BECOMING THE FABULOUS MISS C

By Angel Sentier and Lady Parsley

Chapter Seven

Chloe shook her head. "You have absolutely no idea what my name is, do you?" He actually looked embarrassed, and she made a dismissive gesture. "I'm kidding. I wouldn't have expected you to remember it, even if you could remember names."

"No, I do remember you," he said. "You never showed up at the party that night!"

She bristled slightly. "I did, too!" A thought occurred to her and she dug into her purse. She had dumped everything from the reticule in there after the party... "Ah ha!" She produced the 'Chloe' nametag and held it up for him to see.

"CHLOE!" he exclaimed. "That's it! Got it." He smiled, but then his brow furrowed slightly. "I didn't see you, though... If you went, why didn't you come over?"

She shrugged, shoving the nametag in her pocket. "You looked busy. And I kind of tend to be invisible." She raised an eyebrow. "Although, at times, it felt like I was standing right in front of you."

"I am so sorry," he said, looking even more apologetic than when he had dropped the coffee on her. "You must think I'm such a jerk for inviting you then not even seeing you there." He brightened. "Let me make it up to you. Let me buy you more coffee... Lunch...? New shoes?"

She smiled slightly, but shook her head. "That's very sweet of you, but it's really not necessary..." She hadn't meant to make him feel guilty, he didn't owe her anything, but of course, she couldn't tell him that now. "It's okay. I have to get back to work right after I get my bosses coffee." She turned to go back inside and groaned when she saw the line. She's already had to stand in it for about fifteen minutes... "Damn it... If I don't get back soon, she'll make me work through my lunch hour. Not that she doesn't already..."

"Why don't you just go across the street?" he asked. "There's no line at that donut shop..."

Her look was mockingly scandalized. "Are you kidding me? She wouldn't dare drink the toxic waste they serve at that dump. No, it has to be a grande double espresso shot soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam, with sugar free chocolate syrup only on top, not mixed in. Nothing less will do."

He gaped at her. "How do you remember all that?"

"It wasn't easy."

He looked at the line in the shop, then back at her. "If I can get you coffee in less than two minutes, will you come to lunch with me?"

She blinked. "You're coercing me into lunch?"

"Well, I... I'm not used to asking someone out. There's usually an intermediary."

"Ah..." She shrugged. "Sure, if you can get me coffee, you can have my lunch hour."

He grinned. "Done." He walked into the coffee shop, removed the jacket, glasses, and hat, then cleared his throat loud enough to be heard two stores over. "Excuse me," he said. "Can anyone tell me how to get to Cannon Street?"

A hush fell over the crowd. Philip spread his smile around the room like a sprinkler, and suddenly there was a mass exodus from the line to get coffee, over to where Philip was standing. Everyone was clamoring for an autograph on anything they could grab.

Chloe walked right up to the front of the line. She snapped her fingers in front of the entranced barista's face to get his attention back on his job. "Yo, Eddie, you can get his autograph in a minute, this is going to take some focus! I need a grande double espresso shot soy latte, half-caf, no whip, light on the foam, with sugar free chocolate syrup only on the top, not mixed in; a tall half-caf mochaccino, with whip, heavy on the foam, with a shot of sugar free vanilla; and a vente full-caf mudslide frap, no whip, with a dash of cinnamon and chocolate sprinkles. And if you get them wrong, so help me, no tip!"

The man jumped into action. When she looked over at Philip, she saw a thumb's up come from the center of the huge group of people. She had to admit, his plan had worked flawlessly. Her coffee was brought to her shortly, and she headed for the door.

"Hold on!" said Philip.

She turned to see him trying to break away from the group. Not wanting to bring attention to herself, she pointed at the coffee and made a helpless gesture. She had to get the beverages back to the office before one melted and the other two got cold.

"Okay," he said. "Meet me back here in... twenty minutes."

She figured he was guessing he could slip away by then, so she nodded and hurried out the door. It wasn't until she was actually in her car when she realized... Philip Carter Grayson was taking her out to lunch.

Her car practically flew down the street.


