Читать книгу Infamous - Jane Porter - Страница 14

ALEXANDRA’S FIRST thought on waking was that she needed to call Wolf immediately, before she lost her nerve.

“We need to talk,” she said crisply, her tone no-nonsense when he answered the phone. “You hired me to make things better, not worse, and it’s important we find a way to keep our public appearance positive.”

If she’d caught him off guard, he gave no indication. “I agree,” he said.

Alexandra couldn’t read his inflection. “I can’t help your image if we can’t even communicate,” she continued stiffly. “So I propose we work harder at creating clearer communication channels.”

“Communication channels, yes.”

She understood then that he was, without a doubt, mocking her. And Alexandra knew that she had a choice—she could call him on his attitude, thus detouring from the purpose of her call, or she could let his sarcasm slide. She chose to let his sarcasm slide. “Before we go out again,” she persisted, “and before we make another appearance, we need to choreograph the evening.”

Wolf cleared his throat. “Are we entering a dance competition, by chance?”

Alexandra chose to ignore this bit of sarcasm, too. “I need to know before we go places what you expect and how we’re both to behave. I can’t wing it anymore. I’m not an actress and I can’t improvise the way you can.”

There was silence on his end of the phone and the silence seemed to stretch endlessly.

Exasperated, she closed her eyes, counted to five. “Did you hear me?”

“What?” he asked innocently.

“This doesn’t have to be difficult,” she said through gritted teeth.

“You’re right.” And then his tone changed, his rough voice deepened. “So let me make this easier. We’ve a premiere Saturday afternoon. It’s a matinee since it’s a children’s film. I did the voice for one of the characters and I’ve promised to be there. You’ll attend and—” he broke off, hesitated as if searching for the right word “—pretend to enjoy me.”

Alexandra flushed hotly. “That’s not exactly the choreographed routine I was imagining. It sounds more like a set of military orders.”

“But at least you know my expectations.”

“And what about mine?” she flashed, furious that she was losing her temper yet again but unable to stop it. He had the most negative effect on her. From the beginning he’d annihilated her self-control.

“Well, you can expect to have your photograph taken, and expect to stand by my side and expect to be paid.” He paused. “Is there anything else?”

“No,” she choked out, hanging up.

The rest of the week passed too quickly for Alexandra’s taste, knowing that on Saturday she’d be with Wolf again, attending the premiere.

She’d only been seeing him a few days, but already she was exhausted, worn out trying to juggle work responsibilities during the day and appearances with him.

Fortunately she was looking forward to the film. Even though it was only a matinee for The Little Toy Solider, the newest Pixar animation, Alexandra was looking forward to seeing exactly what happened at premieres.

She’d read about them for years in People magazine, seen the photos of celebrities attending, and now she was finally going to one.

Even better, it was the premiere of an animated film—Alexandra’s secret favorite. Back before her brother Brock had been widowed, she used to go into Bozeman, Montana, with his late wife Amy and their kids to see all the Disney films. In her mind, Saturday afternoons were made for movies, and she was glad to be going, eager to see just what kind of cartoon toy soldier Wolf’d be.

A stylist arrived at Alexandra’s house early Saturday morning, bringing with her several wardrobe options. Jointly Alexandra and the stylist settled on the low-hipped sexy charcoal trousers cinched by a wide gray croc belt with an enormous round pewter studded buckle. On top she was wearing a burnout velvet tank in a color somewhere between lemon and mustard, topped by a fitted cropped coat of the same rich, saturated color.

She’d accessorized with sleek pewter heels and a chunky two-strand gray-and-white alabaster necklace. Her hair had been flatironed and it hung smooth and sleek past her shoulders. Makeup was even more subtle: pale foundation, lightly lined eyes in gray pencil, lots of mascara and a soft, neutral lip color called Naked for her mouth.

When Wolf arrived at one to pick her up, he was dressed casually elegant in jeans, a white dress shirt and a dark gray Armani jacket. He wasn’t behind the wheel today. Instead he had a driver and a limo, important for the red-carpet arrivals.

He was cool and distant during the ride, and Alexandra sat opposite him, savoring the last bit of privacy before they stepped onto the red carpet and into the flash of a hundred camera strobes.

“I almost forgot,” Wolf said, reaching into the limousine’s side console. He handed her a clear glass tube the size of a rolling pin filled with gold confetti and a single sheet of rolled parchment paper.

She tipped the cylinder to watch gold glitter emerge from the sheer strips of shimmering confetti. “Not another invitation.”

“With me, of all people.”

She gave him a dark look and tipped the cylinder yet again but at a shallower angle, fascinated by the glitter clinging to the insides of the tube. “So what’s this an invitation to?”

