit is a great reminder that I don’t have to be bound by my past.”
My heart turned over. This was why I agreed to be Lamont’s girlfriend. He was shining his light for all to see.
“What about you, Ms. Richards?” The device sprang in front of me, and I blinked.
Yikes. I was supposed to tell them my favorite verse? The past two Sundays, I’d attended church with Lamont. Seeing how focused he was, how well he knew the Bible, made me question the depth of my faith. I didn’t believe going to church made him better than me per se, but it had certainly given him a thorough knowledge I didn’t possess. After attending services, I’d been convicted to read my Bible again, starting in Psalms. I searched my memory.
“Since I’ve met Lamont, he’s been such an encouragement to my own faith. Psalm One, verse two, not only reminds me of how Lamont views his faith, but how the Lord wants me to see it as well.”
“But his delight is in the law of the LORD, and in His law he meditates day and night.”
I really did need to take the time to think about the Word day and night. I had no problem sending a prayer heavenward, but studying the Bible had never been a priority. Maybe I’d frame the psalm and place it on my nightstand as a reminder to maintain God’s priorities. Or I could write it on a sticky note and stick it on my mirror.
“Thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Lamont stated. He squeezed my hand, and we started walking away.
We posed a few more times and spoke with a fashion columnist who wanted to know the designers we were wearing. Thank goodness I’d had the good sense to look at the label before dressing, granted the name written in gold script on the box cover had been a dead giveaway.
Finally, we entered the Griffith Observatory. I let out a breath and stared up at the ceiling, taking in the mural depicting the gods the planets were named after. A nearby plaque even mentioned the star of Bethlehem featured in the mural. I exhaled, letting the tension slowly seep from my body.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Lamont asked, leaning close and pulling me from gawking.
“It’s a wonder you celebrities aren’t blind.”
“Give me a few more years.”
I grinned up at him, but the sound of heels clicking against tile alerted us to company.
“Incoming,” Lamont whispered.
I tensed as Blake Smythe strolled toward us, a model wearing impossibly high heels on his arm. The source of the clacking I’d heard. Oh, that was his new wife. The one younger than his youngest child. No judgment, Nevaeh.
“Lamont, good to see you here.” He shook hands, then pointed toward his wife. “This is my wife, Esilda.”
“Nice to meet you.” Lamont slid an arm around my waist. “This is my girlfriend, Nevaeh.”
“Lovely to meet you.” Esilda spoke with a beautiful Spanish accent.
“Likewise.” We shook hands, though she obviously hadn’t gotten lessons on handshakes like my father had given me. Her palm fell against mine like a noodle to the kitchen wall.
“Do you guys know where you’re sitting?” Blake asked.
Were there assigned seats? Somehow, I’d imagined us standing around trying to outdo one another in the looks department before hearing a boring speech, then being permitted to dance while spending a preposterous amount of money.
Lamont pulled out an invitation from his suit pocket. “We’re at table five.”
“We’re at table six. Maybe we can sit near each other. Who knows what kind of bores they’ll put at my table.”
“How many are at a table?” I asked.
“Eight,” Blake answered. “The tables are pretty big so no one will step on any toes. It’s on the lower floor.”
“Let’s go find our seats,” Lamont suggested.
I nodded.
“See you, Blake.”
“We’ll sit after we grab some drinks. It’s an open bar, my friend.”
Lamont nodded, then he placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me away.
“I’m sorry.”
“What for?” His brows shot up.
“You’ll have to rub elbows with him all night.”
Lamont chuckled. “Not like I haven’t before. At least he doesn’t pretend to like you, then spread rumors behind your back like some other celebrities.”
“How do you live like this?” I murmured.
“With God reminding me of my blessings and what’s real. All this—” he tilted his head—“this is all just another stage. Reality is within my four walls.”
Did that mean he didn’t feel reality with me? What about the kiss in the car? Before I could ask, one of the leading ladies of Sands of Time stopped us.
“Lamont Booker, don’t you look as fabulous as People claimed.” She winked, then leaned forward to air-kiss his cheek. “Now introduce me to your girlfriend.”
