The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(53)
Author: Alice Clayton

And speaking of celebrity, Adam was everywhere: still out every night, always where the cameras seemed to be, and always just available enough for comments. Jack had spoken to him a few times, and their lawyers had spoken a few times as there was a shared responsibility for some of the actions of that night, but Jack hadn’t seen him since we’d been back in L.A.

One night, flipping through channels before bed, Jack stumbled onto a gossip show, and there was Adam, outside a club in Hollywood with three girls and a bunch of cameras, totally in his element. He watched it for a few minutes while I stood in the doorway, not saying a word. He glanced at me, then back at the TV.

“That guy’s kind of a dick,” he said, then changed the channel.

He didn’t even see the pillow coming when I threw it at his head.

Jack stuck pretty close to home during this time, not quite cocooning but just . . . breathing. He read scripts, he helped me run lines, and he eased back into a tentative friendship with Michael, which had always been tenuous at best. Michael continued to be quite protective of me, and he didn’t go as easy on Jack as Lane did. But as a week passed, and then another, things began to get back to normal.

But it was us after all, and the normal was never actually normal. A point proven once more by a phone call from Holly one afternoon. A call she asked us both to be on.

Perched on Jack’s lap, I took the call with him from the patio. In the shade of the lemon trees, we exchanged pleasantries with her until she cut right to it.

“So, Jack, I got a call today asking if you’d be interested in presenting an award at this year’s Emmys.”

I felt Jack freeze underneath me. He hadn’t been out since that night in Vegas, had declined every interview request, and essentially hadn’t been seen since everything had exploded. I scratched at his scalp a bit, letting him feel me. He patted my leg absently, taking a deep breath.

“Hmm, well . . . I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You?”

“Actually I think it’s a brilliant idea,” Holly countered. “It’s a good way for you to be seen again. You’re a film actor, and the Emmys always has a few movie stars. They’ll be thrilled if you say yes. You can wave to fans, the red carpet is always an easy line to work—no tough questions. Plus you look pretty great in a suit.”

He looked at me. I shrugged to say, It’s up to you.

“I’ll think about it. When do I need to let you know?”

“Soon. It’s kind of a last-minute thing, but it could be a great way to get you back out there.”

He rolled his eyes at that, but in a good-natured way. He’d stuck close to home, but he was getting a little stir-crazy, I could tell. It was time for the movie star to head back into Hollywood. But on his terms. He drummed his fingers on my thigh, thinking it over. “You know what? Fuck it. I’ll do it.” He smiled.

“Well, hold on there, Brit boy. There’s something else to consider.” She paused, and the drumming on my thigh stopped. “They want Grace to present as well.”

Come again?

“Sorry, Holly, they want me?” I’m amazed I remembered how to speak.

“Sure. Your show’s a f**king hit. I’m surprised it took them this long to ask, but that’s showbiz.”

Holy shit. I drummed my own damned thigh.

“But wait, so Jack and I’d be at the same awards? This isn’t the same as us being at a party, same-place, same-time kind of thing,”

Jack started to fume. I put a finger to my lips to shush him. I wanted to hear this. It was something we had to consider.

“Well, that’s the real question, isn’t it?” Holly said. “How do you want to play this off? You know how I feel. I still don’t think it’s a good idea for you two to go public. Jack is a huge draw, and girls want to know anything and everything about him. Knowing that he is officially off the market? Won’t go over well.”

Jack was about to come out of his seat. Good thing I was sitting on him.

“And for the record, Jack, because I know you’re about to come out of your seat, I’m thinking about Grace too. Coming out publicly as your girlfriend affects her as well. You saw how much hate she got when people first just started thinking you weren’t single. You let everyone know she’s your main squeeze? That opens up a whole new level of bullshit for her.”

Jack came out of his seat. I signaled for the phone.

“Hey, Holly, let us call you back, okay?”

“Sure, sure. Is he pacing?”

“He’s pacing.”

“Are his nostrils flaring?”

“A bit. Let me call you back.”

“Grace, this is huge for you. You two do whatever you want, and you know I’ll support it. I work for you. Don’t forget that. But if you’re asking me my professional opinion, it’s to not go public. Pure and simple.”

“I hear you.”

“The Emmys, Grace. They want you to be a presenter. Next year? You’ll be nominated. I promise you that.”

My heart left my body, flew around the backyard, and starting picking lemons off the tree. Holy shit, this was big-time.

“Call me back and let me know, fruitcake.”

“Yep,” I breathed, and hung up, not taking my eyes off Jack, who had stopped pacing and stood before me, tense. “What are you thinking?” I asked.

“I think you should go. One hundred percent you should go,” he said instantly.

“And you? You still in?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think maybe this is one you should do alone.”

“Now wait a minute. We both need to go.” I pulled at the bottom of his shirt and moved him in between my legs as I sat on the back of the love seat. “I bet Holly has a plan already of how we could both go and still keep up appearances. You know she’s thought this through from every angle.”

His hands went automatically to my hips, and he played with a loose string at the end of my skirt as different arguments were fought across his features, all without saying a word. “How do I say this without sounding like a pompous ass?” He took a breath. “I don’t want to make a night like this—a big night for you—about me. And if I’m there, I’m afraid that’s what it will be. That’s what they’ll make it into.” His eyes were sad.

“Oh, is that all? Pfft, I can handle that.” I took his hands and wrapped them more snugly around my waist. “I’m going to the Emmys, George, like, on purpose. Going to the Emmys. Presenting. At the Emmys—did I tell you that part?”