Beautiful Secret (Dirty Hollywood Book 1) Page 3

  “Fucking hell,” I mutter, shoving a hand through my hair as I start the car.

  A small part of me worries about what this will mean, whether she’ll make a complaint to the producer about the way I acted and treated her tonight. But even though one word from her could mean the end of my job and career, another part of me knows she isn’t going to do that.

  She’s not like that because she’s nothing like I thought she would be and I’m an idiot for trying to pigeonhole her with all the others.

  By the time I find a place to park outside my brother’s flat, it’s after two in the morning. I’m knackered and wanting nothing more than to pass out on the double bed in the cramped room he’s let me crash in for the next few months.

  “Hey, why are you so late?” he asks as I walk in the front door.

  I pause, taking in my twin brother lying on the couch, a beer in one hand, the TV remote in the other. “Why are you still up?”

  He grins. “Just got off shift,” he says. “You?”

  I shake my head and plant my arse on the couch beside him. He offers me his beer, but I shake my head, knowing that if I start now, I won’t stop.

  “Work.”

  “That good, huh?”

  I shrug.

  “What?” he asks. “Not good?”

  “Dunno,” I say, as my eyes close.

  “Aiden,” he says, shoving me a little. “What happened? I thought this was a big deal?”

  I roll my head on the back of the couch, open my eyes so I’m looking across at my brother. “It is,” I say.

  “So what happened?” he asks.

  “Fuck,” I mumble, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I think I just insulted the shit out of Julia Harris.”

  “What?” he says, almost dropping his beer. “What the hell did you do that for?”

  Chapter Three

  Julia

  “Wow,” I mutter as I close the door to my house and fall back against it. That was not at all how I expected that ride home to go down. I’m used to people either completely ignoring me because they don’t know how to respond or talking incessantly out of nervousness. This was just well, insulting and unexpected considering he offered to drive me home.

  I look out the frosted glass window of the front door and see Aiden’s car still sitting outside and I wonder if he’s replaying our encounter just like I currently am. Maybe his whole point of offering me a ride home was to insult me? I’ve experienced some pretty interesting things since starting my career as an actress, and it turns out people literally hate you for no apparent reason. It’s the reason I stay off social media because I really can’t handle the insults sometimes. But today was solidly a new low, and then my response to him was not exactly the best either. Sometimes I just get tired of being shit on or being labeled difficult or stuck up or full of myself, and I clap back, which generally lands me in the tabloids.

  “Oh shit,” I whisper to myself even though I’m the only person in this massive house. Aiden is probably going to contact Hello magazine or The Sun or Mirror and sell our stupid story to them for a ridiculous amount of money, who will then in turn sell it to a bunch of other tabloids, and after that Ava will have to call my publicist who will call me and tell me to keep my mouth shut.

  “Don’t tell them you were drunk or that you’d just gotten off a red-eye, or that’s just who you are,” James, my publicist will snap at me. “No reason to make excuses for your behavior.”

  My behavior?

  Everything is always my fault and it’s my awkwardness that seems to be the cause for all this. I’m starting to think I should wear a muzzle and be pushed around in a wheelchair so I can’t get into anything. But fuck me, if that won’t draw even more attention! Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

  It’s really late and obsessing over what Aiden might do, or how he might twist my words could keep me up all night. It basically has already.

  I climb the stairs to the master bedroom and while my obsessing might keep me up, it won’t be the only thing. This house is massive and staying here alone isn’t my idea of a good night’s sleep.

  I wake the next morning to Ava standing over me with her hands on her hips. It’s early, but I have no idea how early, because the sky is still a blackened haze of clouds and gray.

  “I thought you were going to set your alarm?” she asks, and the corner of her lip twitches up in smile.

  “What fun would that be?” I shoot back, dragging the covers over my head. “And if I did, you’d be out of a job.”

  “You have a six a.m. call time.” Ava reminds me, not that I could forget because it was running through my head every single time I checked the time on phone through the night, calculating exactly how much sleep I would get if I fell asleep at that exact moment.

  “Breakfast?” I ask, slipping out of the bed and heading downstairs.

  “Yeah, sure,” Ava responds, following behind me as we both make our way to the kitchen.

  I open the refrigerator and am happy to find it stocked with plenty of food, bottled water, wine, beer and tons of fruit.

  “Did you do this?” I ask, shooting a teasing glare at Ava and she nods her head. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

  “Of course I do. You pay me.”

  “You’d be my best friend even I didn’t pay you. I don’t really have very many.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, neither do I,” she replies back, and I know working for me dictates her life. If I had to guess, I’d say that’s why her most recent relationship ended. I don’t ask though, because Ava keeps things to herself. I often wonder if she does due to the nature of her job. It isn’t a stable career and assistants flit from one person to the next the way people change their underwear.

  I’m not saying she isn’t loyal to me or that she really isn’t my best friend, I just know that if my career tanks, she’ll be the first to bail.