“Rebecca Lane, this is Nevaeh Richards. Nevaeh, meet Ms. Lane.”
“Call me Rebecca, darling. I may be ancient, but I don’t stand on titles. They’re a bore.”
“They can be.”
“What do you think of the event?” She gestured around us.
I took my time staring at the gold stars hanging from the ceiling and the serving staff in their suits holding golden trays of fluted champagne. “I think the place is stunning.”
“Do be sure to go outside and get a picture of the view. Your social followers will go green with jealousy, and hopefully the event will get more accolades.”
Well, that was pointed.
“We were just making our way to our seats,” Lamont said.
“Oh, don’t be boring, Lamont. Mingle with the others before sitting down. Don’t worry, there’ll be a five-minute warning to get to your seats before the speeches start.”
“Thanks, Rebecca.”
“That was Rebecca Lane,” I whispered as Lamont steered us around the room.
“Are you a fan?”
“Rebecca Lane, boyfriend. Rebecca. Lane.”
He smirked, then nodded. “And there’s Philip Draver. Do you want to meet him?”
“I think I’m going to puke.”
“You didn’t wear that offensive shapewear again, did you? If so, we’re heading straight for the bathroom.”
“You can’t take it off me,” I hissed.
“So you did wear it?”
“If you were me, you might have been tempted to double up.”
Lamont rolled his eyes, a ghost of a smile flirting with the edges of his lips. “There is nothing wrong with your figure, other than you trying to strangle it every time you wear a dress.”
“Booker, fancy meeting you here.”
A tall man I had never seen before stopped beside us.
“Dan!” Lamont shook his hand, then introduced me to him. “Nevaeh, this is my producer for the current film.”
“Nice to meet you.”
Dan gave a nod, then turned, effectively blocking me out of the conversation. I tried my best not to let my emotions show all over my face, and judging from the twitch developing in my right eye, I was losing.
I scanned the room to see a few of the celebrities—ones I had seen on the news, the newsstand, and my social feed, and a tiny select few in my styling chair—staring at me. What were they thinking? Were they watching me get snubbed?
Before I could react, Lamont finished his conversation and reached for my hand. “Let’s go sit.”
“Are you sure? You don’t want to mingle?” Not that I wanted to, but hadn’t we arrived to be seen?
“Nah. We’ll save the rest of our energy for dancing. Okay?”
I nodded, but was pretty sure dancing would just put us even more on display. I didn’t want people measuring the size of my body and comparing it to my uber-handsome boyfriend. Right now, I wanted an oversized tee, leggings, and ice cream. Not fluted champagne, a designer dress that cost more than my last paycheck, and judgmental celebrity stares.
Unfortunately, this was the life I had agreed to. But was being Lamont’s girlfriend worth it?
Twenty
Lamont opened the door to his trailer and dragged his weary body inside. This morning’s taping had been brutal. He could easily picture himself in an ice bath like athletes used after a grueling game. A sandwich to get rid of the hunger gnawing at his gut also sounded like a dream.
“Surprise.”
He glanced up from his leaden feet to see Nevaeh in his trailer. “How are you here?”
Her dimples winked at him. “Your mom gave me the great idea when I saw her earlier to do her hair.” She held up an insulated grocery bag. “I brought you some lunch.”
If he didn’t close his mouth soon, flies would find a new landing pad. “Thank you so much.” He trudged over to her, holding out his arms for a hug.
Nevaeh held out her palm, arm stretched out and head tilted back. “You may need to shower before lunch.”
“Right.” He looked down at the sweat marks on his white tee that had been under his costume. “Give me five minutes.”
“Make it ten.”
He laughed. “I promise I’ll come out smelling clean.” At least he hadn’t landed in horse droppings like he had during yesterday’s taping.
“You better,” she called.
Lamont rushed to the back room, where he’d stored clean clothes to change into. Judging by the low number of shirts and shorts, the stash would need to be replenished soon. He raced through the shower and came out seven minutes later.
His body ached less, but some pain reliever and a good meal should fix him up. He walked back toward the dining area and stopped. Nevaeh buzzed around the table, placing containers here and there. She had a wisp of a smile across her lips as she hummed a song under her breath. Lamont came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her cheek.
