“I asked for it ten minutes ago.” The hand at Roe’s side clenches into a fist before releasing, almost unnoticeable. “If she did her job, I’d be drinking it already.”
Rachel turns to catch her boss’s eye and her face falls. “Yes, sir. I’ll be right back.”
“Get that coffee that I like,” Roe snaps.
I frown at his tone.
“The one across town?” Rachel clarifies.
“Is that a problem?”
“No, sir. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Rachel’s gaze flicks from man to man. In LA traffic that could take an hour. “Your next appointment is in twenty if I’m not back in time.”
Zebulund, who has been watching this with good humor, frowns.
“They’ll have to wait until Mr. Zebulund and I are done,” Roe says.
“Yes, sir.” And with that, Rachel turns to leave. I step back right before she brushes past me. She halts momentarily and looks in my direction. My pulse jumps. Her eyes focus behind me and around me but never settle on me.
This happens sometimes. I mean, I’m still here. People sense other people even if they don’t see them. All of my bodywashes and lotions are fragrance-free but everyone has their scent. We all have a presence no matter how we try to stay hidden.
Rachel’s eyes set with a glare of determination. She’s gone again without another look back.
Since I’m already in my invisible uniform so to speak, I skulk toward the open door. Roe chooses the chair across from Zebulund, still pointed away from me, so I can’t see his face. Not that I want to see his face. He settles back with one leg crossed casually over the other knee. His guest’s eyes remain locked on Rachel’s retreat.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Zebulund?” Roe asks.
“Please, call me Marty.” He returns his focus to Roe. “I came here alone for a reason. To speak man to man.”
Roe asks, flicking a piece of fuzz off his pants, “About what?”
“I think you and I are destined to be friends.” He slips into a more professional tone. “Your star’s rising. I have a lot to offer.”
Zebulund was the most powerful man in this town. Everybody knew it. That’s why after all this time I’ve made almost no progress getting the information I need on him.
I step closer.
Prior research revealed that these two had never worked together on any projects. How could Roe have made it this far without Zebulund on his team? When O.G. sent me here today I didn’t know James Roe would be a part of this. Was this conversation that I was supposed to hear? O.G., you sneaky, sneaky wabbit.
“Here I am.” Roe’s arms relax to the side, palms up. “No mystery. Just a kid from Nebraska.”
“You’re awfully quiet about your past. Makes for good gossip.”
Roe shakes his head and chuckles good-naturedly and I catch his profile. Dammit, he’s handsome.
Okay, so I definitely see his draw. He does have something.
“No mystery. My parents have a good marriage. I’ve got an older sister and a younger brother. Happy childhood. No drama. Doesn’t make for interesting TV.”
“Ah, so that’s your angle. The less known the bigger the intrigue.”
“Sure.” Roe chuckles again but there’s a strain to it.
There’s always an angle. Some image. Some face that’s presented to the world. Nobody in this industry is real. Everybody is as fake as their teeth and tans. I glare at Zebulund, hoping for laser vision. My entire life course derailed because of him and he wouldn’t know me if he tripped on me.
A small part of me is begrudgingly impressed by Roe’s reaction. I’ve seen enough actors over the years act like total nutcases to get in Zebulund’s inner circle. It’s not attractive to see a full-grown man all but grovel to be invited to a poker game. Yet, Roe remains stoic and hard to read.
“I like your talent and I think you’d make a great lead in the Space Wars movies.” Zebulund’s fingers resume their tapping.
