Escorting the Actress by Leigh James
Lowell
We werequiet on the drive back to the hotel. At least on the outside. On the inside, my mind was racing a thousand miles a minute.
How am I going to do this? How am I going to do any of this?
I was forming a plan that I hated. But I felt as though I had to see it through, because it was the best thing for Kyle, and that was the most important thing to me. I had to at least be honest with myself about that. I looked at his profile. His handsome face was turned toward the window, dark circles under his eyes. I squeezed his hand.
"What?" he asked flatly.
I love you. "Nothing," I said.
Even though I was lost in my thoughts, as we walked hand-in-hand through the hotel lobby, I felt eyes on me. I turned around, the hair on my neck standing up.
And I locked eyes with the one and only Caroline Barton.
I saw the concierge, Britta, waving wildly at me. She pointed at my mother then shrugged helplessly. "I told you there was a message," she said.
I turned back to my mother, steeling myself for what would surely be another fucked-up family reunion.
"Darling!" My mom sprang up out of her chair when she spotted us.
A nanosecond too late, I dropped Kyle's hand and jumped away from him. My mother eyed me curiously then turned her gaze to Kyle, her carefully-mascaraed eyes taking in every sexy, hulking inch of him.
"How did you know I was here?" I stammered.
She looked at me as if I had three heads. "I called your agent, darling." She gave me a perfunctory hug and practically pushed me out of the way, extending her hand to Kyle. "Hello there, I'm Caroline Barton, Lowell's mother. And you are…?"
I watched as she studied his face, a look of suspicion and stupefied recognition dawning.
"It's me. Kyle." He offered his hand to her, clearly steeling himself for her impending reaction.
She dropped his hand like a dead fish. "Kyle as in Kyle Richards?" Her face was a pale mask.
I almost felt sorry for her, but I was too busy feeling annoyed by her presence and sorry for myself.
"The one and only." He smiled at her, putting his dimples on full display.
But the dimples had never done much for my mother. She turned to me. "You've got to be fucking kidding me, young lady."
"Uh…" I shrugged helplessly. "If only I had such a great sense of humor. Or irony. Or whatever you want to call it."
Caroline raised herself to her full height and tossed her frosted hair over her shoulder. "I call it spite. I cannot believe you're doing this to me. I cannot believe that I'm coming home to this." She pointed at Kyle as though he were Exhibit A of my presumed guilt.
I shrugged again and rolled my eyes. "For once, Mom, you need to realize that not everything is about you. Now come upstairs, and we'll explain. You're making a scene." I looked around the lobby nervously, hoping that no one from XYZ was hiding behind a potted plant or teak column.
She looked taken aback—probably mystified by my tone. I normally sugar-coated everything for my mother. For once, I didn't have the energy. For once, my own problems seemed a lot more pressing.
My mother kept her mouth shut for exactly one minute. The peace ended when the elevator doors closed behind us.
She whirled toward me, eyes flashing and frosted hair flying. "When you said you were in Boston with a man, you never once mentioned it was this man." She turned to him. "Does your father know about this?"
He nodded.
"I'm surprised he hasn't had you two physically separated," she fumed.
"He's trying." Kyle looked as if he wanted to say something more, but I put my hand on his—a move that was not lost on my mother.
"You have a lot of explaining to do, young lady."
Kyle opened his mouth then shut it, a move that only made me love him more.
"You don't really have a lot of room to take the moral high road." I took in her expensive-looking cotton tunic and perfectly highlighted hair. "It's not like your typical behavior is beyond reproach."
"Don't you use your fancy words on me," she practically spat.
Although I was surprised she was so upset, I shouldn't have been. Pierce and Caroline hated each other. Even though it seemed he'd softened toward her during the years since their divorce, she hadn't budged an inch. She believed he owed her more than she'd gotten in the settlement, and she was still bitter.
My mother wasn't one to blame herself for too much. Or for anything really.
The elevator opened, and I tried to remember if we'd left any incriminating evidence around. Were my underwear somewhere on the floor? Were the champagne glasses still sitting on the counter? I hustled in first and picked up the glasses and kicked my damning underwear under the chaise lounge. I turned around and saw my mother frowning, her eyes trained on the spot where I'd just kicked my lace thong.
She looked at me. "What is going on with you? I read a magazine article on the plane that said you'd gotten drunk in public. And now this?" She jerked her thumb toward Kyle. "Have you gone completely crazy? He's your stepbrother. Isn't that illegal?" She turned and looked him up and down, his muscled shoulders clearly evident underneath his tight-fitted T-shirt. She turned back to me. "It's totally illegal. I'm sure of it."
"It's not illegal. We aren't related. We never were, and you and Pierce got divorced a decade ago. There's no scandal here."
Except for all the… scandal.
She snorted. "That's a ridiculous statement—there is only scandal here. Do you know what the press will do if they find out that you two lived under the same roof as kids? They're going to have a field day!"
Kyle shuffled his feet, and I twirled my hair.
My mother looked back and forth between us. "What," she said, not bothering to make it a question. "Why do you both look guilty now?"
I shrugged and washed the glasses. Kyle picked imaginary lint from his shirt.
"Answer me. One of you. Now." My mother folded her arms across her chest.
"Um…" I said.
"Uh…" Kyle said.
"Maybe you should sit down, Mom. And have a drink."
"A strong one." Kyle smiled at me. "I'll have one too, babe. Lowell. I meant Lowell." He looked sheepishly at my mother then immediately at the floor, as if he wished it would swallow him up.
"Make mine a double," my mother snapped. "Then please tell me what the hell is going on. I have a feeling I'm going to have to call Dr. Klein this afternoon and order a new Valium prescription."
