Kitty Valentine Dates an Actor Read online

  She eyes the bags on the floor. “I hope you brought enough supplies to get us through this.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Vodka and I are not friends anymore.

  My stomach hurts.

  Along with my head and just about everything else.

  Hayley and I drank a lot of things. And ate a lot of things. And now, I’m pretty sure I won’t make it home without puking. I’ll be lucky if I make it through the front door after eating so much junk. Maybe I should grease myself to slide through.

  Rafe would never have binged like that.

  I wish he would call.

  My feet are heavy as I take one slow step at a time. One … and then another …

  Why are there so many stupid steps in this building? How in the world am I expected to climb them right now after I ate half my weight in cheese curls? Why is there no elevator?

  Speaking of things that are wrong, why isn’t Matt magically appearing in the hallway like he always does? Shouldn’t he have been over here early this morning, apologizing for being a dick and embarrassing me? Or at least explaining what his little temper tantrum was all about?

  Now that I actually wish I would run into him, he’s nowhere to be found.

  In all honesty, it’s probably for the best. I’d end up saying something stupid, thanks to all the vodka. I’ve already made a huge fool of myself after drinking way too much. Something tells me that when Matt and I finally speak again, I’d better be clearheaded and able to hold my own.

  Now is not that time.

  I flop down on the sofa, throwing an arm over my face instead of doing the smart thing and getting a bottle of water. Hydration doesn’t matter as much right now as lying here, trying to recover.

  At least I have Hayley back, and by the time I left her apartment, it seemed that she might be on her way back to feeling like herself. Besides drinking and eating way too much, we did each other’s nails—while sober, one of the only smart decisions either of us made today—and watched a few comedies to make us laugh.

  Of course, I couldn’t watch the movies without thinking about Rafe. Wondering about him.

  Has he forgotten all about me so soon?

  No. He’s got a lot going on, and not hearing from him is probably a good thing. It means, people are talking to him, and exciting things might be happening.

  If anything, hearing from him right away might’ve meant bad news. It doesn’t take long to be rejected.

  The ringing of my phone wakes me from a light, drunken sleep I didn’t even know I had fallen into. I fumble with it after almost dropping it on the floor. My head is so cloudy. Like somebody stuffed it with … clouds.

  It’s not even Rafe either.

  “Maggie.” I close my eyes and wish I’d slept through the call. I’m not in the right mental space for this. Not with a row of martinis dancing the cancan in my skull.

  “Kitty. You sound somewhat worse for the wear.”

  “How can you tell? All I said was your name.”

  “You sound tipsy. Not that I’m one to judge, but you do have a book to work on.”

  “It’s coming. Really. But, hey, you don’t even have me on the calendar yet,” I whine.

  “That’s one of the reasons I called. You’re all set. I’ll need your first draft in a month.”

  “Wow, good thing I didn’t slow down. How’d that happen?”

  “Lois. She called and got you pushed through.”

  Huh, I guess she’s still got it.

  “She never called me back, so I’m a little surprised, but I’m very happy to hear the news,” I admit, perking up.

  “How’s it going? Have you faced any challenges?”

  “Nothing beyond the ordinary, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well. My hero is auditioning for a big Hollywood movie.”

  A pause on her end. “Is your hero doing the same?”

  “Yes. He is. How did you guess?”

  “Well, isn’t that exciting? What a terrific experience for him. I expect you to wring every last drop of information you can out of him when he gets back.”

  “I mean, it’s not like I won’t demand he give me all the details.” I manage to sit up but immediately put my head in my palm. I really should’ve stopped with the vodka long before I did.

  “Good. Make sure you put as many of them in the book as possible. The closer to true life you can get, the better.”

  She’s said that to me so many times that I can mouth it along with her.

  “Naturally.”

  “What about your social media? I see you’ve been showing your beautiful self there more often.”

  “Thank you for noticing. I’m doing everything I can. Did you know you can schedule posts in advance?”

  Another pause in an otherwise short conversation. “Yes, I knew that. Who doesn’t know that?”

  “I didn’t. Forgive me for being ignorant. Anyway, I set up a bunch of posts in advance, and it seems like they’re getting responses.”

  “Have you been interacting with your fans?”

  Oh, if only she knew.

  “That’s sort of a sticky spot. Yeah, I’m responding with positive things and what have you, but there’s one fan in particular who probably isn’t too happy with me right now. What am I supposed to do about that?”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Nothing! Honestly. It’s just that she already had a crush on … my hero.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “I met him through her.”

  “I got the picture. Don’t worry about it.” She laughs. “Honestly, nobody walks through life without at least one adversary.”

  “I don’t know that I’d call her an—”

  “Sour grapes are sour grapes. She’ll get over it. Unless you think she’ll find some way to tank your career because you’re sleeping with the man she likes.”

  Right. Sleeping with. That’s the ticket.

  “No. I don’t think so. I only wanted to get your opinion on whether you thought it was a big deal or not.”

