Miss Congeniality (29 page)

She wasn’t surprised to find they were assigned different rooms. She could tell just from talking to his parents they were old-fashioned and didn’t believe their son should be sharing a room with his girlfriend, no matter how old said son was. Brea respected it, but was shocked when Lance snuck in her room that night. She pointed out he was a bad son, to which he replied he didn’t want to talk about his parents before they made love. Then he kissed her, which shut her up for a very long time.

He made love to her in the same gentle manner he had at Derrick and Silvia’s house, a meeting of hearts and souls as opposed to a frantic coupling of bodies. She wanted to weep from the beauty of it, reassured when he held her tightly. He whispered words of love, as he always did, but they seemed more poignant after their lovemaking. She knew she loved him, but she was unaware of the magnitude of her feelings until he brought her home to meet his family.

“I
love your family,” Brea said three days later as they sat on the plane to head home.

“Well, that’s handy because I think they love you, too. I had to talk my mom out of adopting you last night, and I think if she had her way she’d have held you captive,” Lance said dryly. He was thrilled Brea got along well with his family, but damn, his mother and sister talked as if they would throw him over for Brea.

“I’m going to miss them.” She turned from the window to look at him with an exaggerated pout.

“Don’t pout.” He used his thumb to pull down her chin so he could kiss her. “We’ll come back,” he said offhandedly as he played with his phone. She settled in, considering the fun they’d had over the last couple of days. The second day she met Lauren and her family, with Lance’s niece taking an instant liking to her. Lauren was a tamer version of her mother, but no less beautiful, and tall enough to be a model. She asked Lance later why his sister never pursued modeling. He told her Lauren preferred her privacy; something she knew she wouldn’t get if she willingly put herself out there, especially given everything that happened with him. She and Brea became fast friends, with plans to get together when they came to visit Lance in LA. His nephew was the cutest little boy, and clearly in love with his Uncle Lance. It was amazing to watch them together; Lance was so patient, playing with him and helping him ride a horse.

They had a small family birthday for Helena because Lance wouldn’t be able to get home for her actual birthday in two weeks. However, that didn’t mean he skimped on the present, buying the two-year-old a foal. She was shocked, but when everyone acted like it was normal to give a toddler a horse, she just let it go. He explained later it was a family tradition to give the small children a foal which would grow with them. Brea was stunned at the normalcy of it all; even when they went into town no one bothered them, although from the looks they received people recognized her. When she asked Lance about it, he told her when he first became famous people went a little crazy, but then they remembered the kid who used to stand in his underwear and a cape on his parents’ porch. It’s hard to keep fangirling when they’d seen him in his Superman underwear.

“Thanks for taking me,” she said sincerely.

“I couldn’t imagine bringing anyone else,” he told her, his expression unreadable. She wanted to think that meant he wanted her forever, but she didn’t want to become that needy girl who started clinging. “And I told you my mom and sister would love you.”

“They did, didn’t they? It was the pound cake.” She had made them a pound cake the night before they left, one of Silvia’s family recipes, and his mother and sister swore it was better than sex.

“Or maybe it’s just because they saw the same thing in you I did.” He nuzzled her neck.

“Aren’t you sweet?” She patted his cheek and settled back in her seat to enjoy her flight. She sat there for a couple of minutes before jerking upright. “What a minute, what do you want?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“Well, generally, you’re really sweet before I get a zinger.”

“How about I was just making an observation?” He looked aggravated.

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” He rolled his eyes, shoving his hand over her face to push her into the seat.

“Just shut it and go to sleep.”

“Love you, too, babe.” She blew air kisses at him.

All good things must come to an end, and the vacation high they experienced was killed the next day when news about their trip hit the newspapers, along with negative articles about their relationship. According to the newspaper, after visiting relatives, she and Lance were fighting over her infidelity and were having fights about his excessive drinking. This was all according to a close source, and complete bullshit. She was alone when she got the news; Lance had been out with friends the night before and just stayed at his house. Her phone was silent, which was more worrying than if it had been ringing off the hook. Silence meant there was trouble brewing, so Brea was only slightly surprised when Garrett called her.

“Have you seen the papers?” Garrett asked her the morning the news ran.

“I did,” she sighed, dreading what was coming.

“We need to see you in the office this afternoon.”

“Sure. Can I ask what this is about?”

“You can, but I’m not at liberty to say.”
Okay,
she thought,
guess this means I have a reason to worry.
Garrett had never been the warmest man, but he had never been rude. “I’ll see you at two.”

“Thank you.” She ended the call. Brea flipped out, not knowing what to do. She called her agent, who warned her some of the financial backers of
Maggie Beach
were getting antsy because of all the bad press, and it was probably going to be a talk about curbing her behavior.

What behavior?
she thought morosely. All she wanted to do was live her life peacefully.
She called Lance who tried to reassure her nothing was going to come of this; she was a star and they were just posturing.

At exactly two o’clock in the afternoon, Brea and her attorney waited outside Garrett’s office. She tried to stop the shaking in her leg, but she couldn’t stop the feeling something bad was going to happen and this wouldn’t end well for her.

“Brea.” She glanced at the secretary, who was holding the phone away from her ear. “They’re ready for you.” She pointed at the conference room door.

