Play Right: Older Man Younger Woman Romance (Manhattan Bachelors Book 2)

by Matilda Martel

  “Don’t make me self-conscious. I’m not used to carrying weight up front. Mood swings coupled with weight gain is a vicious mix. And we wanted to start our family...so just drop it.” She shoots me an icy glare and checks her phone. “Oh shit, she’s here. Put on that million-dollar smile, sunshine.” She gleefully jumps out of her chair and sprints towards the door.

  “Oh, shut-up. Don’t embarrass me with your big mouth or I swear to God, I’ll hire you an assistant that looks like a male model and make your life at home a miserable shitshow.” I shake my finger at her, and she pretends to seal her lips and throw away the key.

  The door creaks open. I hear mumbled words. Introductions, no doubt. Tabby makes a fuss about something. She’s such a busybody. I’m sure she’s shoving her pregnant belly in Georgia’s face and fishing for a compliment. Laughter, ensues.

  What are they laughing about? Are they laughing at me? Stupid, Tabby.

  Footsteps and female giggles come closer. I hear her voice. She’s here. Georgia’s here. Fuck, I’m going to give myself away before this begins. I clench my fists and pace. Jesus, what do I do with my hands? My heart beats wildly. My blood roars in my ears. The moment is here, and I can’t blow it. First impressions mean everything.

  “Girl, you do not look five months pregnant. You’re tiny. I’m dying of jealousy.” Georgia lies. There’s no denying her talent. She’s an incredible actress.

  “Oh hush, this girl is huge. I’m going to have such a fatty on my hands.” She humble brags while she eats up the compliment.

  “Aww, you’re having a girl. You better pray you don’t have that baby before I leave for California. I may just take her with me.” As they chuckle and gush over Tabitha’s fat fetus, my stomach flips and perspiration forms on my brow.

  This is intolerable. Why is Tabitha dragging her feet? She knows what this means to me.

  Tabitha walks in first. Her big eyes beam while a huge grin spreads across her face. I will never live this down. She knows my weakness. She knows my brain is moments from exploding.

  And then it does. A fucking vision. The most beautiful girl, too beautiful to be real, struts in and shatters my heart into a thousand pieces. Georgia Madrid steals my heart with a flip of her hair and the sway of her hips. My heart sputters into slow motion as I watch her come towards me dressed in a tight turtleneck, a micro mini and knee-high stiletto boots. I’m speechless. My jaw slacks, but I clamp it shut. My mouth waters the closer she gets. I haven’t felt this out of control since I was a teenager and yet, I have no shame. I stare at her like man who’s just been released from prison.

  She’s too good to be true.

  Tabitha passes directly in my line of vision and furrows her brow. A broken whisper emerges from her tight lips. “Get a hold of yourself.”

  “Ajax, meet Georgia Madrid. Georgia, this is Ajax Easton. Grab whatever seat you’d like.” Tabby plays hostess, while Georgia extends her hand.

  “It’s good to meet you, Ajax. May I call you, Ajax?” Her sweet voice and my name on her tongue brings a smile to my face. I take her hand in mine and my soul slips out of my body to watch this unfold. She’s breathtaking. This is a fantasy come true. I’ve never wanted anything more than I want this woman right here, right now.

  “Of course. Thank you for coming. Tabby’s right. Sit wherever you like. May I call you Georgia?” I gesture for her to sit nearby, but she takes up residence on the couch opposite my chair. That’s fine. I can live with it and it gives me a perfect view of her canary yellow panties.

  “No, I prefer Miss Madrid.” She cracks a smile and waves her hand in jest. “I’m teasing. Georgia’s good. I’ve been so eager to meet you.”

  My heart soars into the stars. “You have?”

  “Yes. Tell me about Veronica. She’s a bit of a card. I like her spunk. Is she based on someone you know?” Her eyes shine with the curiosity of a little girl. This isn’t the interest I want, but I’ll take it.

  “Thank you. You’re very kind. She’s just a creature of my imagination. Have you read the entire play?” I tense remembering all things I imagined. I’m a despicable man. A dirty, filthy, despicable man.

