Kitty Valentine Dates an Actor Page 8

  I can’t help but smile a little to myself since that’s exactly what I was thinking while Ashley raked me over the coals. “Yeah, I know. But I guess that’s what’s going to happen whenever you get a bunch of people together for any extended period of time. Eventually, relationships form, they break up, that sort of thing. Especially around actors.”

  He scoffs. “What do you mean by that?”

  Once again, I can see now how that might’ve sounded like an insult. “Anybody who lives in their emotions. Artists. That’s all I meant.”

  He accepts this, sighing again, leaning against the closed door with his arms folded. He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt tonight, and I am not unhappy about it. Even now, standing in this little storeroom with him, talking over something that doesn’t make either of us particularly happy, I can’t help but entertain the notion of running my hands over those thick, smooth arms.

  “You would never see anything like this coming from the people you’ll meet on Saturday,” he assures me. “They’re professionals. Not a bunch of kids. It’s obvious I need to put some distance between myself and the rest of those children.”

  “Okay, that’s not how I wanted this to go. I’m not trying to cause trouble—”

  “This has nothing to do with you. Trust me,” he insists when I shoot him a skeptical look. “It’s something that’s been brewing in me for a long time. Maybe you coming into my life is what I needed to finally get me moving. I don’t want to hurt anybody’s feelings. I don’t want to stir up animosity. That’s the last thing I want.”

  “I believe you.”

  “I’m just tired of the whispers and the secrets and the backbiting. I’ve grown beyond them.” He frowns, and when his eyes meet mine, I see a lot of doubt in them. “Does that sound shitty? You can tell me if it does. I don’t mind.”

  I shake my head. “Not at all. It was clear from the jump that you’re head and shoulders above the rest of them. Don’t get me wrong; they were all good, but you were exceptional. From everything you’ve told me, you take this very seriously. You deserve to be inspired and, I don’t know, nurtured by the people you’re around. Not feeling like you’re being held back or like your personal life is being dissected.”

  “Honestly? I don’t even know how anybody knew we were out together. I didn’t tell any of them.”

  “Maybe it was a guess? We did stand around and chat for a little while after leaving the diner. It wasn’t a secret that we were … into each other.”

  That earns me a wicked grin. “You’re probably right,” he agrees. “You can’t do anything without somebody paying more attention than they should.”

  “I hate to tell you this, hot stuff, but that’s how life is going to go if you want to be a successful actor. People are going to want to know everything about you. You’ll be a public commodity.”

  He huffs at this, shaking his head. “My life is mine.”

  Poor, naive little boy. He doesn’t get it. And frankly, it’s not my place to teach him. He’ll have to learn the hard way.

  “One thing’s for sure: I’m not going to be a part of one of these incestuous little families again. Not ever again. Some people get off on the drama but not me.” He comes to me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “That’s why I pulled back when I was with you. I don’t want to keep making the same mistakes, like I said. Hurting people’s feelings, getting wrapped up in something I didn’t sign up for. It didn’t have anything to do with you—I mean, trust me, there was nothing I wanted to do less than leave your apartment.”

  Maybe it’s the way he practically purred it or the way his hands gently massaged my shoulders as he spoke, but I find myself leaning in, straining for even the slightest touch, the barest bit of contact.

  “I didn’t want you to leave either.”

  “We’ll have to do something about that real soon.”

  He takes my chin in one hand and tips it up, planting a soft kiss on my upturned mouth before smiling. “I’d better get back to work. I’m sorry. I wish I could stay here with you all night.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  But there’s no way for him to avoid having to open the door, looking both ways to make sure nobody notices the fact that I am in there with him before pulling me out of the room.

  “We’re still on for Saturday night?”

  “You bet.” I would watch him do just about anything.

  Although the fact that there won’t be dozens and dozens of people pressing in on me from all directions sweetens the pot quite a bit.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Are you sure you don’t have time to go out with me tonight? It might be sort of entertaining.”

  Hayley offers a weak smile from across the table. Between us is our brunch—eggs Benedict for her, banana-oat pancakes for me.

  “No offense, but watching a bunch of amateur actors patting themselves on the back for being great at what they do isn’t exactly my idea of a good time.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “You know that’s not true. I’m a helluva good time when I put my mind to it.” She takes a sip of her Bloody Mary, eyeing me up with a wide smile. “Look at you. All shiny and excited. It makes me happy to see you this way,” she says, but I don’t quite believe her. Something’s up; she’s not the bubbly sidekick I’m used to.

  “I wish you looked a little happier,” I confess.

  It seems like every time I see her, she looks more tired, more drained.

  She waves a hand, shaking her head. “I’ve been burning the midnight oil lately; that’s all.”

  “And here I am, dragging you out for brunch. You should’ve turned me down. You probably could’ve used the extra sleep.”

  “Absolutely not. I won’t give up everything about my life just because I’m trying to climb the corporate ladder.”

  Here’s the thing about Hayley: she’s very cool, calm, collected—on the outside. Perfect in just about every way. Unflappable.

