Chapter 65
If Quinton already hated my pitch, I may as well go for broke. If Quinton was truly hitting on me, Dom needs to know.
“What was that whole hitting-on-your-brother’s-date thing earlier anyway? I’m with Dom. You’re with Selma. Why be the creepy heavy-hitting Hollywood director to the girl who just wants to spout off a pitch and go home?”
I stare at him, blind rage filling my eyes, but he just sighs and shrugs, looking slightly embarrassed.
“I just wanted to see if you were genuine. I would have never actually put any real moves on you. I would have stopped things before they got started. If it seemed like you were willing to take the bait, just to get your script read by me, I would have known for certain that Dom was in trouble.”
“What?” I feel rancid whiskey threaten to spill back out.
“I was pretending to hit on you to protect him.”
“That sounds beyond twisted.” I set my glass back down.
“It’s been years since we met anyone he liked. The last one Dom introduced us to, Taryn, turned out to be engaged to him for the wrong reasons. We only found out when she tried to seduce me for a film role. I figured if I flipped the tables on you and presented the opportunity right off the bat, we’d know pretty quick if that was all you were after.”
“You were testing me?” I’m both relieved and horrified.
He shrugs. “I’m sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable, Olivia. Truly, I am. There’s always a method to my madness, even for how eccentric Dom likes to say I am. There’s always a reason behind what I do. Tonight, it was to test your loyalty to him. You passed, if you’re at all curious.” I scoff, but he goes on. “Go ahead and think I’m an ass for it, but, to me, what matters is that Dom seems to have found someone worthy of him.”
It all makes sense now. Everything from Selma’s sudden attitude change once I mentioned the script, to the way Quinton seemed to transform into a better person the moment the pitch was done.
“Well, thank you for dinner,” I say curtly, “and for listening to that pitch.” I stand up. “You could have just said you weren’t interested in my work without dragging me down here in an attempt to make a fool out of me.”
“I would never have gone through with any of it.” He’s still acting more calm than I feel. Though if they’re so used to putting up with fake people, maybe this whole conversation doesn’t faze him nearly as much as me.
“Goodnight, Quinton,” I say as calmly as I can. Then I turn to walk toward the path that will lead me back to the house.
“I just have one more question for you, Olivia,” he says quietly.
“What?” I spin around, feeling hot tears pooling behind my eyes.
“If you didn’t book that Airbnb just to meet Dom, what are you doing in Hawaii for eight weeks completely by yourself? Why else would you be here?”
Even though I’m afraid my eyes are going to spill over, I let it all out. “You know that stupid proposal? The meme?”
“Of course,” he says. “Unwanted attention is never easy. Selma and I have lived with fame our entire adult lives. Tabloids will pay millions for dirt on us. I get how hard that can be, but it still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
“Yeah, well, after my face became recognizable to most of New York, my boss at UBN allowed me to take a sabbatical. I found the cheapest place on Airbnb. Took out a credit card and burned through my savings to book it. Then, what do you know? I show up, and my ex, who humiliated me on television, turning my face into a world-famous meme, is living on the other side of the rental wall.”
I pause to let that sink in. The dark humor of my last eight weeks.
“The guy you proposed to was renting the other half of Dom’s townhouse?”
“Not was renting. Is renting. He is renting the other half. As in, currently living on the other side of my wall. With his beautiful new girlfriend.”
“No shit.” Quinton swings his legs off the chair and turns toward me, fully invested now. “Why didn’t you just leave? Go back to New York?”
I scoff. “It should have been that easy, right?”
“Dom wouldn’t let you out of it?”
“No. Even though I begged him at first.”
He has the nerve to laugh at this. “He was falling for you already, wasn’t he? Was that the reason? Of course, it had to be. Dom is worth more than Selma and I combined. He never would’ve been cruel like that, unless there was a reason.”
“Yeah, well.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Turns out you’re all a little mad. Always a method behind your madness, you said? That must run in the family.”
“It seems to have worked out for the best.”
I crack a smile, my first since we got down here. “I suppose it did.”
“So what happened after that?”
I don’t know why I’m suddenly spilling my life to Quinton, but I am. It almost feels therapeutic to just let it all hang out like this. My imperfect situation that, if it weren’t me living it, would be moderately entertaining.
“After Dom wouldn’t let me out of the reservation, I guess he probably felt bad, because he started coming around to hang out. At first, it was to make my ex jealous. Dom thought I’d stick through to the end of my reservation if I was having fun with it. Then it quickly became more than that. He taught me to surf. Took me to Cliff’s. I met all his friends. I really love them.”
His smile grows. “I heard about your awesome rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline.’” He chuckles.
I like this version of him. I don’t know what type of air he was putting on for me earlier, that whole act of the stereotypical drunken film director taking the innocent doe-eyed scriptwriter down to the pool. This version of him seems decent.
“Why aren’t you drunk anymore?” I ask him suddenly.
“Ah. Well, that was all part of my show! I wasn’t drinking as heavily as I let on. Right before you showed up, Dom was telling us that you were renting his place for two months, and you’d quickly befriended him. Selma and I quietly guessed you were using him to get my attention. We didn’t mention it to Dom, but it didn’t sit very well with either of us. It seemed too contrived that you’d be renting from him for the eight weeks leading up to our vacation.”
“So it was all an act.” Part of me thinks everything about him is twisted, and the other part finds it somewhat endearing that Quinton would be so protective over Dom like this. To risk his own reputation just to save his brother some future heartache.
“Guilty,” he confirms. “I do enjoy putting on a great show.” Then he winks at me, his smile growing wider, and I finally feel myself relax. “You’re living a very interesting life lately, aren’t you?”
He’s listened closely to every word I’ve said. “Interesting doesn’t begin to describe what my life has been lately.” I crack a smile. “Which brings us to today. Me pitching you. Something Dom insisted I do, against my better judgment, considering what happened with Taryn.”
I wait with bated breath, hoping that he’s going to tell me he loves it, now that he knows I’m genuine.
“Olivia, I like you. I really do.” I have a sinking feeling that this is starting out like the sweetest rejection letter I’ve ever gotten. “The pitch on your script was fine. I could give you some pointers on how to present it to the next director. Places to tighten it up here and there. Maybe an additional plot twist you could add in. However—”
He continues on, but I don’t hear the rest of what he’s saying.
After all the hell I’ve gone through to get here, what I’m getting right now is a very heartfelt rejection.