Chapter 11
Marina
Monday . . .
Lying brown eyes.
Each strand of hair strategically placed.
Smarmy grin that makes me sick to my stomach.
“Cut.” The director strides across the set to stand in front of me. “You’re supposed to be in love with him, yet I’m getting black widow vibes instead. Do you need a break, Marina?”
Although a break would give me a brief reprieve from looking at the asshole formerly known as my boyfriend, I choose to be a professional. “No. I’m ready.”
His brows pinch together. “You sure?”
“I’m sure, Gerald.”
Patting Corbin on the back, he tells him, “Great job. Keep it up.”
“I will,” Corbin replies with a fake-ass smile on his lying face. Turning to me, he whispers, “I’m the jilted lover here, so you better pull it together.”
“Jilted?” I balk in his face, then whisper, “You? You’re an assh—”
“Quiet on the set,” a voice rings out, the clapboard slamming closed right after.
Corbin dips his head and then looks up slowly. For a method actor, he sure did struggle to believe he was already taken. “I love you, Debra.”
“What is love but something hopeless romantics speak of?”
“Love embodies us, perfumes the air, and . . .” His goofy grin falls as he looks back at me. “Love is all I have to give.”
I turn my back to him and close my eyes, lowering my head solemnly just as I remember the script instructing.
“Love isn’t enough when I’ve already said yes to another.
” Turning around, I poke him in the chest. “Why couldn’t you tell me before I said yes to Nathaniel?
Why did you lie when I asked you if you felt anything for me at the lake last summer?
Why did you date Rosie if you loved me so much? Why, Clark?”
“Because I was too shy, too weak, too confused, so I let you go, hoping it would pass. But it hasn’t.”
Looking him straight in the eyes, I say without hesitation, “You’re too late. My heart already belongs to another.”
“Cut.” Gerald’s footsteps echo in the space between us until he appears in the spotlight with us. “Great job. How are you feeling about it?”
“Better than ever.” I smirk because I’m not perfect and since sarcasm isn’t appropriate, it comes out in my facial expression.
Corbin says, “There was a line that I feel Marina could have delivered—”
“Have a great night, Gerald,” I say, walking away.
Gerald announces, “That’s a wrap for the night.”
Grabbing my water from my chair, I hurry toward the sound stage exit.
“Marina?” Corbin calls out, closing in on me. “Wait up.”
Why the heck would I wait on his command? He’s so out of touch with reality. Picking up my pace, I head toward my trailer. I open the door, but it stops hard in his hand before I can close it. Glaring at him, I grind my teeth. “Let go.”
“We need to talk.”
“We don’t need to do anything. If you’d like to say something to me, have your people contact mine.” I bat my eyelashes with a fake-as-he-is grin on my face, then reach down and yank the door. When he doesn’t release the door, I snap, “Leave before I scream.”
Staring at me, he dares to take a step up. “You wouldn’t—”
“And then security escorted him to his trailer,” I tell Poppy over dinner later that night.
We’re sitting at my favorite burger place in Vancouver and keep eating as if this is normal for our everyday lives. It’s not, but it’s nice not to carry the burden of caring so much.
She shoves another fry in her mouth and shakes her head. “This is going to get out of hand fast if you’re not careful.”
“I was careful.” I roll my eyes. “Before the other night with Cash.” Swirling a fry between us, I then jab the air. “But it got out of hand when he cheated on me.”
“Now he thinks you cheated on him as well, and you didn’t.”
“I don’t care what he thinks. We’re broken up.
” I take a gulp of beer, then set the glass down.
Dragging my finger up the pint glass, I collect the condensation on the tip.
I look around to see if any eyes are on me.
There always are, but none that feel intrusive.
The privacy I’m given here is one of the reasons I like this place so much.
And the burgers and fries can’t be beat.
“I’m over Corbin Darian and catering to his whims, him stealing my mascara to make his eyes pop for the fans, and his dumb excuses. ”
“What excuses has he given?”
“None. That’s the other problem I have.” Poking myself in the chest, I reply, “I’m not even warranted a pleading for forgiveness conversation, worth lying to my face to keep me in that relationship.
I don’t matter enough for him to even call me over the weekend.
So I can’t give him more than he’s given me. ”
Her gaze stretches across the room and she appears deep in thought as she chews her food. When she’s done, she looks back at me. “I’m sorry you’ve had to go through that on your own. I wish you would have told me.”
“I did when I knew.”
“I wish you would have told me what was going on all along. As your friend, we could have plotted his murder. Now we’re stuck with him until the end of the movie.” She cracks a smile, prompting my own. “Also, tell me about the mascara. I’m always searching for a great one.”
Laughing out loud, I cover my mouth, so the restaurant isn’t exposed to me eating. “I can hook you up,” I say behind my hand. When I can finally speak freely again, I lean forward, and whisper, “I talked to Cash yesterday.”
She does a double take, and her mouth drops open. “What the hell? Why am I only finding out about this now?” Her lips twist to the side, and she raises her brow. I’ve seen Poppy genuinely angry twice, and this isn’t one of them.
