Take Two (3 page)

“I’m not opposed to hard work.” Micah had just finished three indie films in a period of just as many months, and was not any worse for the wear. He was tempted to agree to whatever Stu had in mind, no questions asked, but decided to play it cool and aloof. “Though I’d like to know exactly what you propose before I can commit to anything.”

“Excellent—a young man interested in the details before signing on. You don’t know how many people fail that part of this interview.”

Micah hid any reaction, grateful he didn’t jump on Stu’s offer. He sat back in his chair and waited for Stu to proceed.

“I’ll expect you to work on project after project. There are no breaks when you’re climbing the ladder. I will push you to audition, audition, audition. You’ll be so tired you’ll want to kill me. But that should all go without saying.”

“It does.”

“Now here’s the tough stuff. First and foremost, no drugs, no drunk driving, no excessive Brindsay LoSpears-type partying. I don’t care if you smoke a little weed now and then, but if you’re ever caught with anything harder than that—and you’re always caught—I’ll drop you immediately. Clear?”

Easy peasy. “I’m clean. I’m not even a big drinker.”

“Perfect. Next, you need to get to a voice teacher. You got the acting chops, but your speech isn’t as clear as it could be. You have a bit of a mid-western dialect at times.”

Micah hadn’t heard that one in a while, but he knew where it came from. “I grew up in Kansas. I moved here at thirteen when my parents got divorced.”

“Yeah, that’s in your speech. It’s actually somewhat endearing, but it doesn’t work for every character and from what I’ve seen, you don’t ever vary it.”

“I’ll get a voice teacher. I’m glad to learn more acting tools.”

“Good. I’ve got someone I work with who’s excellent. She’ll come to you so you can train while you’re working.” Stu made a note on his pad. “We need to get you a personal trainer—the kind who’s going to whip your ass and make you puke after every session. I know you’re in pretty good shape now, but we need to see a six-pack when you take off your shirt and from the footage I got from Dirk Davenport, you’ve only got a four-pack.”

Micah knew that was coming. He hadn’t worked as hard at the gym as he could have, but no one ever complained about his naturally well-built physique before. He also hadn’t made it into a feature film yet. Maybe his body could use some work.

“Speaking of Davenport,” Stu said without waiting for Micah to agree to a trainer, “he’s a great director and I admire him. He knows how to cast pretty boys who can also act. But there’s a reason he’s never made it past his indie film status. Gay films are just not mainstream. You’re not gay, are you?”

“No,” Micah said, thinking about Maddie again. “Definitely not.”

“Perfect. Not that there’s anything wrong with being gay. I’m all for equal rights and all that bullshit, but we’ve got to be honest—most of the actors who are hot right now are straight. Or, at least, they waited until they were famous before they came out of the closet. I hope as much as anyone that that changes soon, but for now, that’s the formula for success. Don’t get me wrong, this gay indie is going to look great on your resume. Especially since you’re straight—it shows you can act. But now we need to focus on your heterosexuality. Do you have a girlfriend, fiancée, wife?”

Micah wasn’t sure how Stu wanted him to answer. He'd played gay on film—not anything porn-like, just some kissing. It was no big deal—he was acting. Maybe Stu wanted him to have a girlfriend to combat that image. But he didn’t have a girlfriend at the moment. Not yet, anyway. He went for the truthful answer. “Nope, I’m completely single.”

“Terrific! It’s much easier to sell a single young actor than one that’s attached. The women all want to believe they have a shot with you and the girlfriend thing just gets in the way. I’m not suggesting you cut out sex—you can have as many fuck flings as you like. Hell, that usually works in your favor. Every gossip rag is dying to tie you to someone. It’s great publicity.

“Not that we can’t work things out if you do hook up with someone long term. But, I’m telling you man-to-man, it’s not easy to manage love and a career. Women mess with your time and emotions. They pout every time you have to spend weeks away on a shoot or, heaven forbid, have to do an on-screen kiss. And you can never tell if they’re into you or your money. Keep the strings unattached and you’re better off. Just a suggestion from a guy who’s been around.”

