by Lisa Daniels
Sam flashed a smile to take the sting from his words but it only infuriated Cypress more.
“Jesus Christ,” Cypress muttered. “I can’t believe this.”
“No pressure!” Sam called out sweetly and Cypress paused at the threshold. He turned and gazed back at Sam, his jaw locking in defiance.
“Just set it up,” he spat, the words burning a hole in his mouth as he spoke them. A wide grin formed over Sam’s face and he nodded.
“That’s the spirit. Your audition is scheduled for Thursday at one. Wear something to show off those abs. The producers love sex appeal.”
Cypress scowled.
“You already booked it? What if I’d refused?” he demanded, and Sam shrugged.
“What can I say? I know my clients.”
Cypress’ frown deepened.
“You better be right about this,” he grumbled. “If I do this for nothing…”
“First things first,” Sam offered smoothly. “You need to get a call-back.”
Cypress knew his agent was busting his chops, but he couldn’t help but get defensive.
“Christ,” he muttered again. “This is unbelievable.”
“You’re going to do great,” Sam assured him. “Dance Divas will never be the same after they’ve had you on the show.”
Cypress swallowed his resentment and turned to leave. He hoped Sam was right about this being the career boost he needed otherwise he’d never live down the embarrassment of what he was about to do.
Four thousand years I’ve been on this planet and look what I’ve been reduced to—a dancing dragon on a stage for millions to watch and judge weekly. Father would be so proud. Look what we’ve become—a fucking circus act.
He realized that he should thank the gods for small favors. At least the bloodline ended with him and none of those millions of viewers would be his kin. He couldn’t imagine having to explain to a relative that he was selling himself out for attention.
No, Cypress was the only one left of his weyr, which enabled him to do precisely what he pleased.
Even if that meant humiliating himself before the entire world.
Chapter Two
Graciela Kinrade
Her head was throbbing as she entered the studio, and again, Graciela debated calling in for the day. It wasn’t too late—no one had seen her and the idea of sneaking back out to her car and slinking back home was almost too good to resist.
I’m in no mood to deal with these egomaniacs today, she thought, pressing her thumb and forefinger to the bridge of her nose. Springtime in New York was the bane of her existence with the pollen and pollution stinging her sensitive hazel eyes and causing a perpetual headache. Actually, any time in New York made her cringe. If it wasn’t her sinuses, it was the snow or the traffic or the surly, rude crowds. She couldn’t understand the appeal of the city to the millions who flocked there month after month, hoping to make it big or start a new life.
Graciela was sure it was the “New” in the city’s name which created an illusion of something that it was not.
This place is a cesspool and people can’t get enough somehow.
She remembered that she, too, had been one of those idealistic morons once upon a time when she’d come from Indiana with a degree and a smile, thinking that the east coast was rife with promise.
And now I am a jaded studio exec with a bad attitude and a constant head cold.
“Oh, Grace! Thank God you’re here!” Evan Mathis saw her before she could even consider hiding out in her office. “We have a scheduling conflict.”
“Of course we do,” Graciela sniffled, too stuffed-up to even get annoyed by his incessant refusal to call her by her proper name.
“Dancing Divas is starting filming today and half of the celebs have bailed on us for the first show,” Evan continued, trailing after her as she walked. She didn’t bother to slow as he rambled. “I’m thinking about postponing the date, but since some are here and some aren’t…”
She could feel him staring at her with myopic eyes through his thick glasses. Not for the first time, she wondered why he didn’t get laser surgery. He certainly made enough money, after all.
Is he seriously considering sending a bunch of washed-out actors home right now? He really is a glutton for punishment.
Then she realized that wasn’t what he was saying at all. Evan was expecting her to send them home and save on studio costs.
Yeah, that’s not happening. I already have a headache.
“Why would we do that? Who is going to come in and cover the space last minute?” she asked with a sigh, irritated that she even had to explain such a thing to Evan. Her day consisted of doing the work of three men, all of whom were paid more than her.
It was a thankless, endless job, one which made Graciela question her will to live on most days.
“What’s worse—filming half the show at cost or filming nothing without making a dime?” she continued, trying desperately not to sound condescending, but he made it so damned difficult sometimes.
“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t really think about that,” Evan muttered, at least having the decency to sound sheepish.
“Let me drop this off and I’ll meet you in Studio A,” Graciela said, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. She held up her knapsack and coffee. “That is where they’re set up, right? Studio A?”
“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure. Hey…” Evan leaned in closely, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “You know who’s here?”
Graciela could not care less.
“Who?” she asked.
“Rowan Woods.”
“Wow.” There was not a modicum of excitement in her voice.
“And…” Evan went on as though he had a captive audience in Graciela.
Graciela waited, wishing Evan wouldn’t drag it out unnecessarily. Her head was throbbing to the point where her vision was blurred and she was sure that she was developing an allergy to Evan if she didn’t already have one.
“Cypress Landry,” he announced in a stage whisper.
