5. Chapter Five
And the agent said, “In sickness and in health, until the agreement runs out.”
* * *
The ringtone that I have set for my mother rings from my purse. I pull out my phone and connect the call.
Without me even saying hello, my mother says, “Darling, do you need me there? Really? It’s just Sal. When have you ever needed me to talk to your agent?”
I grip the phone tighter in my hand. “I just thought some moral support would be nice,” I say as I walk down the hallway toward my agent’s office.
“You know I support you in anything. I don’t have time to come over there, though.”
Of course she doesn’t. Not only that, but she also has no idea what I need her support on.
“Fine,” I say sharply.
“You’ll be at the grand opening on Thursday, right?” she asks, and it twists me up inside.
Oh, she can’t meet me at my agent’s office for a meeting about how my career is being handled, but I’m expected to be at her grand opening? The worst part is, she’s not asking me to be there because I’m her daughter. It’s free publicity for her if I, Christina Malloy, star of the Love Is in the Airnetwork, am there.
“It’s really not a?—”
“Christina Abigail Malloy, you promised me,” her voice drops into a pout, and I can imagine her face matches.
I set my jaw and stop outside the door to my agent’s office. “I’ll be there,” I say.
“Have to go, honey.”
And with that, the call is dropped. It’s been two days since I snuck out of the awards show with Graham Crowley, and my parents haven’t said a word. Two days and they hadn’t even wondered why I didn’t get back into the car with them at the end of it all, or even return to my seat.
The press noticed. Pictures of Graham and I were on the entertainment blogs and TV reports. His hand on my waist. Conversations we were having, in which we were talking through forced smiles, looked intimate. No one seemed to notice Olivia Chase’s cheek-to-cheek whispers, or how she wrapped herself around him.
My parents are oblivious to it all.
The only thing my mother cares about is me showing up for the opening of the new spa in Beverly Hills. It’ll be an exclusive new concept in a new posh hotel. And I’ll have the eyes of the million fans that dote on the movies that the Love Is in the Air network puts out, and she’s literally banking on that.
The door to my agent’s office opens and Penny is standing there.
“We thought the door might be locked since you were just standing out here in the hallway,” she says.
I breeze by her, my Gucci purse in the crook of my arm.
My heels click on the marble floor, and I pull my large, dark sunglasses from my face.
I know the drill. I walk straight to the boardroom where my agent Sal, his assistant Barbara, and three publicists sit around a table.
Sal stands and moves to me. He’s wearing sunglasses inside, which is a trait that makes me crazy. My father does that as if the room is always too bright. As if their own glow might blind them. It’s ego, and it’s ugly.
But this man has me a solid contract to make six more movies, and from there the franchise will just keep going, and I’ll be at the helm of it all.
“Sweet Christina,” he says as he kisses both of my cheeks. His breath is already laden with alcohol and cigars. It’s only eleven in the morning.
“Sal,” I say without the same enthusiasm.
It’s Penny who pulls a chair out for me, and I sit on the edge of it, crossing my legs, hoping that the skirt that I chose doesn’t ride up and distract my agent. I’m not about using my body to get my point across. I’m about using my mind to tell this sleazy man who controls my career that a mistake has been made and I want no part of it.
“You look great, darling. How was the award ceremony?” he asks.
“Boring. Predictable. Annoying.”
He gives one curt nod. The others just watch our interaction as if they are sworn to silence unless spoken to directly.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks.
“I just want to discuss something with you.”
“You want to discuss Graham Crowley.”
I inhale and look toward Penny, who has her eyes diverted to the iPad in front of her as if she’ll need to take notes on this.
I look back at Sal. “Yes.”
He looks toward the door behind me. “Right on time,” he says as the door opens, and he stands.
Walking into the room are Graham and his agent.
Sal shakes Graham’s hand and then Sandra’s as well.
Penny moves down a seat, leaving a chair between us, which Graham is all but pushed into by Sandra.
“Feels like the principal’s office, doesn’t it?” Graham whispers as he takes his seat.
“Or an ambush,” I say, bouncing my foot under the table.
Sal heard that, and he lowers himself into his chair.
“So, let’s just lay this out,” he begins. “I’m guessing that you called me to discuss the relationship between the two of you?”
I rest my forearms on the table and my bracelets thud against the wood. “There is no relationship between us,” I say slowly so that the point isn’t missed.
“Right. Well, tabloids say otherwise,” he counters, easing back in his chair.
“And why is that? Why do the tabloids think this at all?”
Sal pulls a cigar from his pocket and clenches it between his teeth, but doesn’t light it. Instead, he looks toward Graham’s agent.
