Ashley sighed as she and Landon found an easy pace along the sidewalk. She would have to call Luke and ask him what was going on. When they were kids, the two of them had been best friends. Even now, he was closer to Ashley than to his other sisters. Maybe if she could get him to open up, things might improve between him and Reagan.
“So, Daddy, I was thinking a dark closet might be a good environment for the mosquito larvae. The teacher told us dark works good.”
Ashley smiled, but her mind was still on her brother. Was it possible, what Landon had suggested? That Luke would consider having an affair? A shudder passed down Ashley’s arms, and she made a mental note to call him tomorrow morning. In the meantime, she would act the only way she knew. The best way.
She would pray.
The premiere was one of the most anticipated Hollywood events that year. Katy didn’t need a lifetime of experience in Tinseltown to recognize that much.
Now, as their limo was about to pull up to the red carpet, she gave Dayne a weak smile. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be.” He looked calm and confident, but something in his eyes gave him away. He was worried too. They wanted to believe they were a match for the publicity. But were they? Even with their faith? Dayne was sitting across from her, and he reached over and took hold of her hand. “Just be yourself. They’ll see us for how we really are.” His laugh seemed weaker than he probably intended it to be. “We’re in love. The pictures tonight will show that.”
Katy nodded. He was right. Every camera would be trained on them, and every reporter would be looking for any sign of a problem. But that was just it. There were no problems, so none would be visible.
“You look beautiful.” His gaze traveled the length of her. “So different from the small-town girl on that Charlie Brown stage.”
He meant the words as a compliment, but somehow they hurt. They seemed a million miles and at least as many years away from that long-ago night when Dayne happened upon the Bloomington Community Theater and saw her for the first time. Katy pushed away the memory and smiled. “Thanks. You too.”
He wore a tux, his blond hair cut short and conservatively styled, his face tanned from the last few days sitting out on their deck at the beach. No one would scrutinize his outfit tonight, but they certainly would be watching hers. This might be her first premiere, but she was very clear about the expectations. In addition to the story of Katy and Dayne, the next top bit of news to come out of the evening’s event would be the dresses worn by the actresses. Katy was the leading lady, so hers would easily be the most talked-about gown of all.
One of the publicists from the studio had taken her shopping earlier that week, and somehow they’d avoided any paparazzi. Katy was happy with the results of the trip. She wore a silver floor-length satin gown with a fitted bodice, a scoop neck, and three-quarter-length sleeves. Her blonde hair was curled in ringlets and pulled up just a few inches at the roots so it cascaded down her back and over her shoulders.
The limo came to a stop, and Katy peered through the tinted window. She exhaled through pursed lips. “Okay, then.” She looked at Dayne. “Here we go.”
“We’ll be fine.”
The limo driver opened the door. Dayne climbed out first, leaning back in to help her out. Katy had seen enough photos of premieres to know that the carpet was actually laid out for the celebrities to walk across and that it was truly red. But still the moment felt surreal. The click of cameras and the flash of lights along both sides of the roped-off carpet began even before she was out of the car. The barrage made Katy feel like they were suddenly and urgently under attack.
But Dayne had coached her, and now both of them were ready. Katy found her most gracious smile, and other than an occasional warm and sincere wave toward the crowds to her right and left, she moved gracefully down the carpet and kept her attention on Dayne, as if the two of them were sharing some sort of private joke, lost in each other’s arms and too in love to notice the fuss being made about them. A few times she tipped her head back and allowed a ripple of laughter to tickle her throat. From the time they left the limo until they were inside and out of the glare of the cameras, they stayed together, showing the world the picture they’d practiced. That they were one, and nothing could come between them.