Micah opened his mouth to comment, but didn’t know what to say. Show biz and relationships…boy, did he know something about that. Stu’s advice wasn’t half bad.

“Anyway, kid, if you’re serious, I’ll sign you today. Keep your nose clean, work on your trade, don’t get distracted, and I promise that I’ll make you a star. I’m sure you know I’ve got an excellent track record and no one’s ever been—”

He was interrupted by his phone ringing. He pushed the speaker button and the receptionist’s voice filled the room. “Brad Licht is on the phone. He said to interrupt.”

“Great, send the call back.” Stu pressed the speaker button again and the receptionist was gone. “Micah, I have to take this. It’ll be just a minute.”

Stu picked up the phone’s handset and pushed the flashing button on his console before Micah could agree. “Hey, Brad. What’s up?”

Micah was curious about Stu’s conversation. Brad Licht was a famous actor and client of Stu’s. Witnessing Stu’s interaction with him would be a great indicator of what kind of relationships he had with his clients.

But instead, Micah’s mind wandered to Stu’s advice on women. It wasn’t a new thought—Micah had toyed with the idea of remaining single before. He’d witnessed his parents’ marriage go up in flames when his mother decided to run off to California, hoping to get a break into the biz herself. She didn’t succeed, and she always blamed her ex of holding her back when she was younger.

And though she never said it out loud, Micah knew that being a mother had held her back as well. She’d been a good actress. She could have made a name for herself if she’d had fewer responsibilities and obligations. Eventually she gave up and threw her energy into Micah and his career instead.

Micah’s dad never got over the split. He pined for his wife until his death of a heart attack at forty-eight. And as much as it pained Micah, he knew his father never approved of his son’s decision to be an actor because of all the grief it had caused their family.

Yeah, Stu made a good argument. No strings, no burdens—it was definitely the way to go. Even though he sometimes yearned for a more substantial relationship, Micah could be happy as a playboy.

Of course, there was Maddie. He’d just met her and, hell, he knew hardly anything about her, but his attraction to her ran deep. He was certain that if he saw her again he’d want to see her again and again and again. She couldn’t be just a fuck fling, as Stu had put it, though fantasies of fucking her kept dancing through his mind. It would be best if he cut things off before they went any further. Leave it as the hot memory it was.

He pulled his cell out of his pocket, and reread the draft of the text he had composed to Maddie.
I’m remembering your moans. When can I make you mo—

Now, he deleted the unfinished message. Then he went to his contacts and scrolled to the info she’d entered the night before.
Maddie from the party
followed by her phone number. He paused before he moved his finger over the delete button and pressed it.

Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact?

He hesitated. Maybe he was overreacting. Just because his parents hadn’t worked out…

“Christ, Brad, divorced?” Stu said into the phone. Until now, Stu hadn’t said much and his sudden outburst drew Micah’s attention. “I knew that chick was just after your money.”

Stu paused. “Look, I’m real sorry to hear that. I’ll get Pam to spin it to the press however you want me to. It’s funny, I was just saying to another client that relationships in Hollywood are tough.”

Stu gave a knowing wink and Micah’s mind was made up. He looked back at his phone.
Are You Sure You Want To Delete This Contact?

Micah pushed
Yes
. And Maddie from the party was erased from his phone. Erased from his life.

Chapter Three

Seven Years Later

Maddie stepped off the escalator at Denver International Airport and followed the crowd in front of her to baggage claim. She’d never been to this airport, but she easily found carousel four, where the monitors showed her flight’s luggage would arrive soon. While she waited, she pulled her phone from her purse and turned off the airplane mode. Immediately it buzzed with a text.

Tell me when u get in. Meet ur driver by the West Terminal doors.

It was from Bree. Maddie responded.
Just arrived.
She pushed send and wondered for the hundredth time that morning, how did she get talked into this again? She mentally replayed Bree’s frantic call from the day before.

