Blonde Chicks Preferred: July 12, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  July 12, 2013

Will finally took the red pill and called the Internet girl. He was hilarious when he stopped by this afternoon, in the best mood. He kept cracking jokes and nothing I said seemed to bring him down. He’s completely whipped. He didn’t come clean with her about his fame, but at least he is talking to her. She sounds like a super sweet girl—nothing like Mia Thompson. Will deserves a break. Hope she doesn’t turn into a psycho bitch. He wants to meet her, so he and I were brainstorming on how he should spring his true identity on her.

“I say you just show up at her door. It’s not like she’s going to turn you away.”

“She might. She’s not impressed by fame. I think she’d see it as a detriment, not an asset. She’s not like the rest of the mindless drones. That’s why I like her.” He smiled and I could tell that he was thinking about something she said. “It’s got to be something big, something she can’t refuse.”

“If you had a premiere coming up, you could invite her to that.”

He shook his head. “I don’t. And I have to meet her before filming starts in September. It’s got to be larger-than-life, where she can’t just shut me down.”

“Talk to Nick,” I suggested. Our buddy Nick Reyes lives over the top every day and in a weird man-whore way knows women pretty damn well.

“Can do.” He cocked his head in agreement and we moved on to talking about his assistant Leslie and my housemate’s break up.

“Is it another guy?” I asked. “Because I think that Nak is in shock. He can’t figure out what happened.”

“I don’t think that she is seeing anyone else. Leslie said that they just agreed that it wasn’t working. She made it sound as if they were both too busy to keep it going.”

“If you gave the chick some time off, maybe she could have a decent relationship and Nak wouldn’t be moping around like a puppy with his head stuck in one of those clear plastic cones.”

“This is not my fault.”

Nak walked into the kitchen in yesterday’s clothes, wearing a three-day-old beard. “I’m pretty sure it is your fault, Jonathan Williams.” He sat down at the breakfast bar and spun around to face us.

“I am not getting involved in Leslie’s personal life. You are not worth me losing the only person that can keep me organized. Sorry, man.”

Nak slumped against the counter. “If she had just given me some warning. That would have been…I mean…what the hell? She shows up in Vancouver for my wrap party and granted the film didn’t have much of a budget so it wasn’t much of a party, but I was coming home. And she starts up with this it isn’t working BS. And we never see each other? We were flying out together. I just don’t understand.”

“It’s not another guy if that’s what you’re worried about. She’s probably just trying to work out her fall schedule. You know how anal she is. We’re going to be gone almost three months. Leslie likes to have everything methodically in order. I, on the other hand, say, seize the day.” Will chuckled and I knew he was talking about finally meeting the Internet girl.

“So you think I should call her or not?” Nak asked.

“Do what you have to do. Life’s too short. I’ve got to go,” Will added as he stood up and headed for the door.

“Can you talk to Leslie?”

Will turned and asked, “What do you want me to say.” He stared at him earnestly.   

“Tell her we’re going out clubbing tonight,” I hollered. There was no way in hell that I was going to let Nak beg. “This is LA. There’s plenty of chicks wanting some Nak. Her loss.” I lifted my chin to stress my point. He doesn’t need her. “Are you coming with us or not,” I ask Will.

He smiled. “Can’t. I’ve got to figure out my own problems.” As he headed for the door he added, “Gorboni said he was looking for something to do. Give him a call.”

“Good luck with the Internet girl,” I yelled before the door closed.

Kelsey was visiting her family so it was the perfect night to go clubbing and I could always find some more people to join us. I’d call Gorboni for sure. I hadn’t been out clubbing since before the accident. My plastic leg boot and pain would assure that dancing was out, but the sympathy card the cast brought would reel in the chicks—all in the name of helping Nak. The sacrifices I make.

“You better shave. I can’t take you anywhere looking like that,” I said, slapping my roomie on the back as I hobbled over to the counter to grab my phone and figure out our plans for the evening. Copyright 2015 Susan Schussler  

Paris in LA: June 27, 2013

Paris Borel:  June 27, 2013

Jonathan Williams called yesterday. I couldn’t believe my good luck. My husband had been such a dick lately that I needed the escape. I never expected his call and Jonathan’s sexy voice hit me like the air in hot yoga—so steamy I could barely think. I hadn’t posted any substantial articles about him in weeks on my website. The last insignificant one was a result of the selfie that Mia Thompson had put up and he deserved that article. If he’s going to let her tweet about their early morning excursions then who am I to keep it away from my readers. I knew he couldn’t be calling about that tiny blip. Since the selfie, I’ve only posted the usual daily sightings of him around town—the fan pics, not the paparazzi. Though I’m sure my readers would devour paparazzi pictures, it would break the unspoken agreement that I have with Jonathan. I don’t think he would be so forthcoming with his private life if I entangled myself with the vultures. It’s more personal when I post fan pics anyway and I so want to be personal with him.

Jonathan was clearly interested in my life—another surprise. He knew about Gerard’s problems with the coach’s daughter. He even knew about Gerard’s shoulder injury. Though it was in the press, it pleased me that he’d been keeping track of me so closely.

When he told me that he and Mia Thompson weren’t getting back together, I offered myself to him on a platter for his enjoyment. I guess I should have been more subtle with him, more seductive. Being direct didn’t work.

