Chapter 4 #2
‘Chad Hardy and I were set up by our agents to attend six events together and “avoid any comment on the status of our relationship”. That’s not dating.
’ Nina looked up, towards Markus’s sleek Jaguar, so out of place in front of the untamed, rolling hills.
‘If I decide not to go back after Shadowlands, I’ll have to start my life from scratch. ’
Markus pulled her up short as they reached his car. ‘Okay, what’s going on? Seriously. I know you. You love acting.’
She did.
Absolutely.
She loved the stories, loved the filming, loved seeing her fragmented scenes get stitched together to create something wonderful.
And, still, she couldn’t voice her darkest fear to Markus, couldn’t tell him that she worried she might never act again.
So, she fell back on an easy half-truth.
‘Do you know how many people visited when I ended up in hospital?’
Markus sighed. ‘No.’
‘Four. Four people in the three days I was there. You. Alison, Val, who wanted to know when I could be back on set. And Alex, the producer of the film I was working on.’ Only talking about it made her want to weep. Her stomach roiled with nausea.
‘You didn’t tell anyone what happened,’ Markus argued. ‘Luigi and the gang would have shown up. Michael definitely would have come.’
‘He’s my publicist, Markus. He literally works for me.’
‘Still, that’s another six or seven people right there.’
He was right, of course. She had worked at Luigi’s Italian Restaurant for years as a kid, and Luigi and the staff had become her default family of sorts.
But Nina hadn’t called Luigi for one simple reason: she didn’t want anyone to know what had happened.
Because then she’d have to explain everything.
And she wasn’t ready. She probably never would be …
‘Who else?’ she asked instead. ‘If people had known, who else would have shown up for me?’
Markus’s silence was deafening.
‘I’m not feeling sorry for myself,’ she said, though she was. ‘I’m just trying to figure out exactly when I gave up everything else to pursue acting. God, Markus, it’s been fifteen years of hustling roles and scavenging the rent money.’
‘Baby, you haven’t scavenged in at least five years,’ he reminded her.
‘And you’ve kept your circle small for a reason.
You don’t trust people. And all that aside, rather a few good friends who truly care than a posse who shows up to take pictures of your trauma for their Instagrams. God, Neens, do you know how many people in the world don’t have what we have?
And I’m not talking about our fabulous jobs – although God knows that’s enough.
’ He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
‘I’m talking about this.’ Taking her hand, he placed her palm over his heart, kept her hand covered with his.
‘Us. Yes, you might not have a giant family and a swarm of friends who show up when shit goes south, but you have me. And I better be enough for you, biatch. Because you’ve always been enough for me. ’
Nina swallowed the emotion, the shame, in her throat. She’d hurt him, she realized. Really hurt him. ‘You’re enough. I’m just panicking. Without acting I don’t have much of a life …’
Markus smiled. ‘You still have acting. You always will. But for now, just rest. Take some time for you.’ He released her and opened the car door.
‘If you need anything – anything at all – you call. I’m close.
’ He waved his phone. ‘And I have Maverick’s number now, so if I can’t get here quickly, he can. ’
Nina groaned. ‘Markus, do not text him.’
‘Sorry, baby. I’m not promising anything.’ He slid into his car, started it and rolled down the window. ‘If things go my way, I’ll be back before you can miss me.’
‘I miss you already,’ she said, and even though she needed him to leave, there was a conflicting anxiety thrashing around in her stomach at the sight of him preparing to actually go.
Markus reached one arm out his window, cried, ‘Wanda, save yourself!’
It was their ritual instead of saying goodbye, something that had started when they’d met on the set of Zombie Bride, fifteen years prior.
They had been extras, actors paid a menial amount to die horrendous deaths on screen.
Markus and Nina had been paired together, and when the camera had swooped down on them, Markus had ad-libbed.
As he’d been taken down, he’d flung out an arm, pushing her away while screaming, ‘Wanda, save yourself!’
And having not expected the words, and in a completely impulsive moment, she’d replied, ‘All right!’ And she’d run away, leaving him to die.
The crew had laughed, and the director had included the scene, thus giving Nina her first two seconds of face time.
She put the fear and grief in her voice and cried, ‘All right!’
But as she watched Markus zip away, down the shaded drive, very real panic stuck in her throat.
Maverick watched Nina Keller from the hitching rail outside the resort lobby as she said goodbye to Markus, her arms wrapped around her midriff, her shoulders rounded. She looked so small and alone, so terrified.
She stood there, watching the road for minutes after the car disappeared from view, and when she finally turned around to head back to her cabin, he noticed the tears streaming down her face.
When she saw him, she hurriedly swiped her flushed cheeks, and sent him a shaky smile as she passed.
Mav returned the smile, and though he wanted to, he didn’t speak. He didn’t ask if she was all right when she so clearly wasn’t.
He let her go.
She was a celebrity, as used to being in the public eye as he was being alone and working with the horses, and – unlike everyone else – he would give her the privacy she had come to Hunt Ranch to find.
The other truth was that Maverick hadn’t realized just how big a deal she was until he’d resumed his tour with the Morgans, only to have them completely ignore the remainder of it to gossip over Nina Keller and the bruises under her makeup.
He hadn’t minded, had found himself listening as he’d shown them to their cabin.
Given all the tidbits the Morgans had known about her, Maverick figured Deb had nailed it when she’d announced in the staff meeting that Nina Keller was Hollywood’s current golden girl.
He couldn’t imagine what that must be like, never being able to go out in public – to the store or a restaurant or the beach – without everyone recognizing you, stopping to talk to you as if they knew you. And after seeing the Morgans’ reaction to her, Mav was concerned.
Not about the Morgans, though Mrs Morgan was going to cave and ask for an autograph and a photo by tomorrow. But about everyone else. The NDAs took care of the staff, but he and Sierra could do nothing about the other guests, who could total nearly thirty at any time.
He sighed and angled his head to watch Nina Keller as she walked back to her cabin, her arms still hugging her stomach, her head lowered, and he wondered how the hell they were going to give her the peace and quiet she needed for her entire month-long stay.
Hunt Ranch had gates, but they stayed open all day so that people could mosey in and eat at Stagecoach or grab a coffee from the little café, the Hitching Post, and explore the gift shop and the petting zoo.
And while the buildings were quite a ways from her cabin, once a person was on property, Nina wouldn’t be hard to find – especially if someone was looking.
And he wondered: why wouldn’t a woman, a wealthy celebrity who had been assaulted in her own home, bring private security with her on vacation? It might not have been any of his business, but that didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. It confused him. Worse, it worried him.