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“And what? Poke at me until I gave you the attention you craved, filled up your need void, and then disappear again? What’s in it for me?”
“You are into charity and you like filling my need void?”
She laughed so hard at that he started laughing with her. “It’s like you know me,” she said finally, still giggling.
“I do know you.”
“I know you, too, Kline. Call Roland and tell him you want more. Pick up another project. Fill the void with work, not people. And then call me and tell me to do the same thing.”
“Are you breaking up with Gus?”
“No,” she sighed into the phone, and Kline wondered if she was twirling hair around her finger. “I do love him. I really like him. He’s easy and comfortable, and I don’t have to do the getting-to-know you part of a new relationship. And he loves me. That’s enough, right?”
“You tell me? You’re the one doling out advice.”
“I need to go to sleep, Kline. So do you.”
“Fine. I guess I’ll see you on the red carpet?”
“I’ll come stand beside you and make you look like a million bucks.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Goodbye, Kline,” she said, but he could still hear her smiling.
“Goodnight, Jill.”
Rhiannon Charles
Rhiannon arrived a little after ten on the Sunday morning of the Oscars, feeling tired and anxious. She'd been considering backing out on the date, fearing another round of public humiliation, but convinced herself that she should go, if for no other reason than to support her show. If Kline could play the PR game, so could she, and being seen with him might draw audiences to Simon Says.
She would face the scrutiny of the press with her head held high, and the focus on her would likely be momentary, given the buzz that was surrounding Kline and Jill. The 'will they or won't they?' phenomenon had already begun. When she parked in the back and walked in through the kitchen, she found Kline sitting at the dining table with Roland, discussing a game plan for the evening. Both men looked up when she walked in, and Kline got to his feet to kiss her hello. "You just missed Jack," he said, with some disappointment. "Kim just took him off for his playdate."
Rhiannon frowned, feigning disappointment of her own. Given the obvious course their relationship was taking, she thought it better if she didn't get too involved with his son and was becoming adept at just missing him. It was too hard on kids to have people come in and out of their lives like that. "I'm sorry I missed him," she said. "Traffic was bad."
"Always bad on award nights," Roland said. "Hey listen, I'm going to head out. Good luck tonight, Tiger. If we’re lucky, you’ll go viral!"
Kline laughed and saw him out before hurrying back to kiss Rhiannon. "Ready to go be pampered?"
"Oh sure," she smiled. "You're worse than a girl, you know?"
"I know. But look at me--it's worth it."
"Can't argue with that," she said, "so where is the spa?"
"Not far. We'll take the limo so we can relax."
Rhiannon nodded as he took her hand and led her out to the waiting car, and he chatted away as they drove to a secluded hacienda style building on the outskirts of Beverly Hills. They pulled up to the front and were escorted inside where they were whisked into a private room to undress and were soon being massaged, oiled, buffed, and toned.
It was after two when they got back to Kline’s, and they hurried into the shower. "We've got to leave by five," he told her."My stylist is coming at three, so I just need to be clean. I asked her to bring someone to do you up, too."
Rhiannon didn't argue, she simply nodded and submitted to the schedule he had planned out for them. He got out of the shower first, wrapping a towel around his waist. "I'm getting dressed downstairs. I've laid out your accessories and your dress is hanging on the closet door," he said, toweling his hair.
"Okay. It shouldn't take me long to get dressed," she said, rinsing off the last of the soap.
Kline chuckled. "I've heard that story before. Just call down when you're ready for the stylist, okay?" He leaned in and kissed her quickly, then he was gone.
Rhiannon narrowed her eyes at the dress hanging on the door. It was nice enough, but in the last week she'd decided she'd rather dip herself in poison than put it on. Instead, she went for the dress she'd preferred from the start.She slipped into a black satin thong, then shimmied into the dress, lacing it up over her naked breasts with a smile.It was sheer enough that her body was visible, but not so much as to be sleazy. In her clothes, she called the stylist up. By the time she walked downstairs, she was a spectacular sight.