He’s a bit more complicated than most men. In my experience with the male species, what you see is what you get. Jonathan has been through more than any twenty-three year old should have to endure and most of the time I have no idea what motivates him. But the more I’ve gotten to know him, the more I can spot his vulnerabilities. He’s got this tender side that calls to me. So while most of the press has been ruthless to him over the last few years, I have cultivated a personal relationship with him and I can tell he sees me as different. Jonathan and I have an undeniable connection.

He wanted the email address for some girl that was a regular poster on my website. At first, I was skeptical about providing him links to the competition. But when he mentioned that he thought she was his brother’s ex, I couldn’t say no. If it was the ex-girlfriend I thought it was, she wouldn’t want anything to do with him anyway. Besides I couldn’t deny him anything. All he would have to do is say my name with those gorgeous lips and I’d cave.

Gerard says I need professional help. He thinks that my infatuation with Jonathan is unhealthy. And maybe it is, but he doesn’t realize that it plays into my plan. Payback’s a bitch, right? My husband should never have cheated on me. He doesn’t know what lengths I’m willing to go for revenge.

Jonathan’s call definitely doused gasoline on the already lit fuse that I hadn’t told Gerard about. I was ready for my oblivious husband to know what he had started. I revealed my affair with his teammate, Caleb Gossling, and I thought he would at least smash his hand through the wall or break the corner off the granite breakfast bar. But he just grinned at me and before taking a bite of his sandwich, casually announced, “I guess we’re even.” Then he spun around on his bar stool and flicked on ESPN.

We were far from even, but I was so caught off guard by his lack of emotion that I was speechless. Me speechless? I could tell he was waiting for me to become irrational, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. He had his own game going on. I just smiled and leaned over the counter, purring in his ear. “Next time it will be with someone that means something to me.”

He knew who I meant.

“A tit for a tat, Gerry.” His lip curled a little at my words as he rotated back to meet my eyes. He hated it when I called him Gerry.

He stared at me, while I wondered how long my threat would keep him in line. The fury in his eyes penetrated me, sending a shiver down my spine. He’d never gotten violent at home. I knew so many hockey wives that dealt with violence off the rink. They accepted it as part of the package with the high adrenaline lifestyle. The money and recognition brought privilege—the abuse just became part of the payment—sanctioned by the wife’s lack of power. The minute a woman stopped seeing herself as equal, the relationship became askew and she was no longer more than an accessory—something to be worn and thrown away.

And maybe Gerard’s and my relationship was off kilter a bit too. I knew the coach’s daughter wasn’t his first. But hell if I was going to stand for his cheating any longer. With Jonathan’s call, I knew I had options.

I stared right back at him. I wasn’t going to let him intimidate me. When his hand jetted out and grasped my shoulder hard, his fingers digging into my skin, I cringed at the impending blow. But instead, he pulled me in for the most tender kiss I’ve ever had and as I lay on my stomach stretched across the breakfast bar, I melted into his arms, imagining he was my fascination.

“No more, baby,” he whispered, though I knew he was lying. At least, for now, he would be faithful and that was better than a fist to the side of the head. I’d made it clear that I wouldn’t let him get away with the cheating. He knew the price. But I knew that I wouldn’t have to wait forever to quench my obsession with Jonathan, guilt-free.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 22, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  June 22, 2013

“You look like hell,” were the exact words that Will said as he walked into the room and saw me lying in the rented hospital bed. I didn’t doubt that I actually looked like hell, but there was no way I wanted to hear it. I had been in this bed since Friday when they released me from the hospital and I felt like hell.

“Thanks.” I pulled myself up with one hand using the triangle bar hanging over the bed as I pushed the button to bring up the bed behind my back. I wasn’t in as much pain as I had been at the hospital and I was much more comfortable in the privacy of my own home. “It’s about time you blessed me with your godliness.”

“Yeah. Sorry about that.” He had already explained his issues about visiting me at the hospital on the phone. I got it. I couldn’t hold it against him.

“Is Kelsey taking good care of you? I mean, other than helping you with your hair and all.”

“Shut up.” I ran my fingers through my longer than usual hair. “Kelsey’s been great.” I looked around to make sure she wasn’t within earshot. “There’s a nurse who comes in every day to help me with some of the personal stuff. She said my hair looked fine.”

“She’s either really old or really hot.” He laughed as he took a seat in the chair next to me.

“Old,” I admitted. “Kelsey demanded it and I’m glad she did. It’s embarrassing enough.”

“I bet it is.” He laughed again and I wondered if he really understood the crap that I was going through. “Speaking of age, whatever happened with that underage girl? Haven’t heard anything about it in a while.”

“Nothing. They’re not pressing charges at this time, but they are leaving it open, hoping that they’ll get more evidence. My dad says we could sue them but it would cost us more than we could get. Besides, I think the publicity helped my career.”

“No doubt on that one.” Will leaned back and rested his feet on the edge of my bed.

“So what’s going on with you and Mia?” I turned it back on him. “I saw the selfie of you and her having early morning coffee. You said you weren’t back with her. Just getting some exercise?”

“It was just coffee. She’s trying to look unavailable for some other guy. I was helping her out, nothing more.”

I knew how easy it was to get back with exes in Hollywood. At least you know what you’re getting into with an ex. I watched him closely for a few seconds to see if he was lying, but everything he said seemed legit. “Jonathan Williams, you’re still obsessed with that Internet chick, aren’t you?” I used his real name because it always throws him off when I do.