"Danny, I need you to work the desk for me," Chloe said after dropping off the three coffees and getting in return a load of work.

Daniel Peer, Ginger's other assistant, looked up at her with his gorgeous hazel eyes, a doubtful expression on his chiseled face. "I'm not really sure how to work the phones, you know that, and Ginger's not going to be happy if one of us is gone..."

"Yes, yes, but I need to take my lunch hour early today. It's important! I'm meeting someone."

Those eyes widened slightly. "Like... a date?" Danny had been the one to cover for her when Chloe was in the bathroom, crying her eyes out over Jason. Any sign that Chloe was getting over that whole mess was no doubt a welcome one.

"Well, we're going to lunch..."

"Is he paying?"

"I think so..."

"Then it's a date," he said definitively. "Go. I'll take care of things here."

"Danny, you're the best!" She hugged him tightly. "And the nicest and the cutest... No wonder Teri likes you so much." She pinched his cheek when he blushed.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, shying away. "Go meet your date!"

The phone rang then and Danny looked around frantically for the right button to push. Chloe handed him the phone and pressed it for him. She mouthed 'thank you' and blew him a kiss as he said, "Ginger Carlyle's office."


Philip frowned as a man answered the phone at the publicist's office. "I thought Ms. Carlyle had a female secretary?" he said.

"Oh, yes," said the man on the other end. "She's gone. I'm Ms. Carlyle's assistant. May I help you?"

"I see... Well, this is Philip Grayson."

"Yes, Mr. Grayson!"

"I need to reschedule today's appointment for after lunch. Something's come up."

"Of... of course, Mr. Grayson." The man suddenly sounded a little nervous. There was a pause as some papers were shuffled and it sounded like something fell on the floor. A muffled curse, and then, "Will one o' clock be all right?"

"That's fine. Thank you." He hung up his cell and smiled as he watched Chloe's tiny blue car drive up to the lot.


Her stomach did a funny little flip when she saw him smile as she pulled back into the Starbucks parking lot.

"I'm glad you came back," he said when she got out of the car.

"Really?" she asked.

"Well, I would have really felt like a jerk this time if I wasn't given a chance to properly make things up to you. First, I ignore you at a party I invited you to, then I spill coffee all over you then next time I see you." He shook his head. "My track record is not going well, is it?"

She waved that away. "Trust me, your track record is fine. I never would have thought in a million years that Philip Grayson would spill coffee on me. Hey, what do you think I could get on eBay for these shoes?"

He laughed. "Good one." He held open his car door. "Shall we?"

She looked at the luxurious interior and shook her head. "If I ride in your car, my shoes will ruin it."

"And?"

"And? That's leather from, I'm guessing, some expensive Italian cow. Forget it. I will not ruin your car just to assuage your guilt."

He shrugged and closed the door. "All right, let's go in your car."

"My car?" She glanced behind her at the aforementioned dented, cluttered, dirty vehicle and shook her head again. "I could never live with myself if I knew you'd seen the inside of my car."

He spread his hands. "Then how will we go to lunch?"

"Your legs," she said, pointing at the long shapely appendages.

He glanced at them. "Yes?"

"They do work, right?"

"Yes..." he said, stretching out the word.

She smiled. "Then we can walk. There's a great hole-in-the-wall Mexican place right around the corner."

He blinked at her. "You want me to take you out for Mexican?"

"Sure. I have to be back at my work in an hour, so someplace close is ideal. Why not?"

"Oh... nothing," he said, but he looked vaguely uncomfortable. "Lead the way."


When they'd been seated amidst many fake palm trees in the tiny warm restaurant, Chloe received her first surprise as Philip ordered for them in fluent Spanish. After their curvy dark-haired waitress had left, she gaped at him.

"You speak Spanish?"

He half-smiled and shrugged. "Four years in high school."

"Oh... I took French. Everyone thought I was stupid since Spanish is more usable here in the U.S."

His expression brightened. "I speak French, too!"

"What?" Her eyes went wide; that was a fact that the papers had yet to exploit, so she had been completely unaware. "How many languages do you speak?"

