by Elle Rush
“Nicky, I need a favor. A big one.”
“Chris…”
“Nick, I have three words for you. Russ’ birthday clown-o-gram.”
Chris suffered through some unfiltered cursing before he heard the word he wanted. “What?”
“We, meaning you, me and whoever else we can grab, are all going down to Manhattan Beach to root for Sydney’s beach volleyball team and be a presence for her charity this afternoon.”
“Dude, you know I’d do anything for you, but this doesn’t help with the photo shoot.”
“I’m going to talk to her. She’ll agree.” He might have to beg, but she’d agree in the end. Chris could smooth things over with the PR department. They’d put this thing together at the last minute. It wasn’t like the schedule was set in stone. He’d explain the afternoon didn’t have to be one-sided. They could get her to the studio, run her through hair and makeup, do the deed so to speak, and then all of them drive out to the beach for some more press ops. It was perfect. As long as she said yes.
“Call me back when she says yes.” Nick hung up without saying good-bye.
Now he was stuck. Did he get back into the limo and have Banks circle around and try to linger on a busy residential street? He could run there in the time it took for the limo to make the first turn. That was the answer. He tapped on the passenger side window until the chauffer opened it. “Stay here,” he instructed. “I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
Dodging pedestrians as he ran back to Sydney’s house reminded him of the endings to half a dozen movies he’d seen over the years. Of course, this was nothing like a romantic comedy, starting with the fact if this sprinting thing worked, it wouldn’t be the end of the story. The people on the sidewalk weren’t cheering him on. It wasn’t raining.
Oh, and the fact Sydney wasn’t his girl. If it worked, she would be for a while longer, but it wouldn’t be his happily-ever-after. If he were really lucky, it would be her forgiving him and tolerating him for the rest of the afternoon, only without the easy, friendly, flirting vibe they’d established earlier. He’d prefer another kiss, but he’d settle for civil if he could get it.
There were her flower boxes and her front steps. And there was her door.
He had nothing left to lose.
Chapter 10
Sydney opened the door. Chris was leaning on the guardrail to the steps. He raised his head and waved a hand.
“Um, hi?” She sounded like a moron.
“Hey.”
Damn, hot and sweaty and breathing hard was attractive. She stepped out and checked the curb. The limo wasn’t in sight. “Where did you come from?”
Chris pointed down the street.
That was a completely accurate yet unhelpful answer. “Would you like to come in?”
Sydney got him a bottled water from the fridge while he inspected the posters lining her hallway as he made his way toward the kitchen. He stopped in front of the Ghostbusters one. “I love this movie,” he told her. “Where did you get this?”
“Present, present, eBay,” she said as she pointed to various frames. “I grew up with these films. I love them.”
He accepted the water with a nod and proceeded to empty half the bottle. “Aren’t you a little young to be a child of the eighties?”
She didn’t try to hold back the slow smile that spread across her face as she admired her prized artwork. She’d watched them a hundred times over last year. Those films were her safe place and never failed to bring her mood up. They’d done it when she was little, and now that she was older, she appreciated the subtext and humor she’d missed in her youth. “My parents are huge movie buffs. When I was a kid, if they came on television, we watched. Then we watched them on VHS, then DVD. When they came out on Blu-ray, my parents bought three copies and mailed one to me and one to my brother. I swear I know them all by heart.”
Chris dropped his voice and leaned in like he was telling her a secret. “My mom is a huge John Hughes fan. I can quote every single Molly Ringwald line. Don’t judge.”
That was too adorable. She could quote them too, but she wasn’t going to admit it now. Sydney led him into the living room and picked up her water glass. She settled into the loveseat and pretended she wasn’t about to come out of her skin from sheer nerves. “Not that I didn’t have fun this morning, because I did, but why are you back here? I thought our good-bye was pretty definite. And where is young Benny to record the moment?”