Inexplicably, Graciela felt her heart skip slightly, but she was careful not to let the emotion show on her face. She’d had the list of stars who were scheduled to dance on the reality show for weeks, sitting on her desk, but she couldn’t be bothered to look them over. She’d been in the business for five years and being star-struck had gone out in the first year. Graciela knew now that the celebrities who passed through the studio were all a pain in her ass, if not one way then definitely another. Most were just high-maintenance and demanding while others liked to play grab-ass. There were very few who simply came in, did their jobs, and acted like normal human beings.
And what are the chances that Cypress Landry is one of those people? Slim to none, that’s what.
Still, she couldn’t deny that she had always liked Cypress Landry.
Who wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous and oddly, has talent.
It was a rare combination in a world where skill meant less than sex appeal.
“Great,” Graciela said. “See you in Studio A.”
She sauntered toward her office and unlocked the door, exhaling slightly as she noted the ever-standing mess of paperwork piled on her desk.
Why did I ever take this job?
She asked the question so much, it had become her morning mantra. She still hadn’t figured out a definitive answer to the question.
It’s probably the money.
She wouldn’t admit it aloud, but secretly, Graciela was a stress addict. She was more frazzled when she had less to do than more. In fact, if she could stay constantly busy and never sleep, Graciela would have found herself in the perfect situation.
Stupid sleep. Ruins everything.
“Good morning, Graciela.”
Myrna appeared behind her, already hopped up on caffeine, and Graciela tossed her assistant a wan smile.
“Is it?” Graciela asked dryly, winking at her assistant.
“It is for me,” Myrna replied, her face
flushing. “Rowan Woods is here.”
Speaking of sex appeal. Rowan Woods is to Myrna what Cypress Landry is to me.
Graciela chuckled.
“I heard. I also heard half the cast bailed out today.”
“Stan and Riley are bitching about it already. They don’t want to judge half a show,” Myrna sighed. “What do you want me to do with them?”
“I’ll deal with them in a minute.” There really was no rest for the wicked. “Who do we have exactly?”
Myrna tossed a paper into her hand with the updated cast for filming and Graciela groaned aloud.
“This is less than half!” she protested, but there was nothing Myrna could do about it.
“All right,” Graciela sighed. “Let’s see if we can’t salvage this day somehow.”
She dropped her knapsack on the swivel chair and grabbed her tablet from the desk before walking back out of the office, her matte pumps clicking sternly against the tile floor.
Through the office corridor she walked until she found herself at a fire door leading to Studio A. From the moment she pushed it open, Graciela was enshrouded in the sights and sounds of production, a fuss of activity that no one on the other side of the door could predict if they had not seen it a thousand times before.
Grunts ran around, moving props and setting up lighting as agents and actors mingled about, trying to look useful. The director was nowhere to be seen and the three judges were scowling as they took in the madness before them. Someone was already whining about the catering choices and somewhere in the distance, Graciela could hear the gentle strum of a guitar.
Oh God. We have actors and musicians here. How could I have forgotten that?
This was going to be worse than she thought.
“It’s about time!” Jennika Moore cried when she saw Graciela. “We’ve been here for an hour waiting to see what we’re doing.”
Graciela refrained from rolling her eyes as she looked around again for the director.
“Not really my call,” she reminded the only female judge on the panel. “Where is Val?”
“You’re asking us?” Stan Cottingham demanded, appearing at Jennika’s side, followed by the third judge, Riley Wilkes. “This is supposed to be your party.”
This is more like purgatory than a party, Graciela thought, but she kept her rebuke to herself. In all fairness, she found most parties to be a certain form of hell.
I wish this was a party. I’d have a bottle of prosecco in my hand right now.
“I’ll find Val and find out what he wants to do. We can’t really partner you off until we have everyone here.”
There was a process, a chemistry factor which required all the couples to audition and be interchanged.
“No worries here,” Rowan Woods purred, her green eyes upturned as she sashayed toward them. “I’ve already picked my partner.”
Rowan Woods might have been the biggest country star in America at one time, but Graciela knew instinctively that she was going to be her biggest problem already. There were just some people who struggled far too hard to stay in the spotlight. Rowan was certainly one of them.
“I’m sure your agent explained how this works already, Ms. Woods,” Graciela told her patiently. “You’ll be paired off with someone who best accents your dancing abilities.”
“And that would be Cypress,” Rowan answered without skipping a beat. “He knows my body better than anyone.”
The innuendo was unmistakable and this time, Graciela could not stop herself from rolling her eyes.
That answers my question about the kind of guy Cypress is, I guess.
“I suppose we’ll see,” she muttered. She didn’t know why she was annoyed by the words except that she didn’t want her perception of Cypress Landry ruined. Knowing that the A-list actor had slept with the well-known diva ruined Graciela’s image of him somehow, as if she’d held him to higher standards.
Ridiculous, she chided herself. This is what happens when you don’t have enough coffee and have to deal with the public.
“We’re not going to see. I’m paired with Cypress,” Rowan insisted. “Where is Val? I want confirmation that we’re paired together!”