“Is it that obvious?” He rubbed his hands over his face. “Even Mia could tell and she doesn’t usually notice anything not Mia.”

“It’s that obvious.” I nodded. It felt good talking about someone else’s problems.

“I know I’ve got to do something about it. Even my dad could see it. I just don’t want to change what Sarah and I have. Right now, I can tell her anything.”

“Except who you really are,” I interjected.

“I think she knows the real me better than anyone. When I tell her who I am it’s going to screw us up.”

“It could make it better. I say dive in head first. I mean, when was the last time you hooked up with anyone?”

“Don’t go there. I’m trying to have a deep conversation here.” He smiled and added, “Let’s just say things haven’t changed since the last time we talked about this.”

“Too bad. But only you can ‘be the change you want to see in the world,’” I quoted Gandhi in a mocking voice.

“I’m working on it.” He shook his head and added, “It’ll happen soon.”

I knew that much. He would make it happen. The rest depended on the chick.

“I’m going to talk to the website manager and get Sarah’s email. That way I don’t have to worry about her getting hacked by some cyber stalker. Did you see that Ashley Tyler got hacked last week? Nude pics out of her private account.”

“Damn. I missed those? Are they still up?”

“Don’t encourage the hackers, Nordstrom. What are you thinking?” Will looked at me with his most serious expression, then added, “They’re fake, by the way.”

“Damn,” I said again. I knew he wasn’t talking about the pictures, but two particularly famous parts of the singer’s body. “You sure?”

He looked at me cocking his head with one eyebrow raised. I knew I shouldn’t have even questioned him. But I was still going to look online for myself after he left.

We talked some more about the hacking and how best to protect ourselves. Then I told him how the studio had to rewrite the script for the midseason finale because there was no way I could do what they had planned. They were going to write my accident into the plot and possibly shoot a scene here at the house with me in the bed like this. They’d bring in some green screens and dub it all in. “They promised not to kill me off. I guess that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t even realize what’s happening with your career right now, do you? There’s no way they’re going to kill you off. They’re probably scrambling to see how they can tighten up your contract so you won’t move onto something bigger and better.”

I looked at him as if he was crazy.

“I’m serious. Your accident made the front page of all the rags. Didn’t anyone tell you?”

“I need a better agent,” I admitted. I hadn’t seen anything. Maybe I’d just been so out of it that no one wanted to tell me or maybe they had told me. I’d been avoiding googling myself because I was afraid of seeing pictures of the accident. It’s not like I needed to be reminded how badly I’d been hurt. Just then my leg started throbbing, probably because I was thinking about it, and I knew it would end Will’s visit. As soon as I took the pain pill, I would be out. So I explained it to Will and he said he would stop back tomorrow.
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Mia's Fabulous World: June 20, 2013

Mia Thompson: June 20, 2013

I ran into Tom Fallston at Misk last night. It wasn’t an accident. I knew he would be there. I figured we needed to get better acquainted before filming started. We have decent chemistry and we’re doing some love scenes together in Illicit. Production starts in a few weeks and what better way to rehearse for the scenes than to actually do the scenes for real. Private rehearsals always make filming go smoother.

I’d read in the tabloids that last week Tom broke up with model turned actress, Felisha Elson, and I asked him about it. He said he had been thinking about me when he broke it off. I laughed. That was such a line, but it was creative. Two points for Tom.

I questioned how he dated her for so long—six months. She’s completely brainless and everyone knows it. He smiled as his eyes perused my body.

“I thought you and Jonathan were back together.”

As much as I wanted that to be true, it wasn’t and it was time to stop lamenting it. Jonathan and I are meant to be together and it will happen soon enough, but that doesn’t mean I should stop living my life. If I don’t stay relevant then my career will disintegrate. Tom Fallston was just what I needed to stay relevant in the press. With his fame and good looks, we’d be a power couple. For however short-lived, it would still be tabloid cover material. Besides movies always sell better when the leads are romantically involved and I had backdoor rights to this film. I would do all I could to make it profitable.
 
 I shook my head to answer his question and his reaction seemed mixed.

“Too bad. I like to have to work for it,” he said, looking past me into the club as if searching for someone more challenging. I knew he was playing me, his body language invited me home for the night.

I was up for the game. I focused my gaze on a particularly gorgeous Adonis a few yards away, making eye contact with the guy and purring, “We’re not back together, but that doesn’t mean he’s not on retainer.” This seemed to do the trick and Tom stepped closer blocking my view of the other guy. A bit desperate I thought, but he got my full attention. His fingers pushed into my hair from the back of my neck and he tilted my head up like he was moving in for a kiss, but then just stared into my eyes. His were light brown and nothing like Jonathan’s eyes. Still, I fought hard not to lean into his hand. It had been a long time since I was with a man and my body craved the attention. I played the distant bitch, though, and made him think he had to work to catch my interest. I knew right then that I couldn’t go home with him that night—not challenging enough. If I was going to make this movie chemistry the best it could be I would need to string him along for a while and make him beg before giving in.

We talked intimately close for a while, my hand on his abdomen and his in my hair, and I could tell those around us noticed. It wouldn’t go unmentioned in the press. When I said my goodbye to meet up with Kiera and the others, he almost groaned as he said, “We should get together to go over a few scenes, before filming starts.”

“If you need extra rehearsal, I guess we could.” I threw a glance over my shoulder as I walked away and he followed me with his eyes pinned until I sank into the shadows of the club.

