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She smiled, hanging the last of the blouses up before walking back towards the bed. "Well, as long as he doesn't read the papers, we'll be just fine."
"No," Kline said, shaking his head. "Never. Even Nina wouldn't let that happen. It's one of the few things she and I still agree on."
Rhiannon nodded, bending to retrieve a bag from the floor. "How are things going with the custody suit?"
"So far it's going alright. I don't think she's going to get what she wants. I'm mostly letting the lawyers handle the details," he said, clearing his throat. "Speaking of lawyers, mine thinks that our case against the photographers and at least the outlet they sold through is pretty solid. He's expecting the lion's share of a settlement."
She hummed. "I'm not after any money. I want the pictures destroyed and off the internet. Can’t we get some kind of prohibitive injunction to stop websites from displaying them?"
"That's rather impossible, love," he said, lying back on the bed. "Besides, the terms of the settlement have already been decided. All that's left now is for us to win the case."
"What good will taking a lot of money from them do? The damage is done. The pictures are public. It won't change anything."
"It will make them think twice about trading in that sort ofinformation."
Rhiannon sighed. "No, it won't. It will just make them try harder to nail someone else and make their money back."
"As long as it isn't us."
She shook her head and turned back to the closet. She just didn't feel like arguing anymore today. "What time is Jack coming home on Friday?"
"Nina's arranged to have him back by 4, so by the time you get home from work, he'll be here," Kline said, getting up to head for the bathroom. When he came back out, he was wearing track pants, and which meant that he was going into the gym to work out. After that, he'd spend ten minutes in the sauna, followed by a long, hot shower. She'd been sleeping over for less than the sum total of a week and already knew his routine.
She put the last of the clothes away and climbed into the bed with her laptop to work on some more revisions to one of the scripts until Kline came in and pounced on her, still dripping and warm from the shower.
She woke up early the next morning and left Kline sleeping while she grabbed a shower and got ready for work. With only the briefest consideration of the new wardrobe hanging in his closet, she opted for the clothes she'd brought from her place. Her standard uniform of comfortable, well-fitted jeans, a baby tee, and a light zipped sweater suited her just fine.
There was fresh juice in the fridge, and she poured a glass and took one of the low-carb, whole grain muffins from the counter. One bite had her scowling, and she tossed the rest in the garbage. She would stop at McDonald's on the way.
Leaving through the back way, she avoided the throng of reporters and fans out front, and headed off to the sanctuary of the studio. Work was good. Work would help her focus.
She arrived to the usual chaos, as sets were being rearranged and interns and stagehands were scurrying everywhere. She smiled when Thad appeared, bellowing something about the lighting and she detoured into her office and closed the door.
The day was filled with last minute script changes, meetings, and taping in the afternoon. Rhiannon was there until well after six and arrived back at Kline's to find that he'd made dinner for them. "A peace offering," he said, putting the pasta laden plates on the table. "I'm even eating."
They'd passed the evening in pleasant conversation and settled in front of the television for a while, Kline making an effort to avoid any tabloid shows and mention of him and Jill. Rhiannon found that she was profoundly grateful and when he took her to bed a short time later. She showed him in a variety of ways until they were both spent and sleeping comfortably together.
He left the house in the early afternoon on Sunday, going to meet his glam team at a hotel close to the Crypto.Com Arena, inviting her to join him. She had declined, opting for a quiet night in. “But I’ll watch the red carpet and cheer you on.”
That was a mistake. Watching the red carpet had meant watching him sweep a glammed out Jill past the photo call area, to land together at all the talk-spots set up along the entrance to the arena. She looked ethereal in a Gucci dress that August had tailored to her trim figure, and whoever had done her makeup had played up those big guileless eyes so that she might have stepped out of the pages of a storybook. If storybook characters wore Jimmy Choos.
She and Kline had an easy rapport and moved like a single body from one station to the next with complimenting answers to every question they were asked, always stopping just short of saying they were officially an item, letting the entertainment journalists and audiences read whatever they liked into their matching, adoring grins.
When they’d finished the gamut, Rhiannon was spared the sight of them until Jill took the stage to present the award for Best Score Soundtrack for Video Games and Other Interactive Media, and the cameras panned to catch Kline letting out a siren of a wolf whistle when she walked out from behind the curtain. Jill made a joke about that being the soundtrack of her life when she lived in Manhattan and thanked Kline for making her feel so at home, and the crowd laughed.
In the next segment, Kline was spotlit for his nomination for Best Spoken Word Album, and Jill was there hugging his arm, and there again, leaning her head on his shoulder when he lost to Tom Hiddleston.
Rhiannon was torturing herself on Reddit threads already popping up about the couple when she heard the chime that let her know someone had opened the back door. It was a full three minutes before Kline appeared, his shirt already half unbuttoned. “I lost,” he said, pouting.
“I saw.”
“Hiddleston? Really? He’s got a nice voice, but he was reading a biography of Winston Churchill. I read a spy novel, and actually had to give characterization! I can’t believe he beat me.”
Kline threw himself down in a chair across the room and started taking off his shoes, ranting over the injustice of being trumped by Loki. “I’m just jealous,” he finally sighed. “I want his career.”
“Well, it looked like Jill gave you plenty of comfort,” Rhiannon said, hoping he could read the ice in her voice.
If he did, he didn’t care. He paused and mused. “It was nice to have a friend there. You know, I’ve taken dates to the shows before, but that’s different than a working partner.” He was off on another tangent about how easy it was to work the lines with another actor. He didn’t have to worry about her missing cues or getting flashbulb paralysis.
