One Week With The Best Man. Andrea Laurence
“I don’t care,” Julian exclaimed. “Despite what everyone thinks, I broke up with Bridgette six months ago. We only went out publicly because you insisted on it.”
“I didn’t insist,” Ross protested. “The studio insisted. Your romance was a huge selling point for the film. They couldn’t have you two break up before it even came out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Julian said dismissively. “If I ever even look twice at one of my costars again, you haul me off and remind me of this moment. But now it’s done. I’m over Bridgette and I’m way over dating someone just for the cameras.”
Ross held up his hands. “It won’t be like that. I swear. Besides, it’s already done. She’ll be here to meet you in about five minutes.”
“Ross!” Julian shouted, rising to his full height to intimidate his short, round manager. “You can’t just do stuff like this without my permission.”
“Yes, I can. It’s what you pay me to do. You’ll thank me later.”
Julian pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. “Who is it? Some country music singer? Did you import an actress from Hollywood?”
“No, none of that. They tell me she’s one of the employees at the wedding chapel. Just your everyday girl.”
“Wait. I thought after what happened with that waitress you didn’t want me dating ‘regular’ women. You said they were a bigger security risk than another star with her own career to protect. You said I needed to stick to women that didn’t need my money or my fame.” Julian had been dealing strictly with high-and-mighty starlets the past few years at Ross’s insistence, but now, a regular girl was okay because he said so?
“I know, and normally that’s the case. That waitress just wanted to dig up dirt on you to make a buck with the tabloids. There are a million women just like her in Hollywood. But in this scenario I think it’s a smart choice. Women in Nashville are different, and it’s an unexpected move. Your female fans will like it, of course, and so will the studios. I’ve been trying to get you a role as a true romantic lead. This could do it.”
Julian didn’t really want to be a romantic lead. At least not by Ross’s definition. His manager’s idea of a romantic film was one where the sexy blonde clings to his half-naked body while he shoots the bad guys. He’d already played that role again and again. When he’d pushed Ross on the topic a second time, he got Julian the “romantic” lead in a movie about male strippers. Not exactly hard-hitting, award-winning stuff. Hell, he’d be thrilled to just do a light romantic comedy. Something without explosions. Or machine guns. Or G-strings.
“I should fire you for this,” Julian complained as he dropped down into his chair. It was a hollow threat, and they both knew it. Ross had made Julian’s career. He might not be creatively fulfilled by big-budget action films, but the money was ridiculous and Julian needed every penny.
“It will be fine. I promise. It’s not a real relationship, so I can break my own rules this once. In a few days, you can go back to Hollywood and date whomever you want.”
Somehow, Julian doubted that. Since moving to Hollywood, he hadn’t had the best track record with the ladies. The waitress had sold the story of their romance to the newspapers with some other juicy tidbits she’d gotten out of him. The dancer was just looking for a guy to pay for her boob job. So many others were after either his money or his leverage to get into show business.
Ross encouraged him to date other actresses to reduce that issue, but either way, there was usually some kind of confidentiality contract involved. Even with that in place, he’d learned quickly to keep private things private. He didn’t talk about his family, his past...anything that he couldn’t bear to see in the papers. An after-the-fact lawsuit wouldn’t undo the damage once it was out there.
Since his breakup with Bridgette, he hadn’t really shown any interest in dating again. It was too damn much work and frankly, just not that fun. How was he supposed to find love when he couldn’t even find someone he could trust?
Ross got up from his seat and put his drink on the coffee table. “Well, that should do it.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m leaving,” Ross said.
“Leaving? I thought you said my date was on her way over.”
“She is. That’s why I’m leaving. Three’s a crowd, after all. You two need to get to know each other.”
Julian’s jaw dropped as he watched his manager slip out of the hotel suite. He should’ve throttled him. He could get a new manager.
With nothing to do but wait, he slumped into his chair and killed time checking his smartphone for missed calls or updates from his family. His mother and brother lived in Louisville, and that was the easiest and most secure way to keep up with them, especially with his brother James’s condition. James’s attendant usually kept him up to date on how his brother was doing and shared any funny tidbits to make him feel more connected. Today, there were no messages to worry him.
About four minutes later, there was a knock at the door to his suite. His new girlfriend was punctual if nothing else.
Julian got up and went to the door. He looked through the peephole but didn’t see anyone there. Confused, he opened his hotel room door wide and realized it was because his guest was very petite. She was maybe five foot two if she had good posture, and she didn’t. In addition to being petite, she was curvy, hiding most of her body under an oversize cardigan. She had the look of the average woman on the street, nothing like he was used to seeing around Malibu.
What really caught his attention, however, were her eyes. She had a dark gaze that watched him survey her with a hint of suspicion. It made him wonder what that was about. Shouldn’t he be suspicious of her? Julian had been a part of the Hollywood scene for several years and had seen his fair share of staged relationships. The women were usually attractive and greedy, hoping they might actually charm their fake boyfriend into falling for them so they could take advantage of California’s community property laws.
He waited for her to say something, but she just stood there, sort of awkwardly hovering outside his door. “Hi,” Julian finally offered to end the silence. “I’m Julian, although you probably already know that. Are you the one the wedding company sent over?”
“Yes.” She nodded, her dark brown curls bouncing around her round face. He expected her to say something after that, but she continued to just hover. It made him think that at any moment, she might turn and bolt down the hallway. He was used to his fans being nervous around him, but not skittish. He was certain Ross would blame him if he ran off the woman his manager had so carefully arranged for him.
Julian didn’t want a fake girlfriend. He would gladly send this poor woman back home with an apology, but Ross wouldn’t have set this up without a good reason. He paid the man to make smart, strategic decisions about his career, so he had to be nice and make this work. Or he’d hear about it.
“And your name is...?” he prompted.
She seemed to snap out of her nervous daze. “Gretchen,” she said, holding out her hand. “Gretchen McAlister.”
Julian shook her hand, noticing how ice-cold her skin was and how her fingers trembled in his grip. This woman seemed terrified of him. Women usually had a much...warmer reaction to Julian. He had to pry them from his neck and wipe away their lipstick from his cheeks at movie premieres. He needed to warm her up or they were never going to convince anyone—much less a skeptical press—that they were dating.
He took a step back to let her into the hotel room. “Come on in, Gretchen.” He shut the door behind them and gestured for her to take a seat in the living room of his suite. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“Something alcoholic would make all this easier,” she muttered under her breath.
Julian’s