Читать книгу A New York Kind Of Love - Synithia Williams - Страница 11

Chapter 2

“Well, she could have sounded a bit more enthusiastic.”

Irvin looked up from the script he was reading. Kitty Brown, the head of his publicity team, stood staring at her cell phone. He’d barely heard her over the various conversations of the members of his entourage. A word that made him cringe inwardly—and at times outwardly—whenever he said it. The entourage was Kitty’s idea; he would be perfectly fine without the lot of them. It was days like this he missed the anonymity that came with being a poor kid from the dodgy end of London. Now, thanks to Kitty, all his appearances were preplanned and scheduled for potential photo ops.

“What’s wrong, Kitty? She didn’t scream until her voice gave out before breaking down in tears?” He was only partly teasing. He still couldn’t get over the dramatics some women went through when they met him.

“What screaming? The woman didn’t scream, sigh, cry or show the least bit of gratitude that her name was selected.”

Kitty crossed his crowded living room, the night sky and twinkling lights of the New York skyline visible behind her through the wall of windows in his flat. Her jet-black hair had one bright red streak in the front, which stood out against her sienna skin and the all-black suit she wore.

“Hopefully, she’ll be more excited once it sinks in what she’s won. I can’t have the winner of your first charity contest frowning in every picture.”

“How do you know she’ll be frowning?” Irvin asked, glancing at his watch. It had been ten hours since the entourage had arrived to prepare for his appearance on The Tonight Show that afternoon and decided to stick around afterward. He was ready for all of them to leave and give him a moment of peace.

“I can hear frowns,” Kitty said, waving her hand. “This woman was frowning.”

“I don’t care if she smiles or not,” Irvin said. “I did this to raise money for the foundation. The money we raised will do a hell of a lot more than having the winner smile in your photographs.”

“True, but I expected more. I didn’t make you the country’s most desired man only to get some lackluster response.”

“I’d prefer a lackluster response every now and then.”

“Don’t tease,” Kitty said. “You’d be bored without all this.” She held out her arms to encompass the ten other people milling around the flat, each one either talking on the phone or making connections via social media. All in an effort to keep his name in front of people and build his image.

Some days—days like today, actually—he wanted to tell the lot of them to sod off. But he couldn’t deny that being Hollywood’s biggest celebrity had its perks, the best one being the money. Money brought safety and security. Two things he’d gone without for most of his childhood. And the money kept rolling in with every action film or dramatic role he churned out. Telling Kitty to bugger off wasn’t worth losing the security blanket his celebrity afforded.

He must be tired, or he wouldn’t be so annoyed with his normal routine. The New York premiere and contest weekend would be the end of a whirlwind of promotions and premieres for the film.

“Bored, maybe,” he said, “but I wouldn’t regret a slight decrease in all of the attention that comes with being a celebrity.”

“No one likes a hermit, Irvin. You’re approachable, which makes America love you all the more. Stuck-up celebrities aren’t bankable.”

He’d argue that some celebrities who shied away from the limelight were, but his mobile phone chimed. His heart rate revved up like the sports car he’d driven in his last film, as it had done every time the phone rang since the day he’d sent his screenplay to Kevin Lipinski a week ago. Kevin was one of the most sought-after and successful producers out there. Every film he touched turned to box-office gold, and if he liked Irvin’s screenplay and agreed to produce the film, he might be Irvin’s ticket out of the camera’s glare and right behind it. Irvin wanted to direct.

The mobile’s chime indicated a new email, which sent anticipation and dread flowing through his bloodstream. There were only two answers he could get. Kevin would either love it or hate it. Both answers scared him.

He pressed the email icon on the phone and held his breath. Then released it in a sigh of disappointment. The new message was a party invitation. He unsuccessfully tried to tamp down his frustration. How long did it take to look at a script?

Kitty rambled on in the background about plans for the premiere. A member of the entourage let out a loud laugh at whatever the person on the phone with him had said. And another flipped the channels on his sixty-inch television with the volume turned up to high. It was information and annoyance overload. Irvin was done.

“Now that you’ve informed the lucky winner, we can call it a day,” he said, cutting off Kitty’s speech. He held up the script he’d been trying to read ever since they got back. “I’ve got to get through this.” Another action movie. Not bad, really, but he knew the drill. The formula for his success didn’t change much: he’d save a beautiful young woman, run through traffic in a big city with no shirt and haul around a big gun.