I giggle but still shrug, playing it off like it’s no big deal that I talked to the man I claim I can’t stand. I can stand him . . . too much. That’s also becoming a problem.
Two fingers are snapped in front of my face. “Marina?” My gaze darts to hers and she says, “You lied yesterday. You really do like him.”
My spine straightens in offense. “No, I don’t.”
There’s that brow again. “You sure about that?”
I dip a fry in ketchup and eat half, keeping my eyes on the condiment on my plate.
“He’s positively awful.” I smile to myself while forcing my shoulders to shudder.
“He broke my phone.” I glance up with all the intensity I can muster for effect.
With her eyes set on mine, though, she’s not just staring at me. Poppy can see right through me.
I continue because the guilty always ramble. “He’s intolerable. Sure, he helped me out of that club and kissed me like I’ve never been kissed before, but that doesn’t mean he’s Mr. Wonderful.” Cue eye roll for added drama.
Resting her arms on the table, she whispers, “Again, are you sure about that?” She taps her chin. “What I recall from prior mentions of Mr. Ryatt, ‘absurdly attractive’ had a small part in the conversation.”
“Very small, Pops. He’s almost impossible to look at,” I lie between my teeth. Looking away from her again, I can’t stop myself from grinning as I think about him now.
“You do realize you’re an actress, right?
Like this is the profession you’ve chosen, yet look at you.
You’re smiling like a sixteen-year-old when the hot quarterback asks you out.
And since I was a front-row witness to that event, I recognize it.
” Lowering her voice, she says, “Since we both remember how horrible that turned out, I have one warning for you.”
Tilting my head, I ask, “Which is?”
“If he’ll break your phone, you better be careful with your heart.”
I nod because she’s not wrong. “Wise words.”
“If it makes a difference, though . . .” She twirls her finger between us. “It sure is good to see you happy. I feel like it’s been a while.”
“Too long. Ironic since I was supposed to be happy with Corbin.”
“You weren’t happy with him. You were . . .” The bill is dropped off. Poppy slaps her credit card down too fast for me to cover it. “It’s on me. I appreciate you letting me stay with you.”
“Thank you.”
And then it’s swiped away by the server almost as quickly. As if there was never an interruption, Poppy continues, “You were waiting.”
“Waiting for what?”
“I’m not sure.” She sounds as perplexed as I am. “I just know you’re not where you’re supposed to be.”
I could reply with a snarky comment, but I don’t.
Instead, I let her words sink in. She’s right.
I’m not where I’m supposed to be—in my career or in life—and it has nothing to do with where I’m currently seated.
Glancing at my phone, I think about my earlier call with my agent.
“Lauren said I blew the hard work she’d put into Corbin’s team.
They were signed on for a reconciliation on the red carpet that would have apparently had the world swooning.
Now they’re going in a different direction. ”
“What direction is that?” Her high pitch reflects my annoyance as well.
“I have no idea. I have a feeling I’ll be blindsided again.”
She reaches over and covers the top of my hand. “I hate that and Corbin, but listen to me, Marina. I respect Lauren, but she’s not always right. You don’t need to have a red-carpet reunion with a cheating asshole. You need to find your happiness again and live life for you.”
“I could ruin my career if I do that.”
“You could ruin your life if you don’t.” Sitting back, she adds, “You don’t have to live by everyone else’s rules.” She smiles. “Don’t let anyone define you. Only you have that right.”
Poppy’s my best friend for a reason. Through thick and thin, ebbs and flows of life, she’s always been there for me and I for her. I laugh, then roll my eyes. “Fine, you can stay as long as you want.”
She laughs. “That was easy.”
“Seriously, though, it’s good to spend time with you. With you around, I feel more myself again. It’s like my backbone had caved to be a good girl, as I’m called too often by producers and Hollywood types.”
“It’s more fun being a bad girl anyway.”
I sit back again when the card is returned. “Maybe it’s time for an image change.”
“You don’t need to change. You don’t need to lie. You just need to live for yourself. Screw everybody else and their opinions.” She signs the bill and hops off her barstool. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I saw a cute shop down the street. Let’s go shopping.”
The eyes that spied us earlier follow us out the door. Out on the sidewalk, I loop my arm with hers, already feeling better in the sunshine. “I never made a good bad girl.”
“You’ve never tried before.”
“The role was already cast,” I say, eyeing her and then laughing.
“I’m not as bad as I could have been.” She stops and readjusts her bag from her arm to her hand. I slip on a pair of sunglasses when she says, “Maybe it’s time for us to switch parts?”
“That’s not an entirely bad idea. If we can’t beat ’em—”
“Make them regret ever meeting you.”
My jaw drops open. “That escalated quickly. I was going to say make them regret underestimating me.”
Her shoulders jump just as she loops her arm with mine again. “That works, too.”
I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m special.
Women are cheated on all the time. I’ve even been cheated on before.
But it’s different when it’s played out in front of the world.
The thing is, I’m the bad guy in the media right now.
So if they’re going to brand me with a scarlet letter, I might as well make it worth it.
While Poppy looks at shoes, which is the last thing I need to be buying when thinking about my collection at the apartment, I pull out my phone and text Cash:
Is Ryatt your real last name?