On the drive back to Kiera’s I sent a text to Jonathan, optimistically hoping he was still up and may be willing to slip back into our old routine.

Me:  You home?
Jon:  Yep. In bed. 
Me:  Want me to join you?

I thought I would put it out there just in case he was in as much need as me, but part of me knew he wouldn’t accept my offer.

Jon:  Tired. How about coffee at Joe’s 9:30?

It was better than complete rejection.

Me:  A bit early, but OK.
Jon:  See you then.

I was right. 9:30 was way too early to meet him. I made it there though. I knew he would be seated in the back corner away from the windows and restrooms. It’s like he hides from his fans. I don’t understand his need for privacy. My choice would have been where people could find me. With my hair pulled back, my puffy sleep-deprived eyes met his perfectly groomed face and I slid into the booth next to him. A half smile greeted me and he passed me the skinny mocha latte that he’d ordered for me. He had even added the sugar. I love that he still remembers after all this time.

“Liam is in the hospital,” he said without looking up from his coffee.

“STD finally get him?” I asked and a small chuckle broke from his lips.

“Motorcycle accident. I was supposed to visit him, but I couldn’t stomach going into the hospital. Kelsey said he was so doped up on pain meds that he didn’t even notice that I wasn’t there.”

I didn’t know who Kelsey was, but she was connected to Nordstrom, not Jonathan and that’s all I cared about. “If they bother to dope him up, then he’ll survive.” I meant it in a comforting way, but being raised by my mother, I never really learned that womanly trait.

“I guess,” Jon said, before taking a sip of his coffee. “At least it wasn’t the paparazzi that caused the accident.”

“Yeah.” We sat in silence for a long minute. I didn’t want to talk about Nordstrom, but I didn’t want to come off as an insensitive bitch. I knew Jon was dealing with his ghosts and I didn’t know what to say. “He’s all right, though?”

“He’s supposed to get out of the hospital by the weekend. I’ll go visit him then.”

“So what else have you been up to?” I asked.

That damn panty dropping dimple crept onto his face and he shrugged. “Not much. You?”

“Who is she, Jon?” I asked.

“I didn’t say I was seeing someone.” He took a slow draw on his coffee and looked over at me, the dimple still on his cheek. He was definitely seeing someone. Denial was the first sign.

“You didn’t have to. I could tell by the look on your face. Who is she?”

“No one you’d know. She’s not Hollywood.” No worries then. She would never last. “How about you?” he added.

“I ran into Tom Fallston at Misk last night. I was thinking about making our film romance more real.”

His eyebrows curved up questioningly and he clamped his mouth shut as if he was forcing words to stay inside.

“Just tell me.”

“He asked me about you, like he wanted to know if the rumors about us getting back together were true.”

Tom wasn’t lying when he said he’d been thinking about me. “What did you say?”

“Something vague, you know me. He likes a challenge and you are definitely a challenge.”

“I am not that high maintenance. You always say that, but it’s not true.”

“Whatever you say, Mia.” He laughed and I knew I had brightened his mood.

We joked about some of the asinine things I’ve asked him to do over the years. Then he agreed to let me take a selfie of us having coffee together. It was totally out of character for him, but it was part of my plan to make me look like more of a challenge to Tom. I wondered what kind of non-Hollywood girl would be OK with her guy having early morning coffee with his ex. The implications were huge and the press would be spreading them like wildfire. Maybe he hadn’t thought that part through, but I wasn’t going to say anything. Jonathan and I were good together. It just wasn’t our time. It would be someday, though.
 Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Blonde Chicks Preferred: June 5, 2013

Liam Nordstrom: June 5, 2013

When would the nightmare end? The press was relentless the last five days, following me everywhere I went and I was tempted to just sleep on a couch at the studio so that I wouldn’t have to deal with them. If it weren’t for Kelsey I would have done it. She and her roommate had a falling out and she needed a place to crash until they worked out their problems. Nak left for Toronto on Sunday and sending Kelsey back to the house alone to deal with the vultures would be kind of douchey.

The ordeal with the underage girl hadn’t been all bad, though. I was definitely getting my brand out there. Six different publicists had contacted me, over the last couple days, asking if I needed representation. I never really needed one before now. It’s not like I made millions of dollars or anything, and sharing what I did make wasn’t a priority for me. But I could see where it would be helpful to have someone to deal with the media.

Today, I met with the producers of my show for lunch. They said that Monday’s ratings were the highest ever, and they attributed it to all the publicity that I’d been getting. They told me to play it up as long as I could. The script was being reworked so that my character would get more screen time. They were patting me on the back and they didn’t seem to care if I was guilty or not as long as jail time didn’t conflict with filming. I guess it was all about the ratings.

Kelsey, on the other hand, questioned me about the candid shot of the girl in front of my motorcycle. She saw it the night I was grilled by the police. She thought it was odd that I had never met the girl and yet there she was next to my bike. I didn’t know how to explain it, but that didn’t stop me from trying.

“Anyone could have followed me somewhere and snapped a picture while I was in a restaurant or a store,” I said. “She’s a stalker.” I pushed Kelsey back on the bed and crawled up her until I was straddling her hips. “And really who wouldn’t want this?” I said unbuttoning my shirt and shrugging it off. But when I bent down to kiss her, her hand shot up, pushing against my chest. “What?” I asked.

