The Love Script, page 24
I thought about it for a moment. I really wanted to make the interview, and police officers were supposed to be safe. God, please let this man be safe. “Um, okay. Thank you.” I didn’t know if he was hoping for an autograph, but regardless of his intent, I would take the free ride and remember his badge information to see if Lamont could send him a signed poster or something.
He lifted my stylist case from my car and put it in his trunk. “Where are you headed?”
“Paramount Studios,” I answered.
His eyes widened again. “Were you on the way to meet Lamont Booker?”
Had I sounded that giddy whenever I said Lamont’s full name before we’d dated? I suppressed a laugh. “No, I have an interview for a spot with the hair and makeup team.”
“Oh, nice.”
We drove in silence. Partly because I had no capacity to think past the pain in my neck, and partly because I was focused on the upcoming interview. When we arrived at the gates, I gave the guard my name. He gave a head nod to the police officer driving me, but said nothing else, merely waved us forward.
The cop—he’d introduced himself as Officer Perez—grinned the entire way as I directed him to the building I’d been told to go to.
After he got my case out of the trunk, I peered at him once more. “Are you sure you can wait? I have no idea how long the meeting will last.”
He glanced at his watch. “If it takes longer than thirty minutes, I’ll probably have to leave. If you come back out before that, I’ll take you to the hospital.”
“Thank you, Officer Perez.”
“Good luck.”
I dragged the case behind me, holding in a wince at the twinge in my shoulder. Was I just sore from the crash, or was it something more?
Worry about that later, girl. You’ve gotta rock this interview. The spot was for a TV show that had just been green-lighted. Their pilot had been a success, and they’d earned themselves a spot on prime time for a full season. I walked into the studio, stated my name, and took the lanyard.
I took a seat, mentally giving myself a pep talk. You’ve done this routine before. You know how it goes. They’d hand me a script, tell me the look they wanted for the specific character, and give me space to interpret the rest. It was up to me to bring their thoughts to life.
The script they gave me was funny. I genuinely laughed out loud a time or two. By the time they called my name, I had an idea of how I thought the actors should look.
When I walked into the HMU room, the person conducting the interview looked up at the number showing on my lanyard. “Number 42, you’re here to ready these two. They’re stand-ins for the actors that play Jace Gordan and Annette English. You’re aware that you’ll be doing both hair and makeup, correct?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I was confident in my makeup skills for a contemporary TV show. No sci-fi characters to go wild with.
“Good. You have an hour.”
I tried to hide my nerves and stalked over to the actors. I circled the guy first, noting he was bald, but his character was supposed to have curly hair and a smooth face. This guy had a five o’clock shadow. After doing the same perusal of the woman, who had long blond hair and not the dark bob the director wanted, I opened my case. I knew exactly who these two were and what the studio wanted to see.
I started on the guy since he’d be the easiest to transform. I pulled out the perfect hairpiece for him. A quick shave and some liquid color correct helped ensure no sign of his stubble existed. Some finishing powder would take away the shine the liquid corrector would create.
Twenty minutes later, Jace Gordan was ready for his first take. He left the chair, and the interviewer’s assistant began taking Polaroids. I assumed they’d be labeled with 42, to tell the interviewees apart.
That was neither here nor there. I still had the character of Annette to make over. I grabbed an angled-bob wig and went to work on the lady. Her character was supposed to be an ice queen, so I went for a pale look on her face. The colors I chose helped create an image of perfection. Before shutting my YouTube channel down, I’d done a tutorial on this specific application. Creating her look took the remaining forty minutes, and I stepped back just as the interviewer called time.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “We’ll call in a couple of weeks if you get the job.”
“Thank you.”
After ensuring the pictures of the looks had been taken, I took back the wigs from the actors and put my stuff away.
As I walked out of the studio, adrenaline left me, and aches assaulted me. The officer’s vehicle remained parked. I’d thought for sure he’d be gone. I offered my thanks as he once again handled my case, and I eased into the seat. My body was really starting to hurt.
“Ready for that trip to the ER?”
I blew out a breath. “I think I am.”
He nodded and drove out the gates of Paramount. I wanted to look back, to send one last plea to the Lord, but my eyelids were growing heavy, and I gave in to the exhaustion.
Thirty-Four
Horror filled Lamont as he stared at the text from Nevaeh.
Nevaeh
I was in a car accident. No broken bones. At ER getting checked as a precaution.
His mouth dried, and he exited her text thread to ask for prayer.
Lamont
Nevaeh’s been in a car accident. Please pray for her.
Tuck
Is she hurt?
Chris
Praying
Lamont
Nothing broken. She’s in the ER.
Tuck
Hope it’s nothing. What did she say?
Lamont
IDK. Gonna call her now.
Tuck
Praying for her. I’ll tell Piper, too, if it’s okay with you.
Lamont
Thanks, fellas.
He FaceTimed Nevaeh and paced back and forth across his hotel room while he waited for her to answer. Her beautiful face filled the screen, and a measure of relief brought his panic down a notch.
“Are you okay?”
