20. Duke
“How do I look?”Avery pauses in the street outside the restaurant, tugging on her hem.
I have to laugh. Because, come on, Avery can stop traffic in a trash bag– and she’s definitely not wearing a trash bag tonight.
Thanks to Artie’s connects at the airfield, we arrived in New York with time to spare– which Avery put to use disappearing into a hotel bathroom with her duffel, and emerging an hour later in a slinky gold slip dress that made me forget how to breathe.
“You look beautiful,” I reassure her.
Understatement of the year.
Avery gives me a look, fluffing out her glossy hair. “Yes, but am I beautiful for a cookout in Blackberry Cove? Or red carpet, magazine cover, Hollywood glamor kind of beautiful?”
“All of the above.”
“I’m serious!” she protests. I’ve never seen her nervous like this before, so I draw her closer, and cup her face in my hands.
“I haven’t been able to think straight in twenty blocks,” I say bluntly. “I’ve imagined a dozen ways I want to make you come tonight, and at least six of them involve you keeping that dress, and those heels on the whole time.”
Avery exhales in a rush, finally smiling. “Thank you,” she says softly, leaning up to press a kiss on my lips. “I feel like I’ve been out of the game forever, even though it’s just been a couple of months.”
“They’ll love you,” I say firmly.
“They better.”
Avery takes a deep breath, and it’s like she’s transforming right in front of me. Her shoulders roll back, and her chin juts up, and her smile gets bigger. Dazzling. Carefree.
And just like that, she’s not the Avery who was clutching her stomach on my bathroom floor, or delighting over a hundred crazy lobster recipes, or even the woman who woke up in my bed this morning, sleepy and soft and irresistible in the morning light. No, this is Avery Lawrence, movie star. Glittering and infuriatingly desirable, and out of anyone’s league.
It”s a good thing I’m falling in love with both of them.
“You’ve got this,” I tell her, squeezing her hand.
She smiles back and flips her hair. “I know.”
Avery sashays into the restaurant like she’s strolling down a catwalk. It’s a fancy sushi spot with dim lighting and mirrors everywhere. I stow her case with the coat check, and then we’re shown to the back, where a group of suits is waiting on the couches, clustered around a grown man in his forties wearing expensive skate kid streetwear and a backwards baseball cap.
This must be the director.
“Brady!” Avery coos, arriving at the table with a big smile. “It is so great to finally meet you.”
Brady doesn’t look up from his phone. He holds up a finger. “One minute,” he says, still scrolling.
Are you kidding me?
Avery told me on the flight that he’s a big deal in Hollywood right now, and has steered this Annihilation franchise to record box office receipts, but to me, he just looks like an overgrown kid who should show some damn manners and get off his phone.
But clearly, manners aren’t on the menu for this guy. Avery smoothly pivots to greeting the others, various producers whose names I forget, before Brady finally puts his phone down, stands, and greets Avery’s breasts.
“Thanks for making it in to meet. Things are crazy right now.”
“I can imagine,” Avery says, with a playfully cool smile. “But I’ll always make time for a role like this. I’m so intrigued to hear more. Why don’t we all get some drinks, and get to know each other?”
It takesme all of five seconds to clock that this director is an asshole, but I get to spend the next hour learning just how bad.
“… you should have seen the test footage,” Brady sneers, three drinks in. “I know the camera adds ten pounds but jeez, she was a whale! Nobody wants a close-up of that.”
The other guys at the table all laugh, too.
“You’ll look great in the costume,” one of the producers tells Avery, looking her over in a way that makes my skin crawl. “Lacey’s a real badass.”
“You’re so sweet,” Avery coos, sipping her drink. “I’d love to hear more about your vision for the character,” she adds, looking to Brady. “She was such a fun read on the page. What would you say her journey is, in the story?”
“Journey?” Brady repeats, amused. “Babe, just as long as you look hot with the crossbow, you’ll do great.”
One of the suits clears his throat. “What Brady means is, Lacey is all about female empowerment. Holding her own with the guys. She’s not like those girls who cry over breaking a nail. She is tough as nails.” He sits back, clearly pleased with himself.