  I begin slicing strawberries as Ava gets our coffee ready, and a comfortable silence floats around the room. In the center of the dining table is a dessert stand piled with pastries and covered with a heavy domed glass lid. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t eyed them at two a.m. while I was processing that car ride home with Aiden.

  “Still a disaster this morning,” I think to myself as Ava and I sit down at the table and begin to eat. I pull a chocolate croissant from the dessert stand and Ava shakes her head at me but says nothing. She’s always trying to get me to eat better.

  “It was really nice of that production assistant to give us a ride home last night,” Ava says, as if she’s reading my thoughts.

  “Yeah, except he was a total jerk to me after you left.”

  “What do you mean?” Ava asks, her eyes wide as she leans forward a little in her chair.

  “I was trying to talk to him and he just kept giving me one word answers like he had no interest in having a conversation with me. Then when I called him out on it, he accused me of not really being interested in what he does or who he is.”

  “Wow, really?” Ava says, pausing for a second as if she’s thinking over what I’ve just told her. “Do you think he may have just been nervous?” She shrugs her shoulders and purses her lips as she eyes me suspiciously.

  “Why would he have been nervous?” I shoot back, an eyebrow cocked in her direction.

  Ava scrubs a hand over her face and shakes her head slowly. “You know I love you Julia, but sometimes you are oblivious. Completely oblivious.”

  “What are you talking about?” I question, the exasperation in my voice coming out on a hard exhale.

  “You’re famous, Julia. You make people nervous. You make people feel inferior without even doing anything.”

  “Seriously?” I ask, wondering how many people I’ve made feel uncomfortable in my presence. “I don’t mean to…”

  “Of course you don’t mean to,” Ava states, cutting me off. “But you’re not a normal, regular, everyday person anymore and you still interact with people like you
are.”

  “How am I supposed to act? The way Aiden assumed I would last night? Like a stuck-up bitch?”

  I’m bothered by this conversation and the fact that even one on one with people they assume the worst of me. They assume that what they read is true and don’t even give me a chance to show them who I really am.

  “Hell no,” she replies, her hand flicking in my direction as she shakes her head furiously. “That’s the last thing you should do. You don’t need to change anything, but just know that people don’t expect you to be so…so…”

  “Normal?” I say, finishing her sentence.

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  We finish up breakfast quietly, chatting a little about what my shooting schedule looks like and if we’ll be able to wrap this whole thing up in three months. Something I’m hoping for because I honestly would rather be at home and when I say home, I don’t mean L.A.

  I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago and when I’m not filming or promoting or networking, I’m in Chicago. It’s quiet, my family is there, and it’s much easier to blend in.

  Before I know it, I’m in my trailer and Ava is sprawled out on the couch reading a book while I review my lines. I look over at her and I’m suddenly overcome with a feeling of major guilt. The poor thing spends her entire day with me. Unless she’s sleeping, she’s with me, and there are times like this, especially when I’m on set, that I don’t need her. Honestly, I don’t really need her at all. She keeps my life in order, but at the expense of her own life.

  “Ava,” I call and her head flies up from the book she reading and she quickly answers, “What do you need? Help with your lines?”

  I really kinda hate that this is her first response. I know the people she’s worked for in the past have been incredibly demanding, but I rarely ask her for anything. She usually just does it.

  “Nothing,” I tell her, my hands now on my hips trying to look as authoritative as she does when she’s talking to me about keeping a schedule. “You should go out and see London today.”

  “I’ve been to London,” she acquiesces, but it’s more of an agreement to get me to stop telling her what to do.

  “I didn’t ask if you’ve been to London, I said you should see London; sit on the top of the touristy bus, go see the London Bridge and Westminster Abbey and do all the shit you don’t get to do because you’re too busy managing my life. Go meet a cute British boy!” I clap my hands and give her a devious smile, but she rolls her eyes. “Seriously, Ava. I don’t need you here and I want you to leave here saying you had an amazing time.”

  She falls silent for a few seconds and her face remains impassive, but I know she’s processing my words, thinking them over, and I wonder if right now she’s picturing the boyfriend she lost because of this job.

  “Are you sure…” she starts, but I interject.

  “Yes, I’m absolutely certain!” I practically yell, not that I want her to disappear, because she’s really the only thing that keeps me entertained during my downtime on set, but she needs a life.

  She looks around the trailer and reaches for her book, handing it to me. “Here, if you get bored between scenes, read this and tell me if it’s any good.”

  “Seriously?!” My question isn’t directed toward her comment about the book, but about the fact that she’s seriously about to leave and take an entire day to herself.

  She smiles a genuine smile at me and I swear I feel like my heart might explode in my chest.

  “Take lots of pictures and tell me everything. And I’m serious, go meet a cute boy and have a wild, whirlwind affair with him.”

  This time she laughs, but gives me a typical Ava eye roll despite the fact that she’s obviously gathering up her things and I watch as she checks herself in the mirror.

  Just as she’s about to walk out the door, I grab my purse and hand her a wad of cash I had in there; something I wouldn’t have had unless it was for Ava. She went to the ATM before we left the U.S. and then exchanged the money for me at the airport.