“Your cockiness is exactly why everyone believes what that girl said about you.”

“Flaunt what ya got, I always say.” I leaned down again, but her hand stopped me a second time. “What?” Why did she want to talk? I wasn’t really in the mood to talk.

“My roommate told my dad that I was seeing you and he called me today. He thinks you’re a punk.”

“He doesn’t even know me.” I started unbuttoning her shirt. All I could think about was what her bright green bra was covering.

“My point exactly. I told him we’d have brunch with him on Sunday.”

I groaned and rolled onto the bed next to her. Way to ruin the mood. I wasn’t ready to meet her father. I barely accepted the fact that I couldn’t date other women and now I was meeting her family? “I told Will that I would meet him on Sunday. He’s going to help me strategize against the press.” I knew she could hear the lie in my voice.

“Call him. I’m sure he will understand. Daddy’s only going to be in town for the day.” Her voice made a sexy southern twang when she said “daddy” and I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face. I loved accents. It didn’t matter what they were. I once dated a girl who didn’t speak a hint of English, just because of how my name rolled off her tongue.

“You’ll go, right?” she asked.

“No.” I shook my head to emphasize my point.

She started buttoning her shirt. “It’s important to me, Liam.”

“Why would you want him to meet me? He’s not going to like me.” I propped my head up with my elbow against the bed and met her blue eyes. “I’m screwing his daughter. He’s going to hate me.”

“You won’t be screwing his daughter if you don’t go.”

“And women claim that they don’t use sex as a weapon.”

“I just want to show Daddy that you’re not like your character Ashton Post.” There was that twang again.

“So he’s a fan?”

“I wouldn’t call him a fan, but he does watch the show.”

“OK, who do you want me to be? The detached jerk, the doting boyfriend or the intellectual jock? Just pick one. I am an actor.”

“Just be Liam.” She touched my face and dragged her thumb across my lower lip. “I’m sure he would like you best. I do.”

It was easier to be a character than to be me, especially for “daddy.” I stared into her eyes for a full minute until the doorbell rang. I groaned again, realizing what I wanted wasn’t going to happen, and left the bedroom to answer the door. Still shirtless, I peeked out the side window to verify it wasn’t paparazzi and saw the two detectives from the other night on my doorstep. I instinctively looked around the room to make sure there wasn’t anything illegal sitting out in the open. Not that I had illicit drugs or firearms laying around, it was more of a reaction, like automatically braking when I spotted the CHP, just in case I was speeding. Convinced I was safe, I opened the door.

“Mr. Nordstrom, may we come in. We have additional questions from the other night,” the male detective stated. I remembered his name was Rodrigues.

I stepped aside and they filed in. As I led them to the living room the female detective said, “You have a nice place here. Do you rent or own?”

I was sure she already knew the answer. Why people played these games was beyond me. “A friend of mine owns it,” I said and they sat down on the leather sofa. “I’m pretty sure I can’t talk to you without my lawyer present.”

Rodrigues raised an eyebrow at my comment but didn’t respond until Kelsey settled by my side on the oversized chair. “We’re not here to talk to you. We’re here to talk to Mrs. Adams,” he stated.

I took out my phone and called my father. Of course, it went to voicemail, so I sent him a text instead. Being the lawyer he was, he avoided texting if possible. Texts could be subpoenaed so he frowned on them, but it was an emergency.

“It’s Ms. Adams,” said Kelsey.

“Oh, my mistake,” stated the officer. “We were just wondering, Ms. Adams, if you could identify Mr. Nordstrom’s motorcycle in this photo.” He held out a photo printed on plain white paper—the same as the one on the Internet.

“I can’t say whether it is his or not. Lots of bikes look alike.”

“Well, is that his license?” asked the female.

“I don’t know. Don’t you have the ability to look that up?” questioned Kelsey. The plate was pretty clear in the picture. I’m sure the girl made sure the angle was just right. And the detectives knew it was my bike. They saw it on the driveway and could have verified it there. They just wanted Kelsey to see the pic and have doubts so they could get her to change her story.

“The plate is mine and you know it. You walked right by it on your way in. That doesn’t mean I know the girl. I think we’re done here,” I said.

The detectives both rose and Rodrigues handed Kelsey his card, saying, “If you can think of anything else that you remember about that night give us a call, Ms. Adams.

I knew then that this wasn’t over. As the detectives left I started to wonder what connections the sixteen-year-old girl had. She had to be important for the police to pursue the case with my flawless alibi. Was she the police chief’s or a studio head’s daughter, or had I piss someone else off?
Copyright 2014 Susan Schussler

Paris in LA: May 15, 2013

Paris Borel:  May 15, 2013

I thought about trying to connect with Jonathan Williams. After all, he would definitely be my first choice, but I know that hooking up with him is about as likely as me becoming the governor of California. I ran into him at a charity event once, once in four years. I can still feel his lips pressed against my cheek when he greeted me and he smelled indecently sexy. He was with Mia Thompson then, and I only spoke to him for a couple of minutes before she pulled him away. He and I don’t really travel in the same circles and he has some kind of block on his phone number when he calls. I could contact his publicist, but I won’t. That’s just too desperate for a social call. I have other options I can utilize. I’m not that pathetic.