“Wow,” Avery nods, looking impressed. “That’s so insightful. Have you thought about being a writer?”
The guy beams. “Well, actually, I have been working on a screenplay…”
He launches into the story, and I sit back and nurse my beer, watching Avery work.
Damn, she’s good.
To anyone watching, it seems like she’s having a great time, telling breezy anecdotes from her past movie sets, asking the producers insightful questions, and throwing back her head with delighted laughter when Brady cracks another crass joke.
But I know her. And I can tell, Avery can’t stand these idiots either.
“So, Drake, what’s your deal?” Brady finally drags his eyes away from Avery’s chest and looks me over.
“Duke,” I correct him pleasantly. “And I’m in construction. Historic restoration.”
“Cool,” he nods. “I just bought a place up in the Hills, old house, built by whatshisname… Lanter.”
“Lautner?” I ask, impressed. “That’s great. His designs are classic mid-century.”
“Yeah, but it’s too old, you know?” Brady gives a shrug. “Great views though, so I’m going to tear it down and built something really sick. Ultra-luxe.”
I stare. This guy’s sitting on a piece of architectural history, and he wants to tear it down?
I clench my jaw. This is Avery’s night, and I’m not going to ruin it for her because this jackass wouldn’t know good design if it hit him in the goateed face. “Cool,” I say blandly instead. “Sounds really… sick.” I put my beer down and get to my feet. “I’ll be right back.”
I head towards the restroom– and then keep going, to the alley out back where a couple of waiters are on a break. I need a breather away from these people– even if it is filled with smoke.
I don’t know how Avery does it.
But then, she has to deal with assholes every day in her line of work, while I can simply kick them off my crew, or refuse to take the gig. And the longer I watch her charm and beguile them all, until the whole table is eating out of her hand, the more I understand why she was so guarded when she arrived in town. There’s damn near a hundred layers of defense she’s got hiding under that breezy smile, protecting the real version of her from people like this.
Which makes me lucky to get so much as a glimpse.
I brace myself, and head back inside for more bullshit small talk. But when I reach the table, I see the producers have migrated to the bar. Avery and Brady are talking, alone– and she’s just removing his hand from her thigh.
I tense.
“There you are, babe,” she says brightly, seeing me approach. She flashes me a warning look, even though her tone is still light. “I was just saying, I need to go get my beauty sleep, and I know you’ve got a plane to catch,” she adds to Brady. Rising, she gives him a warm hug. “But I’m so glad we had this chance to connect. I can’t wait to dive in.”
“Yeah, me too,” Brady leers. “This is going to be awesome.”
Avery says her goodbyes to the producers at the bar. “Hopefully, I’ll be seeing you all again soon!” she winks, before we can finally grab her bag and get the hell out of there.
The street is quiet outside, at least, as quiet as the city ever is. I take her hand, pulling her closer in the neon streetlights as Avery takes a long, deep breath, and then another.
“You OK?” I check.
She nods, looking relieved to be out of there. “I’m great. Brady wouldn’t say if I got the role, but one of the producers told me, they’re making an official offer in the morning.”
Avery turns to me with a smile, and I realize, she’s not glad the evening’s over. She’s actually happy she’s going be working with those people.
“You want the job?” I ask in disbelief.
“Of course I do,” Avery frowns. “Haven’t you been listening? Lacey’s a lead role in a massive franchise, and they’re even talking about spinning her off to her own series, if the buzz is right. That’s huge!”
“Right.” I say quietly. “Sure.”
Avery pauses on the sidewalk. “Why aren’t you happy for me? This is what I want.”
“Is it?” I shoot back. “Because I know when you’re faking it, sweetheart, and you’ve been doing it all night. Laughing along with those assholes, pretending like it’s no big deal when he feels you up…”
“It’s not a big deal,” Avery says dismissively.
I snort. “He wants to sleep with you.”
“Well, obviously.” She gives a shrug. “He wouldn’t cast me for the role if he didn’t think I was going to fuck him.”