  She nods, opens her bag and takes a crisp copy out for review. It doesn’t look read. It’s too pressed. Too clean. Hurt by her lack of preparation, I’m seconds from saying something sarcastic when she flips it open. I almost gasp. My eyes fly out of their sockets and slam against the inside of my lenses. There are so many red marks, the pages look like they’ve been riddled with bullets.

  What the shit?

  “I have a few questions on Veronica’s scenes. There is one love scene and it’s pretty hot for the stage. Typically, I have some say over my leading man, but I understand things are different on Broadway.” She smirks and I can’t tell if she’s annoyed or attempting to read my reaction.

  I nod and reach for a copy of the script. Without prompt, Tabitha shoves it in my hands. It’s quickly followed my notebook and pen. She’s the best. Even with all the sass, she’s irreplaceable.

  I gaze into those hazel brown eyes and momentarily store my ego. She has questions. Most actresses have questions. What did I expect? She would never walk in here, shower me with praise and toss her panties in my face. I take a deep breath, swallow my pride and smile. “Shoot.”

  Her face beams as she flips to the end. “I have a question about the end.”

  I lean to the edge of my seat. I love the ending. Tabitha and I worked on it for weeks. What problem could she have? It’s perfect. Sublime. A work of art. “What is it?”

  “Sorry. It’s not a question. It’s a problem.” She sighs and fidgets with the pages in her hand. Her eyes dart back and forth as she summons the courage to ruin my life.

  I swallow hard, unsure if I want to hear the rest. “A problem?”

  She nods, hesitates, then nods again. “Please don’t take offense. But...I hate it.”

  Four

  Georgia

  “What an insufferable man.” I stir my tea and try to remember the last time anyone called me a spoiled brat. I’m sure it’s been more than six months. And Jared had cause. You don’t smash someone’s laptop without expecting a teensy bit of blowback. That insult brought about a three-week silent treatment that only ended when he dropped to his knees and begged my forgiveness.

  I told him he’d regret it.

  “He didn’t mean it, Georgia. No, I’m sorry. He probably meant it when he said it, but I know for a fact, he’s sorry. He feels terrible. You’re not a writer. You don’t know how it feels when someone criticizes something that’s sprung from your imagination. Not everyone can handle direct criticism.” Tabitha, Ajax’s assistant, keeps me company while I consider my options. She seems nice. Too nice to be under such a ruthless man’s employment. No, not ruthless. Overly sensitive and rude. I know the type. Hollywood is full of them.

  But he didn’t have to be such a meanie.

  “I get criticized all the time. People love to knock me down. Have you ever read some of my reviews? Do you know how many mean, vicious tweets I get on a regular basis? And sometimes, they don’t even make any sense. They’re just mean for the sake of being mean.” I cross my arms on my chest and sulk, but I fear I’ve left her unconvinced.

  She sighs and tears a piece of warm pumpkin loaf from her plate. “I have read them. They’re horribly unfair. I mean, you put yourself out there and create something for the sake of entertaining people. This isn’t about you.” She takes a sip of tea and shoves the bread in her mouth. My stomach grumbles.

  “It isn’t. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Entertain people. You get me.” I cover my heart and pout. I know she’s going somewhere with this. I minored in psychology. But I don’t have any close girlfriends anymore. I forgot how nice it is to chit chat with someone my age.

  “It’s obvious, Georgia. I’m not yanking your chain. But suppose you’d written those roles, too. Suppose you’d written the dialogue someone trashed. I bet that would hurt more. D
on’t you remember how much it hurt when your Mom didn’t put your school project on the fridge?” My mouth waters when she uses the bread to make her point and trails crumbs on the table. Oblivious to my hunger, she gives me a warm smile and checks her phone.

  “Is that him?” My head buzzes as butterflies flutter aimlessly in my belly. This is unexpected. Does he want me to stay? Would he ever admit it?

  She nods and chuckles. “It is. He wants to know if I’ve convinced you to stay. He wants me to apologize again. He really thinks you’re the perfect Veronica. He’d kill me for saying this, but I think she’s modeled a bit after you.” She wrinkles her nose and smiles.

