team, stood staring at her cell phone. He’d barely heard her over the various conversations of the members of his entourage. A word that made him cringe inwardly—and at times outwardly—whenever he said it. The entourage was Kitty’s idea; he would be perfectly fine without the lot of them. It was days like this he missed the anonymity that came with being a poor kid from the dodgy end of London. Now, thanks to Kitty, all his appearances were preplanned and scheduled for potential photo ops.
“What’s wrong, Kitty? She didn’t scream until her voice gave out before breaking down in tears?” He was only partly teasing. He still couldn’t get over the dramatics some women went through when they met him.
“What screaming? The woman didn’t scream, sigh, cry or show the least bit of gratitude that her name was selected.”
Kitty crossed his crowded living room, the night sky and twinkling lights of the New York skyline visible behind her through the wall of windows in his flat. Her jet-black hair had one bright red streak in the front, which stood out against her sienna skin and the all-black suit she wore.
“Hopefully, she’ll be more excited once it sinks in what she’s won. I can’t have the winner of your first charity contest frowning in every picture.”
“How do you know she’ll be frowning?” Irvin asked, glancing at his watch. It had been ten hours since the entourage had arrived to prepare for his appearance on The Tonight Show that afternoon and decided to stick around afterward. He was ready for all of them to leave and give him a moment of peace.
“I can hear frowns,” Kitty said, waving her hand. “This woman was frowning.”
“I don’t care if she smiles or not,” Irvin said. “I did this to raise money for the foundation. The money we raised will do a hell of a lot more than having the winner smile in your photographs.”
“True, but I expected more. I didn’t make you the country’s most desired man only to get some lackluster response.”
“I’d prefer a lackluster response every now and then.”
“Don’t tease,” Kitty said. “You’d be bored without all this.” She held out her arms to encompass the ten other people milling around the flat, each one either talking on the phone or making connections via social media. All in an effort to keep his name in front of people and build his image.
Some days—days like today, actually—he wanted to tell the lot of them to sod off. But he couldn’t deny that being Hollywood’s biggest celebrity had its perks, the best one being the money. Money brought safety and security. Two things he’d gone without for most of his childhood. And the money kept rolling in with every action film or dramatic role he churned out. Telling Kitty to bugger off wasn’t worth losing the security blanket his celebrity afforded.
He must be tired, or he wouldn’t be so annoyed with his normal routine. The New York premiere and contest weekend would be the end of a whirlwind of promotions and premieres for the film.
“Bored, maybe,” he said, “but I wouldn’t regret a slight decrease in all of the attention that comes with being a celebrity.”
“No one likes a hermit, Irvin. You’re approachable, which makes America love you all the more. Stuck-up celebrities aren’t bankable.”
He’d argue that some celebrities who shied away from the limelight were, but his mobile phone chimed. His heart rate revved up like the sports car he’d driven in his last film, as it had done every time the phone rang since the day he’d sent his screenplay to Kevin Lipinski a week ago. Kevin was one of the most sought-after and successful producers out there. Every film he touched turned to box-office gold, and if he liked Irvin’s screenplay and agreed to produce the film, he might be Irvin’s ticket out of the camera’s glare and right behind it. Irvin wanted to direct.
The mobile’s chime indicated a new email, which sent anticipation and dread flowing through his bloodstream. There were only two answers he could get. Kevin would either love it or hate it. Both answers scared him.
He pressed the email icon on the phone and held his breath. Then released it in a sigh of disappointment. The new message was a party invitation. He unsuccessfully tried to tamp down his frustration. How long did it take to look at a script?
Kitty rambled on in the background about plans for the premiere. A member of the entourage let out a loud laugh at whatever the person on the phone with him had said. And another flipped the channels on his sixty-inch television with the volume turned up to high. It was information and annoyance overload. Irvin was done.
“Now that you’ve informed the lucky winner, we can call it a day,” he said, cutting off Kitty’s speech. He held up the script he’d been trying to read ever since they got back. “I’ve got to get through this.” Another action movie. Not bad, really, but he knew the drill. The formula for his success didn’t change much: he’d save a beautiful young woman, run through traffic in a big city with no shirt and haul around a big gun.
“No, we can’t call it a day,” Kitty said in a rush. “We need to go over the itinerary. Every moment of the premiere weekend has to be planned perfectly.”
“Something that you can do without my direct input. Just tell me where to go and when to be there. The only thing I care about is when we present the check to the head of the foundation. Make sure there is plenty of time before and afterward for me to talk with him and the staff. I want to know if there is anything they need me to do to help the cause.”
Alcohol awareness wasn’t the sexiest issue for a celebrity to pick up. Kitty thought he should be kissing kids in third-world countries or building playgrounds for at-risk youth, where the photo ops were. He did contribute some to those causes, but preventing and stopping alcohol abuse were his passions. He’d witnessed the damages of alcohol abuse firsthand.
“Now I’d like my flat back,” he said, looking at the people buzzing around. He used his normal charming tone of voice, but there was no mistaking the underlying steel beneath.
Kitty huffed but didn’t argue. She was good at reading when he was tired of the show.
“Fine, but at least go over the itinerary before the end of the week.” She grabbed her bag and pulled out a thick folder, which she handed over to him. “It took a while, but I managed to dig up a picture of the winner.”
He flipped open the folder to find the photo. A woman with thick, dark hair and clear reddish-brown skin, wearing a conservative navy suit, stared back. Her lips were curved in a cool smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Kitty should have known better than to expect this woman to scream. She didn’t look the type. He frowned and studied her professional demeanor; he wouldn’t have expected her even to enter the contest.
“Where did you get this picture?”
“She used to be the chief nursing officer at East Houston Regional Medical Center. It was her employee ID photo.”
“She’s no longer there?”
“No, left two years ago. Something about an illness in the family. I couldn’t dig up a more current picture. Can you believe she doesn’t have a profile anywhere?” Kitty said it as if the idea of going without an online presence was akin to going without electricity.
“Some people prefer their privacy.” He looked away from the picture to eye Kitty. “If she’s not online, how did you dig this up?”
