Rapture(8)

Lauren swallowed. “I’m sorry to barge in on you without making an appointment, Ms. Durand.”

“It’s okay.” She tilted her head. “And didn’t you agree to call me Grace?”

Lauren was caught off guard again. Why was Grace so nice to her? She wasn’t behaving like someone who had just fired her. Was it possible that Grace had no idea what her mother had done? “Uh, right…Grace.”

“There aren’t any new gay rumors about me, are there?” A tiny wrinkle formed between Grace’s brows, indicating that she, unlike many other actresses approaching thirty, hadn’t helped her naturally good looks along by engaging a plastic surgeon.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. Nothing new on that front. I just thought we should talk.”

Grace let a long breath escape. “Okay. Let’s go outside to the patio. Can I offer you something to drink?”

Lauren shook her head. Even though her mouth was still a bit dry, she didn’t want to draw this out any more than necessary.

“Do you mind if I get myself a bottle of water?”

“Uh, no, go ahead,” Lauren said, surprised that Grace would even ask. Was this polite consideration for other people just a well-practiced act, or was it real? Lauren wasn’t sure. Grace was unlike any celebrity she had met so far.

“Go on ahead, if you want,” Grace said. “It’s just through the French doors. I’ll be right with you.”



Glad for a moment alone, Lauren crossed the shiny hardwood floor and stepped through the open doors onto the stone patio. Grace’s Olympic-sized pool and the landscaped backyard with its Japanese rock garden screamed money. What drew Lauren’s attention, though, was the great view of downtown LA. She could only imagine how this might look at night.

Just as Lauren had settled on one of the patio chairs at a round glass-top table, Grace stepped outside with a bottle of water, now wearing drawstring pants and a clean T-shirt. She sat on the chair next to Lauren’s, unscrewed the bottle, and took a healthy swig before she said, “I’m all yours now. What is it that you wanted to talk about?”

“I just wanted to understand why.”

Grace frowned. “Why what?”

Lauren wanted to tell her to drop the innocent act, but she bit her lip and forced herself to stay calm and professional. “Why fire me?”

“What?”

“Why fire me?” Lauren repeated. “I mean, if you think I didn’t do a good job handling your publicity, it’s your right to look for another PR consultant, but it’s only been a week. You didn’t even give me a chance to prove myself.”

Grace screwed the cap back on the bottle with jerky movements and put the bottle down on the table. “I didn’t fire you.”

“I know. Your mother did.” Same difference.

“I didn’t tell her to do that. I didn’t even know, and I certainly don’t approve. Consider yourself hired back.”



Lauren blinked. This situation was giving her emotional whiplash. “Just like that? Then why fire me in the first place?”

“I didn’t fire you,” Grace repeated with a hint of exasperation. “My mother just…” She sighed. “She probably thought she was acting in my best interest.”

Anger churned inside of Lauren like the bubbling La Brea Tar Pits. She struggled to keep her voice down. “How is firing me in your best interest?”

“It’s probably not. She just thought…” Grace averted her gaze and stared down at the city below them.

“Thought what?”

Grace continued to study LA’s skyline.

“Thought what?” Lauren repeated with a little more force behind it.

Slowly, Grace turned her head until her disturbingly blue eyes met Lauren’s. “She…we…thought… We were wondering if it’s such a good idea to let myself be represented by a gay publicist.”

Lauren stiffened. Of course, she had faced discrimination once or twice in her life, but, usually, her sexual orientation was no big deal for her clients. She hadn’t thought that the friendly, approachable Grace would care one way or another. You should know better by now. Nothing is real in this town. It’s all just an illusion.

“Whatever you think of my competency as a publicist,” Lauren said, carefully modulating her volume, “I want to make one thing crystal clear: I’m not in the habit of making passes at straight women, especially not straight women who are clients of mine.” Just the opposite. She’d just been put on probation for rejecting the advances of a supposedly straight female client who’d made a drunken pass at her.



Grace shook her head, making her blonde hair fly. “I’m not implying that you would. Really.” She reached across the table and touched Lauren’s arm.

When Lauren stared down at the warm hand on her forearm, Grace quickly pulled her fingers away.

“Personally, I couldn’t care less whether you’re gay, straight, bi, or sleeping with your dog.”

Lauren made a face. “Nice comparison.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Grace rubbed her face and then peeked up through her fingers. “I’m really making a mess of this, aren’t I?”

The sheepish expression on her face almost made Lauren smile. Oh, no, don’t let that pretty face fool you. You’re angry with her, remember? “Yeah, I’m afraid you are.”

Grace sighed. “That article in Tinseltown Talk has really made me a bit paranoid. When I saw you…”

“Saw me?” Lauren frowned. “Saw me doing what?”

Grace nibbled on her lip.

“If you want me to continue as your publicist, we need to learn to be completely honest with each other.”

Staring at the bottle on the table, Grace said, “You suggested that it might be a good idea for me to be seen with Nick, so I went to El Niu on Saturday to have dinner with him.”



Lauren connected the dots in one point five seconds. Grace had seen her with Peyton, had probably seen them kiss good-bye. “Oh.” Damn. Sometimes, even a city the size of Los Angeles was too small. Lauren wasn’t ashamed that Grace had seen her kiss another woman, but she liked to keep work and her private life separate.

For a moment, they were both silent. The pumps in the pool came on, circulating the water.

“All I could think of was that I might look guilty by association,” Grace finally said. “I didn’t want anyone to think that I’m gay just because I hired a gay publicist.”

Lauren wanted to hold on to her anger but found that she couldn’t. As silly as such an assumption was, she couldn’t promise Grace that none of the gossips in Hollywood would think that. “Do you want another publicist? I think I could talk Ms. Chandler into taking you on herself.”

“No,” Grace said with a vehement shake of her head. “No, I don’t want another publicist. I told my mother that. You were right with what you said earlier. It hasn’t even been a week, and I want to give you a chance to prove yourself.”

Great. One more person she had to prove herself to. No pressure or anything.

Grace studied her face. “But I’d, of course, understand if you don’t want me as a client anymore.”

Lauren had thought she’d kept her feelings hidden behind a shield of professionalism, but apparently, Grace was good at reading people’s expressions and sensing their moods. “No, that’s all right. I’d like to keep working as your publicist.”



Grace flashed her legendary smile. “Good. Thank you.”

“So you’ll let my boss know that I’m back on your account?”

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Grace said with another smile.

Even Lauren had to grin. She cursed the actress’s charm, which made it impossible to stay angry with her. “I’d better get back to the office, then.” She got up and followed Grace back through the living room and the foyer to the front door.

They both paused in front of the open door.

“I’m really sorry,” Grace said. “It was never my intention to—”

“Let’s just forget it and move on.”

Grace nodded. “Okay.”

Lauren slid her hand into her pocket, searching for her car keys. “If you want, call me later to talk about the campaign for your movie. I contacted the studio, and they sent me the posters they want to use. I worked on an e-mail campaign all morning, and I have some ideas I want to run by you.”

“Sure. I’ll call you later.” Grace’s smile faltered, and her full lips formed a tight line. “But first, there’s another call I have to make.”





Grace hated fighting with her mother. It didn’t happen often, because Grace gave in most of the time, but when they did fight, her mother usually used any argument she could, no holds barred, bringing up every transgression she could remember from Grace’s childhood. For a moment, Grace considered hanging up before her mother could answer the phone, but then she sternly told herself to woman up and clutched the phone more tightly.

“Hello, darling,” her mother said. “We should really try to get you on The Tonight Show a week or two before the premiere. I just watched an episode with that new guy, Jimmy, and—”