Page 79 of Lucky Star

“Yes, um. Yeah.”

Shanna must have misunderstood my silence, because she rushed to assure me everything would be okay. “Oh sweetie, don’t worry. Broderick isn’t going to fire Cameron. Oh, he might want to, but he knows damn well the gold mine he’s got with your man. Cameron might have been a nobody six months ago, but not anymore. There’s no one out there with his good looks and versatility. He’ll never want for work again.”

I let out a long breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, relieved to receive Shanna’s guarantee.

“Oh Sarah,” she said, my name coming out as a sympathetic sigh. “Did you really think Cameron was going to be fired?”

I finally found my voice. “Yeah. That’s exactly what I thought, especially since Broderick hinted heavily at the possibility.”

She muttered something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like “that goddamn bully” before continuing. “I’m going to give it to you straight, and I expect you to do the same with me. You know this business and how it works. Broderick fires Cameron for not complying with a PR campaign the studio set up and what happens?”

I waited a heartbeat before answering. I’d known Shanna for years and if ever there was a person I could trust, she was it. But still, she was Broderick’s wife.

Almost as if she could read my mind, she said, “I’m not going to tell Broderick anything we talk about here.”

I could believe her … or not. After a few moments of indecision, I went with what my gut was telling me. “Cameron goes on the talk show circuit, telling everyone how he stepped away from the chance of a lifetime because it conflicted with his personal life. The tabloids start digging, they find out about me, and when they put the pieces together, Broderick looks like a dick.

“When Grimalkin has to cast someone new, all the actors they’ve already auditioned have landed something else or are too gun shy to work with him because they don’t like the idea of having their personal lives managed the way Cameron’s was. Or, you find an actor who is slimy enough to do whatever it takes to get the role, including letting Aerin tell him exactly what to wear and who to fuck. But it doesn’t matter because by then the fans have to be convinced all over again that this new guy is the right Xander, the one they should have cast from the beginning.

“Suddenly the studio finds itself with a legitimate PR nightmare on its hands—a scandal even worse than its mega star marrying a fat girl who was the director’s assistant.”

“Bingo,” Shanna said into the receiver. “Except, you’re wrong about that last part. You’re gorgeous, Sarah. I don’t know why you don’t give yourself more credit. You’ve got Ginger’s body with Maryanne’s face. You’re every guy’s secret fantasy come to life.”

I didn’t believe a word of that for a minute, but it was a nice thought. Objectively speaking, I knew I was a moderately attractive woman, but I hadn’t quite recovered from the reactions some of Cameron’s friends had to news of our engagement. When you paired their disgust with Aerin’s “hide the fat fiancé” plan, my ego and self-worth had taken a battering.

“I mean, really, have you looked at yourself lately?” Shanna continued. “What I wouldn’t do for your some of your curves. Women pay ridiculous amounts of money to those boobs, and Mother Nature bestowed them to you for free.”

“Thank you, Shanna. That means a lot to me,” I said, not wanting to appear ungrateful for the compliments. “It’s hard though, being with someone who looks like Cameron. There are … certain expectations.”

“Has that man ever given you a reason to doubt how hot he is for you? Does he think he should be with a different type of woman?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

If anything, these past few nights had reminded me just how much Cameron cherished my curves.

“Well, then there you go.” She paused long enough to gather a breath, and then launched into her next topic. “What I really want to talk about though is your job.”

“My job?”

“I told you I was going to give it you to you straight. “Broderick can’t fire Cameron, but I’m afraid there’s been some backlash against you,” she explained—not with pity but frustration. “I’m afraid you no longer work for Grimalkin.”

For the second time during our conversation, Shanna’s words struck me speechless. This time, however, I felt anger and shame.

“Once he had a chance to simmer down, Broderick admitted you didn’t do anything technically wrong, but he has partners and investors, and the blame for this fiasco had to be laid somewhere. You were nominated as the sacrificial lamb.”

“I see.”

I did, truly. We’d wasted a lot of the studio’s time and money, and now we had to pay. Well, technically I had to pay. I wasn’t thrilled, but I hadn’t been thrilled with my job lately either. All things considered, the only thing I would miss was Broderick’s hefty payout.

“I’m not sure you do. Well, not entirely.”

“What am I missing?”I asked.

“I’d like you to come work for me.”

While the offer was generous, going back to work as her personal assistant wasn’t what I wanted at this point in my life. And with Cameron assured of continued work, maybe it was time for me to retire from Hollywood altogether and focus on the plans we’d come up with a couple of months ago—spend my days painting and my nights making love to my husband until I found myself knocked up with his babies.

“Sarah?”

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