  Me? He was thinking of me? My heart jumps a tiny hurdle before I feign indifference and take a sip of tea. “I still think he should change the ending. It’s a let-down. No one wants a let-down. You build and build. You think okay, this couple is struggling to get together, but surely I’ll see some spark of hope. Certainly, I get my happily ever after. Nope. He dies. How in the world does that constitute a romantic comedy? Is he insane?”

  She giggles. “I told him the rule of romance. If there’s no happy ending, it’s not a romance. But he’s a man. You know they think they know everything. He thinks because it’s a love story, he can call it a romance. He thinks because he’s got humor throughout, that means it’s a romantic comedy. And he sells so well, no one tells him anything different. Sad endings are his signature. If you don’t leave the theater crying, he felt he hasn’t done his job.”

  “That’s ridiculous! I’ve read romantic novels since junior high. Nora Ephron. That’s romantic comedy. Ajax Easton is akin to tragic romance, and I don’t like tragic romance. It traumatizes me. I feel invested and when I get invested, I get pissed.” I say my peace, but something gnaws at me. I can’t put my finger on it, but it’s been bugging me since this morning.

  It’s a gut feeling. A little voice inside won’t stop screaming for me to book my flight home, but my heart won’t let me pull the trigger. It’s weighing me down in New York, nudging me to give Ajax Easton a hard look.

  I always told myself I’d know when the right man walked into my life. Minutes after I meet someone, I know whether they’re right or wrong for me. I knew Alva would take care of me. That’s why I let her be my manager before she had much experience in the industry. I never have female friends because I see right through them and detect duplicity from the start. But Tabitha’s nice. Maybe she’s different.

  I knew my ex, Jared, would be temporary and before him an actor named, David. I could see it in their eyes. Something was missing from the start. They didn’t want me to be me. They wanted me to be their version of me---the Georgia Madrid who only exists on screen. Once they learned I was nothing like her, they either tried to change me or stuck around to see what they could get.

  Something about Ajax feels different. Scary different. But it can’t be him. He’s tall. I like tall, but lots of men are tall. He’s got dazzling blue eyes. So, what? I’ll admit the glasses are a turn on. Sue me. He sounds smart, but he could be faking it. Perhaps it’s the grayish hair and my deep, dark secret fetish for older men? No, I’ve worked through that. I paid that damn shrink thousands. But I didn’t care for the spoiled brat comment.

  Then why did you go home and fantasize about him giving you the spanking you deserve? Oh, hush up, nasty girl. You and your daddy issues.

  “Are you okay? You’re hurt, aren’t you? Gee, I know he’s a bit of a pain, but Ajax’s a good guy. I promise.” Tabitha gives me a look of concern. I’m imagining filthy things, and she believes I’m on the verge of tears. I’m upsetting a pregnant woman. This is bad karma.

  “No, I’m not hurt. I’m sorry. I was thinking of something else. Something dumb.” I brush the hair out of my face to discreetly wipe the dew off my brow. I feel flushed. Titillated. I can’t be having these feelings. It’s unprofessional, and Georgia Madrid is a professional.

  She checks her messages again and cracks a smile. A pang of jealousy hits me. Did they have a relationship? Oh God, is that his baby? No, she said she was married. What’s wrong with me. I hardly know the man.

  “Is that him?” I pry.

  “No, my husband. He sends me a joke of the day and they’re always corny. He thinks hearing me laugh is good for the baby, but if that’s the goal, he’ll need better material.” When she touches her belly and smiles to herself, I feel that familiar clench. It’s no surprise I sought her company. I shouldn’t have baby fever. I’m twenty-five years old and I’m not in love. There’s too much left to do to settle down. In this business, babies kill careers and mine is just taking off.

  Focus, Georgie.

  “How long have you been married?” I swipe a piece of her pumpkin loaf and greedily inhale it. I’ve exceeded today’s calories, but I can’t help myself.

  I’m starving.

  “Five months. We were best friends for years and too dumb to confess how we felt about one another. So, when we got together, we didn’t waste any time. Are you still with Jared Foster? He’s so dreamy. Sorry if that’s too personal.” She shoves a hunk of bread in her mouth and my heart breaks with envy.

  “No.” A pout forms as I watch her eat, rubbing her pregnant belly. Why do I torture myself? “It’s been over for quite some time. We wanted different things. It’s a boring story. He’s far more interesting on screen.”

