Chapter Three
From his bedroom window, Jay watched Erin walk at a quick pace down Scenic Drive on her way to work. Beyond her diminishing figure was the stunning view of Carmel’s beach and ocean—worth every one of the many millions he’d spent on his new place. He had barely thought twice about parting with so much dough—this house was everything he’d dreamed of since he was a kid. It had been especially fun showing Erin around. The ten minutes he’d spent talking to her had been the most interesting he’d had in months. He certainly hadn’t got intellectual remarks from the last woman he’d dated, whose only opinion about his new house was that it was roomy , but in all fairness, her brains hadn’t been her chief attraction.
He’d made a point of never dating actresses—they could be clients one day and he never crossed that line. So she had been another in a long line of lingerie models who showed no hint of wanting to break into Hollywood.
Erin might not be centerfold material, but watching her walk down Scenic Drive, he was aware again of that nagging pull of attraction. She might challenge him and offer him stimulating conversation in his own home. It was something to think about. Except it wasn’t. She was Arch’s little sister. He allowed himself to watch her until she was out of sight, and then went over the furniture and interior design plans. He wanted to be fully furnished and move-in ready asap.
When the doorbell rang an hour or so later, he almost didn’t answer it. Hardly anyone knew he was here, but since he was always available to his clients, there was always the possibility that one of them had tracked him down. He jabbed a couple of buttons on the unfamiliar security videocam until it flickered to life and there was Archer Davenport, grinning up at the camera as though it was there just for him.
Jay grinned back, put down the script he was reading, and headed for the door. He always had time for Archer. He was one of his most lucrative and, frankly, favorite clients. Also, they’d been a team from the beginning. As he walked downstairs his mind flashed back to the very early days of his career and the day Arch had first brought him home for Thanksgiving.
At that time, Arch had been a struggling actor and, like many hopefuls in LA, was a waiter trying to break into the movies. He’d discovered a part that was perfect for him, but he’d yet to secure an agent—and no agent, no part. That’s where Jay came in. He was also working at the restaurant. They’d become good friends, charming the all-female tables and sharing tips, and, after mulling over Arch’s dilemma, Jay had had one of those lightbulb moments. He figured that since Arch had natural talent, all he needed was the prestige of an agent. Why not Jay? All he had to do was to create a fancy-looking letterhead and start telling everybody in Hollywood how great his clients were.
So that was exactly what he did. He took to the role like a fish to water, knowing that confidence and self-belief and a lot of hustle was the recipe for success in Hollywood. Arch and Jay worked into the small hours of the night making the most of Archer’s meager credits to create a stellar resume. He’d starred in the high school play and the way Jay sold it, he sounded like he’d brought down the house on Broadway. He’d done a couple of commercials, one for tube socks and one for an acne cream, and again Jay made him sound like a major celebrity.
Arch wavered a couple of times, but Jay wouldn’t let him back down. He’d said, “Archer, Hollywood is all about creating an image and selling it. That’s all we’re doing with you.” And then, “You’re sure you can play the part?”
“Yes,” Arch had said without hesitation.
Jay leaned forward, excitement buzzing through his bloodstream like he’d mainlined sugarcane, and said, “Can you blow them out of the water with how well you nail that audition?”
Arch had jumped to his feet and thrown his fist in the air. “Hell, yeah.”
“Then I accept you as my first client.”
Arch got the part and kept Jay as his agent. Soon, Arch’s career was doing well enough that they could both quit the restaurant business. Jay scooped up a few more talented hopefuls and the rest was movie history. As the two of them told that story over the Thanksgiving table, everyone had laughed. But Jay also recalled with acute embarrassment how intimidated he’d been by the Davenport family. Mila, with her flashy surfing career, and even fifteen years ago, Damien was already on his way to fame and fortune. But they had been so warm and welcoming that he’d soon begun to feel at ease with this family in a way he’d never experienced before.
It was a happy memory and as he opened the door, he greeted Arch with a big grin. “Good to see you, man.” He extended his hand for a bro handshake and then a quick manly hug—two claps on the back.
“I saw you drive past earlier,” Arch said. “Figured I’d better get a tour of the house before you head home to LA.”
Jay’s grin faded. Was that how Arch saw him? As somebody who was going to use this gorgeous waterfront place like a weekend getaway? The longer he spent here, the more he felt as though Carmel-by-the-Sea could be a fresh chapter for him, in this home he never would have dreamed would be his one day, back when he was a kid and had nothing.
“I figure I can do a lot of my business here and pop back to LA when I have to.” He paused and then grinned again. “It’s a lot nicer here, I think you’ll agree.” He took a step back and invited Arch into the Art Deco foyer.
As he gazed around, the expression on Arch’s face said it all.
“I am definitely paying you too much if you can afford this,” Arch said, laughing half in amazement. “I’m supposed to be the movie star and this is bigger than my place.”
Jay couldn’t help but feel a stab of pride, but he covered it with their well-worn banter. “Face it, bro, I’m better at business than you are.”
“That’s true. Also, I wouldn’t have the modest wealth I’ve managed to accumulate if it wasn’t for you.”
He grinned. “My thoughts exactly.”
He began his second tour of the day, noting that Arch was much less enthused by the built-in shelving in the library than Erin. He couldn’t wait to fill those shelves with books. When he got to the master bedroom, a massive space begging for an enormous bed, he took a good long minute to enjoy the view. “No place like home,” Arch said, gazing out at the ocean. “There’s just something about Carmel that nowhere else tops. Maybe it can even crack a tough LA nut like you.”
Jay wasn’t a sentimental guy, so he kept quiet, but inside he was thinking that Carmel-by-the-Sea had already hooked him. Was already reeling him in.