“Tell me more about the Curse the Darkness fundraiser, Sydney.” He nudged her shoe onto the floor and leaned back onto the piano’s water-stained keyboard cover.
She’d expected a flood of over-the-top apologies. Possibly threats of a lawsuit for violating the contest’s increasingly irritating terms of service agreement. Not what appeared to be genuine interest in her life. “This afternoon is the volleyball tournament with a silent auction on the sidelines. We’ve been hitting up personal and corporate sponsors since Christmas. There were originally thirty-two two-person teams. Two weeks ago, we started the playoffs with the top eight. This afternoon is the finals: Team Scar versus Team Veggie Delight.” Sydney didn’t have a clue why he wanted to know.
“Which team are you on?”
“My friend Ashleigh and I are Team Scar. We know a lot of guys in the burn unit at the local VA hospital.”
“Good. I don’t know if I could have supported you with a name like Team Veggie Delight.”
“It is rather lame,” she agreed. Wait a minute. “Supported me?”
“I thought I could come down and cheer you on. Maybe raise a little interest for you by putting something on one of the show’s online accounts? You haven’t said anything, but I am a little famous.” He mock-blushed at the last line. It would have been cute if it weren’t a shameless bribe.
“I can’t help you, Chris. It sounds like a riot, but I can’t.”
“I’d love for you to come to the set. But either way I’ll show up at your tournament. When do you have to be there?”
“The game starts at three thirty. I have to be in my gear and at the court at quarter to three at the very latest to sell tickets and help prep.”
“It’s only eleven now. We could have you on the set by noon and be done by two. If you want to come.”
“This isn’t about me winning the sweepstakes. The show wouldn’t care that much. Why do you want me there so bad?” Sydney was fishing. She didn’t know there was something else, but it was a fair assumption. Events fell apart all the time, and the show’s PR people had more than enough to fake it. This was something else.
Chris’ jaw dropped. Ding, ding, ding. Even actors needed a second to get their reactions under control when slapped in the face with the unexpected truth. She’d nailed it on the head. Sydney didn’t know what it was, but it was big. At least to Chris.
“The show doesn’t,” he agreed slowly.
“But…”
“But I care.” He stopped there and stared at her.
She smiled back. Not a “fine, I’ll give you a pass” smile either. A “get busy explaining” one.
“Do you know the name High Note?”
For once, Sydney sat on her smart ass remark before it got out of her mouth and shook her head instead. The man in front of her was too…what was the word? Serious, perhaps. Earnest. Whatever it was, it was a side of him she hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t like he could kidnap her out of her house, so she felt she could give him a minute.
“They’re a movie production company. They’re casting a romantic comedy right now, and there’s a role I want very badly. This ‘slave for a day’ gig was supposed to be a pre-audition for me. Very public and very risky. I pretty much bet the role on this sweepstakes. Even before the winner was announced, I did everything but offer money to get one of the movie’s producers to meet us at the set.”
“You don’t do rom-coms.” Ashleigh’s voice piped through the cell phone’s tiny speaker.
Sydney snatched up her phone fr
om the coffee table. “Oh my God, Ash, are you still there?”
“You put me on speaker when you dropped me in your run to the door,” her friend said.
Chris leaned in. “Who is this?”
“I’m Ashleigh Jessup, Syd’s best friend, volleyball partner, and partner in crime.”
Jesus. “Ashleigh!”
“What? It’s not like he’s a cop.”
Chris’ eyebrow shot up. “Is there something I should know?”
“No.” The answer hit him in stereo, but Sydney meant hers, and Ash made hers sound like a question.
“So if Sydney doesn’t show up, you won’t get the part?” Ashleigh clarified.
“Yes. Kind of. If she doesn’t show up, I won’t get it. If she does show up, I still might not get it,” he elaborated.
“Syd, you should do this. I’ll handle the setup part. Have some fun for once.”