Once they were inside, Katy realized she hadn’t exhaled the entire walk down the carpet. She did now, and for a moment she had to stop to catch her breath. Dayne had also warned her that though there wouldn’t be as many cameras inside the reception area, there would be enough. Most of the major magazines would be represented as well as the top newspapers. They wouldn’t be as quick to ask questions about Katy and Dayne’s marriage in forty-eight-point bold headlines, but they would still be keenly aware of the current gossip, attuned to the doubts cast by the first episode of For Real.
Katy leaned in close to Dayne’s ear. “How am I doing?”
“Perfect.” He kissed her cheek and looked long enough into her eyes to make a perfect pose for a handful of cameramen who immediately rushed in and captured the moment. “I told you—we’re going to be fine.”
This side of the red carpet, Katy felt herself start to relax. They could do this. After all, they weren’t putting on a show or faking anything. This was them, the way they’d be if they were in Bloomington, standing out on their back deck looking over a moonlit Lake Monroe.
Dayne led her to the tables lined with dozens of foods, most of which Katy couldn’t identify. At the center of each table was an ice sculpture showing a pair of horses in full run—symbolic of the story line and setting of the movie. Katy was sure her surprise showed on her face, but she didn’t care. The setup was astounding.
She was still admiring the spread, remarking about it in a whispered voice to Dayne when Randi Wells entered the building. The flashing cameras and commotion died down as someone shut the door behind her. Randi hadn’t appeared in But Then Again No, so Katy hadn’t expected to see her tonight. But her date was the movie’s director, Stephen Petrel, a passionate man of virtue, who would also be directing Katy’s next film in London. He and Randi were friends, and Stephen had often said that he viewed Randi like a daughter. Still, as Katy watched the pair, she wondered if Stephen had found something more than a fatherly relationship with Randi.
Then she remembered the dinner she had shared with the director during the filming of But Then Again No. Public pictures of Stephen kissing her on the lips at the end of the evening that night had nearly driven a permanent wedge between her and Dayne, though the director had meant nothing by the action. It was simply something people in Hollywood did—greeting each other with a kiss, whether they were coming or leaving a place.
“She looks stunning.” Katy leaned in close to Dayne and turned her back to Randi so she wouldn’t be caught looking. “She must be in the best shape of her life.”
Dayne barely glanced in Randi’s direction. “She’s probably got designs on the supporting actor. Everyone says he’s the next Brad Pitt.” He kept his smile, but his eyes showed his disdain. “The way she comes on to her costars . . . it isn’t professional.” He took a small plate from the table and filled it with a skewer of chocolate-covered fruit. “After all the drama she’s already caused offscreen, this’ll be the last film I do with her.”
A ray of sunshine dispelled Katy’s lingering doubt. She was about to say that maybe Dayne’s next movie could be something other than a love story when she heard a familiar voice drawing near to them.
“Dayne!” Randi squealed like a high school girl at a Friday night football game. Before he had time to respond, she reached him and threw her arms around his neck. “Just a few more weeks!” She laughed. “I haven’t looked forward to a film this much in forever.”
He inched free of her embrace and pulled Katy closer to him. “I was just telling Katy how—”
“You look amazing! A walking miracle, Dayne . . . I mean it.” Randi still hadn’t acknowledged Katy. Instead she placed her hands on eithe
r side of Dayne’s face and tried to kiss him square on the lips.
But Dayne jerked his head just enough so her lips landed on his cheek.
Undaunted, Randi planted another kiss on his other cheek before taking a step back. Only then did she seem to notice that Dayne’s wife was present. She gasped and gave Katy a perfunctory hug. “And look at you, the belle of the ball!” She sized up Katy’s gown. “Gorgeous dress. Absolutely gorgeous.”
With that she turned her attention back to Dayne and let her gaze hold his a few seconds longer than necessary. Finally she winked at him, her eyes sparkly and confident. “Can’t wait for Mexico!” She blew a kiss to Katy, turned gracefully, and headed once more toward the director.