“And you’re OK with that?” I ask, thrown by the jaded edge in her voice.
“It’s how the industry works,” Avery replies, avoiding the question. She sighs. “Look, if you’re worried about me, don’t be. They’ll send a woman to set from the studio, some young development exec to babysit, and I’ll have my assistant, and they’ll all run interference to make sure we’re never in a room alone together. I’ll make a big deal about focusing on my performance, and soon enough, he’ll get bored of chasing me, and fly in whatever model he’s banging to keep him occupied. It’ll be fine.”
She says it so evenly, it almost hides how fucked-up the situation she’s describing really is. I scowl. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit, strategizing how to keep his hands off you, just to land a job.”
Avery gives me a wry look. “This is how it works in Hollywood.”
“Not if you did the movie with Madeline,” I argue. “You wouldn’t have to put up with any of this bullshit with her. You could just focus on the acting, on doing what you love best.”
“Sure, that would be a dream come true, but she hasn’t offered it to me!” Avery bursts out, her voice ringing in the night. “And the truth is, it might never happen. This is a dream offer I have, right now,” she insists, looking determined. “And I’d have to be stupid not to take it, after everything that’s happened this summer. What do you think all the work was for?” she demands. “Rehabbing my image, and playing all the tabloid games? It was so the gossip would change long enough for me to land a movie like this, and get my life back on track again!”
“On track?” I repeat. “You mean stuck for months on some set in the middle of nowhere, having to stroke that jackass’s ego and dodge his wandering hands?”
Avery shakes her head. “I can’t believe you’re pulling this jealous bullshit,” she says flatly, turning away.
“No,” I insist immediately. “I’m not jealous. That’s not what I’m saying here. And if you decide to take this gig, then I’m in,” I swear, pulling her back to me. “I’m all in. I’ll come visit you on set, and run lines with you, and teach you how to hold a crossbow so you don’t shoot someone’s kneecap out. I told you I’ll give you whatever you need, baby, and I mean it,” I vow. “I just want you to take a moment and think about what you want.”
“I want this,” Avery says stubbornly. “I always have.”
But I can see something in her eyes shift. Something aching, and impossibly sad.
“I’ve watched you all summer, tie yourself up in knots playing their bullshit tabloid games,” I tell her, trying to break through. “But this isn’t a game you can win. They’re on your side now, you turned it all around, but what happens when some editor decides they sell more copies with you as the villain, instead?” I demand. “You think Brady and those assholes will stick by you? No, you’ll be right back where you started again, trying to win everyone’s approval when you shouldn’t give a damn what they think. Tell me, where the hell does it end? How long are you going to live like this?”
“Until it works!” Avery bursts out. “Until I’m famous enough that I’m safe, and secure, and nothing can touch me again!”
Her voice echoes, raw and empty, and so bitter that it just about breaks my heart.
“Baby—” I reach for her, but she backs away.
“No, don’t ‘baby’ me,” she says, shaking her head furiously. “You don’t understand.”
“So talk to me,” I try to calm her. “Let me in.”
Avery wipes her face. “I have to get back to LA,” she says abruptly. “I need to talk to my agents, get everything lined up for the announcement.”
“OK,” I agree, even as my heart sinks. “We’ll book a flight for the morning?—”
“No, I need to go now.” Avery pulls herself together before my very eyes: a cool, icy mask slipping over her features. Like the woman on the cover of all those magazines.
Like she’s faking it with me, the way she promised she never would.
“You should go back to Blackberry Cove.” Avery puts her arm out, and hails a passing cab. It screeches to a stop, because of course it would. Nobody in the world would drive past her right now.
“Wait…” I try to stop her. “How long will you be in LA? Once we finish up this job, I can come out?—”
“No!” Avery cuts me off sharply. “Look, I don’t know. There’s a lot I need to handle, and then I’ll be in pre-production and training, for the movie.” She doesn’t meet my eyes, already shoving her suitcase into the backseat. “I’ll call you in the morning,” she says, and then climbs in, slamming the door behind her.
And I’m left standing there like a chump on the street corner, watching the woman of my dreams drive away.