by Elle Rush
“Hello, Mrs. Dobson.” Chris shook her hand once Sydney had eased her into a recliner in the corner.
“So you’re our girl’s slave, are you? She was going crazy over the prizes.” Her voice was soft and melodic.
Chris liked calling Sydney “our girl”. He’d like it better if she were a “his girl”. When life got nuts, it would be nice to have someone who was there just for you. He’d bet Sydney would be great at it. “Would you be more impressed if I said I was usually a Greek god but I’m having an off day?”
She laughed. Mr. Dobson laughed. Even Sydney laughed at him, and gave him a smile he took to mean he was forgiven for his comment in the elevator. When Mrs. Dobson’s laugh turned into a cough, her husband sprang to her side. Sydney pointed at the kitchenette. “Water. Glasses are beside the sink.”
Chris was back in seconds. The elderly woman spilled the water as she took her first sip. “Thank you, Chris. Have you asked my husband your question yet?”
“What question?” Chris sat beside Sydney, who had scooted down to make room for him on the sofa.
“What is the secret to getting the award-winning roles I want? How can I tell from the script if the project will be a hit or a flop? Can I rub your belly for luck like a Buddha?” The white-haired woman snorted. “I wouldn’t suggest that last one. It took him almost twenty years to get over it when a soap opera actress asked him.”
Oh my God, that answers so many questions. He glanced toward Sydney and expected to see her laughing at the belly comment as well. She wasn’t. She sported a smile, but the look in her eyes was more resigned than amused. And she too was waiting for his question.
She was waiting for him to take advantage. He’d pretty much forced her to let him tag along or risk being left at the other end of town. And now he was going to use her personal connection to someone she’d likely never used on her own to advance his career. She certainly was lucky he was her slave for the day. Imagine how much he might have missed out on if he hadn’t been along to help her out. He could practically hear his life coach screaming in his ear so he took a minute to think.
It wasn’t as if he’d ever see her again after the contest. Yes, he could be an arrogant SOB, but he hadn’t quite crossed that line yet. Was it that important to him when he already had the opportunity lined up? “Actually, I do have a question. Is Sydney a cyborg? I mean, have you seen her in a store? The woman must be part machine.”
Mr. Dobson inhaled the coffee he’d picked up from the end table. Chris jumped up and rescued the water glass from Mrs. Dobson before she dropped it as she rocked in laughter. Sydney’s reaction was the best though. Her chin dropped, and she stared at him with the most incredulous expression.
The look was worth passing up the chance to ask a legend for advice. It was a genuine response to him. He’d forgotten what that was like. He couldn’t keep an answering grin off his face.
“We made the mistake of asking Sydney to come along when we went linen shopping on Black Friday a couple years ago,” Mr. Dobson began.
“Oh, God,” Chris interrupted.
“You have no idea. She got behind Arlene’s wheelchair and was gone. When we got home, Arlene asked if we could weld on a grill guard to protect her.”
“Excuse me, I’m sitting right here.” Sydney giggled. Literally giggled. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you got those flannel sheets at seventy-five percent off.”
“They are good sheets, Gary,” his wife agreed.
“Thank you, Arlene. Would you like some cake?”
“If you don’t mind, we’ll save it for later.”
“I don’t mind. I already sampled Nana’s.”
“Chris said there was an incident with the fire extinguisher?” Mr. Dobson fished. Chris dropped his head. He was going to end up back in the doghouse. It would be his fastest return trip ever.
“There’s always an incident with that thing. With any luck, we’ll have some news soon about moving her to an assisted living facility.”
“We’ll keep our fingers crossed for you, sweetheart.”
Sydney sat up straight on the sofa, the back cushions almost a foot behind her. “Thanks, I’ll take all the luck I can get.”
Mrs. Dobson stared at the stack of papers on the coffee table. “There’s a calendar under there. Would you pass it to me, please, Mr. Peck?”
