Page 9

CHAPTER

NINE

ANNALISE

A Rolls Royce Phantom limousine in bright white with chrome finishings pulls up to the studio at eight o’clock sharp. The driver opens the door for me, and I get in. My father has flown in for the evening to have dinner with me. He’s closed down an entire restaurant for us so we can eat in private. As much as he proclaims to want privacy, he sends the flashiest limo I’ve seen in a while, making me wonder if he genuinely wants this dinner to go unnoticed. He’s a walking contradiction, and after twenty-six years on this earth with him, I still can’t figure him out.

The limo pulls up in front of an upscale Italian restaurant, and my stomach rumbles. It was such a busy day on set that a protein shake and some carrots were all I managed to eat. The food table during our lunch break went untouched, as I spent the time looking over a couple of rewrites to make sure I had my lines memorized. I was summoned to makeup prior to shooting and only had time to snag a handful of baby carrots on my hasty walk there.

I can always tell a good Italian restaurant by the quality of their calamari, and by the looks of this place, their calamari is going to be killer.

My dad sits in the very back corner of the empty restaurant. His attention is on his phone, and he doesn’t realize I’ve entered until I’ve stopped right in front of him.

“Anna love.” He stands from the table, gently holds my shoulders, and air-kisses each cheek. It’s all very formal and the way he’s greeted me my entire life.

“Father.” I smile and take a seat beside him.

I place the cloth napkin on my lap and take a sip of the red wine waiting at my place setting. Looking around for the server, I say, “I’m ready to eat.”

My father releases a heavy sigh. “Have some decorum, Annalise.”

I frown. “Um, I’m sorry. Is there a reason we can’t order right away? I was so busy today, I haven’t eaten much.”

“Tell me about filming. How is it going?” He swirls his wine in his glass and takes a small sip, sucking the liquid in through his teeth.

“It’s good. How’s Mom? She couldn’t come?” My mother’s been in remission for five years, and still, I worry when she’s absent.

“She’s perfectly fine. Sends her love. She had a charity event tonight.”

“That makes sense. I actually did a meet and greet to raise money for breast cancer research a few days ago.”

He furrows his brows. “If I remember correctly, hers had something to do with sea turtles.”

“Sea turtles?”

“Anna”—he releases an audible breath—“you know how it goes. It’s your mother’s world, and we’re just living in it. I don’t question her activities.”

“Right.” I nod, tapping my fingers against the wooden table. My stomach feels as if it’s lost all hope of food and has resorted to eating my kidneys. There’s a sharp pang in my side. “Seriously, where is the server?”

“Annalise. We will order when our entire party has arrived.”

My eyes go wide. “Who else is joining us?”

His gasoline cologne burns my nostrils, and the hunger pains I felt have morphed into nausea.

“Mr. Sterling.” Simon extends a hand to my father, who is now standing. The two men shake hands. “Annalise.” Simon nods.

“Have you lost all manners?” my dad seethes under his breath.

I reluctantly stand from my chair and shake Simon’s hand, though I just escaped his company an hour ago. He smiles and motions for me to take my seat and proceeds to push it back toward the table. I want to ask my father why my costar is here, but he would consider that conversation in front of present company very rude. My dad will stab anyone in the back, but you better believe he will hold utmost civility and manners as he does so.

Simon’s parents have run in the same circles as my parents for decades, and I suppose they would classify each other as friends. But I can’t see my father caring enough about the Blackwoods to have dinner with their son.

“It’s been far too long since I’ve seen you, Simon. You look well,” my dad says.

“Thank you, sir. As do you. I have to say, I’ve missed your New Year’s Eve parties.” Simon puts on what I’m assuming he thinks is a charming smile.

This compliment brings a grin to my father’s face. “Oh yes. We did throw some fantastic gatherings, didn’t we?”

“Only the best. An invitation to the Sterling New Year’s Eve party was an honor.” Simon blows more smoke up my dad’s ass.

Now that Simon mentions it, memories of the parties are coming back to me. I think I must’ve blocked them out. Specifically, the time when we were around ten years old and Simon ripped pages out of every special edition, gold embossed encyclopedia in my father’s library. A prank I was blamed for no matter how many times I told my parents it wasn’t me.

