Lovers & Liars (13 page)

“Hmm?
Oh. Yeah.” But she was too drowsy to correct herself, make a smart remark, or
explain. He kissed her forehead and drew her closer. Before long, the lovers
were asleep.

Chapter
Eight

Erica
slinked into
Whitmarsh
Eddy’s classroom, her tail
between her legs. Sam motioned for her to sit next to him.

“Why
the doom and gloom?” he asked.

“I
blew it.”

Sam
raised his eyebrows, shooting her a questioning look, but the coach entered the
room and clapped his hands.

“All
right, update time.”

Erica
sunk lower in her seat, hoping to become invisible.

“We
had a few folks try out. Let’s get the results.”

He
called on several students before her, and Erica’s hopes that he’d forgotten
her rose. But her small smile froze and fell off her face when he drew the
class’s attention to her.

“Our
shining star, Erica Stone. How did it go, Miss Stone?”

The
silence was deafening. All eyes were on her. She swallowed, trying to moisten a
mouth that made desert sand look wet.

“Well,
out with it. What happened? Stand up.”

Erica
pushed to her feet, grabbing onto the back of the chair in front of her to
steady her wobbly knees. “I blew it.”

“What?”
Whit raised his hand to his ear. “Can’t hear you, darling.”

“I
blew it!” She fairly shouted. The room buzzed with comments among the students.

“How
so? What happened?”

Erica
gave a brief explanation of how she had frozen in front of the casting director
and producers. She had forgotten the lines. So, they had given her the script
to read. Her voice had cracked. She had taken water. Her emotions had been
locked in her internal closet and wouldn’t come out. The reading had been
wooden, and she had been dismissed with the mumbled, mandatory “thank you.” She
had never heard from them.

“Stage
fright?”

She
nodded.
Whitmarsh
launched into methods and tips on
how to cope with stage fright. Erica sank back down into her seat. She wanted
to cry and run out of the room. Sam patted her arm.

“You’ll
do better next time.”

She
managed a feeble smile at his attempt to cheer her up. She put aside her
humiliation and participated in the class. Afterward, Whit called her up to the
front. Sam moseyed along, too.

“Erica,
don’t be discouraged. You have talent. A ton of talent. I’ve set up another
audition for you. A friend of mine will be there. I’ll tell him to go easy on
you.”

She
smiled, grateful he hadn’t given up on her.

“It’s
the movie,
Strange Bedfellows.
A
supporting actress got sick and had to drop out. You’re perfect for the part.”

He
went on to describe the character, but Erica was only listening with half an
ear.
Strange Bedfellows.
That’s Gunther’s movie. Is he the friend?
Oh my God. I can’t do this.

“Who’s
your friend?”

“Gunther
Quill. I’ve already told him about you.”

Erica’s
heart skipped a beat, and her lungs ceased to work. Whit smiled. “He’s very
anxious to meet you.”

Shit.
“When is it? I’m not sure I can go…”
Stupid
lies. Now I’m going to miss out on a great opportunity. Crap!

Whit
frowned. “Look, I’ve gone out on a limb for you, Erica. If you’re going to go
primadonna
on me, well, hell. You can just leave this
class. I’m only interested in serious students here. Students who put their
craft first. I’m sure there are ten kids in this class who would trade places
with you in a heartbeat.”

“I’m
sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’ll be there. I promise.”

A
smile brightened up the chubby face of the acting coach. “Good. I’ll tell
Gunther to expect you. And good luck, my dear.”

She
didn’t remember leaving the studio, but suddenly she was outside, walking to
her car with Sam.

“You
lucky bitch!”

She
directed her gaze on him. “What did you say?”

“You’re
so lucky! A second chance after you crapped out on the first one. He must have
the
hots
for you.”

“Thanks
for being so supportive, Sam.” Erica turned away from him.

“Maybe
I should call Mr. Quill and tell him his lying little squeeze is going to be
trying out.”

She
whirled around to face him. “You wouldn’t!”

“Wouldn’t
I? Whit obviously wants to make it with you, too.”

“I’m
going to find a way to get Gunther away from that audition Friday. Don’t you
dare tell him.”

“Why
not?” His eyes glistened. “Make room for someone else in our class, like maybe
Beth.”

“You
have the
hots
for Beth?”

“Wouldn’t
you like to know, Miss Erica, Stone-cold-bitch?”

She
raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist before she made contact.

Whitmarsh
Eddy walked by. “Rehearsing? Nice of you to prep her for the audition, Sam.” He
continued on to his car.

“I’m
not gonna call him. Maybe if he’s not there, you won’t get the part. Sleeping
with the producer is a guarantee of a contract, isn’t it?”

Gunther will bust an artery if he
sees me there.

“Right,
Sam. Don’t call. Let me fail. We both know I don’t have what it takes to do
this. No guts. So let me do the audition for
Bedfellows,
and then the
chance’ll
go to
Beth. You can tell her you discouraged me, and maybe she’ll sleep with you.”

“I
don’t have any trouble finding women to sleep with me.”

“Good.
Then you won’t miss me.” Erica turned on her heel and headed toward her rust
bucket with less confidence than she displayed.
He’s jealous, and now he’s not my friend any more. Was he ever?

“Break
a leg, Erica. In fact, break both, and your neck, too!” Sam called after her.

The
angry words brought a chill to her bones.
Maybe
I’m not cut out for this business. How bad do I want this dream? Sam hates me.
Am I going to be alone forever?
She brushed aside the sadness and forced
determination into her heart.
Haven’t
lost anything. Sam was never my friend. I’m going to get Gunther to go
somewhere, and then I’m going to nail this audition. I need this. I’ll deal
with the fallout later. It’s my dream. I need to go for it, even if I fail.