"Five. Oh, unless you don't count English, then four."

"That's... incredible!"

He shook his head. "It really isn't. I memorize well, that's all."

"Except for names."

"Yep. Originally, I had learned them because I intended to travel someday and I wanted to be able to communicate with the people. When I discovered that I loved acting, I thought it would be perfect, since actors who make it get to travel all over, filming on location, promoting their movies in different countries, you know..."

"Right," she said. "But...?"

He nodded. "But... I hadn't known at the time that actors are so busy, they don't get much of a chance to explore the places they visit. It's always about the work. So, now I have a head full of Spanish, French, Italian, and German, and not much to do with it but place an order at a restaurant."

"Maybe someday you'll get to go there," she said. "I've always wanted to travel, too, but I've never been able to fund it. I always say that when I retire on my gigantic 401k plan, I'll go to all the places I said I would."

He smiled. "That's great."

She returned it, then tapped her index finger on the table. "All right, so give up the details. What other amazing things can you do that the world has no idea of?"

"Is this an interview?"

"No, I'm just curious." She shrugged. "It's kind of hard to explain... You know how I said you were really just a normal guy when I talked to you at the bar?"

"Yeah," he said.

"Okay, granted, speaking four different languages isn't what people would generally classify as 'normal,' but... it makes you more real."

"I think I know what you mean," said Philip. "It's like when I got to meet... um..." He furrowed his brow. "Okay, he was the first big name actor I ever worked with..."

Chloe sat straight up in her seat. "Alan Rickman?" she said, about an octave higher than normal.

"Yes, the Alan Rickman," he said to Chloe's dreamy expression. "I worked all night to memorize the entire script. Not just my lines, but everyone's lines, so he wouldn't think I was some rank amateur, even though that's basically what I was. But then, when we were doing the first read-through, he messed up some of his lines, just the same as everyone. Suddenly, he wasn't Mr. Richardson," he said, saying the name in an overly reverent tone.

"Rickman."

"Right. He was just Alastair."

"Alan."

"Right, Alan."

"That's exactly it!" she said. "I find that the more I know about you, the more real you become. Less of a screen-god and more of a person."

"Then, I'd be happy to tell you more about myself," he said, with a smile. "Provided one thing..."

"What's that?"

"You have to tell me about yourself, too."

She winced. "You'll regret that. My life is boring."

"Cleo..."

"Chloe, but you were close."

"Damn... Thanks. Chloe, you have yet to bore me."

She half-smiled. "Thanks," she said, despite the fact she was certain she was about to. However, her curiosity about Philip was rapidly overruling her self-consciousness about herself. "All right, then, tell me... How many musical instruments do you play?"

"Counting the kazoo?"

She considered. "I don't know... Have you ever won any awards for kazoo playing?"

"Counting middle school?"

"Okay, count the frickin' kazoo."

He smiled proudly. "Six."

"No way!"

"I swear it's true. Kazoo, piano, violin, trumpet, drums, and guitar, though I haven't played the trumpet in a really long time..."

"Were you planning on being a musician?"

"No... The piano and violin were actually at my mother's insistence. Thought it would keep me out of gangs, or drugs, or something to that effect. The others I learned on my own, after I got tired of one, I'd pick up another, because by then, all of my friends were in band." He grinned. "So, how many do you play?"

Her face reddened slightly. "Um... One, I guess."

"Which one?"

She reddened even further and mumbled her answer.

"What?" he asked.

"Voice," she said, only slightly louder.

"You sing?" he asked, seeming delighted.

"NO," she insisted. "I do not sing. I warble. I do not claim to have any talent in the area. My singing is reserved for the shower and my car." There was no way he was going to get her to sing, especially not in the middle of a restaurant.

"Oh..."

He seemed a little disappointed, so she sighed and elaborated a little further. "I used to sing a lot in high school."

"What stopped you?"

"I would have thought the sentence was self-explanatory."

"Ah..." His expression changed to one of understanding. "Told you would never go anywhere with it, huh?"