Chris slipped a cheese recipe calendar out from under a pile of literary magazines. There was something written on today’s box, but the handwriting was too shaky for him to read when it was upside-down.
His hostess tapped the square with her finger. “Today is the big day, is it?”
Sydney nodded. “It is.”
“Good luck this afternoon.”
“Thank you. We’ll crush them like the bugs they are.” She raised her fists above her head in victory. “But for now we do have to get going. Happy Valentine’s Day.”
She gave each of them a peck on the cheek, while Chris shook hands. Mr. Dobson walked them to the door. While Sydney ran back to the kitchen to get her grocery bag, the older gentleman grasped his forearm. “Since you didn’t ask, I’ll tell you. It was Arlene.”
“Sir?”
“She had final say on all my projects. My biggest successes were her picks.”
Karmic payback for the win! Holy shit, this stuff really worked. Now he knew the secret to one of the biggest successes in the industry. All he had to do was find his own personal savant. No problem.
“Thank you,” he said to Sydney on the elevator ride down to the main floor.
“For what?”
“For introducing me to Gary Dobson.”
They stepped off the elevator into the lobby, and Sydney slapped herself on the top of her head.
“Syd?”
“I left my hat in Nana’s apartment. I’ll be right back.” She jumped back into the elevator car before the doors had a chance to close.
Chris was alone for the first time that morning. He finally had a minute to think.
He had nothing.
He still had no clue as to how to get Sydney to agree to give him a few hours at the studio when she obviously had something big planned. Unless he kidnapped her. Unfortunately that wasn’t an option. Mostly because he was sure she’d kick his ass if he tried.
But this PR event was big too. For the show. For him. Her grandmother would have definitely told her to do it. Mr. Dobson would have explained how many people were counting on them and that a shitload of money had been invested. He couldn’t miss out on this kind of opportunity. Maybe she had stuff to do, but there was no reason she couldn’t push it back a bit. Chris could compromise. They’d do the photo shoot and meet the cast, staying just long enough to show the High Note people what he could do; then he’d have the limo drop her off where she needed to go. She’d only be a few minutes late at most.
Sydney was smart, and she’d been great so far. This was a great opportunity for her. Her family and friends would want her to do it if they knew about it. He was doing her a favor. She’d never forgive herself if she missed this opportunity because, as great as she was, she was never going to have another chance to be a Hollywood insider like this again.
She’d agree with him once he told her what was happening. He also got the impression she was stubborn enough to not give him the chance to say a word. And if she wasn’t going to let him explain, maybe he shouldn’t bother trying. What was that saying: it was better to seek forgiveness than ask permission? Sydney had been nothing but classy from their first, well, second meeting. It wasn’t like she was going to throw a tantrum at a schedule change.
It wouldn’t be hard. All he needed to do was tell Banks to take a slightly different route for the first part of the drive, and they’d be at the studio before she realized he wasn’t taking her home.
She’d thank him for it afterward. She would. Now all he had to do was make it happen.
Chris slipped his cell phone out of his pocket and started to put everything into
play. A text to Martine Peeples to tell her they were en route and their expected arrival time. A text to his agent to let him know he’d be on set if the High Note people wanted to see him in action. And a final text to Nick to ask him to bribe craft services into making sure there was some kind of cake for Sydney. He was springing this on her for her own good, but the surprise would probably go over better with cake.
The elevator dinged again, and Sydney re-emerged holding her hat triumphantly. The limo was waiting at the front door, and Chris held Sydney’s hand as he helped her in for what she thought was the last time.
“Home, James, through the park,” she said to the driver.
“Which park?”
“Just home,” she translated.
Once she was safely inside, Chris whispered the new destination to Banks. The chauffer frowned at the change, but a well-placed c-note changed his mind. He flashed a thumbs-up to Benny as they got settled.
It would be nothing but good memories if he ended the day now, like Sydney wanted him to. If he’d been doing this for himself, Chris figured he’d be karmically screwed for his next half a dozen lifetimes. But since he was doing it for her, it couldn’t help but go his way.