The
decrepit vehicle turned over on the first try. Erica saw that as a good sign
and steered onto the highway, letting her dreams fill her thoughts.

The
next day at the office, Erica decided to try to set up a meeting between
Gunther and Grace Brewster. Max’s birthday bash had been a huge success.
Gunther had apologized profusely to Grace. He’d offered to donate a thousand
dollars to her favorite charity. She had expressed regret for her attack on
him. They were seen smiling and chatting. Although they weren’t exactly bosom buddies,
they were friendly enough to work together when the party broke up.

If I can get Gunther involved in a script
conference with Grace, then he’ll miss the my audition. He’s dying for her to
do the movie version of Sway.
She called Grace and
set it up for five o’clock, the time of the audition. Then, she took a deep
breath and walked into his office.

“I’ve
set up a conference for you with Grace Brewster on Friday at five. Put it on
your calendar.”

“Hmm.
Friday at five. I thought I had something else then?”

“You’re
not good with these things.
Gimme
.” Erica snatched the
phone from him and quickly erased the audition from his schedule. “Nope.
Nothing here.”

“I
thought I had…give that back.” He reached out, and she put it in his hand,
smiling to herself. He opened the calendar and scrolled through several times.

“You’re
right. Nothing there.”

“So
put this in, okay?” She turned to go.

“She
coming here?”

Erica
called over her shoulder. “She is. And I’m going to have her favorite coffee with
a cheese Danish or two.” She closed his door and leaned against it, letting out
the breath she’d been holding.
He trusts
me. No suspicion at all.

That
night she brought home the script for
Strange
Bedfellows.
She studied the part until she could recite any of Violet’s
scenes by heart. Her confidence grew as she got to know the character.
Whit was right, this part is perfect for me.

Happy
anticipation grew inside her as the day approached. Now that Gunther was out of
the way, she knew she could give a great performance, and he’d never know. In
fact, she chuckled to think he’d want her to do a contract for “Erica Stone.”
I don’t have the part yet. Slow down.

To
ease her guilty conscience, she catered to Gunther like never before. She
bought special coffee for him, charted the box office for
Hustle and Dance
all the way down to the smallest markets. She
typed up a report on the receipts for
Sway.
Gunther’s projects were all doing well, and he was the most cheerful she’d
ever seen.

On
Friday, she couldn’t sit still. In order not to be late to the audition, she
lied about a dentist appointment and planned to leave at three. She set up the coffeemaker
for Grace, showed Gunther where the cheese Danish was, and kissed him goodbye.

“A
kiss before going to the dentist? I like the affection, but it’s only the
dentist.”

She
stopped short.
Don’t overdo it. Play it
light.
“Why not?” she tossed off, grabbing her purse and heading for the
door. Once she was in the car, she took a deep breath.
That was close. I’m sorry, Gunther, but I need to do this.
She
drove off, putting him out of her mind and focusing on the part of Violet.

* * * *

Gunther
leaned back in his chair. Could life get any better? Business was great.
Hustle and Dance
was bringing in a ton
of money, and the European release looked promising.
Sway
was sold out for six months. He smiled. A ding on his computer
drew his attention.
An
email from Whit.
He opened
it.

Am
anxious to hear what you think of Erica Stone. Call me after the audition.

Gunther
bolted upright.
Shit! The audition for Strange
Bedfellows! Fuck, I forgot! I could swear I’d put that on my calendar.
He
dialed Grace Brewster and explained the schedule mix-up, apologizing profusely.
He could tell she wasn’t pleased, and it worried him. He needed her.

Within
five minutes, he was in the parking lot, putting the key in his
Ferrari
.
I
gotta
make that audition.
He screeched
to a halt, pulled into the first space he could find, and hustled into the
building. He entered the studio just as the casting director announced “Erica
Stone.” Gunther slipped into a seat three rows from the back so as not to be
disruptive.

Erica
walked out from the wings with the script in her hand. Gunther rubbed his eyes.
I’m so in love, I’m seeing her
everywhere.
But it was still his Erica. He got up and strode down the
aisle. He needed to be closer. Obviously, his eyesight was going. The casting
director turned and greeted him. He slipped into the row behind the director
and other producers. Then, he saw Erica look up, recognize him, and freeze.
Erica is that you?
But he knew it was.
What are you doing here?

Still,
he didn’t want to believe.
You’re an
actress? No. You said you weren’t. You lied to me?
He had been betrayed. He
was hurt, mortally wounded. Pain seared through his body before his mind kicked
in. For the first time since Laurel died, tears pricked at the back of
Gunther’s eyes. He had loved her, only to be her dupe, her stepping stone. She
had tricked him into caring about her. But it was all about her ambition, only
her ambition, not about love.

Then,
Gunther Quill the survivor kicked in. Rage entered his heart. He could hardly
control his anger and sensed his face was turning red. He tried some breathing
techniques that Whit had showed him to control anger. They worked, temporarily.
He turned his attention to her and said in his iciest tone, “Please proceed,
Ms. Stone. Don’t let me interrupt.”

“Erica,
turn to the scene where Violet tells Ted she’s pregnant.”

Gunther
couldn’t take his eyes off her. She had turned several shades paler. The
director asked her if she needed a minute, or if she wanted to lie down, but
the actress shook her head.

“This
is a very emotional scene, Ms. Stone. Violet has been betrayed by her lover.
Give me everything. Show us what you have.”

Betrayal? You should be able to do
that perfectly, Miss Jezebel.
Gunther sat back,
staring at her, his fingertips pressed together. Erica looked at him then at
the script. Her hand shook as she turned the pages.