We stopped throwing elaborate parties after my mother’s diagnosis, and once her battle was fought and she was finally in remission, we never went back to hosting. Something, in all honesty, I don’t miss.

My father takes a sip of his wine and gives Simon an approving nod. There isn’t anything he loves more than being complimented.

Fed up, I raise my arm and snap, “Server!” We’re literally the only table in this place, and I can’t get service to save my life.

“Anna!” my father seethes. “What has gotten into you?”

“I told you. I’m starving, and I need to eat.” I leave out the part about the high probability of killing Simon if I don’t get sustenance soon. I do not do well when I’m hangry.

The server, a mousy girl no more than twenty years of age, finally shows up. Her light brown hair falls straight to her shoulders, creating curtains over half her face.

“Can I help you?” she asks quietly. Looking terrified, she blinks rapidly. Her eye makeup, in shades of gray and black, and the way her eyes bulge out in what I can only assume is fear give her the unhinged appearance of an underfed raccoon with a hint of rabies.

I don’t mean to be an entitled snob, but when someone has enough money to rent out an entire restaurant, a competent server is usually included.

“Hi. What’s your name?” I give her a smile, one that I hope portrays that we come in peace.

“Bethy.” Her voice quivers.

“Okay, Bethy. Nice to meet you.” I keep my voice calm and smooth. “I’m Anna, and I would love a glass of water and a huge plate of calamari with ranch for dipping as soon as humanly possible. Thank you.”

“A calamari appetizer for the table sounds good,” my father approves.

“No.” I shake my head. “That’s just for me. Please order what you want.”

My words leave my father speechless, which I find comical.

“I’ll start with a gin and tonic and some fried mozzarella sticks if you have them. A menu would be great, too,” Simon says.

“Um…” Bethy looks down at the table. “We don’t have mozzarella sticks, but we do have breaded mozzarella di bufala.”

“What is that?” Simon asks.

“Well, it’s mozzarella di bufala,” she responds.

“So that’s like a type of mozzarella cheese?” Simon asks.

She nods.

“And it’s breaded?” he asks.

Bethy nods again.

“And it’s fried with like a side of marinara dipping sauce?” He looks expectantly at Bethy, pressing his lips in a line to suppress a smile.

“Y-yes,” she stutters.

“Great. I will start with that. Thank you so much, Bethy.” Simon gives her a charming smile, and she seems to stop trembling.

“It would be appreciated if you could bring me a bottle of this same wine.” My father points toward his wineglass.

Bethy nods and retreats to the kitchen.

“Oh. My. Word.” I press my hand to my mouth to halt the laughter that threatens.

“Whoa,” Simon agrees with a chuckle.

“Apparently, Cecilia needs to be more clear when she sets these things up,” my dad says of his secretary. “Why does our server seem so afraid? I’m at a loss for words.”

“Well, you are quite intimidating,” I tell him.

“Hardly.” He scoffs, his forehead wrinkling.

Thankfully, the cooks have their shit together because our appetizers are delivered promptly. I almost want to cry when I see the plate of calamari. I take a bite of the big ring, and I moan. The lightly breaded rings are thick and tender, and the ranch is perfect.

My father furrows his brows and frowns at Simon as if my behavior is somehow his fault. “What is going on here?”

Simon shrugs and suppresses a laugh. “I don’t know, sir.”

I inhale a dozen rings in a matter of seconds and start to feel like myself again. Now that my body has been supplied with some calories, and I can think again, I look at Simon’s plate of mozzarella sticks, and I start to laugh.

He notices me staring at his food and laughs along with me.

“Anna. What is happening?” My father’s face has morphed from one of anger to concern.

I wipe a happy tear from the corner of my eye. “They’re mozzarella sticks.”

“They’re mozzarella sticks,” Simon echoes my statement as he laughs along with me.

Bethy returns to the table with a bottle of wine, halting our joyful outburst. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, Bethy. Everything is amazing,” I say.

“These lightly fried breaded mozzarella di bufala are insanely delicious.” Simon holds up his hand and presses his thumb and finger together in the A-OK sign.

The guy has a sense of humor. Maybe I was too quick to hate him.