I’m not patient either. I found Kaleb Gossling’s number on Gerard’s phone when Gerard was passed out on the bed a week ago. All his teammates were in his contacts. I also found not one, but several nude pictures of a girl that he denied sleeping with. It solidified my resolve that he needed a dose of payback and I made the call right from my husband’s phone while he blissfully slept next to me. I figured that Gerard would enjoy that small bit of irony once he cooled off about the affair and it would provide a trail for him to find. The affair would mean nothing if it went unnoticed.

I figured Gossling was the one that would piss off my spouse the most, so I chose him. He wasn’t even surprised when it was me on the line and not Gerard, intrigued maybe, but not surprised. He said he was expecting my call. I know that was a lie. I didn’t even know myself until the opportunity presented itself to me. We made plans to meet for drinks, just to talk, on following evening when I knew Gerard would be out.

I played my part in my short fuchsia dress and more than a few heads turned when I entered the restaurant. He welcomed me as if I was his teammate's wife, but his eyes lingered a little too long in all the right places and I knew I would get what I wanted. He may have known my intentions from the beginning, but he made me spell it out for him anyway. At first, he seemed a bit leery that Gerard was setting him up—that the second he agreed to my proposal I would back out, leaving him frustrated without the proper release. I assured him that Gerard had nothing to do with it, though. I told him that I had always found him eye-catching and was tired of Gerard getting what he wanted while I sat back and watched. It was time for me to get my share, and he bought it. It was the truth for the most part. I wouldn’t have asked him to meet me if I didn’t find him attractive.

We slipped back to his place after a few drinks and I wasn’t disappointed. He definitely had skill. He may not have known my body as well as Gerard or been as attentive, but he made up for it in creativity and enthusiasm.

Mia's Fabulous World: May 10, 2013

Mia Thompson:  May 10, 2013

I’m going to the club tonight with Kiera. I need some release. Between my mother’s tell-all article and this game that Jonathan is playing, I’m going insane. When I stopped over at his place the other day, he acted surprised that I still knew the gate's security code and still had my key. If he had wanted the key back, he should have asked and security codes should have been changed by now.

I walked in on something—I could tell. He was sitting on the couch typing on his iPad and glanced up with a start when I entered. He scooted sideways, blocking my view of his screen, as I plopped down next to him.

His lips cured up halfheartedly and he finished typing before he spoke. “What’s up, Mia? I didn't realize you still had a...” He started reading and didn't finish his sentence.

“You never asked for it.” I knew he meant the key. “Who are you talking to?” He began typing again and I felt like I was speaking to the air.

“Just gimme a few. I’ll be right back.” He lifted his perfectly sculpted shirtless body off the couch and disappeared into his bedroom, without even glancing up. He was gone for fifteen minutes!

I helped myself to a glass of chardonnay and checked my email, on m phone, as I waited. When he returned his abs were covered with a thin black T-shirt. In my mind, I questioned why he had covered himself. Did he want to go out? I was digging in and had no intention of leaving. He didn't need to pull on clothes for me. I've seen everything he has and I prefer him shirtless. Hell, I prefer him stark-naked. With that image in my brain, I watched as he collapsed in the chair across from me.

“I read Belinda’s tell-all article. She doesn't really believe the crap she’s spewing, does she?” he asked.

“No. I think Mommy Dearest is just seeking funds to upgrade her wire hangers to wooden ones.” I assumed he would get the reference, but added, “She wants a new condo and figured she would use her daughter’s fame to finance it.”

“Was that true about the dress you wore for the premiere of Love Twice? he asked.

“So, I stole some debutante's dress. Kill me. It was gorgeous and it fit me like a glove. The other actress didn't have the body to fill it out. Even the designer’s rep admitted that. He’s the one that offered it to me. He said he would find her a new one. I can’t help that it was the day of the premiere. I was way more visible on the red carpet, next to you, than she was. Why does my mother have to bring that up? She knows how fragile I was back then. It was impossible being thrown into fame like that. I wasn't prepared. I would have done anything to succeed.” Several tears streamed down my face and I wasn't sure if I had put them there or if they were real.

Before I realized it, Jonathan was sitting next to me and I was wiping my tears on his T-shirt. “I've been through this kind of thing before, you know. It will blow over soon,” he said, then made the exasperated sigh he makes when he doesn't know what to do to fix my problems.

“It’s your fault,” I said. I don’t know why I placed blame on him and I regretted it as soon as Jonathan’s arm stiffened behind me.

“I know,” he admitted. “I never should have ruined your life.”

I tried to tell him that he didn't ruin it, he made my life. He made me famous and that's what I wanted. But he completely detached after that and no matter what I said, I couldn't pull him out of the funk he had fallen into.

Blonde Chicks Preferred: May 9, 2013

Liam Nordstom: May 9, 2013 

I hung out at Will’s most of the day yesterday. We killed a few thousand zombies as we hashed over the trip to Austin that we took a few weeks back. Our buddy Chris’s band was playing at what we thought was going to be a club but was really a sixth street bar about the size of my bedroom closet.

In such close quarters, our usual hats and sunglasses disguise proved worthless. Most of the patrons left us alone, though—only a few girls approached. But the music blared too loud to talk and they eventually gave up. Someone must have sent out a tweet, ratting out our whereabouts, because, before we knew it, the tiny bar was packed beyond the fire marshal’s limit and they had to stop alcohol sales until it cleared out. We sat at a table with a music promoter that was scoping out Chris’ band and he gave us passes to another concert for the next night.