“No, we can’t call it a day,” Kitty said in a rush. “We need to go over the itinerary. Every moment of the premiere weekend has to be planned perfectly.”

“Something that you can do without my direct input. Just tell me where to go and when to be there. The only thing I care about is when we present the check to the head of the foundation. Make sure there is plenty of time before and afterward for me to talk with him and the staff. I want to know if there is anything they need me to do to help the cause.”

Alcohol awareness wasn’t the sexiest issue for a celebrity to pick up. Kitty thought he should be kissing kids in third-world countries or building playgrounds for at-risk youth, where the photo ops were. He did contribute some to those causes, but preventing and stopping alcohol abuse were his passions. He’d witnessed the damages of alcohol abuse firsthand.

“Now I’d like my flat back,” he said, looking at the people buzzing around. He used his normal charming tone of voice, but there was no mistaking the underlying steel beneath.

Kitty huffed but didn’t argue. She was good at reading when he was tired of the show.

“Fine, but at least go over the itinerary before the end of the week.” She grabbed her bag and pulled out a thick folder, which she handed over to him. “It took a while, but I managed to dig up a picture of the winner.”

He flipped open the folder to find the photo. A woman with thick, dark hair and clear reddish-brown skin, wearing a conservative navy suit, stared back. Her lips were curved in a cool smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Kitty should have known better than to expect this woman to scream. She didn’t look the type. He frowned and studied her professional demeanor; he wouldn’t have expected her even to enter the contest.

“Where did you get this picture?”

“She used to be the chief nursing officer at East Houston Regional Medical Center. It was her employee ID photo.”

“She’s no longer there?”

“No, left two years ago. Something about an illness in the family. I couldn’t dig up a more current picture. Can you believe she doesn’t have a profile anywhere?” Kitty said it as if the idea of going without an online presence was akin to going without electricity.

“Some people prefer their privacy.” He looked away from the picture to eye Kitty. “If she’s not online, how did you dig this up?”

“I can’t have you going out with a person with a rap sheet, Irvin, really. Before we called and confirmed her as the winner, I did some digging.”

He glanced at the pinned-together woman in the picture. He doubted she would appreciate the probe into her life before being confirmed as the winner. He smirked. Well, she’d better get used to it. She’d be a pseudo celebrity while spending the weekend with him. Still, he felt a pang of regret for the digging, no matter how necessary it might have been.

“If you’ve got enough information to know she’s not a criminal, no more researching into her past.”

“For now,” she said. She turned to the group. “Okay, people, let’s get out of Irvin’s way.”

The lot of them packed up their phones, tablets and other gadgets. With waves, well wishes and another reminder from Kitty to review the itinerary, they were gone. He relished the silence for a few minutes. It seemed like a hundred years since he’d had an entire day of silence. He couldn’t imagine a day in the future when he would.

“Full mouths shouldn’t complain,” he could hear his mother saying. It had been her way of telling him to shut up whenever he tried to say something about the beating she would take for stealing money from his dad just to put food on the table.

He pushed the uncomfortable memories aside. His mouth was full. If the lack of quiet or personal time was a side effect, then he wouldn’t complain. His mother had endured far worse. She might not be around to enjoy the perks of his celebrity anymore, but childhood lessons died hard.

He flipped through the script and found the standard love scene. It had a full back shot. Kitty would love that. If she had her way, her number one client would go shirtless in every scene and have at least one back shot in every movie. It made her job of promoting him so much easier.

He tossed down the script in disgust. Full mouth. Full mouth. Don’t complain.

Still, he checked his phone and silently hoped for a call from Kevin about his script.

There was a knock on the door. If it was Kitty returning to tell him another thing for the premiere weekend, he would lose his mind.

He checked the peephole, relaxed and opened the door with a smile. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Dante Wilson, the R & B star with a fan base as big as Irvin’s, grinned from the other side. “I’ve got time before my concert tour and decided to come early for your promotional weekend.”

Irvin shook his head and stepped back so his friend could walk in. “Why do you need to be here for my weekend?”