It’s already starting. But that is a good question. Where the hell is Val and why isn’t he dealing with this bullshit right now?
Graciela turned to Myrna.
“Go find him,” she muttered and the assistant hurried off to oblige. Myrna didn’t want to be any closer to the line of fire than necessary. As an underling, she was apt to receive more grief than any of them.
“I’m not taking no for an answer,” Rowan continued. “Cypress! Cypress, come here!”
The singer turned to wave at a figure whom Graciela had not seen until that moment, lingering in the shadows. Even before Cypress stepped toward them, Graciela got the distinct impression that he didn’t want to be there and she found herself looking toward him, her head cocked to the side with interest. Until that very minute, Graciela had never had the opportunity to lay eyes on Cypress Landry in person. Not that he hadn’t used Realm Studios before, but it seemed that every time he had been there, she had not.
She couldn’t stop her eyes from fixing on his handsome face as he neared. It seemed impossible that he was more attractive in person than on the big screen, but as Graciela’s eyes raked over his face, she couldn’t stop staring.
His eyes were a vivid blue-green with hints of gold as though they were alive with energy that seemed to pierce her soul.
She’d never seen his hair as long as it was, the dark blond swept back from his angular face, embracing the scruff that seemed at least two days old. But what struck her most was his height. If there was one thing Graciela had learned being surrounded by stars was that the camera always added a foot. Cypress Landry was easily six foot four with the broad shoulders and waist to match, but she knew there wasn’t an ounce of fat beneath his partially unbuttoned blue polo shirt.
“Honey, will you tell them that we’re going to be partners?” Rowan said, her voice taking on an annoying whine that instantly sent shivers through Graciela, much like nails on a chalkboard.
To her amusement, Cypress grunted.
“What the hell do I care?” he demanded. “This entire thing is stupid.”
My God, Graciela thought appreciatively. He is a man after my own heart.
As if reading her thoughts, he turned his gaze upon her, their eyes locking, and Graciela felt a frisson of heat surge through her in a rush.
She offered him a taut smile but he didn’t return it, causing the spell to be broken between them.
Jerk. He’s not that handsome anyway, she lied to herself.
Cypress moved his attention back toward the judges and sighed again.
“What are we doing here?” he wanted to know. “Are we filming or what?”
Pity. He’s just another spoiled actor. And I had such high hopes for him.
“We’re trying to determine that,” Graciela said as her phone chimed. It was a text from Val, explaining that he was hiding in the back alley, smoking. Graciela idly wondered what would happen if she picked up smoking and decided to pull crap like this.
“Well, this is bullshit,” Rowan announced, folding her arms over her ample chest. She pouted and Graciela half expected her to stomp a foot in defiance. “This is the most poorly run operation I’ve ever seen!”
Graciela did not remind her about the time she fell off the stage at her concert in Denver when she was higher than a kite.
“Graciela, we should do something,” Jennika insisted. “Or else we should wrap it up.”
The studio executive gritted her even, white teeth as all eyes turned to her expectantly.
“Fine,” she agreed. “Let’s start couples auditions.”
“I just told you,” Rowan snapped. “Cypress and I don’t need auditions. We’re—”
“Partners, yes,” Graciela interjected. “I heard you, but that doesn’t mean that’s what we’re doing.”<
br />
Rowan’s eyes bugged.
“Excuse me?” she demanded, but Graciela was unfazed.
“Let’s get everyone together,” she said, ignoring the singer as she moved toward the lingering stars, clapping her hands.
“NO!” Rowan growled. “I’m not doing it! I don’t need to!”
Graciela cast her a frigid smile.
“Suit yourself,” she replied sweetly, her eyes resting on Myrna. “Myrna, get Ms. Woods’ agent on the line and tell her she’s been cut from production already.”
“WHAT?!” Rowan screamed, her face flushing with indignation. “YOU CAN’T DO THAT!”
Watch me.
“I don’t want to do that,” Graciela answered with far more composure than she was feeling. “But you’re really leaving me no choice. Read your contract, Ms. Woods. You need to comply with the rules of the show.”
Her mouth gaped but no sound came out and Graciela didn’t give her an opportunity to speak again. She knew the only reason these celebs had come was because it was a last-ditch attempt to reignite or rejuvenate failing careers. Rowan Woods wasn’t going to risk being thrown off a reality show before it even started, no matter how much she wanted to walk away. Graciela knew she had the upper hand for once and she intended to hold onto it as long as she could.
Hollywood life. Easy come, easy go, she mused.
As she rounded up the others, she noticed Cypress staring at her, a newfound look of appreciation on his face. This time, it was he who grinned at her—and Graciela who didn’t return his smile.
Chapter Three
Not Cut Out for This
The notion of doing Dance Divas had been mortifying enough, but Cypress had not accounted for the other has-beens who would be sharing the air space with him.
Particularly Rowan Woods.
Once, Rowan had been a spirited, young, rising talent which the music industry had consequently chewed up and spat out. At twenty-eight, she looked at least ten years older, her heroin and alcohol habit more than catching up with her.