She grimaced. “I hurt. The pain reliever isn’t touching this.”
“Have you seen the doctor yet?”
Just then a man in a white coat walked in.
“Can I call you back?”
“Could I listen please? Support you via FaceTime?”
“Okay.”
He listened as the doctor explained Nevaeh had a case of whiplash. Why did this have to happen when he was in another country?
It’s not about you. She’s the one hurt.
He tensed as the doctor prescribed some painkillers, anti-inflammatory steroids, and rest. Would Nevaeh’s mother take care of her? Both of her parents worked, so who would be around during the day to help her? Lamont could ask his mom to watch over her, but would Nevaeh consider that annoying? He needed to look at his calendar and see when he could schedule a visit ASAP.
“Do you work outside the home?” the doctor asked.
“I’m a hair stylist.”
The doctor frowned. Lamont wished Nevaeh would focus the camera on herself and not the doctor. Sometimes FaceTiming was difficult.
“I don’t think you should work for the next two weeks. If you can reschedule clients, do so. Your body needs to take it easy so you won’t have to deal with any further complications.”
“I understand.”
“I’ll send in a nurse with your discharge instructions. She’ll go over everything with you.”
Lamont’s heart pounded as he considered everything that had happened.
“Thanks, Doctor.”
The doctor nodded, then left. The camera flipped, and Lamont breathed a sigh of relief as he took in Nevaeh’s features. He could see the pain in the wince she tried to hide, the darkening of her eyes, and the overall weariness dragging her features down. He needed to be there. To make sure she’d be okay.
It’s not your job to fix it.
But if he didn’t, how would he be assured Nevaeh would be okay?
He stopped walking around the room and sank onto the bed. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
“Of course not. You’re in Toronto.” She pouted.
He blew out a breath. Wasn’t there something he could do despite the two thousand miles that separated them? “Maybe I could hire a masseuse? Do you think that would aggravate things or relieve tension?”
Nevaeh rubbed her forehead. “Don’t worry about me. My mom will be here soon.”
“Will she take time off to care for you? If not, I could ask my mom to come over.”
“I’m not a child. I don’t need someone to hold my hand.”
Okay, so she got grouchy after car accidents. Understandable. Lamont bit back a sigh. “Where did they tow your car?” He could pay for that if her insurance wouldn’t cover it. Or he could bypass them wholly and take care of her car stat.
“I don’t know, but the officer gave me the information.”
“Take a pic of the towing company’s info and text it to me. I’ll handle everything . . . please.”
Her lips pursed, but she gave a short nod, then winced. “Fine.”
“Babe, I’m so sorry this happened. If I can do anything—”
“You know, I don’t feel like talking right now. I just want to go home and crawl in bed. Maybe we can talk tomorrow or something.”
He tried not to feel brushed off, telling himself she was emotional due to the day’s events. “Of course. If you need anything at all, please let me know.”
“You’ll handle it from Toronto?” she asked skeptically.
“My assistant will if I can’t.” Greg was back in LA taking care of other matters for the time being.
“All right then. Bye.”
Her face left the screen before he could formulate a reply. What just happened? She’d never been that curt with him before. She’s also never been in a car accident before.
Right. Right. This was all from the accident. She was in pain, and he was in another country.
His phone chimed with an incoming text, and he opened the message from Nevaeh, showing a photo of the towing company’s business card. At least this he could handle. He dialed their number, waiting for someone to answer the call.
“Yes, I’d like to have a car that arrived at your place today towed to my mechanic.” Surely his guy would take care of Nevaeh’s car.
“What’s the make and model?”
“MINI Cooper.”
“Ah, the red one with the busted-up bumper and no rear glass?”
Lamont grimaced, imagining how hard the impact must have been to bust out the glass. “Unfortunately, that’s the one.”
“Yeah, I can tow it, but most likely the insurance company’s adjuster is going to deem the vehicle a total loss.”
“I thought that only happened when airbags deployed.”
“Or when the car’s value is below the cost of repairs. I’m telling you, buddy, buy a new car.”
Lamont bit back a groan. “I’ll have my mechanic determine that, thank you.”
“What’s the address?”
He rattled off the address and gave his credit card info for payment, then Lamont called his mechanic to tell him the situation.
“I appreciate you thinking of us for business, but if that’s a 2010, it’s probably a total loss.”
Lamont wanted to pound his fist in frustration. “There’s nothing I can do to save it?”
“Sure, but it’s a hassle. It’d be faster and easier to just buy a new vehicle.”
Why did this have to be so complicated? “Okay, then keep it in your shop for now. Let me talk to my girlfriend and see what she wants to do.”
“Will do.”
Lamont texted Nevaeh.
Lamont
You still at the hospital? Can I call real quick?
Nevaeh
Yes to both.
“Hey. The mechanic said your vehicle’s probably a total loss. Want me to have Greg pick you out a new one? If so, he can deliver it to your parents’ house by tomorrow.”
“Are you kidding me!”
He knew she loved that car, but the level of outburst shocked him. “Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“This is unbelievable,” she shouted. “You can’t be in here!”
