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“Have you read the script yet?”
The script.
Oh. Right. The script.
Betty considered her answer. She could tell Beau to take a hike and hope that after tomorrow she would never see him again.
Or, she could tell him the truth.
That she’d read the script.
That not only was he a brilliant actor, Betty had seen another side to the man. His writing was intense. Deep yet subtle. The characters he’d created were raw and real and she’d bawled like a baby when she’d finished it.
She could tell Beau Simon that her first thought after reading the script, had been that she would sell her goddamn soul to the devil himself, if it meant she could play the part of Eden.
She could tell him that she knew…deep down, she knew this was her chance to do something with her life. Really do something, and do it well.
She could tell him that for once in her life she thought she could be extraordinary at something. That her family would be proud of her. That her dad…that her dad would know she wasn’t just a fuck-up.
But she didn’t say any of those things.
Because no matter how badly she wanted the role, Betty knew she could never let Beau Simon know how much she needed it. How much she needed him. A girl had pride.
“I read the script,” she said softly.
A moment passed.
And then another.
“Is that all you’re going to say.”
She shrugged. “For now it is.”
Beau shook his head. “I’m not playing games, Barker. Either you want the role or not.”
His voice deepened and he took another step closer to her. His eyes were narrowed and she knew he was about to burn the short end of his fuse. Beau Simon wasn’t used to getting the run-around from anyone, especially those of the female persuasion.
She forced her hands to hang loose at her side, while she glanced behind Beau. Where the hell was Matt?
Sitting at the bar, no doubt, onto his second bottle of whiskey. Which, at the moment didn’t seem like all that bad of an idea.
“I want the role,” she finally admitted.
Was it surprise that flickered across his face, ever so briefly?
“Good.” Beau ran his fingers through the silky strands of blond that fell across his forehead and onto his cheek. “Okay. This is good.” He smiled. “I knew you’d come around, Bets.”
Bets? Since when did he call her Bets. Bets was a nickname. A family name and only those close to her used it. For Beau to call her, Bets, it just seemed…too intimate.
“Good. I’ll put in a call to Mason Gerard tomorrow and tell him the role’s yours. He’ll be pissed, hell, he wanted Mindy Boatwright for the part, but he’ll get over it.”
“Mason Gerard,” she repeated dully. She’d met him once when she’d been dating Bailey. He’d looked down at her as if she was a distasteful bug he wanted to crush on his way over to the cocktail bar.
Beau nodded, though she wasn’t entirely sure he was aware she’d spoken, and he was already reaching for his cell.
Mason Gerard was big time Hollywood. His studio put out quality films, ones well received by the critics and movies that managed to gross millions and net the studio a good chunk of money.
“You told Mason Gerard you wanted me in the film?”