You'd better make that a double too. I dutifully poured the drinks.
"So," I said, a while later, "not knowing what else to do, I called an escort service. AccommoDating. Everything was confidential, they had insurance… it seemed like the right thing to do. Actually, it seemed like the only thing I could do. I hired an escort to come live at my house, pretend to be my boyfriend, and go to events with me. I needed to make the press more interested in my love life than the fact that I'd just spilled my guts, literally and figuratively, all over the Internet."
My mother swallowed some of her drink. "And they sent Kyle?"
I nodded. Kyle was nursing his own drink and staring out the window, listening to me.
"He showed up, and I freaked out when I recognized him. But I had an event that night, so I took a chance. Best thing I ever did." I looked at him longingly, hating that we had to be apart from each other right now.
"Why is that?" my mother asked sharply.
I lifted my chin. "Because the press love him, Mother. He's brilliant at keeping me on message and in the public eye. And because he's important to me. He's in my corner. I trust him… and I can't say that about too many people."
She snorted. "You trust him? An escort? Son of the man who ruined us?"
Now it was my turn to snort. "Pierce hardly ruined us. You just wanted more money from him. Like a tip for being such a pain in the ass to live with."
It looked as if she tried to raise her eyebrow at me but failed. Probably too much Botox. "You're being really mean, Lowell."
Kyle shot me a look, and I leaned back on the couch, exhausted by dealing with both of our parents. "I'm not trying to be mean. This has been a rough day, and I wasn't expecting you. What are you doing back so early? And where are you staying?"
"I came home because I thought my daughter needed me. And also, really, I needed a change of scenery. I meditated and meditated, and after a while, it just got boring." She finished her drink. "I needed more action."
I groaned inwardly. Of course she did.
"I've got a suite at the Plaza."
Of course she did.
I said nothing, even though I was sure it was costing me a small fortune. Sometimes being rich and famous seemed in direct opposition to my overall financial health.
"Pierce asked about you," I said. "He told me to tell you hello."
"He never got over me." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Typical."
"He was trying to be nice, I think."
She shivered. "Ugh. Just talking about him makes all sorts of unpleasant memories come back."
Kyle took that as a cue and stood. "I'm going to give you two a minute alone. It was nice to see you, Caroline. Take care." He nodded at her.
"Thank you. I'll see you… again?"
He smiled tightly. "I hope so." With that, he disappeared into the bedroom.
Caroline watched him retreat and turned back to me. "This is crazy. This is totally out of character for you."
"I don't think that's true. I've always been very solution-oriented. I needed a distraction, so I created one."
She jerked her thumb toward the closed bedroom door. "That's certainly a distraction. He turned out… nicely. Those are quite the biceps."
"There's nothing going on with us," I lied. "It's a business arrangement."
"I don't believe you. And I can't believe my own daughter is lying to my face. You're not that good of an actress, dear."
I counted backward from ten, not wanting to argue with her or, worse, blurt out the truth. I love him, and I'm gonna cut you off this year. I swear it.
"Pierce was asking lots of questions about you," I said, trying to distract her.
She looked slightly mollified. "I'm sure he was. Like I said, he never got over me."
"He's up here working on some new app in conjunction with MIT. Some sort of social media innovator or aggregator or something. He has a launch coming up. He said this is his biggest deal yet." I watched her as she picked imaginary lint off of her yoga pants. "He seems lonely."
"There's a good reason for that, darling. He's a wildebeest." She searched for more lint. "Is he seeing anyone?"
I knew she'd come around. "Actually, no. He seems lonely…"
I eventually packedmy mother up and sent her back to the Plaza. Even though the thought gave me a wicked headache, I promised to call her later.
Kyle hadn't come out of the room. I knocked tentatively on the door.
"Come in," he said flatly. It sounded as if that black cloud was back.
I went in and sat on the edge of the bed. "She's gone… for now."
"Why is she here? Why now?" He propped himself up on the pillows and clicked off the television, studying my face.
"She was just… worried. Or bored. Or something." I looked at him. "At least she's gone now. Ugh, our parents really give me a headache."
"You're speaking my language, babe." He patted the bed next to him. "C'mere."
I scooted toward him, and he pulled me close and kissed the top of my head.
"She's furious about you. That I kept you a secret from her. She was furious at me anyway—for putting my career in jeopardy by drinking. She'll probably try to stick me in Betty Ford to get me away from you and make it look like I've officially cleaned up."
"Do you trust her?" he asked.
I looked at him sharply. "She's my mother, Kyle. I don't trust her judgment, per se, but I don't think she'd ever do anything to intentionally hurt me. Why do you ask?"
He shook his head. "It's… nothing. I just remember what she was like when she was divorcing my father. It was like there was no limit to what she would ask for. And the stuff you've told me about how she takes advantage of you? She just seems… predatory. I'm sorry to say that."
I sat up and pulled away from him. "Maybe that's because you shouldn't have said it."
He sighed and gave me a long look. "Is it wrong that I want to protect you?"
I bristled, even though part of me was collapsing all over myself at his words. "I don't need to be protected."
"I know." He brushed my hair back from my forehead. "But even though I know that, I still feel that way. And it's probably not going to change."
"But you have to trust my judgment. You have to trust that I can take care of myself—and my mother, for that matter."
"I know. I do." He pulled me against him again, and I didn't resist; our time was running out. I could feel it. "But can you accept that I'm still going to watch your back? And worry about you, even if you don't need me to?"
"Why?" I leaned my head against his chest and luxuriated in the feel of his muscles all around me, protecting me even when I said it was the last thing I needed.
"Because." He kissed the top of my head. "You can get used to that, can't you?"
"Of course I can." And that was exactly what I was worried about.
