Mr. Hollywood by Lacey Weatherford
Thinking back, I remembered meeting them on a couple occasions. “I do. I didn’t really get to know them before I moved, but the few times I did have the opportunity to talk to them they seemed very nice. What were they doing here in LA?”
“They came to see Disneyland. They’ve never been and they loved it! I was so happy when they called and asked us to lunch. We got quite close after you moved away. They’re such wonderful people. I wish you could’ve seen them, too. I’m afraid we bragged a lot about you and Dustin.”
I smiled, laughing slightly. “You brag to everyone about Dustin and me. I’m surprised you don’t carry pictures to show.”
“I do. You just don’t know about them.” She grinned and winked at me.
“Speaking of the monster, where is he?” I asked, glancing around.
“He’s at the park with your dad. Brent finished a new model airplane and they went to test it out together. You should’ve seen Dustin’s face. It was priceless. You would’ve thought it was Christmas morning, he was so excited to try flying it.”
“Well, hopefully he doesn’t wreck this one. It always makes me nervous when dad lets him fly those planes. They’re so expensive, and aren’t really made to be played with by a nine year old boy.”
“I know, but he loves bonding with his grandson. The planes are just things. It’s the relationship your dad loves. I swear he’d adopt that kid if you’d let him.”
“Not a chance. I love my son too much to give him up.” Joy burst through my heart just thinking of him.
My boy. He was my life. Everything revolved around him. But even with the joy, there was still sorrow. Seeing Zane again had brought the past up again so strongly. He had no idea that he had a child, or that his adorable little boy looked just like him. No, I’d never forgotten Zane McCartney. I’d seen his face every single day, mirrored in the face of our son.
Guilt ate at me every minute I spent with Zane now. I was intentionally keeping my secret from him. I hadn’t told him the rest of the story—that I’d moved to LA after finding out I was pregnant. The day I’d caught him with those other girls, I’d been coming to tell him the news in person. I expected him to be shocked, but I also expected him to welcome me with open arms. I needed him to welcome me with open arms.
My parents had been furious with me, demanding that I either get an abortion or put the baby up for adoption. The disappointment in their eyes was more than I could bear. Refusing their suggestions, I left, after a very heated argument with them, hastily packing my bags and headed for Los Angeles and the love of my life.
And then my heart had been completely obliterated. After seeing Zane with those girls, I couldn’t get the image out of my mind. I kept waiting for him to call me again, to write, or something, but nothing ever came. He was simply gone—without a word.
Anger had consumed me. I knew I needed to tell him about the baby and my decision to keep it, but his success rapidly exploded shortly afterward. Suddenly he was everywhere, and Hollywood fell in love with him. Rumors about his wild party life were all over, on television and magazine covers, and a gorgeous, exotic looking starlet appeared on his arm. It didn’t take long for them to be branded as Hollywood’s new it couple. “Zauren” the tabloids called them, both their names, Z and Lauren put together.
It killed me a little more every time I saw the two of them, splashed across magazine covers everywhere. And while part of me was happy he was achieving such great success, I was hurt that he was doing it without me—and especially while I was struggling so badly.
However, the more I watched him, the more it began to occur to me that this was not the kind of life I wanted to raise a child in. Zane McCartney was not this “Z” person I kept seeing everywhere. It was as if the change in his name changed him, too.
Since my relationship with my parents seemed damaged beyond repair, I chose to stay. I spent my first weeks in LA in a seedy hotel because it was cheap and rented by the week. The stale smell of old cigarettes permeated everything so badly that I constantly threw up with morning sickness. I was sure people thought I was on drugs, too, since I wasted away to practically nothing. Between the pregnancy and my broken heart, there wasn’t much desire to eat.
When I did feel good, I spent all my time looking for a job. I was thrilled when I finally landed a position flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant. I didn’t tell them I was pregnant either, because I was afraid they wouldn’t hire me. Cooking meat almost killed me, though. It seemed like I was constantly running to the bathroom to puke some more. Finally the manager pulled me into his office and asked me what was going on. I fessed up and told him the truth amid a flurry of sobs. Thankfully he took pity on me and let me keep the job, even allowing me to wear a mask, which greatly filtered the smells for me.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?” Mom asked, drawing me out of my painful memories. “You’ve seemed so down this past week—like something is eating at you.”
Releasing a breath, I contemplated what to say. I hadn’t spoken a word to my parents about treating Zane all this time. They hated him worse than I did. And Dustin had no idea who his father was. He knew his dad was an old boyfriend of mine that had moved away and his name was Zane, but that was it. Since everyone in Hollywood called Zane “Z,” Dustin had never made the connection, something I was eternally grateful for—but now I wasn’t sure what to do.
Seeing Zane again made me want to tell him the truth, but I also didn’t want to give him any kind of shock that might jeopardize his recovery. The longer I was around him, however, the worse the guilt was eating at me until I was beginning to feel consumed by it. Apparently my ever-observant mother was picking up on that.
“I have some things going on at work that are causing me some significant stress. I’ll get it figured out.” I was purposely vague. Mom was good at ferreting things out of me.
