Page 4 of Double Standard

“I’m sure it’s uncomfortable, to know we discussed this before looping you in, but if I can explain...”

He stands up, looking over my shoulder for Emily, or perhaps to map an escape route himself.

My mind reels, scrambling for something to say to get him to stay.If I lose this role...I can’t let myself complete the thought. Not when my career is all I have.

My poised, assured persona is clearly not working with Levi, so I decide to slip into another version of myself. To try a different, more physical approach.

“Hey, why don’t we go outside? We can walk and talk. Please?” I drop the almonds onto a plate. With a pleading expression, I sidle up against his torso and loop my arm through his. The visible pulse in his neck, blood rushing against muscle, quickens. Both of his eyes flicker closed as though he’s deciding whether to entertain this request.

But then his lids pop open, he exhales a breath, and he lets me lead him out the side door.

V

Levi

Sherry was wrong. I am not “doing great.” What I’m doing is walking in the gardens behind a house with as many rooms as my family farm’s six outbuildings, and I’ve got a genuine leading lady on my arm who seems to believe that she needs me.

Ana looks up at me—maybe five-foot-five to my six-two—and releases an exhale. “It feels nice to take a walk.” She blows a piece of blonde hair from her eyes with the corner of her mouth. Out here, with the sun on her, she looks younger, a bit softer. “I don’t tend to relax like this during the day.”

I squint at her. “Is that what this is? Relaxing?” A laugh escapes me. “Because I thought I was here for business.” It would be great if I could control my mouth instead of blurting out my brain’s next thought.

She responds with a sigh, weary and defeated. “Yes, OK. I’d like to tell you more about this... thing I have in mind.”

I kick at a stick in my path. “I’m not sure I can be of much help.”

She takes a deep breath, swings her eyes to her feet, and keeps them there as she speaks. “TheHollywood Starpublished a piece implying that I’m having an affair with Colt. And I’m not, obviously, but scandal sells. That and sex, and theStaris trying to sell both.” She lowers her voice, even though it’s just the two of us. Like saying this is a risk. “I’m weeks away from starting the biggest role of my career, and Francesca threatened to replace me with someone who’s less trouble. That’s the exact word she used: trouble. Fifteen years of working my ass off—for this.”

“She’s talking about recasting your role? Shit.” The story didn’t make it to the top results in my search, but I can imagine it’s already picking up steam and will be a talking point, if notthetalking point, whenever someone discussesAthena’s War. Finally getting to a place in your career where what you want is within reach, only for someone to get in the way? That’s familiar to me. It’s rage-making.

“So I had this idea, because there are no photos of me and Colt... that it doesn’t have to be Colt.” She stops walking and turns to face me, finally bringing her gaze to mine. “It could also be you.” She holds eye contact, the edge of a plea in her voice. “If we play it right, we could convince the press and everyone else it was always you.”

Her scheme finally clicks into place for me. I’m here because I look like Colt. I’m not just some guy. I’m a professional stand-in for the man at the heart of her drama.

“Listen, I know this isn’t why you moved to Hollywood,” she continues before I can object. “But if you do this, you’ll get your name out there, attend a few events, meet some people. Probably gain some respect because a man dating ‘up’ makes him smart.” She adds an eye roll to punctuate the last point, and the no-nonsense woman I first sat across from peeks through. She knows how to get what she wants. Not with me, though.

I start walking again. “Yeah, being seen with you might ‘get my name out there,’ but this is my first big job. I can’t risk being on the next flight home to Ohio. While I’d love to help... I’m sorry, but why would I put my career on the line to fix yours?” It comes out harsher than I intend.

“Well, if you can help me with this, Francesca says she’ll push the studio to hire you as Colt’s double in his next film too. She’s a producer on that one, and he agreed to the plan.”

“Colt’snextfilm?” I ask, brows raised. “So just to be clear: We pretend we’ve been seeing each other for a few weeks and let people thinkwewere spotted together—not you and Colt Haggerty? And then Francesca will ask for me in the next film?”

“Yes, exactly.” Ana nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. It pinkens with the contact, and she begins leading us back toward the house. “Assuming you’re good at what you do and we can make this relationship feel real.”

I understand enough about social media to know that people are quicker than ever to call bullshit on what theysuspect are PR relationships, and that makes this a giant gamble. But if it works, this is exactly the sort of thing that would buy me at least another year in the industry, guaranteed. A chance to establish myself. Prove my dad wrong about this career being a pipe dream. And while I’m not sure the plan’s foolproof, it seems less risky than most of what’s involved in my work.

I could help her with this. It wouldn’t be hard. That and, well, I’m a sucker for being needed.

“And if we do this,” I start, “how would it work?” I slip my arm from hers and tuck my hand into my pocket. I don’t want her touch clouding my judgment.

“Five events together between now and the end of filming forAthena’s War. Some casual, some not. One in LA with guaranteed cameras, the rest in Nashville when we’re filming. We’d be affectionate but not over-the-top. We’d have to kiss for cameras, but we can avoid answering any questions about the relationship because we want to ‘respect our partner’s privacy.’ We’d agree not to be with anyone else romantically for the next few months, publicly or privately.”

I nod, enjoying the way her cheeks have warmed with conviction.

“And most importantly, you can’t fall in love with me.”

At this, the momentum comes to a screeching halt, and so do my feet. “Sorry, did you just say I can’tfall in love with you?” I choke on a laugh. “Are you worried I might?”

“I don’t know. Are you saying I’m not lovable?”