"By my parents as well as my teachers and peers. I was convinced--"

"--That you had no talent," he finished for her. "That it wasn't lucrative, you should give it up and concentrate on finding a 'real job,' right?" He indicated himself. "Actor, remember? I've heard it all." He grinned broadly. "It really felt good to hold that award, look directly at the camera, and tell everyone how much I love my 'real job.'"

They laughed together as the waitress brought their food to the table.

"So, tell me about your family," she said as she dug into her taco salad.

"I thought everyone knew about my family," he said, dumping hot sauce all over his tacos.

"I'd like to hear it from you."

He shrugged. "Okay. I was born here in the United States, but raised in Great Britain, by my adopted parents. So, I have a dual citizenship..."

"Wait," she said, snickering. "You have a dual citizenship in the U.S. and Great Britain? You do realize that makes you Canadian."

He looked at her, oddly. "What?"

She nodded. "Sure, you take the United States and Great Britain, and put them together, and you've got Canada."

"I am not Canadian."

"What have you got against Canadians, eh?"

"Nothing. I'm just not Canadian. I'd have to be part French, also."

"You speak French."

"I don't speak French-Canadian. Can I continue?"

She gestured for him to go on.

"Thank you. I tried looking for my birth parents when I got older, but nothing ever turned up. Since I had been abandoned, it was a little difficult to get information."

Her expression crumpled in sympathy. "That's so sad!"

He briefly lifted one shoulder. "Yeah... But I'm kind of over it. It's been too long, and Mum and Dad are great people, so I don't tend to worry about it."

"Did you just say 'Mum?'"

He sighed. "It's like when someone goes back home to the South and when they come back they're saying 'y'all' all the time. The accent sneaks in every now and then. Being an actor, though, I can generally turn it off when I need to."

"So, right now, are you talking the way you're comfortable, or the way you want me to hear you?"

He paused for a moment. "I'm not sure... I will say, though, when you work at a coffee shop in the U.S; a British accent gets you bigger tips."

"When did you work at a coffee shop?"

"I wasn't always successful."

"When you come back from visiting Mum and Dad, do you say lots of 'rather' and 'cheerio?'"

"Well, not to the extent you're thinking, probably--"

"'Bloody 'ell!'"

"I wasn't raised in those areas of Britain--"

"'Too right!'"

"Now, that's Australian!"

Chloe was grinning from ear to ear. "Good on ya, mate!"

He rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "Okay, now you're just making fun of me..."

"I wouldn't do that," she said, looking scandalized. "Let me guess... Those aren't your real teeth, are they?"

He groaned and rested his head on the table, shaking it back and forth. "Just drive in the knife, why don't you?"

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding," she said. "So, is Grayson your birth name or your adopted name?"

"Neither, actually. I don't know my birth name, but my original adopted name is Reeves."

"What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just a little common. Christopher Reeves, Keanu Reeves..."

"Neither of whom you have met, I'm guessing."

"You would be guessing correctly."

"How'd you come up with Grayson?"

"You'll never guess... Batman comic books."

She stared at him. "You are joking."

"Well, I was a child actor... Besides, it seemed to fit. Dick Grayson was an orphan, too, granted, my parents weren't killed right in front of me, and every little boy wants to be Batman's sidekick... And I'm going to stop now before I seem even more of a dork than I already do. Tell me about your family," he said with a smile.

She groaned, but relented. "My parents have been married for twenty-nine years."

"That's great!"

"Yeah, it would be, were they suited for each other. But since they aren't, I've been saying they should have gotten divorced for about ten years, ever since I was old enough to know better."

His look was sympathetic. "Do they fight?"

"Like cats and dogs. My mother frequently dragged me into it, too. I've got a younger brother who's psychotic and an older brother, from my mother's previous marriage, who's messed up, and we're all ten years apart. That way, we could baby-sit one another."

He laughed. "That's actually pretty smart. All I had were nannies and 'gentlemen's gentlemen'... That's probably one of the reasons I can't remember names. So many people came in and out of my life so often, it was like a revolving door."