  She giggles and I change the subject back to the play.

  “Do you know who he’s got in mind for the leading man? Things went to shit before he answered that question.” I drink the rest of my tea and wait for her reply. If I’m going to move on, I’ll need a good distraction. A handsome leading man will help get my mind off this baby business. It’s run its course. Georgia Madrid doesn’t have time for diapers and bottles and poop. Nor do I have time for handsome playwrights who can’t handle a few words of criticism.

  She nods, leans in and looks over her shoulders. “He’s already met with Michael Sheridan and it looks like he’ll sign on.” She stifles a grin and winks.

  Evil thoughts brew. Michael Sheridan. Hot damn, he could be useful.

  Tabitha leans in again. “Isn’t he heavenly? No, not heavenly. He’s a huge piece of double fudge chocolate cake. So delicious.” She grins from ear to ear, looks over her shoulder and buttons a button on her cardigan.

  My hands clasp in feigned excitement. “He’s perfect! I didn’t know he still had interest in Broadway.”

  “He said he wants to get in touch with his roots or some shit like that.” She giggles, waves a piece of bread and takes a sip.

  This is a sign. Not Michael. Oh, he’s gorgeous. He’s a beautiful bore, but he owes me. Two years ago, I provided cover for a delicate situation and Georgia intends to collect. If I want to find out what makes that stuffed shirt, Ajax Easton tick, Mike could help provide the perfect amount of agitation.

  Not too much. This is payback for the spoiled brat comment.

  Nothing more.

  Five

  Ajax

  “Maybe, it’s a mistake. Perhaps, it’s best if I tell her it’s not going to work out.” I pace the length of my office while Tabitha watches me from the couch. This is the fourth pass, and I’m beginning to think I’m talking to myself.

  “Well?” I stop in front of her and gently kick her shoe.

  “Oh. Was that a question? It sounds rhetorical.” She sits up and pretends to think on her answer.

  “Just say it, Tabby.”

  “What do you want me to say, Ajax? You know damn well you don’t want her to go. You made me smooth things over after you lost your shit and called her a self-centered, spoiled brat. I worked my magic. I said I would. And she’s agreed to do the play. Why are you acting like a baby?” She kicks my shoe and scuffs it.

  “Damn it, Tab. These are new.” I bend down to rub the mark and continue to stew.

  “I don’t approve of your methods. Why the shit would you use Michael Sheridan as bait? I don’t need the two leads getting down
and dirty. This is serious business. You know I like to maintain professionalism with my cast. You know what this play means to me.” I growl, reach for the manuscript and shake it over her head.

  That’ll show her.

  “Down and dirty? Have you been hanging out with Byron? You clearly don’t understand women. Trust me. Do you trust me?” She pauses and stares at me doe-eyed.

  I narrow my eyes and reluctantly nod.

  “I get a certain vibe from Georgia. I think she wants to settle into a real relationship and from the amount of times she eyed my bump, I think she wants babies. I’m 75% sure she’s foaming at the mouth for babies. Trust me, she may think he’s hot. Of course, she does, he’s gorgeous....”

  “You. Are. Not. Helping.” I interrupt her.

  “Let me finish. She might think he’s gorgeous. That’s a given. But Michael Sheridan isn’t father material and smart women sniff that out. He’s like the dumb jocks we followed under the bleachers...” She looks behind her.

  “What are you doing?” I crease my brow and wait for her to finish her stupid analogy.

  “Sorry. Every time I talk about other men, I expect Byron to jump out from behind the drapes and accost me. Where was I?” She stares into space. “Oh, yeah. Dumb jocks. Michael is like the dumb jock we followed under the bleachers after practice. They’re good for a game of grab ass. A little experimentation. Some action on a hot summer night. We all want to let our hair down...”

  “I get it...” I gesture for her to move the story along.

  “You might even take them home to meet your mother. But you don’t have babies with someone like that--- not on purpose, anyway. You want the nerdy type, who treats you like a queen, knows how to do all the tax business, kills the spiders, comes home every night and makes you laugh. Those are the ones who make you feel safe.” She smiles and gives me a thumbs up.