Page 52 of The VIP Doubles Down
Gavin laughed. “A resounding compliment.”
Hugh sat and crossed one denim-clad leg over the other with the same elegance that he brought to the Julian Best role. “A lot of people are worried about you.”
Gavin sprawled in a chair opposite him, leaning forward to grab a bottle of beer from the tray on the coffee table. “Friends or enemies?”
“Both, but why should you care what your enemies think?”
“Irene came to visit a few days ago.” Gavin took a long pull from the bottle.
A look of distaste crossed Hugh’s saturnine features.
“How do you manage the love scenes when you feel that way about her?” Gavin asked.
“Superb acting.” Hugh lifted his beer in a mock toast to himself. “What did she want?”
“I think Greg sent her to try and drag another Julian Best novel out of me.”
“Even Greg wouldn’t be that stupid. He heard what happened at the funeral.”
“It’s not stupidity ... it’s greed.” Gavin took a swig of beer. “What’s the gossip mill got to say?”
“That you’re burned out on Julian. There are rumors about hiring a ghostwriter to produce a new script.”
Gavin stood and paced over to the window, staring out at the winter-bare branches of the trees in his garden. “They can’t. I own Julian—lock, stock, and barrel. Jane made sure of that.”
“You, of all people, know how much money Julian generates. No one is going to give that up without a major battle.”
Gavin spun to face Hugh. “Aren’t you tired of playing the suave, indestructible super spy?”
“Not at all,” Hugh said. “It’s an iconic role.”
Gavin went back to garden-gazing. “I didn’t know what a responsibility it would be.”
“Walk away. You’ve launched careers, generated box-office gold, and lined the pockets of many an agent and producer. You don’t owe anyone anything.”
Gavin shook his head. “Not like this. Not when the damned movie ended with a giant question mark.” He was tempted to tell Hugh about the recent feeble stirrings of his creativity, but he was afraid to touch the fragile feeling in case he killed it.
“What is it? Irene?”
“I threw her out.” Gavin remembered the astonished expression on her beautiful face and felt a flicker of satisfaction.
“More people should.”
Gavin pivoted to lean his shoulder against the window frame. “You mentioned the PSA. Are you here for the kids, too?”
One thing Gavin and Hugh shared was a difficult childhood, although Gavin suspected Hugh’s had been far worse than his. The actor spent a lot of time and money helping disadvantaged children. Hugh would undoubtedly visit several of the many shelters he funded, but no one would know about that except the kids and staff. He didn’t do it for the photo ops.
Hugh gave Gavin a look that said he knew the subject was being changed deliberately. “A fund-raiser ... which you are not donating a penny to. You gave far too generously at the last one.”
“It’s only money.” Gavin believed in giving back. No one should keep as much money as he had.
Hugh swirled his beer in the bottle. “Too bad it doesn’t buy happiness.” He laughed without humor. “I don’t know where the hell that came from.”
“From the heart.” Gavin came back to his chair. “Shall we talk about it?”
“I’m just in the doldrums because I’m between movies.” He gestured toward the discarded script. “Which is why I’m considering this rom com. It’s not bad. Clever dialogue, unusual setting, emotional without being sappy.”
“You let me know if you want to discuss something of importance,” Gavin said. “Shall I take a look at the script?”