"Believe me, having that many people under one roof was no picnic," she said. "On top of all that, my mother raised me as a strict Christian good-girl. No parties, nine o' clock curfew, church every Sunday in scratchy dresses, the whole nine yards. I even still have my virginity."

His eyes bugged. "Really?"

"Well... Technically, I'm a virgin."

His brows furrowed together. "What does that mean?"

She pondered how to answer that for a moment. "Basically, that I've done pretty much everything but the actual deed."

"You don't still live with your folks, do you?"

"No."

"Then why haven't you...?"

She shrugged. "When I moved out, I thought about it, but it just... was never the right guy, I guess. I was waiting for the right moment and it hasn't happened yet."

"Even though you were going to be married?"

She blinked. "I'm surprised you remember that."

He smiled. "Of course. We're in the club, right?"

"Right," she said, returning the smile. "No, it was just... never right, even with my ex. I told my friends that I wanted it to be special, but really, I figured that when I was ready, I'd know."

"Why would you agree to marry someone you weren't even ready to sleep with?"

She mirrored his one-shouldered shrug. "Because he asked?"

He shook his head. "It's not like I can talk. I normally just date who I'm told to date."

"Then, are you...?"

It was his turn to look scandalized. "Oh, God, no!"

She laughed. "Didn't think so."

They squeezed as much as they could into forty-five minutes, laughing and trading stories. Chloe was having such a wonderful time, it actually startled her when Close to You came chirping from her purse. Philip suddenly looked as though his tacos were not agreeing with him.

"What is that?" he asked.

"Ugh... The real world calling," she said. The text message said, WHY CAN'T I REACH YOU? GET BACK HERE NOW! "Apparently, there's no signal in here," she told him as she closed the phone. "I guess I have to get back to work."

"Oh," said Philip, staring at his empty plate. "Um... That is... I mean... I wanted to, uh..."

She raised an eyebrow. "Yes?"

He had that same uncomfortable look he'd had when she suggested the restaurant. "Well, I just wanted to know if you, perhaps sometime, would maybe like to go out for something that is not entirely unlike dinner..."

The other eyebrow joined the first. "Is this something that would be not entirely unlike a date?"

He began staring at the wall above her head. "Not entirely..."

"You're not very good at this, are you? Why are you not very good at this?"

"Like I said, there's usually an intermediary..."

Chloe was rather in shock. It sounded like Philip wanted to ask her out... Again! "Would it help if you spoke in the third person?" she asked when she'd regained her powers of speech.

He started to shake his head, then paused and looked thoughtful. "You know..." He straightened. "Philip would like to ask... um..." He halted again. "Celeste?"

"You're way off. Chloe."

"Ugh, damn. Maybe it won't work."

A thought occurred to her. "Maybe it will..." she said. She reached into her pocket, pulled out the 'Hello, my name is Chloe' sticker, and stuck it to the front of her shirt. "Better?"

He grinned broadly. "Much! Okay, Philip would like to ask..." He glanced at her chest. "...Chloe, if Chloe would like to go out for dinner sometime."

"Chloe wants to know why Philip wants to do this."

"Because Chloe makes Philip feel comfortable. And happy."

"Chloe is glad she makes Philip feel this way... Would this dinner be tonight?"

"Ugh..." He rolled his eyes. "Philip can't. Philip has a date to be at with many people tonight. It's not really a date, though... More like an audition."

"Explain?"

"I told my agent I wanted to date someone 'real.' He's trying to set me up with my publicist."

Chloe's eyes went wide. He was going out with Ginger? Ew. "Well, good luck with that."

"I don't really want to," he said, hurriedly.

She blinked. That almost sounded like he didn't want her to think he was playing her. "Well, then why are you going?"

He squirmed, looking uncomfortable again. "I kind of already said I would. I'm going over there after this to finalize things. In all honesty, though... I'd really rather spend more time with you."

Chloe, unable to stop herself, blushed. "Why?"

He tilted his head at her, curiously. "You really don't have that great an image of yourself, do you?"

