The Decoy Girlfriend(20)
Taft follows the motion with narrowed eyes and hates Gareth even harder.
“I know you think I’m being hard on you because you weren’t my first choice for the male lead in Banshee. But your chemistry doesn’t lie. It’s off the charts on-screen. It’s why you got the role. But for you, this upward trajectory is pure fucking luck. Mandi, though? I have been conscientiously crafting her brand from the second she signed with me. She got top movie parts fresh out of the gate. Do you know how rare that is? She’s going places, and I’ll be damned if it’s downhill because of a weak link.”
Jesus. Taft’s aware that Gareth’s never exactly thawed toward him, but he’s never chucked the gloves off and gone straight for the jugular. He’s a load of hot air, but he’s still managed to make Taft feel horribly guilty. Gareth’s right—Taft hadn’t been discreet. He’d reacted purely on instinct when he confronted Mandi’s look-alike last night. He didn’t stop to think about the fallout. He should have anticipated that there would be dozens of hawkish eyes watching their every move.
Taft stares at the space between Gareth’s eyebrows, wondering if he’s leveled up his telepathic murder skills enough to at least give the man a headache.
A second later, Gareth’s cheek twitches and he rubs his forehead.
Lukewarmly satisfied, Taft uncrosses his arms and takes another swig of his water. “So we’ll just lay low for a while. Stay out of the limelight. They’ll get bored and move on when they see there’s no story here.”
Gareth grabs for a clementine that he doesn’t peel, just squeezes in his hand like it’s a stress ball. “That is the exact opposite of what you need to be doing. As long as you two are holed up, you fan the flames of speculation. We need more public appearances to counter the rumor that you broke up.”
Moira has a strained look on her face, as if agreeing with Gareth on anything brings her pain. “Let’s figure this out together,” she says with a forced smile. “We’re not leaving until we have a game plan for the next month. Let me just cancel my eight-o’-clock.”
The rest of the meeting passes in a blur. By the time Mandi and Taft are excused—leaving their managers behind to hash out the itinerary—Moira’s nine-and ten-o’-clock appointments have all been pushed forward.
“Think they’ll kill each other?” Mandi asks as she steps through the front door Taft’s held open for her.
“Moira knows better than to commit murder in a room that doesn’t have blinds.”
She adjusts her metallic-blue sunglasses on her nose. “Darn.”
He throws her a quick glance but doesn’t push. When it comes to Gareth he has to tread carefully, like he’s walking on eggshells instead of warm, California-sun-dappled pavement.
The man’s great at contracts, but taking care of his clients’ mental health? Not so much.
But Mandi’s loyalty runs deep. Taft should know; he’s one of the few people privileged enough to have it. Which means he also knows she won’t find it easy to dump the man who jump-started her career.
It’s easy in this business to feel like you owe someone for saying yes, easy for the power dynamic to shift from two equals in a professional relationship to a client who feels indebted, worried that they’ll never get another yes again. It’s total bullshit; if Mandi left Gareth right now, there would be two dozen managers ready to take his place, all of them dying to work with her. She seems to be the only one who doesn’t see it.
“You look tired,” he says in lieu of what he really wishes he could say but knows she isn’t ready to hear. “How late did you stay up?”
He can’t quite tell, but he gets the feeling she’s rolling her eyes behind her Ray-Bans.
“Don’t think the circles under your eyes have gone unnoticed,” she informs him, digging in her purse. “I’m just polite enough not to mention it. Here, this’ll help.”
He accepts the little pot of Glossier Stretch Concealer he’s bummed off her a few times before. “Thanks. I’ll buy you a new one.”
“No rush. The dark circles will remind me I’m human.” A gusty laugh escapes her.
Eyebrows scrunched together, Taft tries to make sense of her statement.
“So are you ever going to explain why we couldn’t just tell them the truth?” he asks. “Would have saved us getting chewed out.” Him more than her.
“Soon.” She scrolls her phone, eyes lighting up as though she’s got good news.
“Okay, Little Miss Cryptic,” he drawls, letting a hint of his Texan accent come through.
Mandi looks up with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry. I know you got the brunt of it. Gareth was a bit much back there.”
“I don’t need you to apologize for him. He doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve you, either.”
She bumps his shoulder with her own. “There you go being a caring, supportive boyfriend again. Tell me how I’m supposed to break up with you?”
“According to every news outlet in the known universe, you already have.” He screws up his face, letting the bitterness seep into his words. “Everyone thinks we had a blowup because I cheated on you.”
She leans her head against his shoulder for a brief moment. “I can’t understand why that’s the story they’re running with. How do they not see what a decent guy you are? You’d never do that.”