“No deal. Without a contract, the script and I are leaving together.”
“You think I’m going to sign just like that?”
“Yes. And you know why? Because I’m the only one who’s interested in you.”
“Who says I care?” He slapped the contract on top of the script. “If I wanted to go back into acting, I’d represent myself.”
“The actor who represents himself has a fool for a client.”
“I think that’s ‘lawyer.’”
“The sentiment’s the same. No actor can effectively sing his own praises without looking like an ass.”
She was right, and he knew it, but he wasn’t quite ready to concede. “You’ve got an answer for everything.”
“That’s because good agents know what they’re doing, and I intend to be a much better agent for you than I ever was for Georgie.”
He rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. “You should have spoken up.”
“I did-more than once-but then you’d frown at me and-presto, chango!-I’d remember my mortgage, and there went my courage.”
“People should fight for what they believe in.”
“You’re absolutely right.” She jabbed her finger toward the contract. “So what’s it going to be, Paul? Are you going to sit around feeling sorry for yourself, or do you have the guts to jump into a brand-new game?”
“I haven’t acted in nearly thirty years. I haven’t even thought about it.”
“Hollywood loves talented fresh faces.”
“Not so fresh.”
“Trust me. Your wrinkles are in all the right places.” She gave him her tough-girl look so he didn’t take her comment as the blathering of a menopausal female who hadn’t been on a real date in longer than she could remember. “It’s hard for me to believe an actor with your talent has never thought about getting back to work.”
“Georgie’s career had to come first.”
She felt a stab of sympathy for him. What had it been like to possess so much talent and do nothing with it? “Georgie doesn’t need you now,” she said more gently. “At least not for career advice.”
He snatched the contract out of her hands. “Go make your phone calls, damn it. I’ll look it over.”
“Good idea.” She stepped out onto the sundeck. Shady and sheltered, it was a great space for entertaining, but it held only a pair of unmatched metal chairs. She found it odd that someone so polished didn’t have more of a social life. She flipped open her phone and checked her office voice mail, then had a lengthy conversation with her father, who’d retired in Phoenix. As they spoke, she forced herself not to spy on Paul through the windows. Next, she called her sister in Milwaukee, but her six-year-old niece answered the phone and launched into a story about a new kitten.
Paul came out onto the sundeck, and Laura broke into her niece’s monologue. “He’s an amazing actor. Hardly anyone knows that he trained at Juilliard Drama. He also did some really interesting off-Broadway work before he put his career on hold to raise Georgie.”
“Who’s Julie Yard, Aunt Laura?”
Laura tugged on her hair. “You have no idea how hard I’ve worked to convince him that he needs to start focusing on himself. As soon as you hear him read, you’ll understand why I’m so excited about representing him.”
“You’re acting weird,” the small voice replied. “I’m calling Mom.
“Great. I’ll give you a ring next week.” Laura flipped her phone closed. “That went better than I expected.” A drop of perspiration slithered between her breasts.
“Bullshit. You were talking to your voice mail.”
“Or my niece in Milwaukee,” she said, cocky as could be. “Or Brian Glazer’s office. How I do my job isn’t your business. Only the results I get.”
He waved the contract in front of her. “Just because I signed this damned thing doesn’t mean I’m going to auditions. It only means I’ll read the script.”
Had she really convinced him? She could hardly believe it. “It means you’ll go where I tell you.” She snatched up the contract and headed back inside, hoping he was following her. “This isn’t going to be easy, so you’d better start giving yourself one of those lectures you used to give Georgie about how rejection is part of the business and not to take it personally. It’ll be interesting to see if you’re as tough as she is.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“More than you can imagine.” She picked up her things. “Call me as soon as you finish the script. Oh, and I intend to advance your career by trading on Georgie’s good name.”
He flushed, angry. “You can’t do that.”
“Sure I can. She fired us, remember?” As she reached the front door, she stopped and turned back to him. “If I were you, I’d give her a call today instead of freezing her out.”
“Yeah. Because your ideas have worked so well in the past.”
“Just a suggestion.” She let herself out and headed for her car. She wanted to kick up her heels with excitement. She’d crossed her first hurdle, and now all she needed to do was find him work.
As she backed out of his driveway, she reminded herself that getting Paul a job wasn’t the only difficult task she faced. She also had to put her condo on the market, trade in her Benz for something cheaper, cancel her vacation in Maui, and stay out of Barneys. All potentially very depressing.
But for right now…She turned up the radio, bobbed her head, and sang her heart out.
Chapter 21
Georgie lifted her head from the pillows as Bram came out of the bathroom from his morning shower. Two and a half weeks ago, the night after the quarantine had lifted, she’d been faced with the dilemma of whether to move back into the guest room or stay where she was. She’d ended up telling Bram that her old room had so many leftover cooties from Lance and Jade that she couldn’t go back. He’d agreed that some cooties were too contagious to risk.
She took a moment admiring him. The jet-black towel draped around his hips turned his lavender eyes to indigo. His hair was damp, and he hadn’t shaved for the past few days, giving him a rugged, virile elegance. Her imaginary baby stirred in her womb. She blinked herself back to reality. “When did you say you and Hank Peters were going to start auditioning actors?”
“The Tuesday after our wedding party, as you very well know.”
“Really? Only a week and a half away…” They’d gone into preproduction immediately because Hank Peters had a commitment to direct another film in November, and they didn’t want to lose him. She let the sheet slip below one breast, a wasted effort as it turned out, since he was already heading into his closet for the jeans and T-shirt that had become his producer’s work uniform. “And I’m still first up, right?”
“Will you relax? I promised you the first audition, and you’ll get it. But I swear to God, if you pin your hopes on this…”
“Hard to do with you telling me how unworthy I am.”
He popped his head out. “Don’t exaggerate. You’re a terrific actress and a gifted comic, and you know it.”
“But not gifted enough to play Helene?” She experimented with a smirk. “Remember this moment, Bramwell Shepard, because I’m going to make you eat those words.”
She wished she could be as confident as she sounded. She’d read the script twice more and begun creating a character log filled with ideas about Helene’s backstory and physical mannerisms. But she only had ten days before the audition, and this would be the most complex character she’d ever taken on. She had a lot more work to do before she’d be ready, and she kept losing her focus.
His gaze dipped to her breast. She’d had to force herself not to give in to the urge to shop for the sexiest nighties she could find. Instead, she’d stuck with her normal sleepwear, but her plain white cami and black boxers printed with pirate skulls now lay crumpled on the floor by the bed. She deliberately pulled the sheet up to her chin.
