Queen of the Universe (In Love in the Limelight Book 2) Read online

  I gasp. “You thought I would be perfect for nothing but sex? For a month?”

  “No!” Arlen crinkles his brow. “Well, yes. I mean, I know you're a person and everything. I just mean that there's an attraction here. And neither of us wants to get involved.”

  “How the HELL do you know that I don't want to get involved with someone?”

  “You WANT Sam and you want your show.”

  “So I never get to have anything else in my life? I'm not allowed to want any love or affection ever?” My voice starts to upgrade to out-and-out yelling. “Just because I work hard at a job that I love and bought my own house, and I won't settle for just any old guy, everybody thinks I must want to be alone forever!”

  “Lola ...”

  “A man works hard and has a great job and he's a catch. A woman kicks ass at her job and she's written off as an automaton with no life and no heart!”

  “I didn't—”

  “Rrrrr! Do you have any idea what it's like?” I ask him. “You put all your heart and effort into doing something that you're so happy to do every day. And you make others happy, too. When I save a show, do you know how many jobs I save? How many viewers are over the moon because their favorite show isn't getting cancelled after all? But everybody just thinks I'm insane because of the lengths I'll go to or because I'm not doing what they're doing or what they wanted me to do. So nobody gets it. Nobody's ever happy for me or with me. They just shake their heads at looney Lola. And when it gets hard … there's no one there. But that doesn't mean I don't ever want someone who gets me.”

  “Lola ...”

  I look up and Arlen has gone so pale I wonder if he's having a really quiet asthma attack.

  “And do you know what the worst part is?”

  He shakes his head the tiniest bit, almost as if he's afraid to hear.

  “When it comes down to the wire, it's not even up to me. All that work and struggle and love and it's all up to someone else. Yes or no. That one little word makes all the difference. It's not even up to me. Someone else gets to call it.”

  Arlen swallows. “And for you,” he says, his voice sounding raw, “That person is me.”

  I nod. “And I know it's my own fault. Tom came in to fire me that day. Wendy Hunter—Wendy Hunter who I went after and my script convinced her to do the show—Wendy Hunter was getting antsy because I hadn't cast Sam yet. Tom was there to fire me all because Wendy was nervous, but I had your audition from the morning. The most amazing audition I've seen in fourteen years of working in TV.” I nod. “So I know it's all my fault. At the pinnacle of my career, I snatched you out of the air like a Golden Snitch and suddenly it was up to you, all or nothing.” I shake my head. “It's my fault, it's my doing. I've lost.” I bite my lip. “And nobody is going to get just how much I'm losing except me.”

  Chapter 24

  ARLEN

  Arlen could barely look at Lola, sitting there, looking so bereft and hopeless on his kitchen island. He didn't want to be so close to that kind of hurt. Not more of that kind of hurt.

  Okay. That was all Jon had needed to say. After a ten-year run playing Deadbeat Dad, Jon just had to say OKAY.

  But he didn't. He'd swept in like a pterodactyl, hunting down Arlen's bloodied life and ripping what was left to shreds.

  And now Arlen was faced with Lola. Muddy, rumpled, and so sad. Her life was nothing like Arlen's had been. At all. But everyone had thought he was insane, too. A wife and someone else's kids, a mortgage and a station wagon and braces appointments. All when he was twenty-two?

  Well, it was all gone by thirty. All of it. And why shouldn't Jon take the kids? This isn't a tragedy. Really, they're his responsibility, not yours.

  Responsibility?! Responsibility? They were his life.

  But nobody got it. Nobody understood how much he had lost.

  Arlen cleared his throat.

  “Lola,” he said. “I'm going to need you to give me Ray.”

  “Ray?” she said, crinkling her face in confusion. “I can't give you Ray. He's a person.”

  “I mean,” Arlen said, “I'm going to need Ray.”

  Lola looked right at him. “You'll need Ray?” Her voice was scarcely a whisper.

