30. Jameson #2
For the first time since they’d arrived, Brock acknowledged Leah Mae. He held up a hand and nodded to her. She smiled back, giving him a little wave. Maisie didn’t exactly glare, but she didn’t look all too friendly, either.
The people Leah Mae had been talking to—she’d introduced me, but I’d already forgotten their names—finally moved on and I pulled her closer to the edge of the room. I didn’t know about her, but even though no one was talking to me, I needed a break.
“How are you doing?” she asked. “You hanging in there?”
“I reckon.” I adjusted my jacket again and tugged at my tie. “It’s a bit warm in here.”
“You must be hot in that suit. I’m sorry, I know this has been miserable. We don’t have to stay much longer. I just want to make sure I talk to Thomas Spencer, the show’s other producer.”
“All right,” I said. “But why are you actin’ so weird?”
“What?” she asked. “How am I acting weird?”
“You’re not acting like yourself. The way you’re talking to everyone, you don’t seem like you.”
“It’s just part of the job,” she said. “I don’t want to rock the boat, and it’s almost over anyway.”
I wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer, but I didn’t want to argue with her here. I rubbed my hand up and down her arm, taking solace in the feel of her soft skin against my fingertips. “Should I get us drinks?”
“That would be nice.” She touched the side of my face and leaned in to kiss me lightly on the mouth. “Thank you for this.”
“I’ve got your back, darlin’.”
“You’re amazing.”
Her smile soothed my discomfort a bit. I kissed her cheek and headed toward the bar. I still wanted that whiskey.
The bartender was a young woman with a shiny bob and dark lipstick.
I ordered our drinks and waited, glad to finally have something to do.
I hated the way people were talking over and around me, like I wasn’t there.
Reminded me too much of growing up. I’d drifted around like a ghost, always trying to stay out of the way.
Remain unseen. Being noticed usually meant being yelled at in my house, so I’d stayed invisible.
But being invisible had started to eat at me after a while.
More than once, I’d wondered if I just wandered off and left home, how long it would take before anyone would notice.
I couldn’t count the number of times I’d looked at those posters with Callie’s face, pretty sure if it had been me, they’d never have been made.
“Hi, there.”
The woman’s voice startled me from my thoughts. I looked over to see Maisie Miller standing at the bar next to me.
“Pardon me,” I said. “Afraid I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Sorry about that.” She held out her hand. “I’m Maisie.”
“Jameson Bodine,” I said, shaking her hand. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Her smile widened. “You really are from West Virginia, aren’t you?”
“Born and raised.”
I glanced around, but didn’t see Brock. I wondered if I was supposed to be talking to Maisie, or if all that mattered now that the show was done and the press wasn’t around. Wasn’t sure why she was talking to me, either. Reckoned she was just being friendly.
“Have you been to L.A. before?”
“I haven’t,” I said. “I’ve been a fair few places on the East Coast, but never out west.”
“What do you think so far?”
“It’s… different.”
She laughed a little and nodded slowly. “I’m sure it is.”
Something seemed to catch her eye and her smile faded. My eyes darted in the direction she was looking, and I saw Leah Mae and Brock standing together, talking.
My back clenched all over again. They were standing close, talking with a certain familiarity.
Granted, they’d spent two months filming a show together, so a bit of friendliness didn’t mean anything.
But I didn’t like the way he was looking at her, and truth be told, I liked the way she was smiling back at him even less.
Maisie didn’t appear to be any happier about it than I was. Her lips pressed together in a thin line and a flicker of emotion passed across her features. I only caught a glimpse of it before she took a breath and smiled at me again. But now her smile looked forced.
The bartender put our drinks out, and she grabbed her martini. Took a sip.
“It was nice to meet you,” she said. “Good luck.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said, but she was already walking away.
I picked up my whiskey, and Leah Mae’s gin and tonic, and moved in her direction. She was still talking to Brock, but Maisie had found someone else in the crowd to speak to.
Just before I reached them, Brock stepped in and hugged Leah Mae. Her back was to me, so I couldn’t see her face, but he smiled and said he’d see her later.
I stepped up next to her and leveled Brock with a hard stare. I wasn’t the jealous type, but this was the guy she’d supposedly slept with. A guy who had a wife in this very room. He needed to move the fuck on.
Brock didn’t acknowledge my existence any more than the rest of the people here. He just walked away, heading in the direction of his wife.
“You didn’t have to glare at him,” Leah Mae said, taking her drink from my hand.
“I wasn’t glaring.”
She smiled. “Yes, you were.”
“He was being a little too friendly, is all.”
Her brow knitted together, like she didn’t understand. “We were just talking.”
I let it drop and swallowed back half my whiskey.
The burn of it felt familiar—the only thing I recognized in this place.
I’d expected to be uncomfortable. Worked myself up to it and thought I’d been prepared.
But there was a discomfort of a different sort that had taken root in my gut, and I wasn’t sure what to do about it.
Maisie Miller caught my eye again, standing next to Brock in that bright red dress. She was looking up at him with the same look she’d had before, when we’d been standing at the bar. A look that said exactly what I was feeling, and I reckoned she was thinking the same as me, too.
What had happened between Leah Larkin and Brock Winston on that show?
I’d never asked. I’d seen the way they were settin’ it up in the early episodes, but after that, I hadn’t watched.
Sort of felt like a betrayal to Leah Mae, even before we’d been seein’ each other.
So I’d avoided the show. I’d heard things second hand—from people around town, a few articles I’d bothered to read, and the little bit that Leah Mae had told me.
But we’d never really talked about it outright. And I’d been going on the assumption that nothing had happened, and Leah Mae’s distress was because the entire thing had been faked.
But what if it hadn’t been? What if something had happened between them, and she was upset and ashamed because they’d been caught?
I felt bad for thinking it, but at the same time, how would I know?
Turned out, she was an excellent actress.
She hadn’t seemed like herself since the moment we’d arrived.
I could see her doing it—playing a role.
She was playing Leah Larkin, and it made me wonder who she’d been playing when she was filming the show. How deep had she gone?
It was deeply uncomfortable to feel like there was suddenly a whole lot I didn’t know about Leah Mae Larkin. About what had really gone on behind the scenes when she was filming that show. What had she been willing to do for that career she’d wanted so badly?
She hadn’t ever denied the affair. Not to me. Not to the media. Why not? What else did she have to lose, now that the show was over? She’d had reporters asking her questions out there. Why hadn’t she told the truth?
It didn’t make any sense. Unless there were parts of the truth she wanted to avoid telling.
I kept up my role for a little longer while Leah Mae took little sips of her drink, smiled that fake smile.
Talked to some more people who looked right past me.
Thankfully, she decided we could leave before they served dinner.
The thought of eating a meal among these people turned my stomach sour.
I reckoned there were decent folk around, but I was damn tired of feeling like a ghost, or a bodyguard.
Someone who just took up a bit of space, but wasn’t worth talking to.
We went back to the hotel and ordered room service. Leah Mae suggested a bath together, but I told her I was tired. Truth be told, I had a lot swirling through my mind. Wasn’t sure what to do with all of it. I needed some space to think, so I turned in early.