“I have fun,” Sydney protested. The tournament was going to be fun. Flirting with Chris this morning had been fun. Last night had been fun. Until the sake.
“Tell me again why you’re not working tomorrow?” Ashleigh pushed.
“Not appropriate, Ash.”
“Why isn’t she working tomorrow, Ash?” Chris asked.
“Because somebody burned through all her overtime. For the quarter. By the end of January. Although I have no idea why she’d want to pick up any shifts.”
“It pays well.”
“Lame, Sydney. Chris Peck, do you absolutely swear that you can have her on the court and ready to go by quarter to three?”
Sydney took the phone off speaker and held it to her ear. “What are you doing?” she whispered as she headed into the hall. Sydney was used to being the practical one when it came to her group of friends, but this was ridiculous. Ash had officially lost her mind if she thought Sydney was going to skip out on the afternoon’s activities.
“Do this.”
“Excuse me, Ash, but we have plans. I know this because I’m the one who made them.”
Ashleigh sighed heavily over the phone. “You are never going to get this chance again.”
“I know.” It sucked, but it was true.
“There are a dozen other people who are going to be working prep for the tournament. You trained us well, sensei. Besides, you have your phone. Go. Do this. Just get your ass to the beach on time. We can handle it.”
“I promised—” Sydney started.
“Sydney, do this.” Her friend’s tone brooked no argument, and Ashleigh was seldom serious. It went against her nature. “We all know what you’ve done, and what you are willing to do. You deserve this. The timing stinks, but we can’t do anything about it. We can cover for you. Forget about your schedule and your to-do lists and for once just run with it. Trust me. You need to do this.”
Sydney didn’t have a response to that. The idea of leaving the playoff organization in somebody else’s hands was too big for her brain.
“Ash?”
“Put me back on speaker.”
Sydney did.
“Hey. Manhattan Beach. Two forty-five this afternoon. Do you swear?” Ashleigh repeated.
Chris looked at Sydney more seriously than she’d ever seen him. “I swear. If you talk her into this, Ashleigh, I won’t know how to thank you.”
“Just make sure you get her there on time, and maybe you could bring a couple of your friends with you? I’ll see what I can do about finding some last minute donation forms. Because you will be bringing your checkbook, right?”
“Absolutely. I’ll make sure the show puts something together for your auction as well.” Chris looked at her, waiting. Her reasons for refusing started to fade until she was left with no excuses. Ashleigh had taken them all away. She’d already admitted she wanted to do it. She’d never have another chance to get onto an honest-to-Greek-god television set. The only thing holding her back was her promise to finish off the volleyball tournament. If she could do both, it could be the best day she’d had in recent memory. Possibly all memory.
“Okay,” Sydney agreed. “Per your negotiated conditions with Ashleigh, I’m in.”
“Syd, take me off speaker again.”
She did. “What?”
“Kiss on it,” Ashleigh suggested with a giggle.
“What?”
“You may never get another chance to kiss Zeus. I’m helping.”
“You’ve already helped enough, thank you very much. Besides, that is against the sweepstakes’ terms of service agreement.”
The phone was out of her hand before she had time to react. She managed to spit out a “hey”.
Chris dodged around to the far side of the coffee table. “What exactly did you suggest she do that violated the terms of service, Ashleigh?” He listened for a moment. “Okay.” He listened for a while longer and gave her friend other words of agreement. “Okay, bye.” He ended the call and handed the phone back to her. “Can you be ready to go in fifteen minutes?”
“I can be ready in five. Let me touch up my makeup.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll have our hair and makeup people waiting. Not that you need it,” he added. He stared at her like she had something in her teeth.
“What?” she asked.
“I’m a little stunned that you could be ready in five minutes.”
Now that she had the rest of the afternoon to flirt, she wasn’t going to waste it. “Do you have a stopwatch?”
Chris pointed to the watch on his left wrist. “Yes.” He dropped his hand back to his side and looked at her again.
