The Princess and the Porn Star (28 page)

“It’s not that simple, Rachel.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No.”

“Then explain it to me, because I don’t get it.”

He sighed. “Those rock stars are packaged and marketed as bad boys and wild girls. You are packaged and marketed entirely differently.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he put up a hand to cut me off, and went on. “You also have a history of self-destructing. First sign you’re heading down that path again, the fans are going to stop buying, the media’s going to go ape shit, and the label’s going to jump ship.”

“Except I’m not self-destructing.” I shook my head. “My relationship with my ex was way more destructive than this one, but something tells me if I got back together with him, people would see it as a step in the right direction.”

“And it probably would be,” he snapped. “For that matter, in your current situation, it’s still early enough in the game for you to do some damage control.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Damage control?”

“Cut the crap with Buck Harder,” he said. “The media will still talk about it every time they mention your name, but eventually they’ll write it off as a fling during a moment of stupidity.”

I blinked. Twice. “A fling? A moment of stupidity? I don’t suppose it’s ever occurred to you or anyone else that he and I really do have a relation—”

“Spare me,” he said. “Christ, Rachel. You aren’t really getting that wrapped up in this whole thing, are you?”

I glared at him. “Funny. You didn’t ask me that when I was engaged to the guy who introduced me to that white nose powder.”

Rich glared back at me. “None of us knew he was going to lead you down that path.”

“Yet everyone knows this relationship is going to be a disaster? Or that it’s just a fling?”

“All right.” He took a deep breath, which he let out as an exasperated sigh. Folding his arms, he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. “I’ll bite. What
is
it, Rachel?”

“It’s—” I lowered my gaze and shifted my weight. “Look, it’s too early to tell where it’s going to—”

“Exactly.” He waved a hand. “It’s barely even gotten off the ground, so there’s no reason you can’t put a stop to it and get back to walking Risen Star’s line.”

“Rich, I’m not—”

“This is serious, Rachel,” he said. “You’re out of second chances, and unless you want to lose this one too, you’d be smart to kick this guy to the curb. You’ve just started dating him, so you’re not committed to him unless—” He paused, and his spine suddenly straightened. “You’re not pregnant or anything, are you?”

“
What?
” I threw up my hands again. “No!”

“Then get out,” he growled. “Ditch this guy and get back to taking your damned career seriously before it’s gone
again
.”

I stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend what he was insinuating. No, not insinuating. Outright
saying
. “So which is more important, then, Rich? What’s healthy and nondestructive for me? Or what’s healthy and nondestructive for Olivia Taylor’s image?”

“Well, that depends.”

“On?”

“What’s more important to
you
?” He looked me right in the eye. “A relationship that’s barely gotten off the ground? Or one last chance at a career you’ve fought for since you were a teenager?”

I swallowed. “I shouldn’t have to choose.”

“Maybe not.” His shrug was so flippant, I might have smacked him if I had anything left at all. “But the fact is, you do.”

Nothing. I had absolutely nothing left. I gave the most noncommittal nod, and as he stomped out of the room, I sank onto a chair. I put my elbows on my knees and dug my fingers into my temples. When Quinn returned a moment later, I said, “God. Quinn. What am I doing?”

He sat beside me and rubbed the back of my neck. “You’re trying to do the impossible, that’s what you’re doing.”

I looked up. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to succeed in a career that means making yourself a product and living in a fishbowl.” He pulled me to him and hugged me gently. “And you’re trying to live like a normal person who falls in love with another normal person.”

“Falls in love?” I shook my head. “No, no, we’re not… It’s…”

Quinn’s eyebrows jumped above the black frames of his glasses. He didn’t even have to say anything.

“Don’t.” I shook my head again. “Look, I don’t even
know
how I feel about him.”

“You love him, idiot.”

I looked at him through my lashes.

He sighed. “Don’t even try it with me, sweetheart. I know you.”

“Quinn, we just—”

“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “Sell that bullshit to someone else.”

“But we—”

“Blah, blah, blah.” Quinn rolled his eyes. “Whatever, my dear. I know you. I know what I see, and you are in love with him.”

No, I’m not. I am not in love with him. It’s just… We’re only… I don’t have time to be in love with anyone right now.

Before Quinn could push that issue, I said, “If I ask you something, will you answer me with total brutal honesty?”

“Do I ever answer you any other way?”

I managed a smile, but it quickly fell. I stared down at my hands. “Did I make a mistake? Going public with Lee like that?”

He didn’t answer immediately.

Finally: “Look, you’re in a tough spot. Everything you do is under public scrutiny, and you’ve learned it’s less of a headache to just be out in the open than it is to try to hide something. That’s not even a thing that normal people in normal relationships have to consider.”

“But I am a normal person in a normal relationship.” The words were supposed to be defensive and sharp, but they came out as little more than a pathetic whisper.

Quinn put his arm around my shoulders. “You are, but you’re also under a spotlight, and that pretty much cancels out anything normal in your world.”

He was right, of course. I knew he was right. Always had. But sometimes, it was still hard to accept that the price of my career was putting my private life into a fishbowl.

Quinn squeezed my shoulder. “You know what’s seriously bullshit about this?”

“Besides all of it?”

“Besides that, yes.” He withdrew his arm and took off his glasses. “It’s the fact that if he were the musician and you were the porn star, everyone would be telling him ‘nicely done!’ while criticizing you for being a bimbo who sells her body. I mean, a guy in your position can leave a club with a woman on each arm and go back to a hotel. Everyone knows damn well what he’ll be doing, but as long as nobody overdoses on anything, nobody gives a shit. Fact is, you’re a woman. You’re a woman dating a man who fucks for a living. Everyone knows you’re a grown adult and if you’re dating someone, you’re probably fucking him, but since he does what he does, it’s right in their faces.” He pointed at his eyes with two fingers. “It’s right in front of them. They can’t ignore it. Nobody can pretend that you two are all chaste and pure, and that’s just not acceptable for Olivia Taylor.”