  Arlen nodded. “I agree to play Sam if you agree to have Ray by my side, every second, so that I know what the hell I'm doing. I'd say I want you in my back pocket, but I know you have the whole show to run, and I don't actually want to be all that close to you all the time. So I'm going to need Ray. And special access to you. If I need you, no matter what, you HAVE to be there for me. If I text, I call, I shout—you answer. ASAP. Got it?”

  Lola sat up straighter on the island. “You'll be Sam?”

  Arlen doesn't say anything or move a muscle.

  “If I assign Ray to you,” Lola says, “every second, whenever, wherever, you'll be Sam? And if I drop everything if you need me or want me, whenever, wherever?”

  “Yes.”

  Lola licked her lips. “I agree to those terms.”

  Arlen stepped closer to her. “If you ever lie to me again, or try to manipulate me in any way, I will make it my life's mission to crush you. Crush. You.”

  Lola nodded. “Thank you.”

  Arlen almost told her he wasn't doing it for her. But he was. If he did this for her, could he live more easily with the hand he'd been dealt? Or was it just that he couldn't do to someone else what had been done to him, fuck whether it was fair or not or whose fault it was or why. He could save her from a pain he knew all too well, and he wanted to be able to do that.

  Arlen nodded back once. “You're welcome.”

  Chapter 25

  LOLA

  As I drive away from Arlen's house, my hands are shaking. No, not my hands. My whole body. When I pull onto the freeway, I'm still trembling all over. And I can feel tears running down my face and see them splashing onto my sunglasses. I shouldn't be driving in this condition. I take the next exit and make my way into the parking lot of a diner, the kind with curtains in the windows. I go in, get myself an entire booth.

  When the waitress comes to take my order, I feel like hugging her and telling her the good news. But that would be weird, right?

  “Should I come back?” she asks. “Do you need another minute?”

  “Um, no,” I say, reminding myself that this is a time to celebrate. “Can I have, um, a biscuit with gravy, a T-bone steak done medium rare, apple pie à la mode with extra ice cream that I'll totally pay for. And some of those cake hush puppy things and some onion rings. And a Pepsi and a cup of coffee?”

  After she leaves I take out my phone and text Ray.

  Arlen agreed to do the show. I'll have the signed contract in a few hours. I just have to find the damn thing.

  When I hit SEND I smile, remembering the one moment today when Arlen didn't totally hate me.

  “So,” he said, after he agreed to do the show, “where is it?” He took a pen off the counter and held it at the ready. “The contract, Lola. I know you must have it with you.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Jesus, Arlen. I didn't bring the contract. I think I left it at the office yesterday.”

  I saw him tense up the muscles in his jaw then.

  “I'm not lying, Arlen. I just promised you I wouldn't.”

  “Actually, you didn't,” he countered. “I just told you not to.”

  “Well, I won't. I promise.”

  He'd tossed the pen back onto the kitchen counter.

  I don't know if he believed me or what, probably not, but at least he didn't totally NOT believe me. And he didn't yell at me. And that was progress, for both of us. I didn't do anything to piss him off and in turn, he didn't GET pissed off.

  My food arrives and I don't know where to begin, so I pick up an onion ring and start chomping.

  My phone pings.

  RAY: !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Sorry, I was in the shower. For the freaking text of the century!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just emailed the contract to Arlen. Now get your ass over the
re and pick it up. Unless you and your ass are already there. Then get it and Tom Glenn will meet you in your office in one hour flat.

  I wave down the waitress. “Can I get all this to go? And the check?”

  Chapter 26

  ARLEN

  Arlen drummed his fingers as he waited for every page of the contract to print out. “Come on, come on, come on.”

  He had to get the damn thing read and signed before she came back. With luck, he'd have it all squared away and when Lola arrived, he could just open the front door, shove it at her, and slam himself back in. He could say he was in the middle of something. Uh … canning tomatoes? But the house didn't smell like a bubbling-over Italian kitchen. And she'd notice, damn it. He'd say he was varnishing the deck. Shit! He didn't have a deck. Varnishing the floor. But knowing her, she'd look in the windows and see all the furniture still in place. Washing his hair? No, too stupid. Washing the dogs? But he wasn't all wet. He could spray himself with the sink hose, then be really believably not presentable when he answered the door.

