Page 33 of A Star is Scorned

As Joan and Arlene carted Livvy off to the next room telling her God knows what, Flynn stared after her.

He knew better than to challenge Livvy with a sword.

But when she’d entered the party dressed as Peter Pan, the green suede of her costume hugging the pert little curve of her butt, he hadn’t been able to resist putting on a show.

Besides, wasn’t that what he was supposed to be doing?

Showing the world how impressive Livvy is?

Flynn was beginning to realize it wasn’t just Livvy’s unstained reputation that had convinced Harry to entrap her into this publicity stunt.

No, Harry had seen something extraordinary in this bookish beauty.

Something that made her a more believable match for Flynn than he’d ever thought she could be.

Flynn was just doing his job to keep up the ruse by helping people see that.

He was still gaping after that irresistible, retreating backside when Dash approached and clapped him on the shoulder. “That is one hell of a woman.”

“Don’t I know it,” muttered Flynn. He realized that he was still pinned to the wall with the point of her dagger.

The rest of the crowd, sensing the show was over, had turned away to chat with each other.

Flynn picked up snatches of their murmurs, some marveling at Livvy’s skill, others calling it unladylike.

Bugger, had he cocked this up? He’d gotten carried away by the delightful coincidence of their costumes.

And he’d never been able to resist making a bit of a scene.

The band resumed playing. He continued to tug at the dagger to no avail, barely able to twist his trapped arm to wrap his fingers around it.

Dash gave him a look.

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

Flynn continued to wrestle with the stupid dagger until Dash drawled, “Might help if you lost the hook.”

Flynn sighed, a bit irritated he hadn’t thought of it himself.

But his mind was spinning off in a million different directions, fretting over whatever Joan and Arlene were telling Livvy in the kitchen.

Or worse, what Livvy was telling them. He dropped the hook, resigning himself to the fact that the portion of his evening with a complete costume was now over.

With his other hand free, he easily pulled the dagger from the wall and rotated his shoulder a few times to wake up the muscles that had been starting to tingle from being trapped in place.

Dash nodded to the porch and Flynn followed him outside.

The air was crisp and cold, and it smelled of the briny tang of the ocean.

Flynn took in the deck, the line of meticulously carved jack-o’-lanterns that stood like sentinels guarding the stairs leading up to a second patio outside the master bedroom.

The old friends climbed up there together in silence.

“Thought you could use some air,” said Dash.

“Thanks,” Flynn grunted.

He was thrown back to the memory of another night on this deck a few years ago, when Dash had come over in a huff, having learned that one of his pranks had accidentally led to his marriage to Joan.

Now, Dash was blissfully (re)married to his costar, and Flynn was still a happy bachelor who shuddered at the mere mention of an engagement.

Even though the thought of waking up next to Livvy every morning was far more tempting than he cared to admit.

He and Dash leaned against the stucco wall of the upstairs patio and stood in silence, listening to the waves crash against the rocks below. Then Dash turned and studied Flynn with a look of consternation. “What are you doing with that girl?”

Of all the questions he’d expected to hear from his best friend, that wasn’t one of them. Dash hadn’t exactly cultivated a sterling reputation before he’d married Joan. “What do you mean? You know what I’m doing. We’re having some fun.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “No. I know your version of having fun, and that little exhibition in there wasn’t it. That girl isn’t your usual worldly dame; her earnestness is written all over her face. So I ask you again, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“C’mon, Flynn. When I didn’t want to admit I was in love with Joan, you told me how stupid I was.

What are friends for, if not to point out the obvious things we refuse to admit to ourselves?

You brought her to your favorite restaurant, somewhere you’ve never taken a doll.

You challenged her to a sword fight in front of half of Hollywood, knowing full well she’d probably embarrass you. ”

“I didn’t know—”

“Don’t tell me that what she did in there was surprising to you. You weren’t shocked at how good she was. You were goddamn delighted. It was written all over your face how much you enjoyed going toe-to-toe to her. How much you like that she’s better than you with a sword.”

The words hit Flynn like a bucket of cold water. “No, I just thought it was funny that our costumes went so well together. If the host of a party is dressed as Captain Hook, is he not morally obligated to duel the first person to arrive that’s dressed as Peter Pan?”