“Kitty thought it would be good to show off your high-profile connections as you become the highlight of this woman’s life,” Dante said. “Her words, not mine. Jacobe is coming up from Florida.”

“Brilliant. I haven’t seen Jacobe in weeks,” Irvin said.

Jacobe Jenkins was the starting center for the Jacksonville Gators. The twenty-eight-year-old had been drafted at the end of his freshman year of college, let the easy money and women go to his head and started his professional basketball career as a wild party boy. Irvin and Dante had met him about a year ago at a party and become mentors for the young man. He still partied, but he wasn’t getting into any foolish trouble anymore.

“But you didn’t have to come early.”

“It wasn’t just for you. I met this model who’s doing a show here this week.”

That made more sense to Irvin. “Can I get you a drink?”

“You know you can.” Dante shut the door behind him. “You drinking?”

Irvin shook his head. “I’ve had my one for the day.”

“Kitty didn’t push you to have two?”

Irvin laughed. “Kitty always tempts me to have two. But two leads to three and...”

He went to the bar to fix a whiskey for Dante and a cola for himself.

Dante crossed the living area to stare out over the skyline. The living definition of a pretty boy, he looked younger than his thirty-two years in designer jeans, white shirt and tie with a gray vest. Whereas Irvin was growing weary with the celebrity life, it was all Dante knew. He was the son of music legends, had grown up in front of the camera and enjoyed the fame that came with being a star.

“You should sell me this apartment,” Dante said when Irvin came over and handed him his drink.

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Irvin said and took a sip of the cola.

“One day I’ll convince you.”

“I doubt it.”

Dante chuckled and lifted the glass. “Are you going to bring her here?”

“Who?”

“The winner of the contest.” Dante gave him a sly look. “Are you going to show her all that New York has to offer?”

“You know I don’t bring women back here. It’s the one place where I can escape, when Kitty’s not around, at least.” They both chuckled at that. “Besides, I doubt I’ll get a half hour alone with the woman. Kitty will have every appearance scheduled and I’ll just show up, do my charming smile, sign an autograph and then come back here to blessed silence.”

“Pity.”

“Not at all. This isn’t a sleazy way to shag some woman. I can go for a ride without going through this much trouble. It’s to raise money for the foundation.”

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun out of it. Obviously if she entered, she’s interested in you.”

“I’m not taking advantage of a fan just to get my kicks. Besides, I have more important things to worry about than showing her a good time.”

As if summoned, his phone chimed again. He rushed across the room to where he’d left it on the bar. Disappointment stooped his shoulders as he read the email from Kitty, reminding him to check the itinerary. With a swear, he dropped the phone back onto the bar.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Dante asked.

“I’m waiting on a response about my screenplay.”

“You finally sent it off. Good for you. You know it’ll get picked up.”

“I don’t want it picked up because of who I am. I want it picked up because it’s a good story.”

“Who cares why it’s picked up as long as it is? You worked on it for over a year. Push your weight around in Hollywood and get it made.”

“That’s not the way.”

“It is the way. What’s the point of all this fame if we don’t put it to good use?” Dante spread his arms to encompass the spacious area.

“I’ll wait and hear before I make a decision about pushing my weight around.”

“Who did you send it to?”

“Kevin Lipinski.”

Dante cringed. “He’s the toughest producer out there. And he hates screenplays from superstars. Are you trying to kill your writing career before it starts?”

“If he says yes, then I’ll know it’s good. If he says no...he’ll at least give me a reason why he doesn’t like it.”

“And tear you to pieces in the meantime. There’s nothing that guy likes better than to put celebrities with inflated egos in their place.”

Which was exactly why Irvin had sent it to him. If he had any chance of getting behind the camera, this was the test. If Kevin liked his script, Irvin planned to barter and plead to direct it. He’d earned his money and his fame, repaid his mother the debt he owed before she passed away, and now he was ready to move behind the camera. He loved Hollywood, loved the satisfaction of bringing a story to life and the pride when it was done well. But he could experience all those things without being the half-naked guy on-screen. It was his one shot to keep the security he had now without many of the headaches.

“I don’t have an inflated ego to burst,” Irvin said.

“You say that now, but wait until his comments come back.”

Irvin drank his cola to swallow the sinking feeling that Dante might be right.