“Is it anything you can talk to me about?” she asked, and I knew she wanted to help, but she knew the rules, too.
I shook my head. “Not without breaking patient confidentiality. It does have something to do with me personally, though. I’m just not sure how to deal with it.”
“Can you tell me anything without naming names, so it won’t break confidentiality? I just want to help if I can. I don’t like to see my pretty girl suffering.”
Biting my lip, I considered what I could say. Technically the thing I was having a hard time with had nothing to do with Zane being in recovery, just the fact that I was seeing him every day and my guilty conscience wouldn’t let me rest because of the secret I carried.
I was a stickler for rules, however, never discussing my patients with my parents—or anyone outside of work. Everything I did was strictly on a need to know basis and through proper channels. Privacy was a big important issue.
“I’m not sure I can say anything right now, Mom. I want to, though. I need to be able to talk to someone about all this. I’m just so confused right now.” Curling the end of my ponytail around my finger, I toyed absently with my hair as I tried to think of a solution. “Let me see if I can get permission to talk to you about this first. Maybe we could do dinner together tomorrow after I get off work?”
“That works for me. And if you can’t talk about it, just know that I’m here for you whenever you need me. Even if it’s just to lend a shoulder for you to lean on.”
“Thanks, Mom. You’re the best.” I meant every word. Despite our differences when I’d first moved to LA, my parents hadn’t been able to stay away long. I’d called my mom when I’d gone into labor and told them where I was and what had happened between Zane and me. She and my dad had rushed to my side, desperate to mend fences and help out.
Seeing their new grandson had been the final thing to help repair our relationship. Since I had no desire to return to Montana, they went home and sold their farm and moved here so they could help me out. Mom had watched the baby while I’d gone to nursing school to get my license. Several years later, I had the opportunity to
I had no idea how Zane would react to finding out he had a son. What if he was angry? What if he tried to sue me for custody? The guy was obviously well off. Certainly he could buy the best attorney around, if he didn’t own him—or her—already. The whole idea terrified me. I couldn’t lose Dustin. He was everything to me. Just the thought of losing him was enough to send me straight into a panic attack.
As if on cue, the door burst open and my darling son came running through the door. “Mom!” he shouted excitedly. “Grandpa took me to fly his new airplane! It was awesome!”
Laughing, I held my arms out. “That sounds like great fun! Come give me a hug, you stinker. I’ve missed you so much today!” He launched himself into my arms, squeezing me tightly and I kissed the top of his buzzed, brown hair, which was more the color of Zane’s hair than it was mine. “How was school today?”
“Good. I already got my homework done. Grandma made me do it before I could go to the park.”
“Good for Grandma,” I replied, glancing briefly at her and smiling. “Go grab your things and let’s go home and make some dinner. I’m starving.”
“Okay!” Releasing me, he quickly ran from the room.
“Best kid on the planet,” my mom said with a grin. “We sure are lucky, aren’t we?”
“We sure are,” I replied with a smile, my heart full of much needed joy. And I hope it stays that way, I added mentally to myself.
“Z McCartney Camp Still Quiet on His Whereabouts. Rumors Speculate Over Jail or Rehab Possibilities.”
~LA Metropolitan~
Chapter Eight
Aubrey
“Dr. Bentley has assigned someone else to cover your rounds this morning,” Angie said when I came to pick up my charts for the day.
“What? Why?” I asked, alarm spreading through me. Immediately I wondered if someone had discovered my connection to our current resident celebrity and my heart sank. I couldn’t lose this job. If Zane McCartney messed up one more thing in my life, my head might explode.
“He said he needs you to come to his office for a conference. He asked me to send you as soon as I saw you.”
Oh, this is so not good. Dread filled every fiber of my being. “Okay. I’ll get right over there. Thanks, Angie.” Turning away, I left the office, hoping that my voice had sounded somewhat normal. On the bright side, at least I was about to find out what fate had in store for me and I didn’t have to wait and wonder. That was something to be grateful for, at least.
My heart rate had practically reached galloping status by the time I reached Dr. Bentley’s office.
“Go right on in, Aubrey,” Tanya, Dr. Bentley’s secretary said to me, waving me on by. “They’re expecting you.”
They? I hadn’t thought it possible, but I grew even nervouser—more nervous—nervousest? Were those even words? Oh hell, forget the damn grammar lesson. I needed to get a grip.
Giving a brief knock, I turned the handle and stuck my head inside, finding a whole host of people sitting in the room, all of which turned to look at me simultaneously. I locked eyes with Zane and felt ill. They knew. They had to.
“Come on in, Aubrey,” Dr. Bentley said, throwing me off a little with how cheerful he sounded. “There’s a chair right over here next to Mr. McCartney.”
Slinking around behind the others, I recognized Dr. Wilson was in attendance also, but I didn’t know who the other man and woman in the room were. It was against protocol for Zane to have any visitors during his first ten days, so I had no idea who they could be. I slid into the seat beside Zane, but kept my eyes fixed on Dr. Bentley, feeling like a lamb about to be slaughtered and he held the ax.
