Hollywood Dirt
Page 99
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“What do you want? For us?” I asked the question and he turned, pulling me onto his lap so we faced each other.
“It’s not about what I want. I want you to be happy. So I need to know what you want.”
“I think I want to go back with you. To California.”
“It’s not a city you can get lost in, Summer. Not tied to me.” His voice was guarded, tinged in worry.
“That’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can tough it out.” I had smiled up at him and saw the turn in his eyes, knew—before he’d even reached for me—what was coming. When Cole Masten loves, it is scary. The man puts his entire heart out with the expectation that it will be crushed. Sometimes I worry at the way he looks at me, at the way I feel for him. It seems too precious, too rare—our combination of souls. If I ever lose this man, I will never recover. If he ever loses me, I fear for the man that he will become.
I could take on California for him. I knew that already, but decided it there, by that fire, his push of me back onto the blanket, his hands frantic as they pulled at my clothes.
Together, we could take on anything.
CHAPTER 110
The aftermath of the magazine article was big. Bigger than I ever expected, bigger than even Casey and Cole had expected. Bigger… but different. The public, the big scary monster that I had been told to expect… loved me. Embraced my act of rebellion with a protective fury that scared the news outlets into submission. I avoided interviews, declined requests for comment, and with each retreat from the spotlight, my lore grew. Fan pages popped up in my name. A jilted ex in Chicago pulled a Summer Jenkins of her own at a bachelorette party. The hype also helped The Fortune Bottle, award nominations rumored before the premiere, the foreign distribution deals pouring in. I was happy for the movie but didn’t want the fame, the attention claustrophobic in its unending continuity. The fame I may not have wanted but I loved the support. I didn’t realize how much I needed it, didn’t realize how the positive feedback, the love of strangers, would be inhaled by my greedy soul. The circus of support washed away the three years of scorn, the hundreds of dirty looks, upturned noses, and whispers. It made me feel, for the first time since that night, that I wasn’t in the wrong. They were. That I wasn’t the one broken but that they were.
I hadn’t gone back to Quincy since the movie wrapped. I packed up my things that last week of filming, Mama and I staying up late, my belongings scant when put into cardboard boxes and weeded through. I threw out a lot. The purge was good for me.
And when I boarded Cole’s jet for California, I felt like a new woman. One with a future. One whose past had made me stronger, better.
CHAPTER 111
The last time Cole saw Nadia, he was in his old attorney’s office. He sat in the conference room’s crocodile chairs, feet stretched out on the slate floor, and stared at a Harvard diploma with the prick’s name in gold ink. DeLuca hadn’t wanted him here. He’d wanted this to be done on neutral ground, but Cole wanted this last visit. Plus, with the bloodbath that they were wading through, it was a little victory that Cole felt they needed.
DeLuca’s giant ultimatum turned out to be bullshit, a test of sorts. He was telling the truth about Nadia contesting the mediation agreements. He wasn’t telling the truth about rolling over to them. Cole should have known better. This man had probably tied down his wife and forced the wedding ring on her hand. He certainly ripped the neck out of Nadia’s response, and the paperwork got put in line and filed per their original mediation agreement.
But Cole was still only getting half of The Fortune Bottle. No one knew that except for Justin, DeLuca, and Cole. He was going to give the other half to Summer. Without her, the movie would have been flat. Without her, he’d have flayed around Quincy mourning the end of his life and probably drinking himself into rehab. Without her… he just couldn’t imagine life without her anymore.
He wasn’t gonna tell Summer about the movie just yet. He knew her, and the conversation wasn’t going to go well. She wouldn’t be a normal girl and go misty-eyed and cheer at the thought of eternal wealth. Her brow would tighten, her hands would clench, and Cole had full confidence that there would be a fight over the gift. But he looked forward to that fight, loved when they fought. And when the fight ended, his hands in her hair, her eyes wild, her body crawling up his, her lips… God. He’d never get his fill of kissing her.
He’d tell her after Sundance. When she was high on all of the critics’ praise and was in a good mood. Maybe the carnage would be less then. The movie was wrapped, sealed in tins with the code name Hey Harry printed on them. It was the best work Cole had ever done. It was the best work Don had ever done. And, according to Summer, it was the only work she would ever do. With another woman, Cole would doubt that statement. But not her. She didn’t want the attention, was convinced she didn’t need the money, and had turned her full focus on nesting. Today, they were going to see an estate in Brentwood. It had eight and a half acres so she wasn’t allowed to bitch about being crowded. The realtor promised Summer that, despite its twelve thousand square foot size, that it was ‘cozy,’ so it would be his head on the chopping block if it weren’t.
Something bumped against Cole’s elbow, and he looked up, past the death glare from Nadia and to the source of the tap: Brad DeLuca. “Sign where it’s flagged.” He pushed a stack of papers toward Cole, who signed as quickly as possible without appearing rushed, each turned page one less tie between he and Nadia. And at the end, his last signature slow and purposeful, Cole Masten was officially divorced.