"This from the man who has no idea he's hyper-cute." She clapped a hand over her mouth. "I hadn't meant to say that out loud," she said in a rush.

"...You think I'm hyper-cute?" he asked with a boyish grin.

She groaned, covering her face with her hands.

"No, no, don't do that," he said. "You're covering up your hyper-cute face." He snickered.

"I am not hyper-cute."

"Sure, you are."

"Is this why you'd like to spend more time with me? To torment me?"

"No," he said, seriously. "Like I said, you make me feel comfortable. Normal. When I'm with you, I really laugh, I really smile. I don't have to be like this all the time." His face split into the Crest commercial smile she'd seen him display on many a red carpet.

"Doesn't that make your face hurt?"

"Only the first fifty times or so." He dropped the fake smile. "So... Will you come to dinner with me?"

She pretended to think it over. "I'll have to check my schedule..." At his dumbfounded expression, she laughed. "Of course I will."

He smiled, really smiled. "That's wonderful. How about Friday night? Eight o' clock?"

"Sounds great."

"And I'm picking the restaurant this time."

She laughed again. "Sure."

Close to You began playing again and she rolled her eyes.

"I guess I can't keep you from the outside world any longer," he said.

She nodded. "If I stay, I'm risking big trouble."

He laid down a wad of cash on the table, which he didn't bother to count, and they both got up to walk back to their cars. On the way, she peeled the sticker off her shirt and handed it to him.

"Maybe you can stick it on your sun visor, or someplace where you'll see it a lot, and that'll help you memorize it."

He shook his head. "I doubt it. At best, I'll start calling you 'Hello, my name is Chloe.'"

They laughed. She unlocked her car door, stuck one foot inside, then turned back to say goodbye. "All right, I'll see you on Friday."

He nodded, then paused. "Wait, give me your phone number so I can tell you where we're going."

She debated, then decided on giving him the number for the silver phone. She received more personal calls on that one.

He entered it into his cell, then smiled. "All right. I'll call you soon." Without warning, he leaned down and kissed her.

Time slowed. It was just one of those quick, casual, goodbye kisses that a lot of Hollywood people do, it couldn't have lasted more than two seconds, but to Chloe it seemed like forever. It wasn't anything like the hot, intense kiss she'd given him a few weeks ago, but this one was warm, sweet... and utterly addicting. Even more so than hot fudge. She felt rather dazed when he pulled back.

That should be illegal, she thought as she sank gratefully into her car.


Philip watched Chloe drive off before getting into his own car. He hadn't expected to feel anything with that brief kiss, it was something that had seemed completely natural to him, but he had felt something. It had been surprisingly soft and... familiar.

Strange... he thought, but let it go. He had an appointment to get to...


Chloe didn't bother to check the second text message, figuring it would just be more of the same. Besides, she didn't want anything to bring down her mood at the moment. She'd had a perfectly enjoyable lunch with Philip, he was going to take her out again in a few days, and he'd even kissed her! Sure, she'd kissed him before, but it wasn't the same thing.

She was in such a state of dazed happiness that when she pulled into the car park of her office building, she had to slam on her brakes as someone tore around the corner, tires squealing. Luckily, that person also slammed on their brakes and the two cars avoided hitting each other by mere inches.

Chloe leaned her head out the open window and yelled, "What the hell, you idiot?" She had a momentary surge of fear when the car door opened, but it turned out to be Danny. She blinked. "Danny? What the hell are you doing out here?" She noticed then that his face was as white as a sheet. "Danny? What's going on?"

"Chloe, where have you been?" he asked, clearly panicked. He seemed slightly out of breath, and his rapid talking wasn't helping matters in that area. "I've been trying to get a hold of you all afternoon, it said you were outside the service area, and after I gave her the news, she got so angry--"

"Slow down," she said. "What's the problem? Did Ginger find out that I was actually eating lunch on my lunch break?"

Danny completely missed the joke. He was dead serious. "Chloe, your friend is in trouble!"

Her heart skipped a beat. Was it Tessa? "What?"

"Ginger's hired someone to kill Teri!"

To be continued...