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“I’ll say.”
“I hate you for embarrassing me in front of the cast, the crew, the press, in front of everybody—with your stupid practical jokes.”
“Who knew you’d keep falling for them?”
“I hate you for all the hours I spent sitting around the set waiting for you.”
“Unprofessional, I’ll admit. But you kept your nose buried in books, so you should thank me for your superior education.”
“And for your sleazeball behavior that got us canceled and cost me
millions.”
“You? What about the millions I cost myself?”
“At least I can feel good about that.”
“Okay, my turn…” His smile had a silky edge. “You were a stuck-up little prude, sweetheart, and a big-time tattletale. Whenever you had the tiniest gripe, you made sure Daddy Paul ran to the producers and raised a stink. His little princess had to have everything her way.”
Her mouth remained curled, but her eyes flashed outrage. “That is so not true.”
“And you were a selfish actor. You always had to stick to the script, no room for improvisation. It was suffocating.” He chucked her under the chin again.
She kicked him hard on the inside of his calf where no one could see. He winced, and she patted his hand. “You only wanted to improvise because you didn’t have your lines memorized.”
“Whenever I tried to push the show out of its comfort zone, you sabotaged me.”
“Disagreement isn’t sabotage.”
“You trashed me in the press.”
“Only after your sex tape!”
“Some sex tape. I had my clothes on.”
“She didn’t!” Georgie reinforced her own slipping smile. “Say what you really mean. You hated that I made more money than you and that I had more star power.”
“Oh, yes. How could I forget your memorable turn on Broadway as Annie?”
“While you were ditching school and hanging out on street corners.” She propped her chin on the back of her hand. “Did you ever get that high school diploma?”
“Well, well…Isn’t this interesting?”
They’d been so absorbed in their argument, they hadn’t noticed the tall, cool blonde approaching their table. Rory Keene, with her classic French twist and long, patrician features, looked more like an East Coast socialite than a powerful studio executive, but even during her single season as a lowly production assistant on Skip and Scooter, she’d been a little intimidating.
Bram shot to his feet and planted a cool kiss on her cheek. “Rory, it’s great to see you. You look beautiful, as always. Did you enjoy your lunch?”
“Very much. I can’t believe the two of you are sitting at the same table without a loaded weapon.”
“Mine’s in my purse,” Georgie said with a Scooter grin.
Bram curled his hand around Georgie’s shoulder. “Water under the bridge. We made peace a long time ago.”
“Really?” Rory slipped her purse higher on her arm and gave Bram a long, hard stare. “Take care of Georgie. This town has a limited supply of nice people, and we can’t afford to lose one of them.” With a nod, she turned away and headed across the patio.
Bram’s smooth smile faded. He glared down at Georgie. “When did you and Rory get to be such good buddies?”
“We’re not.”