“It’s for Matt Silverman’s fiftieth birthday party.”

“Ah.” Matt Silverman was the most innovative director and producer in the business today, and everything he did—whether it was a futuristic sci-fi or a historical drama—became a blockbuster, guaranteed to garner a half dozen Academy Award nominations, including the coveted Best Picture. “When is it?”

“Thursday.” Wolf glanced out the window. Traffic was slow through the 405 and 10 intersection. “It’ll be a big party. Black-tie, live band, sit-down dinner in his Bel Air estate’s garden. Nearly everyone in the business will be there.” He leaned back against the seat, smiled crookedly if not a bit wearily. “But we’ve got to get through today’s premiere and parties first.”

She nodded, noticing the shadows under his eyes. “Do you ever get tired of the parties and events?”

The creases deepened at his eyes. His expression turned wry. “All the time.”

“But …?”

“Every movie needs publicity, and publicity requires me being out there, doing the interviews, the talk shows, the premieres, the award shows, the parties and fund-raisers.”

“And that doesn’t even include making the films or the weeks on location,” she added.

“You’re right, it doesn’t.”

She’d never really thought about the life of a star like Wolf, imagining that fame, fortune and success made life easier, but she wasn’t so sure anymore. “No wonder you’re not in love with your career.”

He shrugged. “It’s a job, and I understand it’s a job.”

“You don’t make it look like a job. You’re incredibly talented.”

His expression almost gentled. “You don’t have to make points with me, Alexandra. I know how you really feel.”

She waved her hand, batting away his comment. “If you made one less film a year, that would be less PR, fewer interviews and press junkets and parties, right?”

“One would hope.”

“So do that. Make one less film. Or two. Find a way to have more time for yourself. I’m sure there are things you’d like to do.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, but his dark eyes were deep, intense. “You’re sounding an awful lot like you want to save me. But, love, I can’t be saved.”

“Yes, you can.”

“This isn’t a challenge, Alexandra.”

She pressed her lips together, held tight to her opinion—and her temper—realizing now wasn’t the time to debate him.

Instead she changed topics. “So what would you do if you had more free time? Would you pick up a hobby? Want to travel? Are there places you’re anxious to go? What’s top of your to-do list.”

His eyes narrowed. “Ending world hunger.”

Alexandra did a double take. Was he serious? She couldn’t be sure, but he wasn’t smiling, wasn’t making light of his lofty ambition.

“Erasing Third World debt,” he continued.

She simply stared at him.

“Stopping the spread of AIDS in Africa.” His hard features softened, his expression turning rueful. “Sorry you asked?”

There was something in his face she’d never seen before, something behind the slightly bored, rather cynical mask he usually wore. Something fierce and raw and real. Real. For the first time she saw a man, not an actor or star.

Alexandra felt a tug inside her chest, a twinge of muscle that was almost pain. “No.”

And then whatever fierce, raw emotion—passion—she’d seen disappeared, replaced by that public mask he wore to keep the world at bay.

With mask firmly in place, Wolf turned, glanced out the window and spotted the crowds lining the sidewalks. “We’re here.”

The morning after the premiere, Wolf flew to New York for a Monday-morning appearance on Good Morning America to promote The Little Toy Soldier and then an afternoon taping for the David Letterman show at the Ed Sullivan Theater on Broadway between Fifty-third and Fifty-fourth Streets. If things went well, he hoped to have dinner with friends Tuesday and then return to Los Angeles Wednesday morning.

He’d said maybe they’d have dinner Wednesday night—he’d let her know once he was back in town.

It was odd with Wolf out of town. Alexandra went to work Monday morning thinking she’d feel liberated, but instead she felt rather lost.

Wolf had been taking up so much time—physically and mentally—she didn’t quite know what to do with herself now that he was gone for the next three days.

Alexandra tuned in to Good Morning America at the studio, caught the tail end of Wolf’s interview—he looked so amazing on TV, it wasn’t fair at all—and then turned the TV off once the interview ended to get back to work.

Tuesday she wondered if he’d call.

Wednesday she wondered if he’d caught his morning flight and was heading back to L.A.

Instead flowers arrived for her Wednesday noon, four dozen white roses with a stiff white embossed card that read, Have been held up in NY, will pick you up tomorrow for party. Apologies. Wolf

Alexandra hid the card before anyone else could see.

He wasn’t coming back until tomorrow, until just before the party. And she didn’t mind, not really, not until Kristie in the office casually dropped a newspaper on her desk, opened to the Entertainment section with the celebrity gossip column.