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“A glass of champagne, thanks.”
I nodded and stepped over to the makeshift bar, leaving Reed to walk the room.
Once I placed the order, I leaned against the bar top, and perused the glamorous scene.
I spotted so many familiar faces, many of whom came up to say hi and to offer their support.
A few passed by without returning my acknowledgement, including my former mentor, Neal Lockwin. Not to be ignored, I offered a wave and a wink, which got me his trademark sneer.
It made me smile that much harder.
Cranky fucker.
I didn’t give a shit anyway. The old guard in this town was going to be replaced with new blood. It was happening already with progressive artists like Jared and other young filmmakers.
One of whom, Leah Garwick, an up-and-coming director, was talking to my boyfriend. Female directors in this town were still a rarity, which didn’t say much about our business either.
I was pretty sure Leah was busy convincing Reed to star in her next film.
“Hey, stranger.”
I whirled around to find Dylan standing behind me. In a dark green suit and brown cowboy boots, I almost didn’t recognize him without his hat.
“Hey! I didn’t know you’d be here tonight,” I leaned forward and gave Dylan a hug. “Where’s Max?”
“I decided to come at the last minute. And Max had to stay home, but he sends his best.”
“It’s so good to see a friendly face.”
“You and me both. I spotted Neal Lockwin passing by. Holy shit, if looks could kill, eh?” Dylan whistled, running one hand through his undercut. “What a dickbag. You know, he once told me that I was a better actor when I was drunk.”
“He’s a grade-A asshole,” I replied and then shook my head. “But enough about him. What do you think of the event so far? Did you walk the carpet?”
“I did, but far behind you guys,” Dylan gave me a knowing smile and a dimple popped out. “You and Reed are the talk of the party. And both of you look really fucking happy.”
“We are,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I wake up every day and wonder what the fuck he’s doing with me.”
Suddenly, I was jostled and nearly lost my balance. Thank fuck for Dylan grabbing hold of my arm to steady me. And the fact that I didn’t have any glasses yet in hand.
“I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
I followed the raspy southern voice to find a young man, in his early twenties, staring at me. With sleek copper hair and big blue eyes, he looked like he walked the fashion runways, not just the carpeted ones.
“I’m fine. No harm done,” I replied to the stranger and offered my hand. “Tate Aduma, nice to meet you.”
“Oh my God, it’s an honor to meet you, sir. I just loved your performance in Jagged Edge,” the man replied, his cheeks flushed. “I’m Colm McDade. I’m a guest of Kendrick Sloan.”
“Cool. I haven’t seen Kendrick yet. Where is he?”
“He’s doing interviews.”
“Are you in the biz?”
“I’m an actor. And a model. Well, I model to pay for my acting classes, but my first love is acting—” he paused and ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Shit, I’m rambling. Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I reassured him. “Are you new to LA?”
Colm nodded.
