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A few seconds later, the same gruff voice from the club booms through the speaker. “Vin, it’s been a while. You better not be pitching Nico Chase to me again.”
“No, not this time. I have my assistant, Ash Riley, in my office with me. She says you gave her your business card. So, what part do you have in mind for her?”
“She’s your assistant,” he says, somewhat surprised. “I had no idea. Her cabaret act last night, shall we say, inspired me.”
Vinnie rolls his eyes. “How so?”
“I’m working on a satire about a cabaret club. The script is still in progress, but your girl would make a nice addition to the cast. I’d like to see her tomorrow around noon. Give her my home address.”
Vinnie looks annoyed as he says, “You better have a legit part for Ash. She’s my assistant. We take care of our own at Brenton-Lake.”
“Understood,” Dominic says. “I’ll see her tomorrow at noon.”
I have to contain my urge to jump on the desk and scream as Vinnie hangs up the phone. After years of school and failed auditions, I may finally get the chance to show my acting chops.
After I leave Vinnie’s office, I fish my cell phone from my purse and text Dylan.
Ash: I have an audition tomorrow.
An hour later…
Ash: We need to celebrate tonight.
A few hours later…
Ash: You okay?
What the hell is his problem?
I can’t go through this shit again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ash
On our ride home, I grab Sloan’s headrest and give it a good shake. “What’s up with you today? You got your period?”
“It’s nothing,” Sloan grunts.
“You’re not talking to Dylan. Why?”
Sloan looks out his window. “Ash, stay out of it.”
“Okay, fine.” I slide over to the seat behind Dylan and give his headrest a shake. “Dylan, why aren’t you talking to Sloan?”
“Ash, c’mon,” Dylan says, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Both of you need to take out your tampons and stop acting like little bitches.”
Sloan snorts with laughter.
Dylan ignores my comment, staring at the road in front of him. We’re stuck in a shit ton of Los Angeles traffic, bumper to bumper with the car in front of us.
“You two better kiss and make up,” I say to no one in particular. “The ride to your house is way too long to sit in silence.”
“I’ll change the playlist,” Sloan offers.
“That’s not the point,” I challenge. “Why are you guys acting like weirdos?”
Sloan groans and then shifts his body to look at me. “We’re working through our issues in our own way.”
“By not talking to each other? Men are dumb. Why don’t you kick each other’s asses and then hug it out?”
Sloan glances over at Dylan and then sits back in his seat. He goes back to staring out the window, which annoys the hell out of me. We continue our drive home in almost silence. An hour in the car with these jackasses feels like a day.
Once we step inside the house, Dylan makes a beeline for his bedroom without a word. Sloan goes straight for the kitchen. I close the door behind me, annoyed by their reactions. I waited all day to hear back from Dylan.
“Have a drink with me,” Sloan says.
I drop my purse on the sofa table and join him in the kitchen. Sloan uncaps two bottles of Heineken and hands one to me. We clink our bottles together, and Sloan leads me outside to sit by the pool.
The waves crash from a distance, the scent of salt filling my nostrils. Sloan plops down on a lounge chair and pats the one next to him. He leans back, facing the ocean, and drinks his beer.
I sit next to him, waiting for him to talk.
“I don’t know what to do,” Sloan says after a while. “Dylan’s holding up the deal with Exact Match over an algorithm.”
I don’t want to say anything that would imply I have been talking to Dylan behind my brother’s back.
“Dylan wrote the code for Date Crashers,” I say, kicking my feet up on the chair to get comfortable. “You know what he’s like. He’s possessive of his work.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Sloan shoves a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “He says it’s important. That we can’t sell the algorithm. But Max—”
“Max is a creep,” I say without hesitation. “I don’t think you should trust anything he says.”
He rolls onto his side and looks at me. “What makes you say that?”
“I get this eerie feeling about him. You’ve known Dylan for most of your life. Why would you trust the word of a stranger over your best friend?”
Blowing out a deep breath, he turns his head, as if ashamed. I hate that Sloan is doubting Dylan. He knows he should be supporting his friend instead of acting like a man-child.