Sandra steeples her fingers to her chin. “Listen, it’s all in the interest of what’s hot right now, and that’s the two of you. That romance channel is blowing up. Their streaming service with your movies is a fan favorite. There are watch parties. There are social media parties. There are fan clubs. You name it. The two of you are money in the bank.”
“We know that. We’re the ones that attend their fan parties and romance cons. We smile for their pictures. We sign their swag. That doesn’t mean I have to fall in love with this asshat,” I say, and Graham feigns insult. “Oh, you don’t feel any differently about me?” I snap.
“You’re right. I’m not fond of you at all.”
“The whole package?” I sit back in my chair and swivel it toward him so that our knees almost touch. I cross my arms and watch him, waiting for him to examine me as most men do.
Without giving me the satisfaction of a scan, he leans in toward me. “Did you want a list of things, your highness?”
I hold out my hand toward Graham. “Do you see what I put up with?” I ask Sal, who is grinning so widely that his cheeks push up his sunglasses slightly.
“Listen, doll, it’s publicity. The story is out there, and we think you should roll with it. The network is even offering some incentive.”
Now it’s Graham that leans in. “What incentive?”
“You’re contracted for six more movies. Four of those, you’re love interests.”
I groan, and Sal holds up a finger.
“They’re willing to give a bonus, a big bonus, to sign on to do six more after that. They want to do a fan cruise, and, doll, I have a hot lead on a big-screen rom-com written just for you.”
It’s bait. It’s bait. The sirens are going off in my head, but I can’t help it. I have to ask.
“Who is writing it?”
“Penelope Mondragon,” he says, and there is a collective gasp that goes through the room.
Penelope Mondragon is the greatest thing next to Nora Ephron; may she rest in peace. Working with Penelope Mondragon would be solidifying my place in rom-com history with Meg Ryan, Sandra Bullock, and Reese Witherspoon, just to name a few.
My mouth is actually watering.
“There are two people involved here,” Graham says, as if to remind them all that he needs some bait too.
His agent presses her hands flat on the tabletop. “Charles Malloy is asking for you,” she says.
Graham exchanges a look with me, and I can assure you my look is one of pure mortification at the dropping of my father’s name at the table.
“Well, what do you know?” he says, the corner of his mouth lifting in a cocky grin. “No doubt he sees my action hero potential.”
I can feel my neck and cheeks heat. A bead of sweat is rolling down the back of my neck. I swear, if my father is behind this...
“Listen,” Sal says leaning back in his chair, examining the cigar he hasn’t lit. “A love affair between Christina Malloy and Graham Crowley is gold. I don’t give two shits that you can’t stand one another. I haven’t talked to my wife in three years,” he says as if it’s the same thing. “Your fandom wants it. They’re willing to pay for it. This is gold.”
I clasp my hands together on top of the table and think about what to say.
“What if I’m involved with someone else?” I ask.
I can see Sal’s brow lift. “You?”
“Yes, me,” I say, more than a little insulted.
“Tell me about this,” Sal eases in over the table, his cigar now balanced between two pudgy fingers. “You’re seeing someone?”
I uncross my legs and cross them again. A look at Graham’s smirk tells me that no one believes I could be involved with anyone else. This team that’s supposed to support me doesn’t believe in me at all.
Graham leans in, too. “They just want a public presence?” he asks, getting me out of answering the question that had been posed to me.
“What more is there?” Sal asks.
“I mean, we don’t have to get married or anything, right?” Graham asks.
Grateful that he asked that, I turn my attention back to Sal.
He’s grinning, and I swear the tint on his sunglasses is even darker than before. “Just some photo ops, some outings, that kind of thing. No weddings. No babies,” he says, and I actually choke.
Penny hands Graham a glass of water to pass to me. I take it and sip.
“You’ll have to play it up on the set, because that’s where these people get their info,” Sal says, and it’s Graham that chokes out a laugh.
“Anyone who has been on set with us knows it’s tense.”
Sal agrees with a nod. “Yeah, well, now it needs to be full of sweet love.”
“I mean, I don’t have to sign a contract to be nice to her, do I?” Graham asks.
“No.”
“If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t work?”
“If it doesn’t work, I can’t promise the other things will fall in your lap,” Sal says with his brows raised.
Graham pulls his bottom lip through his teeth. I know what he’s thinking. If he pisses me off, I could run to Daddy.
But I’m thinking about Penelope Mondragon. Being in one of her movies is like a dream come true. It’ll be the catalyst for the career I really want.
“Can we discuss this?” Graham asks. “Alone?”
The publicists are the first to stand, followed by Penny and Barbara. Sal pats my hand and rises from his seat. Graham’s agent stands and touches his shoulder as she walks out of the room.
A moment later, we’re alone in the boardroom. I’m guessing this is just the start of me having to be alone with this guy.