When Chris finished playing, we snuck out the back, which was our only escape. The crowd outside the front door was a hundred people thick, and we never would have made it back to the hotel exiting that way. The concert the next night was a bigger venue and easier to blend in. Overall, the trip was laid back and after the first night, we didn't have too much trouble moving around Austin. We visited a guitar store and couple vintage shops, and everyone we met was pretty decent.

Will and I hit Leo’s for dinner after our zombie killing spree and he mentioned that Mia had stopped by the day before. He didn't say much else about her, though. I did get him to fess up about the girl that’s captured his attention. He said she’s a college student who he met online. She doesn't know who he really is and I think that works in her favor.

He was pretty guarded about her, though and he seemed taken in a way I'd never seen before. Will and I have dated more than our share of girls and we know what’s out there. Maybe this will work for him for a while. I’m sure it will change after he reveals himself. The sweetest girls turn into raging lunatics the second they realize you’re a celebrity. I don't have to remind Will that. He knows better than I do, and there is no point in crushing his happiness. Time and the media will take care of that.

Mia's Fabulous World: May 7, 2013

Mia Thompson:  May 7, 2013

It’s been a couple of weeks and I haven’t heard from Jonathan. I thought if I backed off a bit he would come to me, but I haven’t even received a text. A text. That’s not asking much. I don’t know if I should be pissed or worried. He should at least thank me properly for helping him out with the press. Most guys would offer dinner or a day at the spa. I know he paid for dinner when we went out and being seen with him isn't exactly a hardship, but still. I was doing him a favor. Well, I was doing myself a favor too.

Jonathan’s not one to lavish a girl with gifts, though. He thinks it comes off disingenuous. Instead, he would rather make a grand gesture, something more personal. Maybe he’s just waiting for the right moment to ask. After thinking about it, I realized that a friends-with-benefits isn't really Jon’s style. He would more likely want to get back together with me. We are perfect for each other, after all, and he knows it. The press knows it. The fans know it. He’ll probably surprise me in his casual way like it’s no big deal. And I’ll act shocked like I hadn't planted the seed.     

  

On the other hand, maybe I should be worried. There haven’t been any sightings of him in the tabloids since his day at the beach with Nordstrom. Not even the usual coffee shop fan photos and I would know. Even though I don’t cyber stalk him, I still get every one of his articles flagged to my phone notifications. I only track myself, but we are eternally linked together—Mia Thompson and Jonathan Williams, forever one in the press.

I’ll stop by his place and check on him. He probably just needs a push in the right direction. I still have my key.

Paris in LA: May 4, 2013

Paris Borel:  May 4, 2013

OK. I've made my list: Sabastian Defoe, Kaleb Gosselin or Sean Rutledge. They are all on Gerard’s team. I think Defoe is still married, but his wife hasn't been around in over a year. I don’t want to foul anyone else’s marriage. I know the opposite end of that too well. The two other players are rookies and single. I’m not sure which one would bother Gerard the most, probably Defoe or possibly Gosselin. Gosselin and Gerard had a falling out in January. I never found out what it was about, but Gosselin was really pissed and slammed him into the boards. They haven’t mended their issues yet and that might work to my advantage. While Gosselin would be the easiest, Rutledge would be the most fun. He’s got a wholesomeness that I would love to ruin. Sleeping with him wouldn't upset Gerard nearly enough though.

The person who would grate on Gerard the most isn't in the Hockey League. He’s an actor. Jonathan Williams. It would drive Gerard crazy if he caught me with him. Gerard calls him my “special friend,” because he thinks I’m obsessed with him. I've followed Jonathan’s career since his first big movie and I have to say he’s matured quite nicely over the last four years. I've helped him out with PR more than a couple of times and we've developed an unmistakable bond.

Most actors snub their noses at gossip websites. They think they are above our means, but Jonathan is different. Since his time with Mia Thompson, “the media queen,” he recognizes the importance of the press. He knows the amount of influence my website wields and he’s not above using me to his advantage. I let him. He could use me for anything he wants. Absolutely anything. And Gerard knows it. That is why sleeping with Jonathan would be like a freshly sharpened skate ground into Gerard’s back. But I’m not sure the opportunity will present itself anytime soon, so I’ll make a backup plan just in case the wait is too long.

Blonde Chicks Perferred: May 2, 2013

Liam Nordstrom:  May 2, 2013

Mia Thompson, what a trip. On our way down to the beach on Sunday I asked Will the same question that I had posed to her at the club. “Are you two getting back together?” His response didn't surprise me.

“How long have you and I been friends?”

I laughed and hefted my board and paddle into my shoulder as I followed him down the steps onto the sand. He seemed eager to hit the water and in a better mood than I’d seen him in a long time.

“So you’re not? Thank God.” I could feel the relief wash over my face. Mia has always rubbed me the wrong way and not many chicks do. I cheered when Will finally broke it off with her. At the time, he made it sound like the break up was mutual, but I could tell he was the one pushing for it.

“Remi talked me into the press with Mia. The fans eat it up when we’re seen together. It’s just for show to negate the bad press after that photo shoot,” he added.

“I didn't think you cared what the rags said about you. You shouldn't hook up with Mia because of bad press—just tell your publicist no. It’s not worth your soul.”

“You should talk.” He chuckled. “Have you seen your soul lately? I’m not hooking up with Mia. There is someone else I’m interested in, though.” He grinned with an innocence that I hadn't seen since high school.