Turning to gaze around the bedroom, Arch raised an eyebrow and asked, “Okay, no bed yet. But where’s Miss November?”
Jay grimaced. “It was Miss April, and she’s no longer in the picture. We weren’t compatible.”
“Don’t tell me you’re turning over a new leaf?”
Somehow, Jay didn’t find the comment funny. In fact, it had been playing on his mind all morning, ever since Erin had teased him about dating lingerie models.
Arch said, “I was just joking, but you’re not laughing.”
All Jay could say was, “Maybe I am.” He looked around the room. “You’re the third Davenport I’ve had in my house this morning. Mila was showing it to Erin when I got back early from LA.”
Arch gave him a hard look, his earlier playfulness draining away. “I get that you just moved here and you’re single, but Mila’s all but engaged, and as for Erin, don’t even think about going there.”
Jay laughed easily. “Believe me, I respect my gonads too much to put them in jeopardy by going near one of your sisters.”
He said the words with conviction, but in truth he had to admit that for the first time since he’d met her, he’d seen Erin not as Arch’s cute and nerdy kid sister, but as an interesting woman. Which was weird. Too weird to keep thinking about. He wasn’t the kind of guy to wade into murky territory—not even in his own thoughts. No. He was confident about making fast decisions. They’d almost always been the right ones.
So why did it feel like his head and heart were playing tricks on him? And why wasn’t Arch’s warning having its intended effect?
He quickly changed the subject to something safer—business. “How are you getting on with Shock Tactics ?”
Arch flexed his impressive biceps. “I’m working out like a maniac. Tessa was hard enough on me when she was helping my broken leg heal, but now she seems to have taken it upon herself to be my personal trainer, and that woman is tough as anything. She’s breaking me.” Arch said this with such affection that Jay couldn’t help but smile. They both knew Arch could have chosen any of the top personal trainers in the world to prepare for this role, but instead he’d chosen his new wife to take on the task.
“Whatever Tessa is doing, it’s working. You’re ripped. They’re barely going to need any prosthetics to beef you up.”
Arch nodded. “That’s the idea.”
“How’s the script looking? Have they made any significant changes after the table read?”
Arch shrugged. “It’s pretty good. Better than I thought it would be.”
“I’m telling you right now, this has all the makings of a Terminator -style classic.” He tapped his nose. “I can smell a hit.”
Arch, who usually laughed at Jay’s unwavering confidence, opened his eyes slightly wider. “Really?”
“Really.” He couldn’t explain how he did it, but it was a kind of superpower, being able to spot a hit. Of course, there was the odd fluke, but his track record was remarkable. And his gut was telling him that he and Arch were both going to make a nice chunk of change when the movie—and its sequels—went on to become legendary. As he liked to tell anybody who’d listen, especially his clients, that was why he got paid the big bucks.
Arch looked thoughtful. “What about this biopic of Herschel Greenfield? You think that’s going to be a hit too?”
He was less sure of this one. But he knew one thing—the story needed to be told. “When I first saw Herschel Greenfield at Tessa’s art show, there was something about the guy. He’s a real American hero, but he’s humble too. The guy’s seen things that only a handful of people will ever get to see or experience. He nearly died coming back to Earth. And it’s not fiction, it’s real.”
Arch nodded slowly. “I think the heart of the film is his honesty about being afraid to get back in the water. And how learning to surf helped him overcome that.”
Jay absolutely agreed. “And the fact that you can surf makes you the perfect person to play him.”
“Plus, I have easy access since he lives nearby and is crazy in love with my sister. Also, I genuinely like and respect him. He’s brilliant, but never shows off, and his fitness is off the charts. Do you know how many Iron Man competitions he’s done?”
Jay grinned. He was thrilled that Arch and Hersch were getting on so well. It would make it much easier for Arch to take on the part. He was probably picking up Hersch’s mannerisms and way of speaking without even realizing it. He doubted that the Herschel Greenfield biopic would ever become a massive hit, but it would be worthwhile, and definitely profitable.
When they’d finished the tour, Arch turned down coffee, which was pretty much all Jay had in the house, and said he had to get home. “It’s workout time.”
Jay walked him out and they clapped each other on the back. But as he was leaving, Arch said, “This is a great house you’ve got here, and I’m super happy to see you in the neighborhood.” He paused for a moment. “I’m sorry about Miss April. It would be nice to see you share this place with someone new.” Arch gave him a penetrating look. “Someone completely new.”
Jay gave a slightly forced laugh. “Copy that,” he said as he waved good-bye.
He knew what Arch was implying—that if he had any thoughts about making a move on his sister, then stop, pronto. But something about being told not to do something was enough to push Jay in the opposite direction. He did not like being told what to do.
As Jay closed the front door, he turned to take in his new house and found his mind returning to his childhood home. They’d barely had any possessions, but they always had a TV. His mom would pass out watching old romantic movies, but he’d sit there until the credits rolled. He’d fallen in love with movies when dreams were all he had. And now he was living the dream. But it wasn’t a dream, it was reality. And maybe, like those movies, the women who could pose for centerfolds or sell lingerie in fancy catalogs had been a dream too, and at the age of thirty-five, he was finally waking up. He didn’t want women he chose because of their looks and hot bodies. He wanted somebody real. Somebody he could talk to.
He liked the way Erin had challenged him today, the way she’d made assumptions about him—that he was shallow and incapable of reading a book all the way to the end. He wanted to show her that there was more to him. Frankly, he’d never had to try very hard with women. Now, he realized he didn’t want that anymore. He wanted someone like Erin.
He closed his eyes briefly. Someone like Erin, someone completely new , he reminded himself, even as deep inside a little voice suggested that maybe the woman he really wanted was Erin.
And didn’t that make his life a whole lot more complicated?