  When he answered the door to Lola.

  Damn. He wasn't ready for that. It had been hard enough having her in the kitchen this morning.

  Why the hell had he boosted her up and set her on the island? She'd actually stayed put, so it had worked in terms of containing her. But God. Just those few seconds when he'd clasped his hands around her upper arms. He couldn't stop thinking about touching her. Because it reminded him of kissing her. On her patio, in her bed, in her office on that first damn day.

  And he didn't want to think about it, especially since she was now so completely off limits. And it wasn't that she would be his boss on the show—Lola Scott had never been anything but his boss. But now he knew, for sure, what a liar she was. He'd known since Ray came bounding into the middle of their kiss last night.

  This time, Arlen knew with no doubt that she had just been using him since the beginning. This time he knew. He could make excuses for himself for having been clueless with Rachel. But with Lola, he knew.

  So he had to keep his distance.

  But damn! The pull he felt from her was unreal. Even that first day, something about her had kept him there when he should have walked out. She'd proved herself zanier than a duck from the moment he met her, but still, he hadn't just walked away. No, he'd let her suck him right into her gravitational orbit. So, he had to do his best to keep The Vortex of Lola out of his house. Having her in his space was just too … intimate. And invasive, damn it.

  Arlen pulled the last sheet out of the printer and started reading faster than an Orc's arrow. It had been years since he'd read such codified bullshit. Not since he'd left the bank.

  Why was he even bothering to read it? Did he even care? Wasn't he signing away his soul, no matter what the damn thing said? Or was he getting his soul out of hock? God, he hoped so. That, at least, would make all the torturing himself with Lola worth it.

  Arlen was staring down at his signature when the dogs started barking and jumping to hail the arrival of the Tesla out front. He grabbed the contract and headed toward the door.

  Chapter 27

  LOLA

  I turn onto Arlen's street and my heart starts hammering. If I know Arlen, and I'm pretty sure I've got him nailed on this score, he's probably in his house right now sticking pins in a wax doll of me that he's made out of hurricane candles and yellow yarn from a doggie blanket.

  I hope to God he hasn't changed his mind. What if he's spent the past forty-five minutes thinking about what a gargantuan mistake this would be? What if he's finally stopping to consider what it would be like to become the star of a prime-time drama along with one of People's Most Beautiful People? What if thoughts of getting paired in any way with Wendy Hunter are freaking him out? But would chill dude Arlen Black ever spaz out about anything? Probably not. And regardless of Wendy Hunter and how he might feel about working with her, Arlen does not seem like the type to go back on his word.

  As I glide up next to the curb in front of his house, I can feel the shame burn up my neck. I, on the other hand, have been so dishonest with him since the get-go. I shake myself free of the feeling.

  This is a new beginning. No more lying to Arlen. The man saved me. I have no idea why, but he did. I will be nothing but totally awesome to Arlen Black for the rest of my life.

  As I pull on the parking break, I hear the front door open. Arlen steps out. He's so long and lean and cool. Faded jeans, old sneakers, a threadbare Springsteen T-shirt. Perfect for Sam. Sam Sam Sam. He just looks so damn good.

  My heart lodges in my throat when I see the pages in his hand. Is he loping off the porch just to come over here and throw the contract in my face? I'm too petrified to move, so I just stare straight out the windshield as he approaches the car.

  He stops next to my convertible and stands there, casting a shadow over me. “Lola?” He tosses the contract into my lap.

  I turn towards him and realize that my eyes are just about level with the fly of his jeans. I'm looking right at his—

  No! I am not going to think about that. I am not going to think bout how I'm almost in perfect position right now to give this guy a blow job. No! I should NOT be thinking like this. He is Sam. And I've never thought up any scenes with Celeste giving Sam a—

  “Go ahead,” he says. “You can look. I know you're dying to.”

