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“I miss you too.” He pauses and my heart skips. “I have good news though.”
“You finished the album and you’re coming home sooner than you thought?”
He lets out a soft huff of laughter. “No, little dove. We’re making progress though.”
“What else?”
“Mark worked out a deal for us to contribute a song to the Elimination Date soundtrack.”
“Seriously? That’s wonderful!” I stop and consider the irony. “I auditioned for a bit part in that.”
“What happened?”
I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I never got a callback.”
“Fuck them,” he growls. “Maybe I should’ve said no.”
Now I wish I hadn’t told him. “Don’t be crazy! This is huge for you guys! They probably heard I won’t flash my boobs and wouldn’t have hired me anyway.”
He chuckles.
“Wait, does this mean you’re going to be up there even longer?” Dammit that sounded more selfish than celebratory. Thankfully, Chaser doesn’t hold it against me.
“I don’t think so. We’ll work it into our normal schedule. Mark says we’ll be invited to the premiere. You’ll need a killer dress so they know what they missed.”
He tells me about the ideas they kicked around in the studio. I share how embarrassed I was when I flubbed my lines today.
Basically, we talk about everything that’s happened in our lives since we spoke yesterday.
Well, almost everything.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to spill all the details of Andrew’s visit, but for some reason, I don’t.
Whenever Chaser’s away, he encourages me to share every little mundane detail of my life. Why don’t I want to tell him about Andrew’s visit to the set?
Part of it is my excitement over the soundtrack. The next best thing to seeing myself on the silver screen would be hearing one of Chaser’s songs in a film.
My eyelids grow heavy and our pauses extend for longer periods of time. Chaser and I frequently fall asleep on the phone together. I’m dreading the day our phone bill shows up in the mail, yet we always have trouble saying goodbye.
“Time for bed, little dove,” he says.
“I wish you were here.”
“Me too. You’re coming to visit soon. I wish I could say I’ll show you around but honestly, I haven’t done much exploring myself.”
“Cutter really cracks the whip, huh?”
“Yup. It’s working, though. Except for the random chicks Jacob keeps finding and bringing back to the house, he’s on the straight and narrow.”
“Well, he needs at least one vice so don’t be too hard on him,” I tease.
We finally say good night.
I lay in our bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time after we hang up.
The nagging thought that I should’ve told him about Andrew’s visit won’t go away.
Then again, I never mentioned Andrew’s offer to model the T-shirts, either. I guess, I figured it was another one of Andrew’s big ideas that would never come to fruition.
Besides, after the tour, Chaser and I went home. Got engaged. Who cares about some stupid T-shirts when your boyfriend takes you on a romantic getaway to propose?
Maybe deep down I’m being selfish. I don’t want to tell Chaser. He’ll be pissed. And I don’t want to do anything that delays him finishing the album and coming home to me as soon as possible.
Even if he has to go right back out on the road.
I toss and turn for most of the night.
Chapter Thirty-One
Mallory
Pamela’s still cool to me the next morning. I can’t decide if I should apologize for Andrew showing up yesterday or let it go and hope she forgets all about it.
At least Cindy’s cheerful and happy to see me. As she spreads foundation over my forehead, I peek up at her. “Are you doing anything after work tonight?”
“Does drinking a bottle of wine alone in my apartment count?”
“You can always come visit me. Or we can go out to a movie, grab dinner, or something?”
“You don’t see enough of me here?”
My shoulders jerk up. Maybe Cindy has enough friends and isn’t interested in socializing with me outside of work. Whatever. Please let her be free to go to Andrew’s with me tonight. After all my tossing and turning, I decided I can’t go there by myself.
“So, I have a friend who’s putting together an ad campaign for some T-shirts he designed. Are you interested in doing the hair and makeup?”
“Are you serious? God, Mallory, yes!” she squeals in my face. In a quieter voice she adds, “I could use the extra cash.”
“Awesome. Thank you.”
“No, thank you. I appreciate it.”
“Do you mind going with me tonight? He wants to check out a few spots on his property for the photos.”
In the mirror I catch her frown. “Is your friend doing this at his house?”
“Yeah, it’s all very low budget. But he said he’ll pay you your regular daily rate,” I hurry to add.
“Who is it?”
“Uh, one of Chaser’s friends.”
“Oh, okay. Sure. I can stop by for a little bit. That way I can get an idea of what look he wants. When’s the full shoot?”
“Saturday.”
“Perfect.” She bends down in front of me. “Close your eyes. Don’t blink,” she whispers as she sweeps shadow over my lids. I don’t blink, but I sneeze in her face which is worse.
“I’m sorry!”
She waves off my apology. “I’ve had worse. Maybe you’re allergic to this, let me go find something else.”
As she steps away to rifle through her makeup kit, I catch a glimpse of Pamela in the doorway. “Hey!” I wave to her. “Are you coming or going?”
Her frosty glare should send a shiver down my spine but I think I’ve built up an immunity to them. “Waiting for the chair.”
“I’ll be done in a sec,” Cindy says without looking up.
I lean forward and pick up my script, waving it at Pamela. “Do you want to run lines?”
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Phew. It’ll be nice if we can go back to being friends again. Although, will that be possible when she finds out I’m modeling Andrew’s shirts?
Or will it drive another wedge between us?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Mallory
I’m a mess of nerves as I leave the set.
“I’ll follow you up, okay?” Cindy says.
I’d feel better if we were going to Andrew’s together. That way she can’t leave me. But that’s a horrible thing to think, right? If I’m so damn nervous, why am I doing this in the first place?
Andrew’s a friend. He’s Chaser’s friend. I’m doing Chaser’s friend a favor. There’s no harm in that. Everything’s fine.
“Are you sure you don’t want to ride together?” I ask.
“I can’t. I need to be home by seven.”
Shit, shit, shit.
“Okay. Follow me.”
I move through traffic at a snail’s pace earning a few honks and middle fingers from my fellow drivers. Cindy stays right behind me. We pass the turn for my road and I glance at it longingly.
We continue up the short, narrow maze of tiny streets leading up to Andrew’s much plusher home near the top of the Hollywood Hills. Cindy leaves her car on the street in the perfect spot for a quick getaway.
She pulls a small makeup trunk out of her car and joins me. “Are you nervous?”
“No. Just tired. It was a long day. I should’ve rescheduled or something.”
We pass Andrew’s Ferrari, his black Chevy Blazer, his Harley, and a few other motorized toys before reaching the side entrance. I take a deep breath before knocking.
The door swings open. Andrew’s lean, shirtless body fills the space. Without permission, my gaze travels down his inked torso to the dips at his hips, disappearing under his tight, low-slung jeans, all the way to his bare feet.
