What To Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection Part Two (47 page)

He was going nowhere with that attitude, and it wasn’t my job to change him. He wouldn’t have a chance in a meeting with Kevin.

His big mistake was telling me he’d been in two episodes of
Friends
, with speaking parts in both. He claimed he was supposed to have been a recurring character—an ex-boyfriend of Monica’s. All of that would have been easy to check but I didn’t have to. I was a huge fan of the show and I’d probably seen every episode three times. I would have remembered this guy. So I added “liar” to the list of negatives.

“So why aren’t you repped now?” I asked.

“Well, my agent recently passed away, so that’s why I’m looking.”

I felt bad for asking the question with such a sarcastic tone. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. What was his name? Or her name?” I started shuffling through his still shots to find his resume.

“Estelle Leonard.”

I stopped. That was the name of the agent who represented Joey’s character on
Friends
. What the hell was with this guy? He was either abnormally stupid, or he thought I was. It was at this point that I decided he was no longer entertaining and I didn’t have the patience to listen to any more of his bullshit.

I ended the meeting by standing and telling him, “Thanks for coming by. We’ll be in touch.” It was a nice way of saying
Don’t call us, we’ll call you
.

“You got plans tonight?” he asked.

I was stunned, considering how coldly I had treated him. “Excuse me?”

“I was just wondering if, you know, maybe we could ‘hook up’,” he said, using air-quotes.

“I really don’t think so.”

He lowered his voice, not for the benefit of privacy, but in an apparent attempt to sound sexy. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

“So?”

“So, again, it’s a no.”

He stepped toward me, looking right at my chest. “You’re really hot. Just tell me what it’ll take.”

Exasperated, I told him the truth. “You want to know what it will take? A serious lapse of judgment on my part.” I stepped toward the conference room door, opened it, and stepped aside. I motioned out the door with my hand. “Good luck, Mr. Ryan.”

He straightened up and started moving toward the door. I gave him a little more room.

“You don’t have to be such a bitch about it,” he said.

I let him get out of the room, almost all the way across the lobby, and when he reached for the main doors I said, “And
you
don’t have to wear so much cheap aftershave!”

He kept going without looking back.

Kevin’s office door opened and he poked his head out. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Everything’s fine.”

“Okay. I’m on a call, but give me…” He looked at his watch. “Give me about fifteen minutes and we’ll go over some of those demo DVDs.”

I was gathering the stuff off the conference room table to throw in the trash, wondering if Sam Ryan had been right. I had never thought of myself as a bitch before, but I guess it was inside me somewhere and all it took was a little stress and an annoying person to release it.

I was worried about the whole thing with Max and the impact my rejection would have on my job. Jesus. How stupid had I been, letting things get as far as they had? Kevin would probably fire me on the spot if he found out.

Back out in the open office area, I heard Kevin’s door open. I looked in that direction and saw him waving me into his office. I put the package down on a desk and went in, where he motioned to me to have a seat, then put a finger up to his lips, telling me to be silent and just listen.

Kevin switched the phone to speaker and the room was filled with the smooth voice of Max Dalton.

Oh, shit. This is it,
I thought. Max was going to tell Kevin that he decided to take a pass on Jacqueline Mathers. Then we’d lose her as a client. Kevin would probably find out what happened in Vegas, I’d lose my job, and I’d become the latest person to hear the proverbial “You’ll never work in this town again” phrase.
Damnit, stomach, stop churning….
I felt like I was going to be sick right there on the floor in Kevin’s office.

What I heard Max saying was: “…lots of auditions, live and on DVD, and this was one of the harder decisions I’ve had to make. Jacqueline is good. She’s great looking and she’s an absolute natural. Her lack of experience bothers me a little…”

Here it comes
, I thought.

“…but it’s not something that can’t be overcome,” Max was saying. Then he mentioned the director. “Gary and I talked it over, and he’s equally impressed. We’d like to offer her the role.”

Kevin gave a thumbs-up. “That’s great to hear, Max.”

I might have been even more thankful to hear the news than Kevin was. An incredible rush of relief washed over me and every muscle in my body relaxed. I hadn’t ruined Jacqueline’s chances, or Kevin’s business, or my own future. Now I could relax.

Max said, “I have the contract all ready to be signed. Maybe you can send over your assistant to pick it up.”

So much for relaxing.

Kevin looked at me. “Uh, sure. No problem.”

Keep breathing
, I told myself. Great. I was now going to be in Max’s office. Just when I thought all the worry and stress was over and done with.

“I’ll be here for another hour or two.”

“She’ll be right over. And thanks again, Max. Look forward to working with you.”

“Talk to you soon.”
Click.

Kevin tapped the screen on his phone and put it on the desk. “Do you have any idea how huge this is?”

“It’s…yeah, just amazing.” My voice lacked enthusiasm, but he didn’t pick up on it.

“This is my biggest and most important deal so far.” He stood and started pacing, walking off some nervous energy, I supposed. “But you already knew that.” He looked at his watch. “You remember how to get to the studio, right? To Max’s office?”

My stomach started churning again. “Yeah. Pretty sure.”

Kevin reminded me about giving his name at the guard gate, and within five minutes I was in my car, navigating LA traffic, my mind racing with thoughts of seeing Max again.