“Sorry about the surprise meeting this morning and the change to your schedule, but we had some new things come to light regarding Mr. McCartney and we’ve tried to come up with a suitable plan that won’t compromise the care he’s receiving here.”
Damn it. They knew. This was it. I mentally prepared myself for the blow I knew was coming, feeling as if my neck was stretched across the chopping block.
He continued on. “These people here are part of Mr. McCartney’s team. This is Penelope Dantes, his personal assistant, and his lawyer, Mike Larson.”
His lawyer was involved? Was I in that much trouble? I gripped my hands together tighter in my lap, trying to keep them from trembling, even though I was sure alarm was written over every inch of my face.
“As you know, Mr. McCartney is of some considerable notoriety. Because he has come to rehab, and he hasn’t been participating in some of his normal industry obligations, this has caused a lot of speculation in the press. The studio he’s under contract with has become nervous and they’re wanting action taken to dispel the rumors—true as they might be.”
Relief poured through me and I had to fight not to sag down in my chair. “Okay. What does that have to do with me?”
“Well, there’s an awards event this evening that Mr. McCartney had committed to attending prior to his admittance here. He is supposed to be one of the presenters and has been advertised as attending the event. His team of people would like for him to be released from the facility for the night. Dr. Wilson and I had concerns about him being placed back in this environment, however, without even being through his first ten days of therapy. This is highly unusual.”
Zane broke in, staring at me. “I suggested that they send a staff member with me. Someone who could pose as my date for the event, but still help keep me on the straight and narrow. I suggested maybe you could do it since you’d be off work in time.”
“But then Ms. Dantes said it requires a considerable bit more time to prep you for such an event,” Dr. Bentley added. “If you’re willing, they’ve offered to pay you an additional day's wage if you’re willing to leave work and go with them.”
I couldn’t believe this. Zane had somehow managed to set up some pseudo-date for us right under the noses of everyone and he was looking pleased as punch about it. Not only that, if I said no, I’d seem like a complete and total uncaring ass.
“What about my other patients?” I asked, knowing I had many other duties than just the ones revolving around Zane.
“They’re all taken care of,” Dr. Bentley replied. “One of the other nurses picked up your morning rounds and one of the weekend nurses is coming in to cover the rest of the day.”
For the life of me, I couldn’t seem to grasp any other straws that might save me from this. My mind was drawing a complete blank. “It appears you have it all figured out.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about all this being done without even asking me first.
“So you’ll do it?” Zane asked, and I swore he was holding his breath.
“I guess so.” I didn’t have much of a choice.
He didn’t even try to hide his grin. “Thank you.”
Dear lord, that smile. It should be registered as a lethal weapon it was so infectious. It was a crime how much joy seeing it brought me. I didn’t want to think about that, though.
“You owe me,” I said, feeling a smile niggle at the corner of my lips in spite of myself. Plus, I didn’t want to look like a complete jerk. “Big time.”
“I do,” he agreed immediately, and something in his eyes suggested we weren’t talking about the same thing anymore. “You name it—anything—it’s yours.”
Eyeing him, I realized he was completely sincere. “Hmm. I’ll have to think on it and make it something really good.” Everyone in the room chuckled. They were obviously unaware of the past tension between us. “So what’s the plan from here?” I asked, not knowing what else to do.
“I turn you over into the capable hands of Ms. Dantes,” Dr. Bentley said with a smile. “You have the rest of the day off.”
The woman mentioned, stood, and extended her hand to me.
“You, too.”
“Why don’t you go grab whatever things you need, and we will meet you at Z’s room.”
“All right. It’ll only take me a minute.” I stood, nodding at the others. “See you soon.”
Nervously sitting in the limousine, I stared at the others accompanying me, not really sure what to say. I felt totally out of my element. I’d taken a few moments to call my mom and asked if she could let Dustin spend the night with them tonight. I told her I had to work late, but I would call her later to fill her in on the details. I still didn’t officially have permission from anyone yet to tell her about Zane.
“Um, I have a question,” I finally said, unsure of whom to address it to, so I glanced between the three of them. “I can’t break patient confidentiality, but I’m pretty sure my parents might freak out if they suddenly see me on television or something. Is there some way I can tell them what is going on, so they aren’t shocked by anything?”
“Tell them anything they want to know,” Zane spoke up, before anyone else could.
Penelope shuffled restlessly, glancing at him with a slightly annoyed expression. “We’ve tried really hard to keep things from leaking, Z. Are you sure this is wise?”
“It’ll be fine. There’s nothing they could say that will cause any problems. Besides, I don’t think they would want to cause any problems.” It made me pleased to hear him speak this way about my parents, knowing that he still trusted them.
“And you know this how?” the lawyer—what was his name—added.
“They’re good people. I’d trust them with my life.”
“How do you know them?” Penelope asked, confused.
Sighing, Zane looked at me. “Shall we tell them our secret?”
I wanted to shut him up; still afraid I’d lose my job over this. Nerves danced inside me. “I don’t know.” The less people who knew, the less likely someone might slip up later and spill the beans.