We give Bethy our food orders, and the mood at the table sobers. Over the past several days, I’ve worked very long days with little sleep and even less food. Miranda would say that this is a bad habit of mine. I get too involved in a project, neglect myself, and ultimately have a breakdown. It’s unfortunate that my breakdown occurred in the presence of my father, as I don’t think he will forget this any time soon.

“Well, now that the moment of insanity is gone. Shall we talk about why I brought you two here?” my father asks.

His question causes the hairs on my arms to rise. The same ones that have warned me my entire life that the next few moments aren’t going to be pleasant ones. I was so naive to believe he flew here just to visit, as if he missed his only daughter or something resembling parental instinct.

Simon and I exchange glances, and my father continues.

“I’ve been thinking about the best way to tackle the promotion for your upcoming movie. There’s a lot of buzz surrounding it, and biopics are always very popular come awards season. But if I’m to be frank, we have damage control to do.” My father looks at me, and my heart sinks. “Annalise’s last film was an epic failure. Somehow a movie that was meant to gain acclaim garnered nothing but appreciation from porn addicts.”

“Dad!” I cover my mouth, my eyes filling with unshed tears.

He holds up a hand and gives me a stern look that warns me not to say another word. “It’s true, Anna. Your reputation took a hit with that one. There’s no sugarcoating it. However, you come from a good family with a respected legacy.” He motions toward Simon. “As does Simon. The Blackwood and Sterling names are well respected, and that means something. We need to focus on that.” He places his palms down flat against the table. “So you two will date.”

“What?” I gasp.

He glares, shutting me up. “It doesn’t have to be real. It just has to look real. We’ll orchestrate some positive photo ops in the area. Get your pictures in all the magazines and news sites. Everyone will be so excited about this new relationship, finding love on the set of such an inspiring film. The gossip sites will devour this kind of news. It’s sure to be a success. You’ll attend the awards season together and put on the front that you’re the most in love Hollywood couple there is. Once this film is a success and awards season is over, you can announce your amicable break. By that time, everyone will have moved on from your last disaster and think of you in a positive light. I refuse to stand by and allow your blunder to tarnish our name. This is how we accomplish that.”

“Dad…no.” My lip trembles.

“I’ll do it. I think it sounds like a great idea.” Simon gives my father a knowing smile, and I realize now that this announcement doesn’t shock him. The pair of them have already discussed the details. I guarantee Simon is getting something out of this arrangement. He wouldn’t have agreed to it otherwise.

“No, I’m not doing this,” I say with as much strength as I can muster.

“You are,” my father states. “This is nonnegotiable, Anna. The Sterlings have been Hollywood royalty for decades, and you’re putting our good name in jeopardy with your choices. This is how you fix it. And you will fix it.”

My entire body trembles as I force a tsunami of tears to stay at bay. I will not give either of these men the satisfaction of my tears. “I will not, and I cannot.”

“Why is that?” my father growls.

“I cannot fake date Simon because I’m already in a serious relationship with someone else.” The words leave my mouth before I can work through their consequences.

“What?” Simon and my father ask in unison.

I clear my throat. “I’m in love with someone else, and I will not jeopardize what I have with him to fulfill your sick scheme. And I will not apologize for my film choices. I am proud of everything I’ve done.” My voice cracks. “I pour my heart and soul into my roles, and I’m good at what I do. I don’t need you to believe it to make it true. It would be nice if my father were proud of me, but I’ve known you long enough to know that will never happen. So I’m done trying.”

I stand from the table as Bethy arrives with a tray of our food. I take the ceramic bowl of angel hair pasta and the basket of warmed French bread from the tray and thank her before I walk away, food in hand.

“Come back here, Annalise. We are not finished with this conversation.” My father raises his voice.

“I am,” I call back over my shoulder.

I’m so done.

I instruct the limo driver to drive me to the hotel. I left my lines for tomorrow in my trailer on set, but I don’t want to go back there right now. That’s the first place my father will look for me. He knows that I get oddly attached to my trailers. I rarely spend time at the five-star hotel suite. It takes me out of the role too much. For some reason, staying on set in my trailer keeps my head in character. It’s where I like to work my lines and prepare for the upcoming day.

Outside the hotel, I tip the limo driver an obscene amount to tell my father that he dropped me off at the studio, and I head inside.