  “I certainly do not. Anything else to discuss? Anything I should know about?”

  Why do I feel like she knows something she’s not telling me? It’s that little hint of suspicion in her voice. Like she wonders if I’ll share or not.

  “No. I can’t think of anything.”

  “So, you didn’t tell three different would-be authors to use your name on their cover letter while submitting to us? Without so much as going through an agent?”

  “What?”

  “Did I stutter?”

  I can’t think clearly enough right now to make sense of this. “Sorry, my brain needs to catch up. You’re telling me three different people used my name on their cover letters? I don’t even know any …”

  Then, it hits me. “Oh, if they think I’m gonna let them get away with this, they have another thing coming.”

  “So, you did suggest this?”

  “No! What, do you think I’ve lost my mind?”

  “I wondered, to be honest.”

  “Maggie, I would never do anything like that. I don’t even know those people, and I sure don’t like them.”

  I do what I can to explain what happened, which the vodka isn’t helping. And it’s already all mixed up in the first place.

  By the time I’m finished, I can practically smell the smoke coming out of her ears.

  “Let me get this straight. They had the gall to laugh at you for writing some of the most popular romance to ever come out of this publishing house and then use your name as if it would improve their chances of being published?”

  “I mean, without going to them and asking straight-out? It looks that way.”

  “At least I know you haven’t lost your mind.”

  “Not yet. I might be on my way but not yet.”

  “If you must find a group of writers to interact with, for God’s sake, make sure they write romance!”

  Her advice still rings in my ears after the call is ove
r.

  Leaving me with the question of whether or not I should reach out to Rafe. It’s three hours earlier out there, sure, and I don’t know what time his audition is supposed to take place. Maybe he only just got out of it.

  Or maybe he doesn’t care enough to include me in his celebration—or lack thereof. Maybe I don’t mean that much to him. I couldn’t even convince him to stop being a gentleman long enough to sleep with me.

  When the phone rings again, I could just about weep with relief.

  “Rafe. I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m alive, but I might be sleeping because this has to be a dream.”

  “Are you serious? Are you telling me—”

  “I’m telling you, I got the job. They hired me. Bill’s hammering out the details of my contract right now, but I got the part!”

  “Oh my God!” I jump up off the sofa before thinking about it, which is a shame because, now, my head is spinning, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to fall over.

  “I can’t believe it. It’s a dream come true. They loved me. They put us up in this great hotel, and everything today has been amazing and incredible, and I got the part!” He’s practically floating on air in other words.

  Aside from the fact that I think I’m going to be sick before this night is over, I couldn’t possibly be happier.

  “Kitty, this means I’m gonna have to be out here for a while. In fact, if things go well, Bill makes it sound like I’ll be out here for a long time.”

  “Oh.” I hit the sofa with a thud. “Right. I didn’t think about that.”

  “I want you to move out here with me.”

  Yep, I’m definitely going to be sick. Like, right this very second.

  “I’ve gotta go!” I manage before dropping the phone and running for the bathroom.

  Probably not the way he expected me to react to his excitement.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “So, he wants me to move to LA with him since it looks like he’ll be out there for a while. I’m pretty sure his agent only needed a foothold out there. He has one, so he’s going to work his butt off to get Rafe more roles. For all I know, he’ll never come back.”

  My grandmother has held her tongue throughout this story, which is probably some sort of record for her. I even paused at all the right places, thinking she would interject with her little quips or at least a sigh or two.

  Nothing. Nothing but silence. For once, I want her advice, and she’s glued her mouth shut.

  “Well?” I finally break down and ask. “What do you think? Should I turn him down? This could be the opportunity for something incredible to happen.”

  “That it very well could be,” she allows in a soft voice I know too well. The voice she uses when she has a whole wealth of opinions but doesn’t want to say them out loud.

  “Oh my gosh, if you don’t tell me what you’re thinking right this very minute, I will lose what’s left of my mind. Please. I’m begging you.”

  “You want to know what I’m thinking?”

  “Yes, for the love of all that’s holy.”

  Where the heck is Peter? He could be helping me. The woman woke up this morning and decided to keep her opinions to herself for the first time in my entire life.

  She clears her throat. “I think you should do whatever it is you want most. What do you want to do?”

  Ooh, she’s good. What a typical Grandmother thing to say.

  “No offense, but if I knew what I wanted to do, I wouldn’t have come here to talk to you about it.”

  “Well, Kathryn.” She sniffs, throwing her head back.

  “I said, no offense, didn’t I? I’m not trying to hurt your feelings.” I sip my tea, which is delicious but not what the doctor ordered. Not when I’m still nursing what’s left of a hangover.

  Granted, if I hadn’t puked last night—after making it to the bathroom, thank goodness—things would be much worse today. Throwing up wasn’t fun, but it’s made this morning a little easier to bear.

  Still, I’m not feeling like sunshine and daisies at this moment.

  My grandmother offers a sigh and a faint smile. “I asked you what you want to do because you are the only person who can make this decision. You know what you want regardless of whether or not you’re ready to admit it.”

