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“I’ll call him now,” I offer as I get up from the chair.
“No, go to his house. He’s not answering any of my calls. I was lucky to get a text message from him to let me know that he’s alive.”
“Is he still drinking?”
He nods. “I would say so.” Vinnie pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and groans. “This is my fault, you know. I pushed him to take the role in Twelve Steps. Goddamn method actors. They get so wrapped up in portraying their characters perfectly that they become the person. I didn’t expect him to turn into an alcoholic. It was a good gig with a lot of money and a great director attached to the project. I did what any agent would have done.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say with a weak smile. “You didn’t make him drink. He could have played the role without falling down the rabbit hole.”
“I wish he would enter treatment. But he doesn’t see his drinking as an addiction. That’s the problem with addicts. They wait until it’s out of control before they will admit they need help. I hope it doesn’t come to that with Nico. He’s like a son…” Vinnie clears his threat. “Anyway, I need you to stop by his house. I’ll have Miranda handle your desk for the afternoon. Make sure Nico is still breathing and ready to work.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Once I reach my desk, I remove my cell phone from my purse and scroll down to Dylan’s number in my recent calls. My heart hammers in my chest as my finger hovers over his name. I hate to ask him to drive me again, but he did offer to help me out until I get paid.
“Yes, princess?” Dylan says on the third ring.
I shake my head and laugh. “Aren’t you cute?”
“No,” he shoots back. “Babies are cute. I prefer devilishly handsome.”
I laugh in his ear. “Oh, my God. You’re so full of yourself. Stop it.”
He snickers. “You know you love it.”
You know you love me.
There’s so much subtext behind his words. I still care about Dylan, and no amount of time or distance will ever change that. He was my first crush, first kiss, first love, my first everything.
“So, let me guess,” Dylan says. “You need another ride.”
“You seem to be enjoying this way too much.”
“I like having you in my debt.”
“Dylan,” I groan.
“Fine. What now? You need me to take you to Starbucks again?”
Dylan might be a pain in my ass, but he’s been super cool lately about helping me with my errands. Even though he will never admit it, he enjoys spending time with me, and I don’t exactly hate it either.
“I need a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”
He blows air into the phone. “That asshole again?”
“What’s wrong with Nico?”
“Are you kidding me, Ash? After the way he treated you last time?”
“He’s an idiot. And famous. All of the stars Vinnie reps have the same air of entitlement.”
“It doesn’t mean they can get away with treating you like shit.”
“I don’t have time to debate about celebrity behavior with you. So, will you take me to Nico’s house or what?”
“Yeah. Fine.” He sounds annoyed with Nico. “But if that asshole—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt before he can finish his thought. “Please don’t interfere with my job. I don’t care if he thinks I have a fat ass or whatever he said to me last time. This isn’t about me. I’m there to do a job. That’s it. And I need this job, okay?”
“Whatever,” he mutters. “I’ll meet you out front in ten.”
After I run to the bathroom and gather a few more scripts Nico might like, I stuff them into my messenger bag and sling it over my shoulder. Dylan is double-parked in the street out front of my office, with the top of his convertible down and looking like a hot pilot in dark aviator sunglasses.
My heart hammers against my ribcage. Even after all of these years, Dylan still looks like the boy I fell in love with, except now he’s a man who drives me crazy.
He’s dressed in a white oxford, with a royal blue tie loose around his neck and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Of course, he folded his suit jacket on the back seat. I laugh as I get into his car.
He flips up his sunglasses, his blue eyes meeting mine. “What are you laughing about?”
“You,” I admit with a smile.
“Oh? Is that so? What did I do now?”
“You being your control-freak self.”
I blow him a kiss, and he raises a curious eyebrow at me.
“Women,” he says under his breath.
Instead of pushing me, he shifts the car into Drive and then pulls onto Wilshire Boulevard.
“Don’t you have a company to run? For a CTO, you have an awful lot of time to drive me around town.”