It was in the bag.
Chapter 8
Sydney had taken a quick look at her phone in the elevator. The gala volunteers were reporting that setup was complete and the tournament people were already onsite. Her schedule was working.
There was a surprising dearth of texts and emails. She suspected it was because her committee heads had ordered all communications be filtered through them, leaving her free to conduct her symphony of chaos. She loved her friends.
Trusting they would contact her if they had to, Sydney relaxed into the seat and found a new panel of buttons to play with on the ride home. A small screen popped out of a side panel. The car was cool, maybe even worth introducing Chris to her family for. She flicked a switch at the end of the panel, and the back of the limo filled with the sound of the most recent, played-non-stop pop monstrosity.
Crap. “Off. Off!” She returned the switch to its original position, and the music stopped. She was improving. Then she realized that it stopped because Chris had turned it off when he answered his phone.
“Hey, Martine,” he greeted his caller. “Yeah, we’re in the limo now.” He listened for a moment and then spoke again. “I’ll ask.” Chris covered the speaker and looked at Sydney. “Martine, the show’s PR person, is on the line. She’d like to ask you a few questions for our contest site.”
Sydney shrugged. She’d had a good time, and she was almost home. If they wanted to interview her it would have to be now. “I guess that was part of the package I agreed to, wasn’t it?”
“Pretty much. We can use your image, you’ll agree to do some promotional stuff, yadda, yadda, yadda,” Chris confirmed. “Can you give her a couple minutes?”
“Sure.”
Chris flicked the call onto speaker. “Okay, Martine, we’re here.”
“Hi, Miss Richardson. I’m Martine Peeples. How’s your morning been?”
Sydney leaned forward. “Well, Ms. Peeples, we started off a bit rough, but I put Chris to work as soon as I could.”
The woman on the phone with the lovely melodic voice laughed. “I’ve seen that you’re not afraid to get him down and dirty. And please call me Martine.”
“Benny’s been pretty quick on the draw with his camera,” Sydney agreed.
“Can you tell us something that we haven’t seen yet?”
“The groceries we picked up were for my grandmother, who requested that she not be photographed. One thing I’ll never forget will be watching Chris squirm as she tried to weasel some spoilers for upcoming episodes out of him. He was so cruel. He didn’t let a single one slip.”
“Hey!” Chris protested.
Sydney shushed him.
“Has he given you any hints of what’s to come?” Martine asked.
“He hasn’t said anything, but I’m guessing there are going to be a few epic fight scenes this season, but that’s pure conjecture on my part based on a couple comments that may not have been in context,” Sydney rambled.
“What about past episodes? Which one is your favorite?” Martine asked.
Sydney pinched her lips together. She wasn’t so much of a fan that she’d memorized the first season.
“Give her a second, Martine, she’s thinking,” Chris said.
“I know! The one where Zeus tells Aphrodite she has to marry Hephaestus. Love, war, and a wedding—all in the same episode.” Yes, it was one of her delicious FBI-guy’s guest episodes, but they didn’t need to know why she picked it.
Chris got progressively quieter as Martine asked her about how her friends reacted to the news and if she knew how many entries she’d won against. His biggest reaction came when the woman was signing off the call.
“This was great, Sydney, thank you. I look forward to meeting you,” Martine said.
Chris terminated the call before Sydney could say good-bye.
“Meeting me?” she asked him.
Chris skipped seats until he was behind the driver’s window. He rapped on it until it came down. “Banks, pull over. Now.”
“Why does Martine think she’s going to meet me?” Sydney repeated.
Chris held up his hand. “Can you please give me a minute? I need some air.” As soon as the limo stopped moving, he was out the door and onto the sidewalk. He took a few steps and put his hands on his knees. Sydney stared out the window, watching his rib cage shrink and expand as he sucked in deep lungfuls of air. It was nearly a minute before he pulled out his cell phone.