  But I know her. And even she has her little tells. The way she drums her fingers on the table. The way she plays with her glass rather than looking me in the eye.

  Suspicion scratches at the back of my mind, and I try to ignore it. It’s no use though. I can’t shake the feeling that she’s hiding something from me, which is unlike her.

  Instead of confronting her about it, which would only get us into a fight, I put on my no-nonsense face. “You’re gonna make yourself sick, working so hard. I know it’s what you have to do right now, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

  “Yes, Mommy.”

  At least she’s looking at me again, which I guess is a good sign so I change the subject.

  “I’d love for you to meet Rafe. I’m sure you two would hit it off.” I spear a piece of pancake with my fork before dragging it through the pool of syrup and popping it into my mouth. Brunch is my big indulgence, where I let myself eat whatever I want without giving myself a hard time about it.

  “I don’t know. An actor? Truth be told, I could never stand their type.”

  She’s so negative today, which isn’t like her.

  What the heck is going on?

  “I never knew that. I didn’t think you had anything against actors.”

  She shakes her head with a frown. “No, that’s not what I mean. Sorry. I have a headache, and it’s screwing me up. I don’t mix well with big egos; that’s all.”

  “He’s not like that. You know I don’t suffer egos either.”

  “That’s true.”

  “He’s a nice guy and a terrific actor. I’m sure he has what it takes to make a name for himself.”

  A tiny smirk tugs at her lips. “You’re not just saying that because you’re super into him?”

  “No.”

  “Because when we’re busy lusting after somebody, we might miss out on the fact that they’re not as awesome as we think they are.”

  “Believe me, he’s the real deal. I can’t wait to see what he’s capable of o
nce he gets around serious actors. Not the people he was with earlier in the week.” I automatically scowl when I remember the conversation with Ashley, who hasn’t reached out since yesterday. I wonder if anybody knows I met up with Rafe at the bar. I’m sure their heads would explode if they did.

  Maybe I’m a bit bitter, but how can I help it? I’ve never been a fan of people telling me what to do, especially when those people are basically strangers.

  “I remember the girls we knew in college who acted the way you described,” she muses, stirring what’s left of her drink with the celery stalk. “Hanging on a guy, hoping he would eventually see them and know how important and amazing they were. Like, all of a sudden, boom, the veil would lift, and he’d come to his senses.”

  “Yeah, and in the meantime, they made fools of themselves and were painfully obvious to everybody else. Then again, it’s easy for us to say since we’re not in the mix. Love makes us do all sorts of things we cringe over afterward.”

  “It doesn’t even take love to make us do that,” she murmurs, staring at the glass like it holds the secrets of the universe.

  “And the whole incestuous-family thing makes my skin crawl.”

  She snorts. “Really? It’s not literal.”

  “I know that. But still, I have to admit, it makes me feel a little … icky.”

  “Anybody we date at this age is bound to have had a bunch of sexual partners before they met us. You realize that, right?”

  “It’s not the same as being part of a group of people who practically swap partners. I know it’s not really that bad, but nobody wants to have it thrown in their face that the person they’ve just started dating has stuck it in anything that stopped moving long enough to have it stuck in them.”

  “You’re such a poet.” She giggles, and I’m glad to see her lightening up a little.

  “What can I say? That’s why I make the big bucks.”

  “And you know,” she continues, “this sort of thing doesn’t only happen in acting groups. It happens all the time. Everywhere. Wherever there are big groups of fairly young people, all together for long periods of time. Working hard to meet a common goal. It creates a sense of intimacy—and fast.”

  “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.” I try to make it sound like I’m teasing, but really, I’m concerned. What is she not telling me?

  She lifts a shoulder. “It’s human psychology. That’s how we all behave.”

  “So, you’re sure there isn’t something you’re keeping from me? Hayley, come on. I’ve known you for a long time. I can tell when you’re trying to hide something. You’re not good at it. No offense,” I add when she frowns.

  Her face twitches. Her nostrils flare, her lips drawn together in a fine line. The look of a woman trying to decide whether or not she should say anything. All I can do is sit here and wait.

  “Fine. You might as well know.” She leans in, arms crossed on the table, her eyes darting back and forth like she’s making sure nobody else is listening. “I’ve been seeing one of the men at the firm.”

  I practically have to hold on to my chin to keep it from hitting the table. “Are you serious?” I whisper.

  This is the last thing I expected. She’s always so smart, the girl who has everything together.

  “See? This is why I didn’t want to say anything.”

  “I’m not judging you!” I hiss. “It’s just that I can’t believe you didn’t say anything about it to me. How long have you been seeing him?”

  “A couple of weeks. Seriously, it’s not a big deal.”

  My best friend has been seeing someone and has gone out of her way not to tell me about it, and she wants me to believe it isn’t a big deal. I hate to be the one to tell her she’s way off the mark if she thinks I’m going to let this go.

  “Who is he? What’s his name? What does he do for the firm?”

  “He is a senior associate in one of the departments.”

