Fake (West Hollywood 1)

“Really?” he asked, handing back the drink.

“What?” I took a sip and looked about the room. In one corner a DJ spun some grooves at a volume that still allowed for conversation. The vodka fountain was a neat if somewhat liver-destroying idea. Lord knows how much this had all cost. “This is a very fancy party.”

“Yes, it is. He’s put a lot of money behind this enterprise. Been working on it for years. Cole’s got a good head for business.” He gazed down at me. “You let him call you Nor.”

“I actually prefer the full Norah.”

The frown eased. “Oh. Okay.”

“Gran’s sister was Nor,” I said. “She used to visit when I was little. They’d drink a bottle of wine and complain about men. My mom used to join in before she got sick.”

“The men in their lives were that bad?”

“The men in their lives were that gone. Poof! Disappeared,” I corrected. Which was incorrect. “So they weren’t actually in their lives. I’m confusing the issue. It all goes back to the family curse.”

His brows rose. “Hold up. There’s a family curse?”

“Yeah.”

“How have I not heard about this?”

“I’m telling you now.” I took another sip. “So certain members of my family believed they were doomed when it came to love. This belief was based on the following facts. My great-grandfather ran off with an erotic dancer. His brother choked on an appetizer at his own wedding reception. My grandfather died in a car crash not long after my mom was born. Nor got left at the altar. And my own father disappeared as soon as he found out about me. If you wanted to get dramatic, you could also say my mom died of a broken heart. But I think it was mostly the breast cancer.”

His gaze softened.

“Hence their belief in a family curse,” I concluded.

“But you’re not a believer?”

I shook my head. “No. I made bad choices. We’ve discussed this already.”

“Are you really interested in getting Cole’s number? I know he was just winding me up in part, but he really seemed to like you.”

I said nothing.

“I mean, it’s none of my business what you do after—”

“No.”

“No? Okay.” He gave me side-eye while he waved to a passing waiter to get another drink. This one was much fancier, being a shade of purple with flowers floating on the surface. “What do you think this is?”

I took it and sniffed and sipped. Because I’m classy like that. “I think it’s a Prince. Vodka, lemon, sugar, and crème de violette. I worked at a bar a few years back,” I explained, in response to his raised eyebrows. “It was popular right after he passed.”

“Purple Rain was a great album.” He downed a mouthful. “A bit more floral than I usually like.”

Two women approached. Both beautiful and thin, as per the usual in this town. And their two sets of beady little eyes were most definitely all over my fake better half.

Before they could open their mouths, Patrick slid an arm around my shoulders and said, “This is my fiancée, Norah.”

The women exchanged glances, gave us lame smiles, and hastily backed away.

“I’ve never been used as a dating defense system before,” I said.

Patrick took another sip of the drink. “Where were we? Oh, yeah. You were going to explain why you’re passing on getting Cole’s number.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Had your fill of Hollywood types?” he asked, persevering.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

He did a one-shoulder shrug. A dismissive sort of gesture. “Just curious.”

“Patrick, I’m here with you. It would be rude as hell to get another man’s number. My grandmother would be appalled.”

His smile was small, but it was there. What a win. “I think I’m going to like your Gran.”

“We’ll see how you feel when you meet her,” I said. “How did your audition go today?”

The smile disappeared and he paused for a moment, choosing his words with care. “I think it went well. It can be hard to tell. The director seemed enthusiastic about the idea of working with me.”

“Good.”

“The online hate seems to have died down,” he said. “Ticket sales are back up. It’s not good that I got dropped from that other movie. Once one producer thinks you’re tainted goods, they can all just follow suit. But hopefully these new people don’t see me as such a risk anymore.”

“What’s the next step with the audition?”

“I wait to hear if it’s a yes or a call-back or a no.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for the first one,” I said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Guess we better see to our schmoozing duties.” I looked about the room. “Who else would you like to talk to?”

The frown returned. “Honestly? No one. We’re here entirely as a favor to Cole. I suppose there’s probably a couple of people I should talk to, but . . .”