  “I really like him.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  “And I can work from anywhere in the entire world. That’s one of the great things about what I do for a living.”

  “Also a solid point.” Her lips twitch a little, like she’s trying not to smile. “Do you believe the two of you might have a future?”

  “That’s the thing. I don’t know him well enough to answer that question. I’d like to think we could. But I don’t know for sure.”

  I lean back on the couch, and for once, my grandmother doesn’t scold me for having poor posture. “How will I ever truly know if I don’t give us a chance to become something?”

  “That’s difficult. I understand why you would be conflicted on this.”

  “I don’t want to lose what could be something great. He really is such a terrific person. I know you would like him even if he’s an actor and you don’t like actors.”

  “I never said I don’t like actors.”

  “You did.”

  “I don’t necessarily like an actor for you, my dear. There’s a world of difference between the two. I’ve known an actor or two in my day in fact.” Her eyes widen as she raises the teacup to her lips.

  “I do not want to hear about it.”

  “You might find my experience enlightening.”

  “Somehow, I doubt it.”

  “I’ll tell you anyway. While I enjoyed my time with them very much—more than I expected—that did not mean they were the right men for me. Every nice man in the world isn’t necessarily the right man. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

  “I think I do. But I don’t have to like it.”

  She eyes me in her usual way, lifting one eyebrow. The woman might not be dressing as fancy as she used to, and the jewels are locked away, but she hasn’t dropped that imperious attitude of hers. If anything, I’d worry about her if she did. Peter’s a great influence on her, but he hasn’t replaced her with a pod person … I hope.

  “Can I ask you a question, dear?”

  “I’d be concerned if you didn’t.”

  “Sarcasm. How charming.” She chuckles though, so she can’t be too annoyed. “I want to know, if you were more serious about this Rafael person, would you go to Los Angeles?”

  “If we were more serious, I would want to be with him.”

  “Naturally. But would you go?”

  “How can I answer that question? It’s completely hypothetical.”

  “There are no stakes involved here, Kathryn. Your answer won’t change anything. It shouldn’t be this difficult.”

  “But it is difficult.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I honestly don’t know. I don’t even know if I wish we were more serious, to tell the truth.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that. And if your answer were no, why wouldn’t you go?”

  “Because I don’t love him,” I admit. “And even if I did, I wouldn’t want to leave you.”

  “Now, now, don’t use me as an excuse.” I can tell it pleases her at least a little bit though. Her lips are twitching again. “You know Peter takes excellent care of me and would never let anything take place without alerting you immediately.”

  “It wouldn’t be the same as being here though. I’d have to get on a plane and spend precious hours trying to get here. And I would hate myself the entire time for not being in New York.” I wave an arm over the coffee table, where sandwiches and scones await. “And what would I do if I couldn’t come here for lunch or tea on the regular? This is the best eating I do all week.”

  “I wouldn’t like thinking I was holding you back, dear.”

  “You wouldn’t be. I me
an, it’s not like you’re the only person I would miss. I’d miss the heck out of Hayley. If she’s going to make partner at her firm, it’s not like she can float back and forth between New York and LA. And there’s my apartment. I would miss my apartment. I’d miss living in the city too. I can’t imagine being happy in Los Angeles. I’m not a West Coaster by any stretch of the imagination.”

  “For what it’s worth, I can’t imagine living out there either. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy the sunshine—within reason. I hardly need any help with the aging process, however, so I would more than likely spend most of my time indoors. I’m certain the dry climate would do my joints good.”

  “I do like sunshine,” I muse. “But it’s sunny here sometimes too.”

  “That it is.”

  “So, yeah, in the end, it’s for the best that I stay here.” I sigh, closing my eyes against a headache that won’t let go.

  “Drink some water, dear. It will help with your hangover.”

  I open one eye, feeling a little embarrassed and maybe more than a little annoyed. “How do you know I have a hangover?”

  “My dear, I wasn’t born yesterday. And while I don’t intend to hurt your feelings, you’ve looked better.”

  “That totally doesn’t hurt my feelings at all. Why would you think that?”

  “Charming as ever, even with a hangover.”

  “Could you not make it sound like a moral failing on my part, please? I was drinking with Hayley because she had done something stupid and it almost blew up in her face and she needed to be cheered up. So, I brought over reinforcements, and we spent the day watching mindless comedies and eating our weight in food with zero health benefits.”

  “You’re a good friend. Really, you are. I wish I had a friend like you in my life. All I have are hags, like that Whitney.”

  “Are you two on the outs? Again?”

  Whitney has been my grandmother’s frenemy for as long as I can remember. They’ve spent decades in the same social circles, so they can’t avoid one another, but they’re just as likely to snap at each other as they are to offer a backhanded compliment after giving air kisses.

  “That is our normal state of being, let’s not forget.” She shrugs with a sigh. “My life isn’t the same as yours, dear. You live a very authentic life. You are true to yourself.”