“Thank you.” She pulled down her suit jacket, shoring her defenses as she followed her attorney into the room.

“Just remember,” her attorney, Max Sizemore, said outside the door, “don’t say anything unless I instruct you to do so. I have an idea what this is about, and you need to let me handle this.” She nodded her understanding before he opened the door to go inside. She was taken aback by the number of people sitting at the table. There were the three producers, Jonah, and two of their more lucrative financial bankers, men she had mingled with on several different occasions. This was certainly not a normal meeting, but she knew Carl Harris and Mark Gregory, the two men with money, insisted they sit in on all the important meetings with the stars. It wasn’t the norm, but they definitely had the power of the purse.

“Max, Brea,” Garrett greeted them, gesturing toward the seats across from them. He coughed nervously, tapping his fingers on a folder, and looking around at the other men sitting around the table. “I guess you’re wondering why we called you here, Brea, so I’m going to get to it.” He opened the folder where his fingers had been tapping, which seemed to hold newspaper articles. He started placing articles on the table, one after another, one headline worse than the next. There were pictures of her with Lance on his motorcycle, taking shots one night in a bar, the fight at the Mexican restaurant, and the list went on. The final one, from this morning, stated “Trouble in Paradise for America’s Bad Boy and His Leading Bad Girl.”

Brea clenched her teeth together; she didn’t trust herself to speak when all the shit was laid out on the table, this meeting more than clear. They were going to ask her to straighten up.

“I don’t believe what my client does in her personal life is the business of the producers,” her attorney spoke up after they sat around staring at the articles.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Carl, the show’s biggest backer, said snidely. “That news—” he pointed at the offending articles “—is tanking our ratings.”

“I don’t know that you can trace poor ratings back to Brea’s personal life.” Max pushed his glasses back up, his face giving nothing away. “You’re going to need more proof than some articles.”

“SEVEN YEARS!” Carl slammed his fist on the table, causing Brea to jump. “For seven years, we’ve been on the top of our game, and that has been ruined in the six months since she’s been tied up with Lance Holder.”

“Who is also one of your stars,” Max pointed out.

“I know who he is!” Carl said, “And he’s a damn fine actor. We knew what we were getting with him, but we weren’t expecting this from her.” He pointed at Brea.

“We can’t control what the media reports, any more than we can control what people watch.” Max glared at Harris.

“People don’t want to see someone who’s fallen from grace, which she clearly has. LOOK at that!” He pointed at the articles again. “She’s supposed to be Miss Congeniality, the nice one, and now they’ve made her out to be America’s next Bad Girl. I got news for you, everyone loves the bad boy because he’s seen as redeemable, but no one likes the bad girl.”

“What Carl is trying to say,” Garrett said, glaring at Carl, “is we’ve decided
Maggie Beach
may not be able to withstand the pressure from this latest debacle.”

Max held his hand on Brea’s arm, sensing she was about to jump from her chair. “What are you trying to say? First, she has an ironclad contract. Second, are you telling me you are willing to release last year’s winning lead actress?”

Garrett sighed deeply. “Don’t you think we know all this? We can’t afford any more bad press.”

“Do you think I like being the subject of bad press?” Brea hissed at him. “Instead of being able to fight the allegations, I am sitting here having a meeting about something I can’t control.”

“Oh,” Carl asked sarcastically, “so that wasn’t you on Lance’s motorcycle? Or taking shots at the bar? Or in the midst of the fight at the Mexican restaurant? I’m sorry; did I imagine that was you?” Brea fucking hated him in that moment, and if she thought she could have throat punched him without an assault charge she would have been across that table.

“I’m not saying it wasn’t me. I am saying they are leaving details out.”

“Guess what, Brea? You’ve been in this industry long enough to know perception is reality. And the perception is you’ve gone off the rails. We know all you’ve done for us, but I won’t sacrifice my show for you. If we hear anything else, I mean you fart and someone gets offended, your contract will not be renewed next season and you will have to take your talents elsewhere. We’ve all agreed, and it’s only because we like you and you have a contract we’re having this courtesy meeting. We’ll follow this up in writing with your attorney.”

Max nodded; there was little he could say. They would honor the contract they currently had, but there would be no more contracts if she didn’t get a handle on the bad press.

“Are there any questions?” Garrett asked.

“No, sir,” Brea replied, wanting to escape the room which was suddenly too stifling. Max nodded his goodbyes, leading Brea out of the room.

“Well, that went well,” she said sarcastically when they left the building.

“Brea, look,” Max started.

“Please, not you, too. I can’t take this. It’s not as if I’ve done anything to warrant the bad press. They’re just upset because they think it affects their ratings.”

“And with good reason. This is not a movie where you are needed for a limited time but if you have one which doesn’t do as well, there is a potential to have a hit with the next one. This is television, and they live and breathe by their ratings. I hope you were listening, Brea, because you need to get it together or you’re going to find yourself out of a job.” He left her standing on the sidewalk, mulling over the shit-storm she just experienced. How could she go from being on a relationship high to a relationship low in a matter of hours? She called Lance, wanting to tell him about what happened, but his phone went to voicemail. She needed to talk to someone about what just happened, and if Lance wasn’t available there were only two other people she would turn to.