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The front gate notification chime echoed throughout my home repeatedly.
“Hmm?”
Moaning, I peeked through my eyelids at the bright light shining through the enormous windows of the living room. The music still played at a loud volume from the previous night and the enormous glass doors were still parted.Shit.
It chimed for the fourth time.
“Who the—”
I rolled up before sluggishly pulling myself to my feet. Still drunk from just a few hours before, I stumbled to the kitchen, pressing the button that opened the front gate. Then, I remotely unlocked my front door. Swaying back to the living room, I picked up the stereo remote, muting it. I fell to the floor, passing back out immediately.
“Mr. Hardwin?” Tom shook my shoulder.
“Huh?”
“Mr. Hardwin, I’ve been trying to wake you for over two hours. We need to get you to the set.”
“What?” Grabbing my head, I shot to a sitting position. “Shit! What time is it?”
“Mr. Hardwin, it’s 10:30.”
Mumbling about last night, I faltered around downstairs, searching for my phone.
“What are you looking for?”
“My phone.” I stopped, pointing to my bare chest. “Maybe a shirt too.”
Grabbing a shirt off the chaise, he tossed it at me.
I caught it, slipping it over my head and marching outside. Yanking my phone off the pool chair, I hurried back inside, locking the door behind me. When I got to the foyer, I glanced over my shoulder to see that he wasn’t following me. I spun around, stepping back into the living room. “Are you coming?”
“Don’t you want to get ready?” His eyes widened, looking me up and down.
“There’s no time,” I huffed. “Come on!”
Once settled in the back of the limo, I slid my phone out of my pocket, checking for any sign of mishaps from the previous night. There was an outgoing call to Ian, and he had answered it. Unfortunately, I had no recollection of it, but it only lasted twenty-one seconds at 3:17 a.m.
Deciding to ignore it for now, I made a mental note to call him after work to apologize for waking him up in the middle of the night. It was the least I could do. There were also many missed calls from my agent, several co-stars, and the director, Tobyn Moss. I only texted the director.
Running late, be there in 30 mins.
I leaned forward, raising my voice to make sure Tom heard me. “I’m going to need you to drive faster today. Ouch,” I mumbled, sitting back, pressing my fingers to my aching temples. “My head is fucking pounding.”
“Sir, it takes an hour to get there.”
“Well, you better drive faster. I just told the director I’ll be there in half an hour.”
I allowed my head to fall back against the seat as I peered out the window, thinking back to my call to Amber before I was drunk. She had answered, which was an improvement, but she hadn’t let me apologize before she hung up. I hadn’t tried to reach out again, but I wanted to.
My phone vibrated across the black leather seat next to my leg. I picked it up seeing that the director texted me back. I sighed deeply as I opened the message.
K
Rolling my eyes, I tucked my phone into my jeans pocket, riding in silence the rest of the way. As we came to a stop, I peeked out the window to see everyone on set staring our way. Tom opened my door, and I confidently got out of the car, sliding on my sunglasses as I approached the waiting cast and crew.
“I’m here now.”
