Just the Sexiest Man Alive(76)
There were things she needed to say to Jason Andrews.
And next Saturday would be the night.
ACROSS TOWN, PERCHED high above the city in his Hollywood Hills home, Scott hung up the phone having the very same thought as Taylor.
Next Saturday would be the night, he told himself.
Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had been the hottest story in every tabloid newspaper, gossip column, and entertainment news program for the past several weeks. It seemed as though the whole world was waiting with bated breath to discover the identity of the elusive dark-haired woman who had so obviously caught the eye of the Sexiest Man Alive.
Scott knew that Saturday night was the perfect time to introduce Taylor to her public. After Saturday, everyone would know who was merely the “Other Contender.” Let the world see that Jason Andrews’s Mystery Woman had moved on to bigger and brighter pastures.
Him.
Landing the lead role in Outback Nights had been one thing. But this was far better—Scott had a feeling that stealing Taylor from Jason would be a much bigger blow to the so-called King of Hollywood’s ego.
True, he didn’t exactly seem to have her eating out of the palm of his hand. Yet. But this soon would change. Of that he was quite certain.
And it all would happen on Saturday night.
The thought put Scott into a great mood as he stepped out onto his deck. The scene hadn’t changed much since he’d left to call Taylor: the three girls he’d picked up earlier at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf frolicked happily in the pool, splashing each other and drinking frozen margaritas. Off to the side, Rob reclined in a lounge chair, eating Cheetos and using his towel as a napkin.
Scott resumed his place in the lounge chair next to Rob.
“How did it go with what’s-her-name?”
Ignoring Rob’s question, Scott looked pointedly at the Cheetos bag that had started off full just twenty minutes ago and now appeared to be virtually empty.
Rob made a face in response. “They’re baked.”
“Whatever. Just don’t get into my pool with that orange shit all over your hands.” Scott leaned back to watch the girls, who smiled at him in collective invitation. “As for your question, everything’s fine with what’s-her-name. I’m taking her to the Black and Pink Ball next Saturday.”
“That should at least be worth a blow job.”
“You would think so, right? But she needs to ‘rest’ tonight,” Scott said with mocking finger quotes. Then with his arms folded casually behind his head, he eyed the girls in the pool. He wondered how much longer he should let them go on splashing each other before he jumped in and gave them something to really splash about.
“So I’m gonna have Marty make sure she and I are photographed together at the party,” he told Rob. He had officially signed with Marty Shepherd three days ago and was eager to take his new publicist out for a spin. “Then he can leak her name to the press.” He grinned, proud of this plan. “Taylor Donovan—the girl formerly known as the Mystery Woman.”
Rob looked over as he scrunched up the Cheetos bag. “I thought you told me she had issues with the press—something to do with her trial or whatever.”
“She does. But that’s not my problem, is it?”
Scott glanced back at the girls in the pool, who were coyly gesturing for him to join them.
“Ladies . . . how’s the water?”
In response, one of the girls took off her bikini top and smiled. The other two quickly followed suit.
“Looks like it might be a little chilly,” Scott said, enjoying the view. He got up from his lounge chair, glancing at Rob as he walked by. “Now that you’ve finished your snack . . . I assume you know your way out?”
Rob looked at him in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding.” He pointed an orange-tipped finger at the three girls in the water, whose bikini bottoms had now gone the way of their tops. “What about me?”
Scott shook his head with an oh-so-sorry grin. “Sorry, buddy—but this one’s all mine. I told you, you need to lay off the desserts anyway.”
And with that, Scott dove cleanly into the pool. When he surfaced in the midst of the three naked girls, Taylor Donovan was the last thing on his mind.
JASON HAD A meeting with Marty later that week to discuss his promo schedule for Inferno, which opened the following Friday. It was a whirlwind of a lineup that would have him jetting all across the country: press junkets, photo shoots, the Today show, The Tonight Show, The Early Show, The Late Show, Ellen, Oprah, and Barbara Walters on The View. All in the span of four days.
Since Jason would still be in Los Angeles the upcoming weekend, Marty asked if he planned to attend Tony Redstone’s Black & Pink Ball. Jason was just about to caustically reply that indeed he was not so planning—Redstone was the head of the studio that had greenlit Outback Nights and supposedly (according to Jason’s sources) the man who had balked at his salary and decided to go with the far less talented (again, according to Jason’s sources) and less expensive Scott Casey.
But then Marty casually mentioned that if Jason was planning to attend, perhaps he could bring Naomi Cross. Given the fact that Taylor Donovan was already going with Scott Casey.
Hearing this, Jason felt a pit form in his stomach.
He hated the way he’d left things with her last weekend, but he’d been too mad and later, too embarrassed to call her. He had realized over the past couple days, however, that they really needed to talk. And not over the telephone.