“They always seem to be either acting a role or preparing for one. When I was a kid and they used a parenting voice, I felt like I was trapped in a sitcom. Sometimes, if they stumble over theirwords, they start the conversation over like it’s a new take. Then again, their marriageisonto its third take, so…”
“It’s what?”
“I keep forgetting you don’t know this stuff. They’ve married each other three times—with two divorces in between. They’re probably due another split.”
“Okay. No wonder you have trust issues.”
“Did you tell Mom why you’re really here?”
“I did tell her about Vivien. You think that’s okay?”
“Sure. Your story to tell.”
“You consider your mom more trustworthy than the LAPD?”
“Matter of fact, I do. Despite her …idiosyncrasies, she can keep secrets.”
“She said she’d make some calls and see what she could find out.”
“She did?”
“Can’t hurt, right? She must have connections?”
“Yeah, loads—in the industry.” But he had to wonder how much of his mother’s curiosity was about Vivien, and how much about the woman she’d caught her son with. She was still nagging him to mend things with Estelle.But she’s perfect for you!Perfect, yes. Perfect for him, no.
He stood, grabbing the car keys from the counter. “Care for an outing? Natasha’s found your sister’s ex—he’s working at a soundstage with a director I know. And Darnell wants to meet up.”
As they got to the car, Lana went to open the passenger door, and halted. “I guess I should hide again?”
“Probably for the best. Sorry.”
“Would you hide me even if we weren’t being pursued by masked goons?” she said, folding herself into the footwell. “If I was a girl you were taking home for … other reasons.”
He winced as he started the car and navigated out. “Not proud to admit I’ve done that on regular dates. I realize the optics aren’t great, but it’s not symbolic of anything but my stupid life. And it’s mostly for her protection.”
“Mostly?”
“Lana, I’m not saying it sucks to be me, because obviously it doesn’t. But it does suck to date me.”
He idled the car while the garage door rose. Sneaking around was a novelty at first—and wasn’t that all you wanted to do in a new relationship? Hide away and get to know every inch of each other? But as soon as the novelty wore off, you came hard up against the “Where are we going with this?” conversation. Maybe a few weeks in—a month or two if you were lucky—but way earlier than he imagined you would in a regular life. One of you was always ready for the public declaration before the other. And that person was never him. It was a little different with Estelle—their first date had been a red-carpet event. They were declared a couple before they’d even kissed.
“I once read a memoir by a woman called Paris Hilton, of the Hilton hotel family,” Lana said as he turned onto the street, her voice muffled by Darnell’s jacket. “You’ve heard of her?”
“I have.”
“She said something like, ‘Fame inflicts collateral damage.’”
“She’s not wrong. So, you don’t do TV or movies but you read celebrity memoirs?”
“Very few. I lack the required context and most are either written for the fans or they’re a little…”
“Self-indulgent?”
“Yes. But when our patrons are all asking for a particular book, I’ll flick through. I read all of hers, though. She had some disturbing things happen to her. I take it you haven’t written one?”
“Can’t think of anything I’d be less likely to do. Biographies have been written about me, but I wouldn’t know what’s in them. We’re coming up to the gate.”
As they wound down through the Hills, Maggie followed in the Chevy, with Sweetie in the passenger seat. Griffin couldn’t remember her real name from his security team’s files, but he tried not to be on first-name terms with his stalkers. He warned Lana to stay hidden.