“What?” Sydney repeated.
He leaned forward and brushed his lips over hers. It was nothing like the kiss they’d shared on the front steps. This one was soft and warm. It was a hint of what could come. If the quickie at the door hadn’t already set her knees to knocking, this more than made up for it. He wasn’t even touching her anywhere else.
“To seal the deal,” Chris said.
Sweet mother of pearl. She shivered as his low voice caused her entire body to tense up. If he’d used tongue she’d be a puddle on the floor by now.
“What about the terms of service?” she asked breathlessly.
“I think we can agree they’ve pretty much crashed and burned at this point. Don’t you?”
Sydney nodded.
He stepped back and pressed a button on his watch so it beeped. “Go.”
She ran.
Chapter 11
He had to be the luckiest son of a bitch on the planet. It was entirely possible he had a guardian angel named Ashleigh. Of course, if he missed getting Sydney to the beach, his angel had threatened to remove parts of him he might want to use with Sydney at a later date, and she’d sounded deadly serious about doing it. He wasn’t going to take the chance. In order to avoid that fate, all he had to do was move up a publicity event, get in and out without anything going wrong, and coerce some castmates who had no idea they’d been volunteered for a charity event. No problem. They were going to kill him, but it wouldn’t be until after his day with Sydney. It might even end up being worth it.
Why did he have to meet her today? Sure, some actors met regular people, but it was hard to find someone outside the industry who understood the craziness of it. Sydney did. He’d risked it all when he told Sydney the whole truth about today, and she got it. No, it was more than that. He’d messed up, he apologized, and she’d still given him a chance to explain. She didn’t launch into histrionics or go screaming to the nearest media outlet about what an asshole he’d been. She’d handled it and him. Nobody wanted to handle him. Even his agent passed him off to a life coach as a last resort. Sydney called him on his bullshit, and he made the decision to man up because he wanted to make good for her. It was selfish as hell, but he wanted someone like that in his life.
Not to mention, they had chemistry like he’d never experienced. It took everything he had not to ask her out for real after that kiss and do it again. But if Sydney had shivered and he’d needed to adjust his belt
after barely a peck on the lips, a good one might bring the need for the fire extinguisher in the hall. Finding chemistry with a woman in his professional world would be like striking gold. Actors prayed for sizzle like that in front of the camera. The romantic comedy audition would be in the bag if he and his co-star reacted half that well.
He was supposed to be doing something. Right, the studio. He scrolled through his contacts but stopped. This was Nicky’s fault; he should deal with the PR people. They loved him anyway. Chris hit speed dial.
“Chris, did you get her?”
“I sealed the deal. Did you order the cake?”
“It’s on the way,” Nick promised.
“I need another favor.”
“In addition to the charity gig afterward?”
“Yes.”
“You’re pushing your luck, Chris. What do you need now?”
“I need you to move up your little surprise party to noon and absolutely guarantee we are all in the limo and on the way to Manhattan Beach by two o’clock.”
“Dude, do you know how impossible that is? Martine is going to scream.”
“It’s the only way. Grab her fast and tell her about the free publicity for helping out our winner’s charity. Hell, tell Layla how badly her sister screwed up and make her toss in her support if she wants Kristin to keep her job. Russ will verify the bad calls. With all three of us, Martine won’t have a choice. She won’t be happy, but she’ll do it. Then I’ll give her a call.”
“You are screwing me big-time on this, Chris,” Nick complained.
“You set this up without telling me, buddy. That’s the problem with surprise parties. Sometimes the recipient isn’t the only one who is surprised.”
“Yeah, this didn’t quite work out as planned. But we’ll be even after this, right?”
“Absolutely.” The threat of telling Layla that Nick was the one to have her car towed off the set last week after she’d parked in Nick’s labelled personal spot for the third day running threat was only good for so long anyway, and it was starting to lose its potency. Besides, it was Nick. There would always be more ammunition.