I asked him if it was Rachel Marrero, the fresh new girl that every man in Hollywood wants to tap, and who just happens to be his love interest in his next film. Lucky him. Rumors of the two hooking up started circling the second they were cast together. He denied it was her, though. Then he refused to tell me anything about the girl who had clearly affected his disposition, except that he was going to take it slow with her. I hope she’s good to him. If anyone deserves a break, it’s Will.

Mia's Fabulous World: April 30, 2013

Mia Thompson: April 30, 2013

I've been thinking about this friends-with-benefits thing with Jonathan and the more I envision it, the more I want it. Badly. I just need to figure out how to convince him, which shouldn't be too difficult, right? He is a man and I am me.

I ran into Liam Nordstrom and Jake Gorboni at Club Priela on Saturday. It always throws me off when Jonathan’s friends call him “Will.” With a last name of Williams, it shouldn't surprise me that they call him that, but when Liam asked me if Will and I were getting back together, it took me a second to figure out who he was talking about. After it clicked in my mind, I asked, “What have you heard?” I was hoping Jonathan had said something to him.

“Just what the tabloids are saying,” he answered.

“You’ll have to ask him. He’ll tell you if he wants you to know,” I said. “I don’t gossip, even about myself.” Which was a total lie. I’d be nowhere if I didn't self-promote.

“My guess is no, or you wouldn't be out clubbing tonight.”

He was right. I should have skipped the club—one more obstacle with the press. Match point. “Why do you ask, if you know all the answers?”

“I’m just looking out for Will. I would hate to see you hook-up with some guy at the club if he thinks you’re getting back together,” Liam said, like a true golden boy in wolves' clothes.

“Is that a proposition? Do you want to take me home tonight, Nordstrom?” I ran my polished nails up his cheek and through his hair, as I spoke. “I thought you preferred blondes.” I knew it wasn't a proposition, but I enjoyed toying with him. Men are so easy to torment. I wouldn't have gone home with him, anyway, and Liam knew it. Sure, he has his own following with his cable show, but it wouldn't do me any favors to be seen with him. Besides such an act would ruin my chances of getting back with Jonathan.

He stepped back, obviously affected by my touch. “I’m going paddle boarding with Will tomorrow. I’ll let him know you’re asking about him."

“Don’t bother. I’ll call him. So you’re still out in Malibu?” I changed the subject to prevent my intentions from spilling too soon.

I hung with Nordstrom and Gorboni a few more minutes, making small talk until Kiera returned from dancing with the piece of meat that she had selected from the nobody section. She doesn't seem to care about a man’s status in Hollywood. If he has a six-pack, a hot ass, and can hold a decent conversation, she’ll invite him in. It doesn't even matter if he has money. Of course, she’s always had plenty of her own, or I should say her parents’ money. She’s never had to fight to get ahead like I have. Sure, I have plenty of money, now, but being a self-made actress, I know what it’s like to struggle and I’m not about to lose all I've worked for over some hot bodied no-name. I don’t have her luxury. I have to care about who I’m seen with or the press will crucify me.

Her slum boy left the VIP area shortly after they returned from the dance floor. So the rest of the night, Kiera and I danced with Chet Blake, and a couple other trust-fund guys—no one famous, though.

I was tempted to show up at Nordstrom’s the next day and join Jonathan on his paddleboard, but I didn't. I know how to play him and he needs space. If I try too hard, it will only make him skittish.

Mia's Fabulous World: April 25, 2013

Mia Thompson:  April 25, 2013

What the hell is going on with Jonathan? Sometimes I don’t have a clue what is going on in that head of his. I thought that this PR ploy to have us seen together in public would be the perfect opportunity to start up a friends-with-benefits between us. Why not? Neither of us is seeing anyone right now and it would definitely be beneficial. But last weekend, when we pulled up to the valet station at the Hotel Freemont and I told the attendant that we wouldn't need the car until the morning, Jonathan said, “She’s joking. We just came for dinner—two, three hours max.”

Then, as he handed the valet a large bill, he leaned in and whispered in my ear, “Just dinner, Mia. That’s all I need. There’s no need to put on an elaborate show. Last weekend’s press was probably enough and tonight is just to seal it. We don’t have to pretend to spend the night together.”

The camera flashes sprayed us as he slipped his arm around my waist and we posed on the sidewalk for a very short minute. I understand his hate of the paparazzi, but they are a necessary entity. If you’re not good enough for the vultures, then you won’t carry a film and you won’t get the big roles.

My hotel room surprise was meant to inspire and any other male would have jumped at the offer, so I opened the conversation again, just in case he didn't understand. “Pretend? I wasn't pretending. I already booked the room, lover-boy.” I kissed his cheek to elicit a photo frenzy before we stepped through the door, and he chuckled.

“Now the press will say we’re getting married. Either I’m gay or engaged. There’s no in between.”

“I can vouch for you. Just give me your permission to share,” I said and he chuckled again. “Or we could just leak a video of us using the room I booked.” I knew I could get him to smile. Damn, I love that dimple of his. Why did we break up? 

The rest of the night was more platonic than I would admit to anyone. We caught up on each other’s families and I showed him my mother’s “tell all” article in the rags. She’s such a bitch. We ran into a couple of people we both knew and shared some drinks. But Jonathan seemed a bit distracted all night, like his mind was elsewhere and we left without using the room.