D
uring the drive over to the studio, it struck me that maybe Max had given Jacqueline the part just to get me over to his office. Was that even possible?

No, surely it wasn’t. My paranoia was getting the best of me. There was no way a big-shot Hollywood producer would hire an actress just to get some alone time with the assistant to the agent who repped the actress. Too much money at risk. His entire reputation could fall along with one flop movie.

It was ridiculous to think all of this was a ruse to get me over to his office. He had dozens of ways of doing that. Maybe not this immediately, but he could have accomplished it if he’d wanted to.

I got to the guard gate and was told where to park. As I walked across the lot, my eyes scanned my surroundings for famous people. Yes, I was still new enough to Hollywood to be star-gazing.

I found Max’s office with no trouble. When I walked in, I was greeted by a tall blonde, and was struck by the very real possibility that she was the same woman Max was talking to that last morning in Las Vegas. I hadn’t seen her face, but it made sense that his assistant might be there. Maybe she traveled with him all the time. Maybe she was there on her own and they just happened to run into each other. Or maybe he was fucking her….

Whatever the case, I hadn’t met her the first time I was here.

She noticed me and said, “Hi, can I help you?”

“I’m Olivia Rowland. Here to see Max—Mr. Dalton.”

“Oh, yes, he’s expecting you. Go right on in.” She gave me a friendly smile.

Max’s reception area was larger than our entire office and it seemed like my heels were clicking extra loud as I made my way to the frosted-glass doors that led to his office. I took a deep breath, turned the handle, and stepped in.

Max was sitting on a couch just below a huge poster of the last movie he’d made. I’d been so nervous last time I was here, I hadn’t noticed the details of his office. There was a large glass and chrome desk, a large black leather chair behind it, and two smaller versions on the other side. The walls held other movie posters—all large, expensively framed, and each had its own lighting.

“Olivia,” he said, standing to greet me.

“Hi, Max.”

“Please, come have a seat.” He pointed at the couch.

I wanted to sit in one of the chairs opposite the couch, with the large coffee table separating us. Every move he made exuded confidence, grace, and sex. I knew I shouldn’t sit next to him.

He held out his hand, inviting me, and I took it. But I sat several feet away from him.

Max lifted up his arm and took a dramatic sniff. “Do I smell bad?”

“No.”
Actually you smell amazing
, I thought. “Why?”

“Because you sat so far away from me. I figured you had a good reason.”

Did I ever. But I couldn’t exactly tell him that I needed some space between us so I wouldn’t get sucked into a replay of the other night in the hotel room.

I kept my voice level and professional. “I’m just here to pick up the contract.”

Max slid down the couch until he was right next to me. I got a close-up look again at those deep eyes, and his perfectly shaped lips.

He put a finger under my chin. “I couldn’t wait for you to get here.” He leaned forward and kissed me—a soft kiss, no tongue.

When he pulled back I said, “We really need to stop this. Or…at least talk about it.”

“Why ruin it with talking?”

Was he serious? He seemed to have a smooth way with women in all aspects, so why the hell would he even hint that talking wasn’t necessary?

“Don’t you think this is a bad idea?” I asked.

His eyes left mine, and his gaze drifted down my body—to my chest, then my legs, which were shown off by the skirt I wore. “I can’t think of a better idea than you and me together.”

“And by ‘together’ you mean sex, right? Just sex.”

He shrugged. “Whatever you like. What
do
you like, Olivia?”

I’d never had such a blunt discussion like this before. It was making me a little nervous, but not to the point where I was going to lose my resolve. I did ask for something to drink, though, and Max immediately offered me a White Russian.

“Is that all you drink?” I asked.

He nodded as he stood and made his way to the bar area of his office. “Ever since high school. I never liked beer. Didn’t like any of the other stuff I tried, either. But the White Russian…I fell in love with it from the start and I’ve been faithful ever since.”

That got a laugh out of me. “I’ll have a water, thanks.”

“Sparkling or spring?”

“Just plain water. Whatever you’ve got.”

I watched him standing at the bar, his back to me. Today he was wearing a long-sleeved, white t-shirt, blue jeans, and dark brown boots. The t-shirt clung to his torso, nicely showing off those wide shoulders and back, down to his trim waist. His semi-long brown locks curled right where the shirt collar started. I got to check out his nice ass for the first time, thanks to the jeans, and had to tear my eyes away from him before he turned around and caught me. It was as though he’d been carefully built, painstakingly constructed by someone with great taste and a serious attention to detail.

I looked out the large windows and for the first time saw the view he had of the studio lot. From his third-floor office, I could see several outdoor sets, some of which looked familiar from movies I’d seen. Far off in the distance, Hollywood’s hills provided the backdrop. The only flaw in this view was not being able to see the famous sign on the hillside.

Max was making his drink as he said, “Just plain water, huh? I never figured you for a girl who likes anything plain.”

“I don’t like complications.”

“Ah, that’s too bad. Sometimes complications can be quite exciting. At least, that’s what I’ve found.”

Clearly, we were not talking about water here, and both of us knew it.

He joined me on the couch, handing me a bottle of plain water.