Ch9

Juliana awoke in the early morning hours to the sound of her cell phone beeping insistently. Sleepily, she removed her black sleep mask and reached across the satin sheets of her canopy bed to grab the offensive device.

Satan, the caller ID read. The nickname she'd so lovingly christened her agent-from-hell, Vivian Landsbury.

Juliana was never one to mince words. "Do you realize what time it is?" she demanded into the phone, irritated she'd been woken up before noon. "What in the world do you want, Vivian?"

The older woman's voice responded back, matching her icy tone. "Your head on a silver platter."

"Ex-cuse me?" Juliana couldn't believe she'd heard correctly! Was that any way to talk to her star client?

"I was just looking over your cover shots for next month's Cosmopolitan," Vivian explained with an exasperated sigh. "You look like death warmed over."

Juliana sat up in disbelief. Her agent had her full attention now. "What the hell are you talking about? That shoot lasted forever! Surely they got something they could work with?"

"Not one single picture, darling," Vivian shot back. "For starters, you have tan lines--don't think I didn't notice. Your eyes look sunken, your cheeks are puffy and your hair's as limp as my husband's dick. I'm afraid not even a good airbrushing will fix this mess. What exactly have you been up to?" she demanded. "You know, a model's day in the sun, so to speak, doesn't last very long. And this town has an extremely short memory. So, what's the problem? Why are you trying to kill your career?"

Juliana threw herself back into a mass of overstuffed pillows, and ignored her agent's question. What business was it of hers? "What do I have to do now?" she mumbled, completely put out by the whole situation. "Reschedule the shoot?"

"There's no time," Vivian replied crisply. "The magazine goes to print within the next couple of days. They decided to go with Kate Hudson."

"Kate Hudson?" Juliana shrieked. "But she's so old--she has to be at least forty!"

"Ahh, but a well-preserved forty, and willing to provide the pictures needed to grace the cover of one of the most popular beauty rags on the market. In the meantime, you better get your sweet ass in gear before you become a supermodel has-been. Keep it up and even Playboy won't want you."

Ha! As if she would ever take her clothes off for a bunch of perverts to jerk off to.

"I mean it, Juliana--get your act together. Until then, we're done." Vivian hung up the phone before Juliana could respond.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The truth could be an ugly, unforgiving bitch. Miller realized that as he watched Claire amble aimlessly around their home one morning after breakfast. She looked tired. Really tired. How long had she been this way? He'd been so busy rewriting his screenplay and worrying about Marie that he hadn't seen much of Claire over the past few weeks. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked her, his eyes fixed carefully on her response. He'd always considered himself especially good at reading people and was determined to figure out what was wrong.

Claire lifted a thin hand to her head and pushed away a strand of hair that had escaped from a messy bun. "I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"You just look tired, is all. Did you not sleep well last night?" He knew for a fact she had. Claire had gone to bed extra early the night before, it hadn't even been 9 pm, and by the time he joined her around midnight she was sound asleep. She hadn't even stirred when he'd crawled in next to her.

"Not really," she answered, somewhat distracted. "I haven't been sleeping well lately."

Was that true? Had he really been too busy to take notice? Miller realized with a heavy heart that he had, he'd been so wrapped up in his own agenda he'd been neglecting the woman he loved. He got up from his chair at the kitchen table and made his way toward her.

"Hey," he began, walking up behind her at the sink and wrapping his arms around her waist. "What do you say we forget all the work we had planned to do today and take a day-trip?" That should help relax her. Claire always loved it when he acted spontaneous, surprising her with special events or impromptu trips to neighboring areas. She would get so exciting and beam like a small child, ready for adventure.

"I don't know," she hesitated, turning toward him. "Anna was supposed to come over today and help me with some paperwork and movie scripts I've been putting off reading," she said, referring to her personal assistant, Anna Lowery. "I'm not so sure it can wait any longer."

Miller turned on the charm and regarded her with puppy-dog eyes, knowing she wouldn't be able to resist. "Of course it can wait. Please? It's been so long since we've spent any time together. I know I've been distracted with Runaway and I'm sorry," he apologized. "I need a break, and I think you do, too."

Claire let out an exhausted sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck. "You really want to hang out?" she asked, hopefully.

"Absolutely . . . work can wait." He had been hoping to pay a visit to Marie, but he'd just have to put it off for a while. It had been almost a week since he'd last made a trip downtown and he was starting to feel guilty. But Claire needed his attention, too--that much was obvious.

"Where would you like to go?" he asked, making a mental note to visit Marie after Claire went to bed. "It's been awhile since we went wine tasting."

Claire quickly shook her head. "I was thinking more along the lines of whale watching."

"Whale watching?" he repeated, unable to contain his surprise. That was a new adventure. "Hey--whatever you want, we'll do."

Claire gave him a small smile and reached up on her tiptoes, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Miller observed her carefully as she hurried away to get ready. She seemed quiet, almost fragile, somehow different than normal. Something was going on with her, he could feel it. He'd have to make sure to watch over her more diligently. He'd just been so busy! But no one in his life was more important than Claire.

He just needed to remember that.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Let me get this straight . . . " Tiffany demanded slowly, blonde hair curled to perfection and makeup applied within an inch of her life--the quintessential Hollywood wife. "You haven't heard from either one of them?"