  “I’m not taking your money, Julia,” she says, trying to act like she’s insulted. “You pay me enough to do my job.”

  “I know I do, but I have no use for this and I don’t want you to have to exchange money or pay ATM fees here. Just take it,” I insist, shoving it at her. Even though she would never admit it, I know she pays for shit from out of her own pocket and doesn’t tell me.

  She’s reluctant, but she takes the money and adds it to her wallet as she gives me a small thank you with a nod of her head.

  “If you need me, I’ll have my phone on. Just call and I’ll come back,” she says, her hand on the doorknob, but I reach around her and open the door, practically shoving her out.

  “Go,” I yell, giving her a push down the steps as I follow her. “Go meet a hot bartender and have crazy…” Ava cuts me off and says, “I think they’re called a barman here.” She winks at me and I feel like I’m sending my first born off to college. I’m so excited for the prospect of her enjoying life without the confines of this damn job and without me tagging along and ruining it with all the paparazzi following us.

  “Okay, then, go have wild, unfettered sex with a barman!”

  Just as I say this, Aiden walks by with a group of extras and his eyes immediately dart to mine.

  Ava’s face flushes bright red and her eyes widen as she shakes her head and begins to walk away. She looks back over her shoulder, her head indicated toward Aiden and she mouths, “talk to him”.

  I recall our conversation at breakfast immediately and suck in a deep breath. I have no idea why this encounter with Aiden has remained on my mind for so long. Things like this happen to me all the time and mostly I just let it go. But there’s something about this one that I just can’t. I don’t want him thinking I’m a bitch or that I think less of him because of his title. I don’t want to make people so nervous that they can’t function normally around me.

  “Hey, Aiden,” I call out and he whips around to face me. The group of people following him stops when he stops, like he’s an animal trainer. And now I’ve just made it even more awkward.

  The crowd of people immediately begins whispering and one asks if she can take a picture with me. I watch Aiden tug a hand through his hair and let out a long sigh. His lips are pressed into a firm line and before the woman can get her picture, Aiden says, “We don’t have time for this. Everyone needs to be on set like now.” His words are clipped and his eyes are focused solely on mine.

  Maybe what Ava claimed was nervousness really was absolute hatred for me.

  “Good morning, Miss Harris,” he calls at me, but with little inflection in his voice and his face remains unreadable.

  “Good morning, Aiden,” I reply back and then add, “When you have a free moment I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Sure thing,” he says back, this time a fake smile plastered on his face. It’s just for show, and we both know he’s now going to spend the rest of the day avoiding me.

  Chapter Four

  Aiden

  I spend the rest of the day avoiding her. It’s childish and stupid and I know it, but I still do it. I have no idea why she wants to speak to me, but I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s something to do with last night and the things I said to her on the drive to her place.

  Well, more the fact that I was a total dick to her.

  I don’t even know why I acted the way I did. After making all these assumptions about her, I’d wound up acting the exact way I’d expected her to act. And in response, she’d been nothing but nice to me. And normal. Totally fucking normal.

  “Jesus christ, Aiden,” I mutter to myself as the director finally calls a wrap on the day. It’s still rehearsals and we’ve only got a week, so everyone is on edge at the amount of shit we need to get through.

  I’ve got lists of scenes they want to prep for and a million other things I need to get done before filming actually starts in five days, but still I can’t stop thinking
about the one thing missing from my list but which I know I really should do.

  Sighing, I pack up my stuff before checking in with Geoff to see if there’s anything else he needs me to do before I call it a night. He reminds me of the party he’s hosting on the weekend before filming starts, and to make sure everyone knows about it.

  “And you’ll be there too, right?” he says, eyes scanning through the messages on his phone.

  “Do you need me to be?” I ask.

  Geoff shakes his head without looking up. “Nope, but I want you to be,” he says, finally sliding his phone into his pocket. “It’ll be good for you, Aiden,” he says, smiling now. “Mingle with some of these people, get yourself known,” he continues. “If you’re serious about this writing…”

  “Okay,” I reply, cutting him off, not needing to have the conversation we’ve had a dozen times already. “I’ll be there. And I’ll make sure the cast knows.”

  “Good,” Geoff nods as his phone starts to ring. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he adds, before answering.

  I nod and turn to leave. As I head out of the lot though, I pass by the trailers I walked past this morning. There’s no one around and I expect all of the cast have gone home, especially the main cast who only had minimal scenes this afternoon.

  Knowing there’s practically no chance of her being here, I turn and head toward her trailer door, convincing myself that at least I will have tried to talk to her, even if I already know she’s gone home.

  I knock twice, two short raps before taking a step back, expecting silence.

  “Come in,” reaches me though, shocking the shit out of me as I briefly consider legging it out of here before she has a chance to open the door.

  “Damn it,” I mutter, knowing I can’t do that. Reaching for the handle, I open her door slowly, standing just outside as I wait to be invited in.

  “Aiden,” she says, her tone firm as she stands from the couch.