Felicity reached over and stroked her head. “Hello, angel,” she cooed.
“She’s adorable,” Taylor remarked. “She’s so tiny.”
“With such a big heart,” Felicity agreed, taking her from me and nestling her between her boobs. Mary Elizabeth calmed down immediately.
“She loves Felicity.” I smiled.
“I see,” Cole said. His eyes were hidden by dark glasses, but I’d bet all the money I had left (which, granted, wasn’t much) that he was staring at her cleavage. Honestly, it was hard not to.
I’d once had that effect on him. Not that I wanted to now—though I could likely still draw his eye if I tried. He was as handsome as ever and a dalliance would be good press. Felicity was insistent I shouldn’t fear the press anymore; I was to court it, feed it, use it. I’d been out of the spotlight only a few short years—well, a decade, I guess—but things have changed, she said. I was to be proactive if I wanted to revitalize my career. I needed to get people’s attention, show them who I was today. But I’d been hiding from the press since I was a teenager. Now suddenly I was supposed to embrace it? Wouldn’t I appear desperate, fighting for attention like a reality star—or worse, social media influencer?
I was an actress, not a fame whore like whoever it was they’d hired to play opposite me. Madison somebody. Karanian? Karabian? Kasabian, that was it. Madison Kasabian. I’d never heard of her, but apparently she had over a million followers, whatever that meant. I’d looked her up and found hundreds, maybe thousands, of videos of an admittedly beautiful girl with perfect skin, long raven hair, enviable brows, and a full mouth, but no discernable talent that I could see, besides transforming her face with contouring and makeup. Which was certainly a great skill to have, but not the one you needed to be a real actress. What was this world coming to?
“So, you were telling us how you two met.” Cole shifted his gaze from Felicity to me.
Why did I feel like he was challenging me? Had he only invited me here for his entertainment? It was hard enough trying to keep my chin up these days without my ex-husband taunting me. I’d only seen him a few brief times since I accepted the role, but he’d been so nice until now that I’d been hopeful he’d evolved. Alas, I probably shouldn’t have taken the role—I knew better than anyone how changeable he could be—but I couldn’t turn it down. I needed it. And he knew I needed it. The roof of my beautiful home was leaking, the pool was empty, my car was making a terrible noise. Luckily, I had a mechanic who always did the labor for free after I went to lunch with him, but still, Range Rover parts were expensive, especially on older models.
To be in a deferential position with Cole wasn’t ideal, but I wouldn’t bite the hand that fed me no matter how much it scratched. I fingered my crystal pendant: amethyst, for tranquility and sobriety. Regardless of his motivation for giving me this role, it was a godsend for which I was grateful. I would have an Attitude of Gratitude. He’d given me the opportunity; all I had to do was turn in a brilliant performance, and I would have my career back for real. No more low-budget indies with their cheap motels and pizzas for dinner. Pizza! I couldn’t do the carbs. I really couldn’t. The bloating, the lethargy…
Truth be told, I’d done only one of those awful low-budget affairs. A horror movie, of all things. But it took only one to realize that sort of thing was not for me. They didn’t even have stand-ins—they expected me to stand there for hours drenched in disgusting sticky fake blood while they adjusted their shoddy lighting equipment. I shuddered at the memory. I’d gotten rave reviews though, by the handful of people who saw the thing. And it had helped me secure a part in a Lifetime movie. Not a large part, but a part, nonetheless. I recognized how depressing it was that I considered a small role in a Lifetime movie a career win these days, but I would stay positive. What you think about you bring about! I only ever thought of myself as a star and stayed far away from the forbidding stairwells that twisted downward into the dark recesses of my mind.
Which, of course, was why I hadn’t made any progress on the tell-all memoir I was meant to be writing. In a moment of insanity during a promo I was contractually obligated to do for the horror film, I’d told the interviewer I was writing a memoir. To clear things up, in my own words. Put the truth out there, no reporters involved (and hopefully put a little money in my bank account). It was a good idea; Felicity agreed. Only, I hadn’t yet been able to bring myself to actually write the damn thing.
My mouth was suddenly parched, and Cole was looking at me like he wanted an answer for something. Luckily, Felicity swooped to the rescue.
“I dropped my charm bracelet,” she recounted. Christ, are we still talking about this? “It was from my mother and meant everything to me. Stella picked it up, and we started talking. I fell in love with Mary Elizabeth immediately and offered to help with her.”
“And she was so much help, I realized she was the perfect fit to be my assistant,” I finished, with what I hoped was an air of finality.
Neither of us mentioned that I’d yet to pay Felicity a dime of actual money. I had no idea how she was paying her bills; I’d been compensating her
