Page 73 of Heavy Shot

"She was upset and wasn't believing the truth. When I told her nothing was going on, she kept picture wagging. I'm sorry—I didn't think anything would come of it. I just told her how upset you were and that you were trying to get your mind off the divorce."

Jill steamed for a few seconds, then just hung up the phone. She walked upstairs, put on her swimsuit, walked back down and out the door to the pool where she laid down on a raft and stared at the willows while floating, alternately hating all men, all women, and the media. She liked puppies and children and that was it. Maybe she would move to Nebraska and start a puppy ranch. "Five years," she repeated like a mantra. "Five years then I am out of this business entirely."

CHAPTERFIVE

Rhiannon Charles

Rhiannon spent a few hours driving around and walking the strip of beach that lay behind her bungalow. The flaring anger had faded into dull numbness that she hadn't expected. She hated that she was fighting with Jill, especially over a man. This was just the scenario she'd been trying to avoid, yet she'd been drawn into it just the same. She was kicking herself for letting her frustrations and fears drive her into the passive-aggression that was Jill’s hallmark, not hers.

She had ignored all of the text messages and calls coming in as she drove, tossed her bag and phone on the dining room table, and carried in the armful of things she’d taken from Kline’s but left in her car. Shower first, she told herself. Then she could look and see if Kline had been one of the chimes ringing out of her phone.

Rhiannon was exhausted and started to scold herself for it but stopped short. She’d been through the wringer since she’d met the actor. She had every reason to be tired. For the moment, she concentrated on washing her hair, then her body. She threw her hair up in a towel, put on her favorite robe, made a cup of tea, then curled up on her sofa, retrieving her phone, to finally check messages.

The first voice message was from her mother, alternately congratulating and admonishing her on the awards ceremony. She loved seeing her daughter on the red carpet. Hated the dress. Big surprise. The second call was her half-sister, Derica, who was squealing like a preteen about seeing her on television with Kline. Rhiannon had to smile at that. Derica was a 23-year-old Poly Sci major working on her master’s, and she was usually so uptight that to smile might cause her to shatter into a million pieces. This was the first time she'd called since Rhiannon moved to LA.

Apparently, she hadn't seen the pictures, which really wasn't a surprise. The girl read the Wall Street Journal for fun. Rhiannon was more surprised that she even knew who Kline Scott was, let alone that she'd watched the Oscars.

The gushing ended with a "Call me, Rhi!"

She skipped the messages from Jill and went to read her texts.

Thad was most recent with, “LMK ur ok,” and “you looked great last night.” Then several from Kline starting with the most recent, “At least have the decency to let me know you are ok,” presumably after he’d spoken to Kim. She scrolled his queries in decreasing order of upset down to the first text he’d sent about an hour after she’d left the party, “Where are you, bb?”

A few other acquaintances followed, including one of the show's producers talking about work. That was refreshing. Her phone started ringing as she eyeballed Jill’s thread. It was Kline calling again. She swiped him into voice mail and opened up Jill’s texts.

They were all voice, and she played each of them with a sinking feeling in her stomach. Who was she now? She’d come out to LA to make a name for herself with her work, and instead, she’d made herself notorious for who she was dating and what she was wearing, and she’d gotten drawn into Kline’s narcissistic web like the outsider to fame that she was. She wasn’t one of them. She didn’t want to be one of them.

Now, it seemed that Kline had played both women, whether by circumstance or intention, and Rhiannon had allowed jealousy to get the best of her. One thing was certain. Kline had lied to her. He had lied about Jill and while she'd had her doubts about what he’d said, she had convinced herself that it must be true because she didn't want to think that he was purposely setting them against each other. From the sound of it, he was.

Rhiannon groaned and rolled her head back against the sofa, considering her options. She owed Jill an apology. That was evident.

Kline was another matter entirely. She was so angry at him, even more so now, knowing that he'd lied about Jill. This had all become far more than she'd ever bargained for when she agreed to go out with him in the first place. She had a life she liked before she met him, and she was going to get back to that. No more of this secret affair while he had a publicity romance for her. If she wasn’t his IG official girlfriend, it was over. In fact, she decided, it was just over. The last thing she wanted was to be on Kline Scott’s Instagram.

First, she texted Jill. “I got your messages. I'm sorry for the things I said and for thinking the worst. Things have just been so messed up. You were right about one thing. I can't handle it. Obviously.”

She considered calling Kline, but she wasn't ready yet. It was all too raw, and she didn't want to say anything that she hadn't thought through first.

With another cup of tea in hand, she settled in front of her television with her laptop and worked for a few hours before taking a break. As soon as she flicked on the television, the familiar theme of Entertainment Tonight trumpeted through the speakers, and scenes from the Oscars started flashing. Rhiannon remembered seeing them on the red carpet and Nischelle Turner had stopped Kline halfway to ask him questions about Knight…and Jill. They showed bits of the short interview, as well as a shot of Rhiannon standing dutifully behind Kline and made mention of their relationship without adding a comment on the recent photo scandal. There was footage of Kline and Jill posing, too, and a report on the fashions. Kevin Frazier was nearly wetting himself over Jill's dark goddess, August Hall original.

They broke for a commercial with a teaser about the afterparties and Rhiannon got up to fix something to eat. She walked back in to see Erin Johnson talking about the Vanity Fair party.

“Kline Scott shined in the company of former lover and future costar, Jill Parker. He was there with a date, but he spent the whole night canoodling with Parker. The couple were inseparable at the party, including a romantic slow dance and the exclusive crowd was abuzz about their apparent closeness and their upcoming collaboration on the film adaptation of Devil's Party.”

Rhiannon pressed the button on the remote, silencing the commentary. The media monster had just tripled in size.

* * *

Kline rang Rhiannon for the twentieth time on Tuesday morning, and she finally picked up.

"Are you avoiding me?" Kline asked off the bat.

"Why would I be doing that?" Rhiannon snapped. "Just because you avoided me all night Sunday? Or because you lied to me about you and Jill? Or what? Why on earth would I have reason to avoid you?”

"I did not avoid you, Rhiannon!" he snapped back. "You're the one who disappeared without so much as a word."

"You mean you noticed?"

"Of course I did! I looked all over for you. One person said you were off with Rick, another with Thad, another in some other room, someone else saw you in the powder. How the hell was I supposed to find you?"

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