“Even for you, that’s a ludicrous argument.

” Dash reached for the bottle of wine someone had left on the patio table and took a swig from it before passing it to Flynn.

“Look, maybe that excuse would fly with Benny Goodman or Bing Crosby or half the other fellas in that room. But you can’t fool me.

You wanted everyone to see her, to be awed by her. ”

“She was rather spectacular, wasn’t she?” Flynn grinned. He took another swig from the wine bottle.

“She was,” Dash admitted. “But that’s not my point. My point is that you’ve been acting strangely for weeks now. When Joan and I saw that picture of you with the girl outside of El Cholo, we couldn’t believe it. So what the hell is going on?”

Flynn sighed. “Fine. I’ll level with you. But you can’t tell anyone. Not even Joan.” Dash looked ready to argue, but Flynn glared at him. “If our friendship means anything to you, you’ll keep this to yourself.”

“Fine,” Dash growled.

“Livvy and me, it’s not real. That business with Rhonda Powers put me on thin ice with the Legion of Decency, so Harry decreed that Livvy and I should pretend to fall in love for publicity.

Make it look like the influence of a good woman reformed me.

Everything the last few weeks has been about convincing people of that fact. ”

“I think the only person you’re convincing of anything right now is yourself.” Dash gave him a pointed look.

Flynn scoffed. “Hardly. We’re just good at pretending.

Every relationship—or marriage, for that matter—that the publicity department arranges isn’t destined to become true love.

We’re friends, that’s all. Friends doing our job.

You think there’s something there because that’s what we want you to see, but none of this is real. ”

“Does she know that?”

The question caught Flynn off guard. Was Livvy developing feelings for him?

No. It was impossible. She was far too smart for that.

Besides, what had she said the other night?

She should have been home with Judy instead of eating enchiladas with him.

She was doing this because Harry Evets had told her to.

And that was that. Wasn’t it? “Of course she does.”

Dash raised an eyebrow and snagged the bottle of wine back for another swig. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“Oh hell, Dash, what do you want from me?” Flynn was getting annoyed. His Halloween party was his favorite night of the year, and here he was arguing with his best friend about a dame. “I wouldn’t be in this mess if you and Joan hadn’t invited Rhonda Powers to your party.”

Dash rolled his eyes. “Neither of us told you to kiss her in the garden. In fact, if you had asked, we would’ve warned you off her immediately. Which we did as soon as we realized what you were up to. You couldn’t keep your hands to yourself for one evening.”

“I wasn’t aware that the Howard and Davis residence came with a celibacy policy,” Flynn bit out.

“It doesn’t—” Dash started.

“Give me a break, Dash. You act like you’ve never kissed a girl and regretted it. I always knew you were a better man than me, but you’re not gonna be applying for sainthood anytime soon.”

“I am not a saint, but you’re also not the villain you’ve convinced yourself you are.”

“Rhonda seems to think I am.”

“And what? You want to prove her right? The only thing Rhonda Powers proves is that sometimes you’re an idiot.

For once in your life, think with your head and not your dick.

You wouldn’t be in this mess if you did, and now people are going to get hurt.

You don’t need to reform, but you could exercise some better judgment once in a while! ”

Flynn had never heard his friend sound so disappointed. It reminded Flynn of the way his father used to speak to him, the way he always seemed to imply that he’d fallen short. The tone of voice that had made him decide that since he would never be good enough, he would rather be wicked instead.

“Don’t speak to me like that,” Flynn snapped.

“I don’t understand why you suddenly want me to be something I’m not.

I’m never going to be Prince Charming, Dash.

I’m a rogue through and through, and that’s how I like it.

Livvy knows that. She’s just helping me try to convince the public otherwise until this Rhonda mess dies down. Why is that a problem?”

Dash looked at him then, a profound sadness in his eyes.

It stopped Flynn in his tracks. “It’s not.

Not if that’s really who you are. But what I’m asking you to do is stop and think about whether you are still the same Flynn Banks you were on the night we met at Musso and Frank’s Grill six years ago.

When I beat you in that drinking contest.”

“Excuse me, I beat you.”