“Thank you for this.” He dropped his arms before he was tempted to turn the small peck into something more.
“Of course. When your mom said you guys would be filming in Studio City, the idea came to mind.”
“You didn’t have to work at The Mane Do?”
“Nope. It’s a non-salon day, but I do have two more appointments.”
Lamont held out a chair for her, then sat across from her. He took a pickle spear and bit into it. “Do you prefer the salon over personal visits?”
She tilted her head. “I do like travelling to the clients. Only sometimes they’ll request makeup too.” Her nose scrunched up.
“You do makeup too?”
“Yes, but when I work on set, it’s usually hair only.”
“Why’s that?”
“Personal preference.” She shrugged. “I don’t have the passion to do someone’s makeup and have them looking like a Sith or something equally detailed. I don’t mind doing that as a one-off, but not day in and day out.”
“But you don’t mind doing hair daily?”
She shook her head. “It’s fun. It’s like playing with dolls.”
“Oh, well, obviously that’s awesome.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, then took a bite of her sandwich.
Lamont chuckled at her antics. “You know, I was just dreaming of sandwiches when I came into my trailer.” He paused. “How did you get into my trailer?” He always left it locked.
“Bryan saw me. Which reminds me.” She got up and grabbed a stack of papers from the couch. “He has a new endorsement offer.”
“That’s the fifth one since the Luminary article.”
Her mouth dropped. “You’ve been getting new endorsements?”
“Just offers. I haven’t agreed to any yet.”
“But there are some you’ll agree to?” She took a sip of her drink.
“Definitely. As long as they adhere to my brand, I don’t have a problem submitting to their terms. Unless they’re downright unreasonable.”
“Give me an example.”
Lamont thought as he chewed on the turkey sub. “I had a sports drink company who wanted me to represent them. However, in their contract they listed I could only drink their products. I considered that caveat to be unreasonable and turned down the offer.”
“How much were they offering to pay you?”
“Twenty-nine million dollars.”
Nevaeh’s eyes bugged out, and she thumped a hand on her chest as she sputtered.
“You okay?” He rubbed circles in the middle of her back.
Her head bobbed, and she gulped her drink. After a few seconds, she spoke. “You said no to twenty-nine million dollars?”
“As much as a sports drink can help me combat dehydration on the set, I don’t only drink those. I like bottled water, sodas, or—”
She held up a hand. “I get it. But for twenty-nine million dollars, don’t you think you could learn to like only sports drinks?”
“I take it you’d only drink one product for that much?”
“Bathe in it, use it as hair dye, whatever.”
He tried to suppress his amusement, but he never could around her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So what’s this deal for?”
Lamont scanned the documents. “A start-up company wants me to wear their apparel.”
“That’s interesting. What do you have to do, and how much will they pay you?”
“Looks like they’ll pay only if they see an increase in sales.”
“That seems a little ridiculous.”
“Agreed. It’ll go in the no pile.”
“What have you said yes to?”
“I’m praying over one. It looks like a good fit, and the contract is sound. It’s for a company that clothes the homeless.”
Nevaeh frowned. “Then can they afford to pay you?”
“Their business model is tried and true. You purchase a clothing item, and that same item will go to a shelter for homeless.” Lamont wiped his mouth, his sandwich now gone. “They have a list on their website of all the shelters they work with to provide clothing.”
“Would you be a male model?”
“Something like that. Do some commercials, put their info on my website, and occasionally wear their apparel.”
“You’re amazing,” she said softly.
His neck heated. “Do you really think so?”
She nodded.
Lamont leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. “I think you’re amazing too.”
She’d come out to bring him food, she’d tolerated some snubbery the other night at the charity event, she was helping to save his reputation . . . Nevaeh was a powerhouse, but somehow humble through it all.
As Nevaeh grabbed her things to leave, Lamont pressed his lips against her cheek. “We should do this again. Maybe I’ll bring lunch to the salon.”
She shook her head. “And cause a traffic jam? It’ll go live on social media, and random strangers will start filling the shop.”