  A pit forms in my stomach before I even have the chance to give voice to the next logical question. “Your department?”

  “Kitty …”

  “You can tell me. Of all people in the world, I’m the one you can tell.”

  It’s clear she would rather bite off her tongue than continue this conversation. On the other hand, she’s never been the kind of girl to back down in the face of a challenge. “My department.”

  In other words, he’s pretty much her boss.

  I’m feeling like an outsider in my best friend’s life.

  “Why did you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

  She blinks hard before snickering. “This is why. Right here, this is the reason I didn’t say anything.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Because I saw the look in your eyes when I said he was in my department.”

  “Hayley, I’m not judging you. I’m just surprised you didn’t tell me.”

  “Oh, sure. I know that look. You think I’m an idiot. You think I’m putting my career in jeopardy. You think I’m too smart to do this. Well, let me tell you, when you’re working long nights and feel that connection with someone, sometimes, you can’t help it. You have to give in. A girl has needs, Kitty. Maybe some of us do need the hot sex instead of the sweet connection.”

  She couldn’t have hurt me worse if she’d reached across the table and slapped me.

  “Hayley, where is this coming from?”

  Her mouth opens and quickly closes. She jumps to her feet and leaves some cash on the table. “Forget it. I’m not going to talk about this in public. I don’t even know what to say. But it’s not worth it.”

  “It’s worth it to me. You’re my best friend.” I take her hand before she can walk away, and she pauses for a second. I decide to take that as a good sign. “Hayley, I love you. I’m here for you.”

  She scoffs ever so softly. “So long as I’m keeping my life as PG as you are, right?” With that, she pulls her hand free and leaves me sitting alone, wondering how everything suddenly went so bad.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I wouldn’t be too upset about it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t have your butt handed to you by your best friend.” It’s unusual for me to have a beer so early in the day, even on a Saturday, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and this is definitely a desperate time.

  Hayley and I haven’t had a fight since college, and even then, it was over something stupid. Like who took whose curling iron or something like that.

  This? This was real. This was nasty and mean.

  At least Matt has the good grace to look like he feels sorry for me. “It’s hard when you fight with a friend, especially when you’re as close as you and Hayley are.”

  “Honestly, it’s like I didn’t even know who I was talking to. She never hits below the belt like that.”

  “You said she’s under a lot of stress right now.” Meanwhile, it’s as if his body reacts to the word stress by stretching out, relaxing even more deeply than it already was. He crosses his ankles, his heels on top of his coffee table.

  Phoebe is curled up at his side, and they’re watching me walk back and forth.

  If I were in a better frame of mind, it might be kind of cute, the way their heads move in sync. Back and forth, back and forth, following my progress.

  “Sure, I figured all that stress came from work.” Now, I know it also comes from a secret affair with her boss.

  “My point is, she’s not thinking rationally. She’s tired, burned out. I’m sure if this had happened at any other time, when her life was a little calmer, she wouldn’t have said those things.”

  “I wish I could believe that.”

  “I’m just saying, I’m a pretty smart guy. I’m usually right about mostly everything.”

  I shouldn’t laugh, but I do. “Don’t get too full of yourself, okay?”

  “Too late for that.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  But I don’t mi
nd. Far from it. He doesn’t have to sit there and listen to me freaking out over a rare fight with my best friend. He didn’t have to offer me a beer either.

  “Friends fight like this all the time. Did I ever tell you about the fight I had with my buddy Josh? It was over some girl we were both into. Turned out, she wasn’t into either of us, but we hadn’t known that at the time. He ended up punching me right in the jaw.” He rubs his jaw with a rueful grin.

  “No way!”

  “Yes way.”

  “And what did you do?”

  “Once I stopped seeing stars, I hit him back. What else was I supposed to do? We both had our tempers up.”

  “That’s awful, losing your friendship over a girl who didn’t even want either of you.”

  “We didn’t lose our friendship. I never said that.”

  It surprises me enough to stop me in my tracks. “How the heck can you still be friends with somebody who punched you?”

  He shrugs, which only surprises me more. “You get over it. Guys are like that. We can fight, even throw fists, but we get it out of our system. It’s not like it is with women.”

  I fold my arms, staring down at him. This is not the time to be making generalizations like that. “What does that mean? How is it with women?”

  “Forget I ever said anything.”

  “Too late for that.”

  “Don’t bite my head off. I’m just saying, women tend to project. Guys don’t do that. We admit our feelings and move on. If one of us takes a hit for it, so be it. If it happens to be with a good friend, then it’s worth the effort to get the bad blood out of the way, clear the air, and move on.”

  He makes it sound so simple. In reality, it feels anything but simple.

  “I just don’t know how we’re going to come back from this. She made me sound so judgy and awful. I didn’t think I was.”

  He heaves a sigh. “You’re not. You really aren’t. And you know I would tell you if I thought there was a grain of truth to what she said. I don’t sugarcoat things.”

  “No, heaven forbid.”

  This earns me a smirk.