“It’s not about what I want. I want you to be happy. So I need to know what you want.”
“I think I want to go back with you. To California.”
“It’s not a city you can get lost in, Summer. Not tied to me.” His voice was guarded, tinged in worry.
“That’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can tough it out.” I had smiled up at him and saw the turn in his eyes, knew—before he’d even reached for me—what was coming. When Cole Masten loves, it is scary. The man puts his entire heart out with the expectation that it will be crushed. Sometimes I worry at the way he looks at me, at the way I feel for him. It seems too precious, too rare—our combination of souls. If I ever lose this man, I will never recover. If he ever loses me, I fear for the man that he will become.
I could take on California for him. I knew that already, but decided it there, by that fire, his push of me back onto the blanket, his hands frantic as they pulled at my clothes.
Together, we could take on anything.
CHAPTER 110
The aftermath of the magazine article was big. Bigger than I ever expected, bigger than even Casey and Cole had expected. Bigger… but different. The public, the big scary monster that I had been told to expect… loved me. Embraced my act of rebellion with a protective fury that scared the news outlets into submission. I avoided interviews, declined requests for comment, and with each retreat from the spotlight, my lore grew. Fan pages popped up in my name. A jilted ex in Chicago pulled a Summer Jenkins of her own at a bachelorette party. The hype also helped The Fortune Bottle, award nominations rumored before the premiere, the foreign distribution deals pouring in. I was happy for the movie but didn’t want the fame, the attention claustrophobic in its unending continuity. The fame I may not have wanted but I loved the support. I didn’t realize how much I needed it, didn’t realize how the positive feedback, the love of strangers, would be inhaled by my greedy soul. The circus of support washed away the three years of scorn, the hundreds of dirty looks, upturned noses, and whispers. It made me feel, for the first time since that night, that I wasn’t in the wrong. They were. That I wasn’t the one broken but that they were.
I hadn’t gone back to Quincy since the movie wrapped. I packed up my things that last week of filming, Mama and I staying up late, my belongings scant when put into cardboard boxes and weeded through. I threw out a lot. The purge was good for me.
And when I boarded Cole’s jet for California, I felt like a new woman. One with a future. One whose past had made me stronger, better.
CHAPTER 111
The last time Cole saw Nadia, he was in his old attorney’s office. He sat in the conference room’s crocodile chairs, feet stretched out on the slate floor, and stared at a Harvard diploma with the prick’s name in gold ink. DeLuca hadn’t wanted him here. He’d wanted this to be done on neutral ground, but Cole wanted this last visit. Plus, with the bloodbath that they were wading through, it was a little victory that Cole felt they needed.
DeLuca’s giant ultimatum turned out to be bullshit, a test of sorts. He was telling the truth about Nadia contesting the mediation agreements. He wasn’t telling the truth about rolling over to them. Cole should have known better. This man had probably tied down his wife and forced the wedding ring on her hand. He certainly ripped the neck out of Nadia’s response, and the paperwork got put in line and filed per their original mediation agreement.
But Cole was still only getting half of The Fortune Bottle. No one knew that except for Justin, DeLuca, and Cole. He was going to give the other half to Summer. Without her, the movie would have been flat. Without her, he’d have flayed around Quincy mourning the end of his life and probably drinking himself into rehab. Without her… he just couldn’t imagine life without her anymore.
He wasn’t gonna tell Summer about the movie just yet. He knew her, and the conversation wasn’t going to go well. She wouldn’t be a normal girl and go misty-eyed and cheer at the thought of eternal wealth. Her brow would tighten, her hands would clench, and Cole had full confidence that there would be a fight over the gift. But he looked forward to that fight, loved when they fought. And when the fight ended, his hands in her hair, her eyes wild, her body crawling up his, her lips… God. He’d never get his fill of kissing her.
He’d tell her after Sundance. When she was high on all of the critics’ praise and was in a good mood. Maybe the carnage would be less then. The movie was wrapped, sealed in tins with the code name Hey Harry printed on them. It was the best work Cole had ever done. It was the best work Don had ever done. And, according to Summer, it was the only work she would ever do. With another woman, Cole would doubt that statement. But not her. She didn’t want the attention, was convinced she didn’t need the money, and had turned her full focus on nesting. Today, they were going to see an estate in Brentwood. It had eight and a half acres so she wasn’t allowed to bitch about being crowded. The realtor promised Summer that, despite its twelve thousand square foot size, that it was ‘cozy,’ so it would be his head on the chopping block if it weren’t.
Something bumped against Cole’s elbow, and he looked up, past the death glare from Nadia and to the source of the tap: Brad DeLuca. “Sign where it’s flagged.” He pushed a stack of papers toward Cole, who signed as quickly as possible without appearing rushed, each turned page one less tie between he and Nadia. And at the end, his last signature slow and purposeful, Cole Masten was officially divorced.