“What’s going on?” Lamont gripped the phone, his heart pounding.
“A freaking paparazzo just came into my room.”
“Call the nurse and tell them to call security.” His blood boiled. “And stay on the phone. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“You know what? I can’t do this anymore! I need a break.”
The call ended.
Lead filled his gut as he stared at his cell. Now he felt like the one with whiplash. Did she just break up with him? He pinched his nose, hating the burning feeling creeping up his throat and making his eyes water.
Lord, what just happened? Please don’t let that have been a legitimate breakup.
He stood there, mind reeling, trying to connect the dots. What was he supposed to do all the way in another country? Resolve filled him. He knew exactly what to do. He put on his shoes, grabbed his room key, and headed for the elevator. It would take a quick internet search to find a flight and get him on the first one back to LA. He could not let them end on a break.
Thirty-Five
The squeak of the door hinges interrupted my blank stare at the door. The one I had been staring at since I’d walked into my room and sat on my bed, trying to ignore every muscle that stiffened in protest of today’s events.
“Nevaeh?” Mom whispered. “How are you feeling?”
My gaze shifted from the door to her face. “I hurt.”
She grimaced. “Would you like some tea? I can get you a heating pad or ice.”
I just wanted to be left alone. I still couldn’t believe that gossip-rag photographer had the nerve to break into my ER room and get a few pictures.
“I’m fine.”
“I doubt that.” She walked toward me, then sat on the chair in front of my vanity. She brushed a hand along my hair.
“Spring me from this neck brace.” Already, I itched and couldn’t stand the constraint.
“I don’t think so. I want you to get healthy.”
“Then I guess I’ll take a heating pad. Or maybe ice.” I sighed. “Whichever is easier.”
“Do you want some dinner too?”
“‘I could eat.’”
She nodded. “Good. I’ll bring you a tray.”
Tears gathered in my eyes. Lamont would have caught the movie reference.
Lamont was in Toronto.
Since we’d started dating, part of me had felt alone. Alone in the mess the paparazzi made of my life. Alone in the online attacks from haters. Alone in being fired. At the same time, I had to make red-carpet appearances, smile while we ate in public places, and pretend to be the perfect Christian dating a Hollywood celebrity.
As much as I cared for Lamont, I didn’t care for the life I’d been thrust into. And today, being at my most vulnerable and having the snaparazzi invade my privacy, it had all been too much. I thought moving to my parents’ place would give me time to find another job and apartment, and life would get better. But I also thought living here would give me space from the media attention.
Only now, it was quite evident that I would never escape the media. All Lamont’s suggestions for ignoring them, my own actions of closing my accounts, none of it seemed to help. The world wanted more of me, and I just wanted to fade from the limelight.
You were meant to shine.
I blinked, my gaze searching the room to ensure I was alone. Had I heard those words?
“I was meant to shine?” I asked softly.
“Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and glorify your Father in heaven.”
I could vaguely recall disagreeing with that verse the first time I read it. After all, I didn’t like the limelight. It was one reason I craved being behind the scenes. I loved the atmosphere on a movie set, but I didn’t want any camera pointed my direction.
Just like I hadn’t whenever Lamont and I attended an event, knowing there would be more comments on my looks than I could handle. I was not cut out for a life in the spotlight. God hadn’t made me that way. Right, Lord?
“Wow, that’s an intense look.” Mom put the tray of food on my vanity. “You want to talk about whatever put that frown on your face?”
“What’s there to talk about? My life has gone down the drain thanks to dating in front of the public. Not to mention I have no job. No place to live. And now I may have accidentally broken up with Lamont.” Though when I said I needed a break, I’d been shouting at the paparazzo.
Hanging up on Lamont had been an accident as I reached for the call bell with one hand and attempted to switch to video on my phone to show the guy invading my privacy. Only Lamont hadn’t called me back. Was he upset? Was he happy to be rid of me and all the drama dating each other had brought?
“Life has been a little hectic for you lately.”
I snorted. “A little? It’s been nuts, and it’s all because of the paparazzi.”
“I’m sure dating in front of the world isn’t easy. But you can’t blame everything on the paparazzi. I’ve read the articles about you, seen you two interact in person, and can tell you guys are the real deal. Don’t let the publicity drag you down.”
“That’s just it,” I cried. “It wasn’t real. It was all fake, but then it was real, and now it might be over.”
Mom gently lifted my chin. “Explain.”
So I did. I told her about the stupid photojournalist hiding in the tree, the resulting scandal, and Bryan’s plan to fake it until Lamont could be assured his career remained intact. Of course I explained how my feelings had become real, and how Lamont wanted to date for us and not his career.
“Only thanks to our beginning, I always feel iffy about our now. Does he truly like me? Is he merely playing a part? How can I trust that what we have is real when it all started because his career needed saving?” I sniffed, tears spilling down my cheeks. “Not to mention I lost my job and my home thanks to Nora hating that the attention wasn’t on her, and now I don’t even have a car.” I gulped at the enormity of the situation. “I have nothing.”