Katy felt like she’d been run over by a freight train. If she didn’t know Dayne so well, if she hadn’t seen the depth of his love the last month in Bloomington, she wouldn’t have made it through the premiere, let alone survive Dayne’s upcoming time in Mexico. “She’s unbelievable.”
“I’m sorry.” Dayne’s tone was heavy with frustration. He clutched her more tightly to himself and guided her farther down the food table. “I’ll talk with her.” A cameraman was coming closer, videotaping them. Dayne’s smile returned instantly, and he leaned in and kissed Katy tenderly. “Sometimes I don’t think she realizes how she looks.”
Katy reminded herself to keep up the smile. She stood a little straighter and caught a quick look of Randi joining a group of people milling near the theater doors. She was cozying up to the film’s resident cowboy, the guy who had trained Katy on how to ride and who had hit on so many women on the set that he became something of a joke. “There you go,” Katy said through her best smile. She nodded toward Randi. “He’s more her speed.”
Dayne glanced over his shoulder, chuckled lightly, and gave Katy what was clearly supposed to be an impulsive hug. The cameraman was closer now, just a few feet away. Dayne smiled in his direction, then steered Katy across the room. “If we can make it inside, we’ll be free. The cameras aren’t allowed in the theater tonight.”
Another painful half hour of schmoozing passed. Stephen Petrel came toward them and again greeted Katy with his familiar kiss. This time Katy learned from Dayne, and at the last possible moment, she turned her head so his lips touched her cheek instead.
The director didn’t seem to notice, nor did his actions seem inappropriate given his demeanor. He patted Dayne on the shoulder. “You two stay strong.” His expression grew serious, and he nodded at Katy. “This town needs a lot more of what you two have.” Passion blazed in his tone. “Don’t let anyone take that away from you.”
They talked for a few minutes about But Then Again No and Katy and Stephen’s filming schedule in London. “No need to worry about her, Dayne. She’s a good girl. There isn’t a man alive who could turn her head, no matter what you read in the tabs.”
As they moved in and out of conversation, Dayne stayed at Katy’s side, never more than a few inches from her. He continually reached for her or drew her close for a hug or kiss. Katy learned quickly how to read him. He held her particularly close when someone came along who could possibly threaten them, someone the cameras would consider of interest—either to Katy or to Dayne.
The whole thing was exhausting, and by the time the theater doors opened, Katy felt like she deserved an Oscar for her performance. Which was strange, because smiling and being physically attentive around Dayne wasn’t an act. Loving Dayne came as naturally as breathing. She was seated in the dark theater when a theory hit her. Maybe that’s how relationships began to unravel with celebrity couples. Things might be great, but in the process of working so hard to prove that greatness to the public, the love itself became an act.
She closed her eyes and leaned closer to Dayne. Never, Lord. Never let what Dayne and I share become something practiced and rehearsed.
Often when Katy was in Bloomington, whether she was alone working in the old community theater building or at the Flanigans’ house in the garage apartment, she could sense the Lord’s response to an urgent prayer. A prayer like this one.
But tonight just one feeling came over her as she lifted her words to God. The feeling of urgency. As if God wanted her and Dayne to be clear that they might survive Hollywood for a season, but they wouldn’t survive it forever.
The future would depend on getting out before then.
Randi Wells stepped into the private bathroom and exhaled. She spent so much time being on that she wasn’t sure anymore what it felt like simply to be herself. This much was certain—all eyes were on her and Dayne tonight. After all, they were costarring in his next movie, a love story set against the backdrop of a secluded Mexican beach. Nothing could be more seductive than that.
There was a knock at the door. “Hello?”
Randi jumped. “Uh . . . it’s occupied.”
“Oh, sorry.” Then came the sound of the person moving on down the hall.
Randi stared at herself in the mirror. The magazines had been shouting about how great she looked, how Dayne’s wife was bound to be worried with Randi and Dayne heading off to Mexico. Randi fixed her hair and grinned at her image. Just three months ago, the tabloids had criticized her for being ten pounds too heavy. She turned sideways and admired her figure. They had nothing to criticize now.