“Ms. Sterling,” the doorman Walter greets me. His gaze wanders to the large food dishes in my hands, but only for a moment. “Can I help you carry anything?”

“No, I’m fine. Thank you. However, please don’t allow anyone up to my suite. If anyone comes, especially my father, please tell him I’m not in.”

“Absolutely, Ms. Sterling.” He nods. “Ms. Miranda stopped by earlier with some boxes for you. I allowed her up so she could drop them off in the suite.”

“Oh, that’s fine. Thank you. Just no one else tonight.”

He swipes his key card in the slot next to the elevator and pushes the button for the penthouse as I step into the elevator.

“Have a wonderful night, Ms. Sterling.”

“You too, Walter.”

The elevator door opens to the penthouse, and I step inside. A big white box with a blue ribbon sits on the table in the foyer, but I opt to open it later. First things first, food.

I turn on some trash reality TV, change into sweats, and eat the noodles. They’re so delicious, and I’m so happy with my decision to take them. It was a spur-of-the-moment impulse, and the thought of the look on my dad’s face as I stormed out of the restaurant with two dishes in hand makes me smile.

I’m not naive enough to believe this conversation is over. This is my father after all, and one thing I know about him is that he will be heard and is accustomed to getting his way. At the very least, I’m going to be expected to produce this so-called love of my life, which could be a problem. I’m certain that if my father finds out I lied to him about having a boyfriend, he won’t relent until I agree to his demands.

But I can never agree with him—on principle alone. I am a twenty-six-year-old adult who has been making my own money since I was twelve. He will not force me to do anything I don’t want to do. And fake dating Simon is the very last thing I would ever do.

Just when I started to let my guard down and think I might’ve judged the douche too harshly, I find out he’s in cahoots with my father. That camaraderie I felt with him at dinner was just an act. I guess he has some acting skills after all.

My phone buzzes, and I look down, assuming it will be another text from Simon or my father, which I will of course ignore. But it’s from Miranda.

OMG, Anna. What happened at dinner? Your father is here, and he is not happy.

I pick up my phone and reply.

Don’t let him intimidate you.

Well, I’m not trying to, but I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him this mad. He wants to know where you are.

Tell him I went to Indiana to visit my boyfriend.

What?!

Just tell him that I went to Indiana to visit my boyfriend. Give him no other details.

Okaaay…

He’s asking where in Indiana?

Tell him you don’t know.

I did, and he stormed out.

Good. Now wait a few minutes until you’re sure he’s gone. Grab my script and head over to the hotel. We need to talk.

On it!

I chuckle and put my phone back on the bed. I’m so lucky to have Miranda on this adventure with me. She may be my only true friend, but when your best friend is as awesome as she is, one friend is all you need. I’m terrified of the day she leaves me. I pay her really well, but I know someday she’ll find someone and settle down. She won’t always be able to follow me around the world to all my shooting locations. Thankfully, that day isn’t today.

Placing my hand on my stomach, I stretch back against the headboard. I may have inhaled every bite of pasta and enough bread for several people, but I have no regrets. I’m going to have to eat at that place again. Heck, I wouldn’t mind seeing Bethy again. Next to my father and Simon, she’s wonderful company.

I catch sight of the large box by the foyer, and I hop off the bed.

Tugging at one of the large bows, I flip open the top of the box when the navy blue ribbon unravels. The contents bring a smile to my face. There’s an apple, a large foam finger, what appears to be some sort of a navy-and-white noisemaker, a pair of Crane hockey sweatpants and a hat, and a number two jersey signed by the one and only Jaden Lewis. I pull out the jersey and hug it to my chest, feeling happy. I open the card, which has the Crane hockey logo on the front. Inside, I find two tickets to a game and a handwritten note.

Dearest Pen Pal,

Tomorrow is our first home game. Inside, you’ll find everything you need to hang with the Appletons. I can’t wait to see what you think of your first hockey game. You’re going to love it. Can’t wait two see you.

Love, your friend

I take the apple out of the box and place it in my basket atop the table that contains the rest of the apples from our date. In my quest to avoid my father, maybe tomorrow is a good day to attend my first hockey game.

My phone buzzes, and I snatch it off the bed to see a text from Miranda.

Walter states you’re not here and that he can’t let me up.

Oops…I’ll be right down.

Walter is the best.