​Brianna shook her head solemnly, completely embarrassed by the fact that neither Brooks Kennedy nor Avi Jordan had bothered to call since she had met them--and slept with them--nearly three weeks prior.

"Those bastards!" her stepmother screamed. "I told you Brooks didn't care! I told you he was probably sleeping with half of Hollywood! And Avi Jordan?" she snorted in disgust. "Forget about it! He just oozes male whore!"

Brianna was too proud, and humiliated, to admit Tiffany was right. The worst part was, she had been naive enough to believe Brooks when he'd told her he loved her--what a fool she had been! Never again. If this was what is was like to get involved with a famous guy then she wanted nothing to do with it.

With her looks and her father's money, Brianna could have easily lost her virginity years ago--after all, she was considered prime real estate at Beverly Hills High School. But she had chosen to hang onto it, determined not to just give it up to some amateur teenage boy out for a quick fuck. Now, that didn't mean she had no experience when it came to matters of the opposite sex. She'd participated in plenty of oral sex and heavy petting sessions in the backseat of many a luxury vehicle. She'd carefully perfected every act she was willing to participate in, saving the most intimate moment for when she finally fell in love--or happened upon an opportunity too good to pass up.

"Just you wait until your father finds out," Tiffany continued, defiantly. "He's going to throw an absolute fit!"

Brianna felt her face pale. "Daddy is never going to find out! Promise me you won't say anything, Tiffany! Please!" Brianna begged, grabbing the bleached-blonde by the shoulders and giving her a desperate shake.

Tiffany's face wore a smug expression, covered by twenty pounds of make-up. "I won't have to say anything. He always finds out. That's what fathers do."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

It was Saturday afternoon when The Young Woman held the new, long sleeved black shirt up against her torso, the soft cotton falling just above her knees. It would go perfect with the tight black leggings and matching UGG boots she had recently purchased. The ideal outfit for her evening plans.

Later that evening, the majority of the town would be busy attending the latest fundraiser for the Global Poverty Project, and even though some of the hottest bands would be performing, she didn't plan to go. There was something more pressing waiting for her than taking pictures of One Direction and U-Turn, something she had been planning to do for a while.

This wouldn't be the first time she would be breaking into the Beverly Hills mansion owned by Brooks Kennedy, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. It gave her a huge thrill knowing she could easily make her way into and out of his residence without ever getting caught--thanks to his stubborn resistance to obtain a proper security system. The first time she'd entered him home uninvited had been almost six months before, and the overwhelming sensation of what she had gotten away with clung to her like a bad rash. It became addictive, and she'd continue to visit his estate every couple of weeks since. Walking around the enormous house where he lived, ate, and slept was electrifying! How many people could say they'd been inside of the pop-star's luxurious home? Of course, she would never be able to share her success with anyone, she would just have to keep it to herself.

Tonight would be a very special night. She had a gift for the tousled-haired British singer with the mesmerizing blue eyes. A gift he was sure to love. If only she could confess to him who she was, maybe he would welcome her into his life! No one loved Brooks Kennedy the way she did. No one.

But why did he have to act like such a bastard? He'd had his chance, a very long time ago, to take their relationship to the next level . . . but he'd refused. He claimed he wasn't interested, that getting involved with her might create problems for everyone else. And they didn't want to do that, did they? Why the hell did he care anyway? It wasn't as if he'd thought about other people's feelings any other time, why all of a sudden now--once she had mentioned them getting together? There had been a spark between the two of them and she was certain he'd felt it, too. Why couldn't he just give their relationship a chance? To see if what she knew would be fantastic could actually work out?

Damn him . . . What is he so afraid of?

All men were the same. They were pigs. She had seen it time and time again. They used women for their own selfish needs and then ignored them once they were finished. Take Brooks' late-night romp with Brianna Walters in the backseat of his Porsche Cayenne, for example. The Young Woman had been there to witness the whole disgusting interlude. She even had pictures to prove it! Yet in the weeks following the event she hadn't seen them together. Not even once.

Of course, it dawned on her that perhaps they were keeping their relationship a secret. The over-protective Jonathon Walters did not approve of his only child dating, and if he found out it would most certainly cause an insurmountable amount of trouble for the couple. But The Young Woman kept very tight reins on the unknowing Brooks Kennedy. She knew where he was almost every second of every day, and she knew for a fact he hadn't seen Brianna since the night of the Film Awards.

It's not as though Brianna was the only woman in the pop-star's life. Brooks had a never-ending stream of California beauties knocking at his door, begging to give up their services to the pleasure-seeking heartthrob. It was so frustrating! Why did he have to behave that way? Couldn't he see that she was the only woman he needed to make him happy?

Maybe there was still a chance? Maybe tonight would be the night when he realized his true feelings and left his womanizing ways in the past. Maybe he would finally be willing to give her the chance she deserved.

Only time would tell.

Will Claire tell Miller about the baby, or will he be distracted by Marie again? Find out in Chapter 10!

Hello, and thank you for reading Fast Lane! If you would like to support my story I ask that you pretty please consider leaving me a vote/comment, I would really appreciate it! Check out the media section for a picture of Brianna Walters!

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(Chapter 9 approx. 2,160 words)