Page 38 of Reckless
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
I straighten the line of his suit jacket. He looks just as good in a suit and tie as he does in jeans and a T-shirt. Cocking my head, I wonder if I can convince him to put on his old uniform so I can get a mental picture of him in that, too. “You promised.”
“Yeah, but I didn’t think this would be what I’d have to do to get you to agree to move in.” He doesn’t know it, but it would have taken me much less to move in. If he’d asked again, I probably would have jumped at the opportunity. But this way, I get a few more interviews out of him without him complaining. Much. “Anything else. I’ll do anything else.”
“You promised. The terms are non-negotiable. Besides, it’ll only be thirty minutes, and then you get a lifetime with me. It seems like a good deal. I don’t know why you’re reneging.”
A lifetime with him.
Once upon a time, the thought of a lifetime with anyone would have sent me running in the other direction. Who would have thought Griffin would be the one to make me change my mind? Better yet, who would have thought he’d be the one to stick around?
After Seth was killed, he wouldn’t hear of leaving my side and made it part of his return to the film that I not be penalized for our relationship. Oswald blustered, and Catherine wasn’t pleased, but in the end, Griffin naturally got his way. Even Theodore Brown capitulated under the pressure of public opinion. Once the press got ahold of the story and the truth about Allison, Griffin was a hero in their eyes. A bankable hero. And if there’s anything that holds sway in Hollywood, it’s dollar signs.
“McNalley! Are you going to wait until I’m in my grave? C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
Arthur Oswald hasn’t changed, but his brashness is starting to grow on me. I like to think Griffin is growing on him, too. Arthur frowns from the interview couch and lifts his cup of coffee to his lips. I’m starting to believe he survives on insults and caffeine—at least half of which I can relate to.
Griffin looks at me as if to say, “Don’t you see what I have to put up with?”
Smiling a little inside and trying to hide it, I say, “You’ll be fine. Besides, I think he’s finally beginning to like you.”
With a choked laugh and tone full of disbelief, Griffin says, “Like me? On the last day of filming, he told me I had less talent than the fake corpse we were filming with. What part of that makes you think he feels anything other than complete and utter loathing for me?”
I put a hand on my hip and raise my brows. “The fact that he didn’t hesitate to take you back to finish the movie.”
“Don’t look at me like that. That’s only because he didn’t want to go to the trouble of recasting and reshooting my part.”
“I wouldn’t look at you like this if you’d stop being so cynical. If Oswald didn’t respect you, he would have turned you down flat for causing him so much trouble.” He opens his mouth to speak, and I talk over him, “And he wouldn’t have offered you a role in his next film.”
Griffin shakes his head, then kisses me swiftly on the lips. It’s only a second, but it sends a flash of heat through me. I forget to care if anyone is watching. “Babe, I love you, but you’re delusional. That’s just business.”
I smack him on the arm. “Go do your job so I can do mine. Be nice to the reporters. And to Arthur.”
“No promises,” he answers with his trademark wicked grin.
I scowl but then smile when he turns away. He likes to complain about the interviews and about Arthur, but the two of them are finally getting along. Griffin isn’t getting his hopes up, but the festival circuit is already buzzing with good feedback.
“Isn’t this excitin’?” comes a familiar female voice. “A real Hollywood interview. Ben, look at this. Isn’t it amazing?”
I turn to see my parents arm in arm. My mom is practically glowing with pleasure and pride, and my dad scowls in Griffin’s direction. No doubt he caught the kiss at the end. “Shh, keep it down. They’re about to start.”
Mom giggles and puts a finger over her lips. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, we’re just so happy to be here.”
“I know you are. I’m so glad you could come. Here, let’s take a seat out of the way so we can watch. When we’re done, Griff and I will take you out to lunch.”
Despite the glitz and glamour behind the scenes and on set, Ben Hart still isn’t impressed by Hollywood if his expression has anything to say about it. “Good, I’d like to get to know this man of yours. Marine turned movie star. What makes him think he can take care of my little girl?”
“Oh, Ben, don’t start. This is supposed to be fun. We haven’t been on a vacation in years, so don’t ruin it by interrogating the boy when we only just got here. Save that for lunch.”
“No interrogating at all,” I warn. “Play nice. Griffin will have enough of interviews once today is over.”
As though to punctuate my statement, the set is shushed by assistants, and they begin rolling. The talk show host, a pretty brunette with a sharp eye, turns to Griffin and Arthur and begins the general lead-in: introducing the movie, asking questions about their inspiration and background, and touching on highlights of their careers. I’m about to release the breath I was holding when I see the host turn to Griffin with an all too familiar gleam in her eye. My heart sinks, and I wonder if I can distract my parents and pull them outside before it’s too late.
“Now, Griffin, I heard there was excitement during production. As we’ve all probably heard, filming was halted when your assistant threatened and attacked one of the publicists on the film . . . can you tell me anything about that?”
“Attacked? Honey, what are they talking about?” Mom whispers, pressing a hand to her chest. “They aren’t talking about you, are they?”
“No, of course not,” I hedge. “There are a lot of publicists involved with the movie . . .”