Page 37 of Her Supermodel Stalker
“That’s wonderful,” I say without the intended eye roll.
Five minutes later, a blond guy comes out of the elevator and walks toward me. I stand up and shake hands with him.
Jackson Milhous isn’t a bad actor, but still, he can’t hide his nervousness when he speaks to me. His hand keeps shoving into his pant pocket, and his right hand brushes his hair every few minutes.
“I wish we had met under better circumstances,” he says without sincerity.
I wish we never met. I think but don’t speak my thoughts. I don’t want to have anything to do with these scumbags. But the entertainment industry is full of this kind of selfish, fame-seeking missiles—people who would sell their souls or dirty linen just to be known. I’m not saying myself is a saint, but I’ve never stooped low. I’ve always considered others when I make my decisions. I have my principles and I never build my success on other’s failure and never seek my happiness on other’s misery.
“Mr. Gamble, what would you like to discuss?” he asks.
“I would like you to disappear from Lexi’s life, don’t even attempt to gain custody of the child.”
“Wow, you’re straightforward, true to your reputation.”
“Well, I wouldn’t mind beating around the bush if you hadn’t made me wait that long.” I point out poignantly.
He chuckles. “Oh, I apologize. I was on Facetime with someone from the US Weekly.”
I have no idea it’s true or not, and I don’t care. “I want you to leave Lexi and Jimmy alone,” I say, bringing us back to the topic.
“I’m afraid you can’t tell me what to do. I’m the child’s father, and I want to be with him.”
Anger flares again, but I control it. “You have no right to separate him from his mother.”
He smirks. “I don’t mind taking Lexi along, and we could all live together. I’m already making arrangements. I have a house in LA for them to live.”
“You mean to say she’ll babysit the child for you there? What about her life? Have you thought about that?” I don’t even know why I’m speaking to this guy. But I’m too mad to not point out his cruelty.
“What life? The vineyard job?”
“Lexi is aspired to become a Winemaker. She loves her job.”
“If she comes with me to LA, she’ll have a share of the glamor of Hollywood.”
“Give me a break. You call it glamor. Just how many people know your name?” I can’t help being sarcastic.
Jackson doesn’t mind. “Not yet, but I will, soon. Now have I made myself clear? If you would excuse me, I need to contact my lawyer.”
“I’m not done yet,” I say, despite my anger. “Actually, I’m here on Lexi’s behalf. She wants me to remind you what you wrote to her five years ago. You told her you had nothing to do with the child and that you were not his dad.”
Jackson stiffens and then chuckles. “Wow, where did that come from? Lexi is good at twisting words. I love children. I wanted children. But she didn’t let me know. You see. She knew I had the dream of becoming an actor, and she just didn’t tell me. I appreciate her consideration, but I’m also angry. I wish I had seen the child grow up. She didn’t want to go to LA with me, and she was afraid I would force her to, so she didn’t tell me about the child.”
And then he shreds crocodile tears!
My mouth nearly falls. I would laugh if I weren’t so damn angry.
“Very well,” I say. “Deny it as you wish, but Lexi has saved the message. Here is a screenshot.”
I let Jackson see the picture of the message, with the date and the time. “She has a couple of others, too.” I made this up.
Jackson’s face turns pale, but he doesn’t speak.
“She’s planning to release these to social media if you do anything to take her child away from her,” I say with a sigh. “I hope things won’t turn ugly as that. It won’t do your image any good. Don’t you think? My ex-publicist Amanda, who I think has become yours lately, never failed to remind me the fastest way to disappoint your fans was to deny the paternity of your child or eschew your fatherly responsibility.”
While he’s still hesitating, I stand up. “Anyway, we’ll meet with my attorney tomorrow. Just to give you a heads-up.”
“Wait,” Jackson calls after me just when I’m walking toward the hotel’s entrance.
