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Once that was done, Kendrick ushered us inside. “Go mix and mingle. I’ll catch up with you later.”
This house was open concept living at it’s most extravagant. The entire living, dining, and kitchen space all together was the entire size of my apartment, times four.
With floor to ceiling windows and minimalist décor, the house was all about the view: a panoramic slice of the city, lit up like a wash of glittering jewels. People were packed into every corner of the room, the music blasting out over the din.
Tate tapped my arm and I followed him through the crowd.
A dining table big enough for twenty was set up with bottles of champagne and liquor on one end and bags of coke down the other.
Plenty of people were lined up to score, one after the other, taking their turn. I stuck to alcohol and the occasional spliff. Coke made me jittery as fuck and that screwed with my ability to audition. But it was tempting, especially when the host was providing the goods to his guests for free. Only the biggest players in this town could afford to do that.
“Champagne or a margarita?” I asked Tate.
“Champagne. I’ll be right back.”
Tate let go of my arm, and I watched as he walked around the table, weaving in and out of the throngs of people. He was stopped several times by one person more famous than the next. But Tate didn’t linger, he said a quick hello and kept rounding the table until he reached the other end.
“Would you care for a glass of champagne, sir?”
I startled at first because I didn’t even notice the server standing nearby.
Nodding, I held up two fingers. “Thanks.”
When he passed over the glasses, I took my first sip, glancing around the room.
I nearly choked on the bubbly.
It wasn’t the champagne. It was Tate that caught me off guard.
I watched as he grabbed one of the gold cylinders littering the table and leaned down to snort a whole line of coke.
When he finally leaned back up, he shook his head and smiled, wiping his nose.
Tate made his way around the table again and I passed him a glass, my hands suddenly shaky.
“Never seen you do that before,” I said casually as I looked at him.
He shrugged his shoulders. “Only the past few months. My schedule’s been crazy and it’s the only thing that keeps me energized. You know how it is. Plus, this current job has been difficult. Wait, that’s not the right word. It’s kicking my ass.”
“Playing the bad guy is getting old already?”
“It’s much worse than that,” Tate hissed and downed his champagne in one long gulp. “Never done anything like it. My sleep has been fucked too. So, I need a boost now and then.”
Now and then? Did he mean once a week or…
“I can see the wheels turning in your head, Ree. Relax. It’s fun. Everyone does it. You have.”
“That’s right, so there’s no judgement here. Just friendly concern,” I replied and took another sip of champagne, hoping the alcohol would burn away the fear that was now swirling in my belly. “Tell me more about what’s going on with this role.”
“It’s best that I don’t. Except to say it’s the most challenging job I’ve had. Ever. But it’s a lot. It’s haunting.”
Tate was sweating now, his pupils dilated, his face flushed. He motioned for the waiter and grabbed another two glasses of champagne. I finished mine and took the offered second.
“See that guy over there? That’s Neal Lockwin, my director.”
Tate pointed across the room.
Sure enough, in the flesh, was Hollywood’s most notable actor turned director. He’d been in the biz for forty years and was a studio heavyweight.