I blew out a breath. “Yeah. It
is
bullshit. Question is, what do I do?”

“It’ll blow over eventually,” he said softly. “This shit always does.”

“Think it’ll blow over before Risen Star drops me?”

Quinn was silent for a long moment, usually a sign he had some sort of deep, profound answer brewing on the tip of his tongue. But this time, he just sighed. “I don’t know.”

Neither did I.

Chapter Eighteen

Lee

Going public with our relationship took the mystery out of it. There was no need to sniff around and search for evidence to prove that everyone’s suspicions were true. It was out there, an open book, no more
are they or aren’t they?

That was a double-edged sword, though, because everyone knowing about our relationship meant…everyone knew about our relationship.

The crude comments came from every direction. Bloggers. Gossip columnists. Late-night talk-show hosts. People on the street and in restaurants and everywhere we tried to go. Of course it wasn’t unusual for people to gossip and speculate about celebrities and their personal lives, but it never failed to amaze me how my profession gave everyone license to dig even deeper into Rachel’s private life.

And yeah, we could go out in public now without worrying about people figuring out we were together. Now we just had to deal with people who knew we were together and decided it was their business.

Restaurants around Los Angeles were used to this kind of thing, and more than a few were very accommodating to people who desperately needed a meal without a camera lens peering through the bushes. A long time ago, I’d thought places like that were just catering to pretentious assholes who thought they deserved VIP treatment everywhere they went. After befriending—and briefly dating—a few people who lived in the fishbowl, I got it.

And now, I found myself in a position where taking advantage of it
definitely
wasn’t a status symbol or a chance to throw money around. It was a damned necessity unless we never left our houses. At least until the hype died down. Which it would. Eventually. I hoped. God, I fucking hoped.

Three weeks had gone by since the Rock N Rhapsody Awards. Rachel had been in and out of town—out more than in, thanks to her grueling touring schedule—but she was home for a few days. Tonight, we’d managed to slip into Kobe of Cali undetected.

She watched a lemon slice swim between the ice cubes in her water glass. “The suits at Risen Star still aren’t happy.”

“I don’t imagine they are.” I played with the edge of my menu. “But are they willing to grit their teeth and deal with it, or are they still pressuring you to end it?”

Rachel laughed bitterly and set her jaw as she looked out the window. “Ooh, they’re not ready to grit their teeth and deal with it.”

“Still?”

She nodded. “They’re still dangling my recording contract over my head too.”

Guilt twisted in my chest. “Jesus. What are they saying now?”

“Well.” She paused, pulling an ice cube from her glass and slipping it under her tongue. “Last week, they were a little less obnoxious about it, but then over the weekend, one of those ultraconservative parenting groups started a petition to have my music pulled from shelves and download sites.”

My jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” Her cheek rippled as she tightened her jaw. “Apparently a”—she raised her hands and made air quotes—“’shamelessly promiscuous and amoral whore’ has no business entertaining teenagers or being a role model for young girls.”

I sat back in my chair, shaking my head. “Seriously?”

Rachel nodded. “It’s not everyone, and I’ve got support from fans, but groups like this are fucking loud and persuasive. So now Risen Star is on the warpath again.” She rolled the ice cube around on her tongue and then bit down on it hard enough to make me shudder.

“I don’t get it,” I said. “If they disapprove of you dating me, fine. But…promiscuous? A whore?” I leaned forward again. “Because of what I do?”

“Yep.” She didn’t look at me.

“I am so sorry, Rachel.” I reached for her hand, and when I clasped our fingers together, she squeezed back, though not very enthusiastically. “There isn’t much more I can say, but…I am so sorry you’ve had to deal with this.”

“Well,” she said flatly, running her thumb alongside my hand, “as Rich told me the day after we went public, I made this bed.” She finally held on a little tighter, a little more emphatically, but still weakly. “I’ll lie in it.”

I put my other hand over both of ours. “I don’t want this to make you so miserable, though.”

“It’s not you. You know that.”

“And we both know you wouldn’t be catching so much hell if you were dating someone more…acceptable.”

Rachel looked in my eyes. “They’ll get over it. I want to be with you, and I’m not concerned about what other people think.”

If there was anything more heartbreaking than knowing she was going through all this hell because of me, it was her exhausted, resigned tone. The sound of someone who’d been beaten down and had just gotten tired of fighting it.

“Rachel,” I whispered. “I don’t want…”
To lose you? To hurt you? To watch you get hurt because of me?

“If I didn’t want to be here,” she said, “I wouldn’t be.” She squeezed my hand. “What we’re doing? It’s worth it.”

I swallowed. “If it’s not, say the word.”

Rachel nodded. “I will.”

After dinner, we headed outside. On the way out, Rachel riffled around in her purse for her valet ticket, and I kept a hand on her elbow so she didn’t crash into anything.

But then I stopped. “Oh. Fuck.”

“Hmm?” Rachel looked up from her purse. Her face fell. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Sorry.”

I wished I was. The throngs of fans and an unnerving swarm of stalkerazzi were there, and they saw us.

I nudged Rachel toward the curb. “Let’s get out of here.”

She swore under her breath and searched more frantically.

“Here’s the car,” I said as the valet pulled up beside us.