  What? This is so wrong. “Uh ...”

  “I know it's what you always wanted, Lola, so take a look.”

  Huh? “I … uh … I've seen enough. For now.”

  “You're kidding,” he laughs. “You haven't even seen the best part! It's what you've wanted from me all along. And you don't even want to peek?”

  Peek?! “Arlen—”

  He leans into the car then, coming right at me.

  “Arlen!”

  He swipes the contract and flips to the back page. He thrusts it at me. “My signature,” he says. “It's there. It's yours. The Holy Grail.”

  I just stare at the page in front of me. Arlen Black. Signed in black ink on the solid line. Arlen Black. His signature. His signature!

  I exhale on a laugh. “It's beautiful,” I say as I look up at him. “Thank you.”

  Arlen holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away. “Hey,” he says after a few seconds. “You went shopping to celebrate?”

  He's looking at the four white plastic bags sitting on my front seat. “Uh, no,” I say. “That's, uh, well, my lunch.”

  “FOUR bags?”

  “I was celebrating!”

  “And how. I'm impressed, Lola.”

  “I eat a lot, I confess.”

  “I know. I've seen you. But this is legion.”

  “It's a legion day,” I say. “At least it is for me.” I smile up at him. “Thanks to you.”

  Arlen backs away from the car. “Drive safely, Lola.”

  I feel so clearly dismissed. I'm not sure what just happened, but in the space of a nano-second, we went from something like camaraderie to Arlen giving me my hat and telling me to hurry up.

  “I'll be in touch,” I say, putting the car in gear. “And so will Ray. Bye.” And with that, I head to the studio.

  Chapter 28

  LOLA

  “How was I?”

  I look up from my computer as Arlen walks into my office and closes the door behind him.

  He has no idea. No idea. Everyone at the table read this morning was as quiet and still as a tombstone when Arlen read his lines. They were all floored. And every one of them, including Wendy, was afraid to say a damn thing. Wendy had, of course, lifted her chin and given a knowing smirk, as if Arlen had been her discovery and she always knew how balls-to-the-wall his performance would be. But she had been as bowled over as everybody else. They were all wondering who the hell this guy was and what attic I'd found him in.

  “Take a seat,” I say, still afraid that at any moment this dream might shatter and he might change his mind about playing Sam. Not that he could get out of the co
ntract.

  Still ...

  He sits.

  The second his butt hits the chair I look right at him and speak in a clear and even voice. “You were awesome. You impressed the bejesus out of everybody.”

  Arlen raises an eyebrow. “I was awesome but ...?”

  “No 'but.'”

  His nostrils flare, just the tiniest bit. He doesn't believe me. He's on Lola-watch, 24/7, waiting for me to try to bamboozle him in some way. I don't blame him. I simply cannot let this man down, not ever again.

  “Okay,” he says. “Can I go?”

  I smile briefly. “I'm serious. Everyone is astounded by such an untapped talent.” I pause, but don't get even a flicker of interest from Arlen. “Wendy, in particular,” I continue, “wants to know where you've been all her life.” Still nothing. Seriously? He doesn't even care that the sexiest woman on television thinks he's the cat's pajamas? “Have you ever seen Ups and Downs?”

  His eyes brighten, and I think he almost smiles. “The kids and I used to watch it all the time.”

  “Oh.”

  “I know who she is, Lola.” And I'm not impressed.

  Jeez, I can feel the slow, wet waves of boredom sluicing off him. Nothing about my show appeals to him. Not even playing Wendy Hunter's leading man. Apparently, I can't even give him that.

  “And Rebecca,” I add, “the girl who plays Alice, she's a little scared of you.”

  “Scared?”

  “That's a good thing. And Parker, the kid who plays—”

  “Jason, I know,” Arlen cuts in.

  “Right,” I say. “He thinks you're cool enough to be Spider-Man.”

  Arlen pins me with a look. “And what do you think?”

  I clear my throat. “Your performance was even darker and edgier than it was at the audition.”

  “Is that good or bad?”