Chapter 7: Lies and More Lies

“Juliet,” Henry said, stepping forward and opening his arm as she arrived at his table. “You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” she said, forcing a smile as she took his hands. Henry kissed her cheek, as was the custom in Hollywood, and she air kissed his, which she could get away with at the moment. The thought of her lips touching his body had her fighting bile again. He released her, offering for her to have a seat across from him, which she did. Her legs stuck to the red leather seat slightly, but she didn’t let it bother her. Juliet wouldn’t let anything embarrass her, so neither would Ella.

“I took the liberty of asking the waiter to bring you a martini as soon as you arrived. That is your drink of choice, isn’t it?”

She had been carrying around a martini glass most of the night at the first art show, though she actually preferred not to drink at all. Still, she found herself nodding, and a moment later, a waiter arrived.

“Your drink, Miss Montague,” he said, offering the cocktail to her.

“Thank you.” Juliet took the glass and sipped the drink, though she had a feeling she’d need to be chugging alcohol to make it through this night. The compulsion to keep her wits about her overruled her longing to lose herself, so she didn’t drain her glass right away.

“I didn’t realize you knew Stella Goff,” he said, leaning forward across the table so she could hear him over the loud music. The bench was a semicircle, and something told her he’d use the excuse of not being able to hear to scoot closer to her eventually. For now, she’d just have to make sure to speak up.

“Yes. I know a lot of people.” Nonchalant. That was her emotion of choice--if she could force herself to exude anything other than hate or disdain.

“I suppose that’s true,” Henry said, running his finger around the rim of condensation left from his glass on the table. “You know… Rome Verona, don’t you?”

It was the first time Henry had mentioned Rome to her--to Juliet, anyway. She tried not to react anyway other than a little confused, as if she wasn’t sure why he might ask that. “Sure,” she said with a shrug. “He introduced me to Fae Ward. He helped me get my business started. I admired the work of his former wife.” Juliet dropped her eyes to the table and slowly shook her head. “It was terrible, what happened to that poor girl. She was so… so talented.” It seemed odd to talk about herself that way, to toot her own horn, as it were. But if Juliet Montague was a big fan of Ella Verona, then she’d have to think that Ella was skilled at graphic designs.

“You remind me of her. A little. You have a similar… look.”

Her heart began to race, but she had to keep it under control. “You think?” she asked. “I never noticed any similarities to her.”

Henry shrugged. “A little. I didn’t know her well.”

Now, Juliet had to look confused. “You knew her?”

“I did.” A shadow crossed over Henry’s face, and for a few seconds, he actually looked sad for a moment. “I used to work with her dad’s company. I met her a time or two.”

“Oh.” She waited, wondering if he would say more, but he didn’t. Deciding not to ask any more questions about herself, she changed the subject. “How are your movie projects going? I’m hearing all sorts of great things about the superhero flick. I would love to work up some ads for you.”

“That would be great,” Henry said quickly enough to make Juliet think she should’ve been negotiating business contracts all along. It seemed easy enough. “That movie is really coming along. Of course, that’s really no surprise considering the script and the talent involved. The other one, however.” Henry made a face and shook his head. “I won’t say more since you are a friend of Rome Verona’s.”

“Friend?” Juliet said, pretending as if she were trying not to laugh. “I wouldn’t say that exactly.” It was difficult, but she had to establish the idea in Henry’s head that she didn’t care about Rome. That she didn’t even like him.

“Well, you just said he helped you get your business started,” Henry reminded her.

“Yes, that’s true. But I don’t have to be friends with everyone I do business with.” She gave him a coy smile and batted her eyelashes at him slightly before taking a sip of her drink. It was working. She saw him lean in toward her, a sign he was interested in her. “So… Rome is confusing to me. In the papers, it made it seem as if he was very distraught at Ella’s passing, the woman he called his wife, although I am a little confused about that, too. Anyway, I expected him to still be grieving. I definitely didn’t expect him to hit on me.” She made a face as if Rome had made unwanted advances at her. “It was… not becoming.”

“No, I should say not.” Henry shook his head as if he were completely taken aback that Rome would act that way. “Ella was a lovely creature. Perhaps a little fragile. Clearly, one can see that by the way she took her own life over something as trivial as a failed relationship with an arrogant movie actor. But Rome should have more respect for her memory than that.”