Sydney looked at Benny, who suddenly became deeply interested in the lens cases in his camera bag. “Benny, what’s going on?”
“I’m just the photographer,” he said.
*
Chris’ stomach turned over again. This wasn’t a hangover flip or a hungry flip. This was a pretty-sure-I’ve-screwed-up-bad flip, and the fact he recognized it as such was worrisome. This was a screw-up of epic proportions if he was as right as he thought he was. After two years as a king of the Greek gods he was well versed in epic. So he did what he always did.
“Yo,” the answering voice said.
“Nick, I think I’m in trouble,” he started.
“She doesn’t like cake?”
“I think I kidnapped somebody.”
Dead air met his announcement. “What?”
“Sydney’s in the limo. She thinks I’m dropping her off at her place, but we’re on our way to the studio.”
“Thank God. I thought you meant she was in the trunk.” Nick laughed.
“I’m serious! I promised to take her home because she has plans for this afternoon, but I told Banks to drive us to the set. I was going to spring everything on her. I think she’s going to be pissed.”
“You think?” Sydney shouted behind him.
“Call you back,” Chris said before he ended the call and slid the phone into his pocket. He held up his hands. “I can explain.”
“I don’t care.” Sydney looked around until she spotted a street sign on the corner. “Oh my God! Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take me to get home from here using public transit? You’ve blown my entire schedule to hell. Do you know how much it’s going to cost me to take a cab? What the hell were you thinking?”
Perhaps it was another bad idea, but he went for the truth this time. “The studio was hoping that you would be willing to come to the set for a photo shoot. Pose for a few photographers, do a meet and greet with some of the cast. I told them you would.” He hadn’t finished getting the words out when he was struck with how arrogant his assumption was. It wasn’t enough he was volunteering her for the afternoon when she’d flat out told him she had a prior commitment. He also was going to throw her unprepared into a situation that gave a lot of professional actors hives.
“I told you. I’m busy this afternoon. We had an agreement. You give me a r
ide; I give you my morning. Deal terminated.”
“Would you please reconsider? It shouldn’t be too long. They’ll have lunch. You eat, don’t you? I even called ahead and made sure they have cake. And I’ll make sure you get to use the limo for the rest of the day. Banks will take you wherever you need to go. I promise.”
This was not good. Her nice girl vibe vaporized as the full extent of his play hit her. He could see the stress radiating off her as she repeated herself. “First of all, your promises aren’t holding much weight right now. Secondly, I didn’t schedule a lunch break today because I don’t have time for it.”
“Please, this is important.”
“As opposed to my plans, which aren’t. Not that you’ve bothered to ask what they were.”
Chris at least had the grace to blush. Sydney didn’t look amused in the slightest. He didn’t blame her. He knew this business. He knew firsthand what it was like to have yet another person assume they had the right to your time or attention or body with no respect to the fact it was your life they were invading. He could imagine exactly where she felt she stood. In her mind, it was under his heel.
“Sydney…”
“No. Let’s see if I can have this conversation without you, Chris. You have people who are expecting us to show up. You made a commitment, and you want to honor it. People are counting on your attendance because they’ve poured a lot of time and money into your event. How am I doing so far?”
“Pretty good.”
“What a surprise. Guess what? I have people expecting me to show up. I want to keep my word about attending. I have invested time and money into my event. I may not be a movie star, but I am just as important as you are. So tell me, why do you expect me to make the sacrifice?”
He felt like a dick to hear it laid out like that. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. He had no defense that didn’t make him sound like the self-serving asshole he was. This karma thing was a bitch.
Chris walked back to the limo. He gripped the top of the open door and looked at Sydney sadly. He loved his life. He loved the attention and the adulation and the job he did to earn both. It sucked that he’d blown his shot at the High Note role. But he was surprised to feel the same amount of regret at having lost Sydney’s respect. She’d done as she promised. She’d treated this morning like a blind date and him like a real person. Unlike him, she hadn’t had an agenda. She just did her thing and had let him come along for the ride.