She was about to leave when her cell phone vibrated from inside her purse. She cursed under her breath, but the caller ID made her frustration fall away.
It was her mother.
Randi had been born and raised in Vancouver, British Columbia. She filmed her first movie in her early twenties, changed her last name, and quickly became a U.S. citizen. But her parents remained in Vancouver and stayed true to everything that had always mattered to them—their home, their community, and most importantly their faith. Randi had no delusions about the disappointment her mother held for her. The woman reminded Randi during their rare conversations that Randi’s decision to live with this actor or that one was against God.
“I hear about you. You’re living an immoral life.” Her mother would cluck her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’ve cast shame upon our family.” There would be a heavy sigh. “We’re praying for you, that you’ll come to your senses.”
It had been the same way with her mother since Randi filmed her first movie. Conditional love, unrealistic expectations, a concern more about the way Randi’s actions might reflect on her mother than whether Randi was actually in need of help. Her mother might’ve meant well. But Randi had never been close to her.
Her relationship with her father had been entirely different. Louie Geer had owned a tour company, and he spent his days hosting groups of vacationers, telling people about Vancouver and its many sights, and doing so with a sense of dedication and humor that always brought people back for more. He’d been in his late fifties when cancer took him, but even before he got sick, he hadn’t been worried about funding a retirement portfolio. He gave half his profits to charities in the area and had a way of living out his faith.
Randi felt the familiar sting of tears that came with remembering her dad. From the time she was a little girl, her father had delighted in the plays and amateur performances Randi would do on a school stage or around the house. “One day,” he told her, “you’ll perform on a stage so big, everyone will know you’re a star!”
He’d believed in her when she was young and naive, and after she found great worldly success, he never questioned her. “We love you,” he would say when they spoke on the phone. “Remember, honey, I’m here if you need anything.” And when it came to the faith she’d been raised with, he made only gentle reminders. “God has a plan for you, Randi. Don’t forget that.”
During times the media had been particularly ruthless or when her husband walked out on her and their two young daughters, she’d had to fight the urge to run home and fall into her daddy’s arms. Especially as he grew sicker. And now, with her mother living alone, Randi’s long absences weren’t right—no matter
what tension remained between them. Her father wouldn’t have wanted her to lose touch.
She’d told her mother as much when they talked a week ago. “After I’m finished in Mexico, I’ll come for a visit, okay?”
“That would be nice, dear.” Her tone was the usual mix of disapproval and a slight hurt.
Now the phone vibrated one more time, and Randi resisted the urge to answer it. Her father had loved her so much, no matter what she did or how far she strayed from her upbringing. But her mother would dampen her enthusiasm for the evening. She read the tabloids. More than once she’d warned Randi about staying away from Dayne Matthews. “He’s a married man, Randi,” she’d said at the end of their last phone call. “Respect that.”
How could Randi explain that no one was really married in Hollywood? Not the way they were married in the real world.
Randi swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed her phone back in her purse. She snapped the clasp shut and took a final look at herself. I’m sorry, Mom. . . . I’ll call you later. I promise. The thoughts comforted her, and she allowed herself to believe them. She had more to think about than a trip to British Columbia.
She’d been admiring Dayne from the sidelines for far too long. Katy Hart was a simple, country girl. She was no match for Hollywood’s leading man. If Dayne hadn’t figured that out already, then he would soon. Katy was a nice girl, but Dayne had made a mistake marrying her. Randi had always been the right choice for Dayne, the one who would’ve been his soul mate—marriage or not. Never mind that Randi had nearly befriended Katy after Dayne’s accident. The truth was, Randi should’ve been the one helping him through his physical therapy. She’d known Dayne much longer than Katy, and Randi understood the pressures of the business. Katy had come out of nowhere and stepped into a picture where, truthfully, she didn’t belong.