His words about her own alleged actions were almost as hard to take as his harsh judgment of Rome. “I agree,” she managed to eke out, trying to make her face look more irritated at Rome than agitated at Henry. “Anyway, my understanding is that he’s been dating lots of actresses and other famous women. Call me old fashioned, but I believe a person should take some time, at least a year, before dating after the death of a spouse. Or whatever they truly were.” She said the last part as if she didn’t believe her own marriage to Rome had ever existed.

“I completely agree,” Henry said, reaching across the table to put his hand on top of hers. She wanted to flinch, to pull away, to grab some hand sanitizer and douse herself. But she willed herself to keep her hand beneath his larger one. “That’s why, I suppose, it doesn’t bother me so much to see Rome’s movie flailing so.”

“Really? Is that the case?” She actually was astonished to hear him admit it. As far as she knew from Rome, Henry had declared dozens of times that the movie was moving along just fine and that they still expected it to be a big hit when it was released, even though they both knew trends in Hollywood well enough to understand that clearly wouldn’t be the case. Hearing Henry admit he believed the film would fail piqued her interest--and made her want to slug him.

“I believe so. Unfortunately, the concept was slightly flawed going into the filming. And then… well, Rome just hasn’t been himself. I think you may be on to something with all the partying and different women. I have heard rumors that he’s doing drugs. I thought maybe it was to dull the pain of losing Ella. Now, I’m not so sure. Maybe it’s just part of his glamorous Hollywood lifestyle. I think it may make his career much shorter than it might’ve been had he used his talent properly.” Henry shook his head as if all the lies he’d just told were true, and he actually felt sorry for Rome.

Every fiber of Juliet’s being wanted to reach across the table and slap this ridiculous monster in the face. But she couldn’t do that. All she could manage was a nod of her head. “Well, it’s really too bad. Do you think you’ll ever make another movie with him?”

“That’s just the thing. When I bought the studio from his parents, I made an agreement with them that I would cast him in the leading role of ten movies over the next five years. At this rate, if he truly is taking the sort of illicit drugs I suspect he is, he might not even be alive in five years. But I have that agreement with them, so I suppose I’ll have to keep making shitty movies to satisfy that part of the contract.”

“That’s terrible!” Juliet focused on how bad that must be for Henry, accepting that it was true though she knew only the part about signing the contract was reality. Rome certainly wasn’t doing drugs or sleeping around. She stayed on target. “I hope you come up with something. It would be a pity to throw good money after something like that. You’ll waste a fortune, and potentially ruin your reputation.”

“As long as I can create blockbusters on the side, like this superhero movie we’re working on, I think my reputation will stay intact. But you’re right. It would be better if I could find a way to get out of that portion of the contract. I thought it might be some sort of vengeance for Ella if I were able to put the man who drove her to her death through hell, having to answer to me. I certainly didn’t intend to make bad movies, though.” She caught that correction--of course he had intended to, and he’d practically just admitted it. “Anyway, it might not be worth it. I can’t imagine there’s much I can do. Legally speaking.”

She nodded. “Have you asked his parents? Perhaps they’d be willing to make a compromise?”

“No, I haven’t spoken to them. They’ve threatened to sue me because they claim I am an associate of Lloyd Sinders’s. There was a clause in the contract that said they wouldn’t sell to any of his associates. Since I’ve never done direct business with him as an agent of my own corporation, only as an employee of my father’s business, my lawyers are certain they don’t have a leg to stand on. But they’re angry.”

“Just because they’re angry, that doesn’t mean they’re not willing to come to the table,” Juliet reminded him. She hadn’t thought of the possibility of him going back and asking the Veronas to reconsider that part of the agreement, but that would work for her agenda as well as what she had in mind, and likely be a lot less messy. She was almost certain they would let Rome out, considering how horrific this whole situation was for him, and his mother was highly upset by his consternation.

Henry shrugged. “Enough about him. Let’s talk about something else. Let’s talk about… you.”

A sharp pain of nausea struck her in the stomach, but Juliet forced herself to bat her eyelashes again and ask, “What would you like to know?”

“Everything,” he replied, scooting around the bench so that he could wrap his arm around her. Juliet kept her distance. She wasn’t an easy girl, but she had to flirt with him some. Still smiling, she took a deep breath and began filling him in on the made up story of Juliet Montague, counting the minutes until her phone would ring and she could claim she had someplace she had to be. The next fourteen minutes couldn’t pass quickly enough.