“We need you, Maddie,” Bree had said. “The assistant camera operator broke his tailbone and needs surgery so we need another assistant pronto for location. We’re already six weeks into the shoot. I know you swore off working with Beaumont, and I’d never ask you, but Adam only wants you. You can totally name your price and you’ll get it.”

Even though more than six years had passed, Maddie still felt the sting of the Joss Beaumont disaster that had effectively ended all her hopes of being a Hollywood director. Thank goodness she had mad skills in other areas of film, though he never treated her with respect again. On set, he acted like she was his own private valet and coffee runner and then blamed her for not being around when he needed her. He might be one of the country’s top directors, but, as far as she was concerned, he was an ass.

But Maddie was very fond of Adam LaForgeon, one of Beaumont’s occasional camera operators. Old enough to be her father, Adam had taken her under his wing on the first film she’d done as an intern seven years before. He’d stood by her through what Maddie liked to now refer to as the Beaumont Fiasco. Soon she was working as Adam’s main assistant, joining him on all his projects. She would have been on this shoot from the beginning if Beaumont hadn’t been directing.

Adam respected Maddie’s hatred of the pompous director and would have never requested her unless he was desperate. He’d stuck by her when she was desperate. How could she turn him down?

And she owed Bree too. Maddie was the main reason Bree worked as Beaumont’s personal assistant. Bree shared Maddie’s detest of the asshole, but belonged to the camp of keep your enemies closer. She claimed that working for “the fucker” might help Maddie. Besides, since sleeping her way to the top hadn’t worked as well as Bree’d planned—a series of nude photos and an accidental adult film ended that—working for a big-time director seemed a great way to get into the Hollywood scene from another angle. Unfortunately, several years later she only had P.A. on her legit resume and Maddie remained a camera assistant.

So here Maddie was, less than twenty-four hours after Bree’s phone call, at the Denver airport waiting to claim her hastily packed suitcase with absolutely no information about the movie she’d be working on except that it was midway through production.

The carousel whirred into motion and Maddie’s burgundy suitcase with the rainbow ribbon on the zipper pull was the first bag to sail down the ramp. She grabbed it, pulled up the handle and wheeled it behind her while she looked for her transportation. She spotted her driver near the doors to parking, holding a flimsy white piece of paper with the name
Madalyn Bauers
scrawled across it. He had short, clean-cut blond hair, a baby-smooth face and was built like a wrestler. Young. Definitely an intern or production assistant.

“Hey,” Maddie said as she approached him. Her phone buzzed in her hand—probably with a response from Bree—but she ignored it. “You’re looking for me. I’m Madalyn Bauers. Well, Maddie.”

“Then you are correct; I am looking for you,” the young man said. He held out his hand in greeting. “I’m Sam, and I’m your ride.”

“Awesome.” Maddie didn’t miss the innuendo. “I can’t believe you went to this much trouble. I could have taken a cab.”

“Honestly, I’m here to pick up one of the actors. He landed about fifteen minutes before you. You just got lucky with your timing.” Sam gave a sly smile. “Or I got lucky.”

Oh cute, he was flirting. She responded with a hesitant smile.

“I just gotta let the crew know I got you and then I’ll grab your bag.”

While Sam made his phone call, Maddie read Bree’s text.
And all is good?

So far,
Maddie replied. Pretending to still look at her phone, she covertly checked out her driver. Hmm, not bad. Good-looking, but too young. And blonds weren’t usually a hot button for her. But still, there was possibility.

“Okay, all set. I can take your bag for you.” Sam pocketed his phone and reached for Maddie’s suitcase.

“Oh, thanks. Where’s the actor?”

“He’s around here. Went to get a coffee or a newspaper or something. He should be easy to spot.” Sam craned his neck, looking around the terminal. “Yeah, there he is. Looks like he got noticed.” He motioned with his head toward a group of people a dozen or so yards away. “You know talent, they always have an entourage.”