* * *
As far asGriffin was concerned, it hadn’t been hard to hang out in the penthouse at the Stark Century Hotel before the premiere. After the photo of him and Beverly started making the rounds, it was even easier to stay hidden away in the room.
Beverly, of course, still had to go out daily for interviews, public appearances, and meetings with various teams from the studio. But Griffin had the luxury of hiding inside, and he was perfectly fine with that.
He worked on the script for Hidden Justice. He watched movies. He read books. When Beverly returned in the evenings, he’d go over his changes on the script with her. In turn, she’d entertain him with stories from the day’s appearances. And each and every day, she’d have at least one story to share with him that featured some reporter asking her about Griffin.
“You’re like a mythical creature to them,” she told him one evening in bed. Then she grinned and started to kiss her way down his chest. “Then again, that’s pretty much my opinion, too.”
Even from the safety of the penthouse, Griffin knew she wasn’t exaggerating. When he read an article about the movie on the Internet, the mysterious man at the premiere was mentioned. In the mornings, he’d watch clips from late night television from the night before, and invariably Beverly was fielding the same question. It was ridiculous to him how obsessed the town was about finding out the identity of the mystery man. And he feared that the collective will of the people in the Los Angeles area might end up being enough to put a name to his persona.
More than that, he feared that the fascination might be equally virulent in Austin. Thankfully, that proved not to be the case.
* * *
As planned,they returned to Austin after a week in Los Angeles, and they dove immediately into final revisions on the script, because Beverly would be starting a nationwide press tour on Thursday of the following week.
“I think I want to cut the scene with Hammond and his sister,” Griffin said one afternoon when they were working at her house by the lake. They’d gotten a lot done over the last few days, and they’d treated themselves with a change in venue.
Now, they were in her backyard, and he was lying in a hammock with his laptop on his stomach while Beverly edited a printout of that day’s work at a nearby picnic table. Or, at least, that’s what she was supposed to be doing. Instead, her mind was elsewhere.
“Bev? Earth to Bev.”
Startled, she looked up at him. “What? Sorry.”
“Where are you? I’m thinking it’s not with Angelique and Hammond.”
“Sorry, I—nothing.”
He sat up, the put the computer on the small table beside the hammock. “What?”
She drew a deep breath and decided what the hell—the worst he could do was say no. “I don’t want to leave. Not now.“ She was scheduled to hit the road on Thursday, right after she finished emceeing for the Man of the Month Contest.
“Because of the script?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because of us.”
“Oh.” He grinned. “Is it bad that I like hearing that? Because I don’t want you to leave either.”
“Then come with me. You can record the podcast on the road. We can write on the road. It’s a whole month, and I don’t want to be apart. So why don’t you just come with me.”
For a moment, he simply stared at her. Then a slow smile touched his lips. “I like the sound of that. But if I’m with you, we’re going to end up dealing with the mystery man bullshit all over again. And we haven’t seen much of that since we’ve been in Austin."
She shrugged. “I’m good with spending most of our free time in the hotel. And it’s not like the press in Idaho or St. Louis is going to be following me around. So long as we don’t announce where we’re going, we can grab dinners out, the whole thing. No way will any of the places on the junket be as crazy about the mystery of who I’m seeing as folks in LA. No one in the rest of the country cares."
“I’m not sure about that,” he said. “But I’ll agree they care less. And they’re a lot less crazed.”
“Exactly. And if anyone asks who you are, I’ll just say what I’ve been saying—that a girl has to have some secrets.”
“And it is a way to not hold up the script. The studio’s going to have one more round of revisions,” he said. “They always do. This way we wouldn’t have to work by phone.”
“See how brilliant I am?” she asked, coming to him. She climbed into the hammock with him, careful not to send them both tumbling. He curled his arm around her and she snuggled close. “I don’t want to go away. Not when we’re so new.”
“New doesn’t mean fragile.”
“I hope not. Because I don’t want what’s between us to break.”
He kissed her forehead. “We won’t. I promise.”