by Piper Rayne
“No?”
He shakes his head. “As you get to know people, that’s the impression that matters. People tend to be fake when you first meet them. Even more so in L.A. Like you, for instance.”
“Me?” My eyes bulge out of my head and I wait for him to continue. I’ve never been the fake person who is nice when cameras are around and a demanding bitch when they aren’t.
“I’m sure people are sweet as pie to you when they first meet you. You’re a celebrity, but as time goes by, you see what they’re really after.”
“Psychology one-on-one from Vance Rose?” I sip my coffee and he chuckles.
“More like ramblings from Vance Rose. Most of them don’t even make sense.”
“Well, that one did. I tend to pull back in relationships. Being as young as I was when my career started… I have a limited list of people I’d consider true friends.”
Even with the words out of my mouth, I can’t help but feel like a loser. I have one good girlfriend and she lives back home in Kentucky.
“Quality more than quantity. I like it.” He runs his fingers through his hair and the waves settle in a messy look that’s good on him.
“Well.” I pull out the script. “I love the part. I was up all night reading it. I know you said an investor wanted me, but since you wrote this, I want to know if you see me in this role.”
He shifts in his seat, stares over to Payne once more and then to the counter. Wow. His non-verbal cues are screaming his answer as if it were plastered in flashing, neon lights around the restaurant.
“Is that a no?” I ask, suddenly feeling as insecure as I did when I went for my first audition as a child.
“No, I’m not sure I ever thought about an actress for it. I figured when we did auditions, I’d see it, but the investor wants you. So here we are.” He shrugs.
“Not exactly a ringing endorsement. You’re familiar with my work?”
“I am.” He lifts his hand to flag down the waitress, obviously wanting to escape this conversation. “We should order. I’m sure your son is hungry.”
The waitress listens and takes out her pad and pen. Although she looks to Vance first, he gestures for me to order first.
“He’ll have a milk and the blueberry pancakes. I’ll have an egg white omelet with spinach.”
The waitress nods.
“That’s it? No toast or pancakes?”
Even though I was going to order pancakes at Pancake Express, and I’ve already promised myself I’d run on the treadmill tonight after the kids went to bed, this man holds my future in his hands with this role and I want him to know I have excellent willpower and won’t gain weight.
“No.” I shake my head.
He waits for a second and then looks up to the waitress. “I’ll have the multigrain pancakes with strawberries, and can you bring her a German oven pancake?”
The waitress stuffs her pad and pen back in her apron. “Be right back.”
“I’m not going to eat the pancake,” I say.
A small smirk plays on his lips. “One bite?”
I shake my head. “We’ll see.” I roll my eyes. We both know I’ll be eating it. “So, you really need me to do the film?”
He swallows down his sip of coffee. “Yeah, I don’t think I’ve hidden the fact that if I don’t have you, my script doesn’t sell. No Layla, no money to make the film.”
“So we can bargain?” I thought long and hard about this conversation on the ride over. How am I going to do this?
“Well, I don’t have a ton to offer you. The film won’t have a huge budget, but I’ll make sure it’s fair and if it does well we can probably negotiate more on the back end.”
I shake my head. “I’m not looking for more money. What I need isn’t really about money.”
He tilts his head and a sour look crosses his face before he shoots me what I assume is his fake smile. I haven’t seen that one yet. I should spit it out.
“As far as amenities, you can give me a list and I’ll make sure it’s all in your trailer during shooting. We can get you set up with transportation if you’d like. I won’t have anything until I talk with the investor, but that’s not going to happen until you agree.”
I have to admit this level of power is intoxicating. I’ve never been on the end of negotiations where I held all the cards.
“No.” I shake my head. “My needs are more immediate.”
His face distorts and he looks over to Payne, who is trying to get his head into the prize slot of the game.
“Shit.” Vance slides out from the booth and runs over to my son.
They say timing is everything and as far as these things go, Payne’s isn’t the best given what I have to ask Vance.
Chapter 6
Layla
Vance has one hand in the toy exit compartment by the time I reach them. Payne’s head pops out, but his arm is still stuck.
“What were you thinking?” I shriek. Okay, my voice might be on the cusp of a scream.
“I want the poop emoji.” Payne winces and Vance tries to twist his arm to get it out.
“Did you think you could squeeze your entire body in there?”
I’m still in disbelief and completely mortified that Payne went this far for a stuffed animal that I could buy at Walgreens for a few bucks.
“I’m not that big.”
Vance glances over to me and he’s probably thinking to himself, Save up for college, lady, because there’ll be no scholarships here. Then he focuses on helping my son escape.
“That hurts!” Payne yells.
“He’s trying to help you.” My teeth are clenched as I give him my best ‘shut up and be polite’ expression, hoping that this one time he understands.
“Ouch.” Payne’s voice moves down an octave.
“Sorry, buddy, I think I almost have it.” Vance looks to the waitress who’s now joined the show. “Can you get us a bag of ice?”
I look over my shoulder and see her scrambling toward the kitchen.
Vance’s gaze locks with mine. “He’ll be fine, just a little sore.” A smile appears on his face and in that moment, my body relaxes.
Payne pulls his arm through the hole and I’m prepared for him to hug me, tell me how scared he was, but of course that doesn’t happen. Instead Vance wraps his one good arm around Payne and sits next to him as the waitress hands Vance the bag of ice.
My ass falls down to rest on my heels and I watch the display of affection Vance has for a kid who isn’t his. A kid who in all honesty probably annoys the shit out of him.
“It’s red, but you’re fine. Next time, come and get me.” Vance winks at Payne.
“What would you do?” Payne asks, the corners of his lips tipped up.
“I’ll win it for you.”
“How?”
I stay silent, enjoying the conversation happening between them. It’s nothing of importance. Vance isn’t telling Payne how to behave. Not reprimanding him for something. He’s just talking to him and Payne’s actually responding.
“Let me show you.” Vance positions his hand under Payne’s arm and helps him up. “Ready?” Vance asks Payne.
Payne nods enthusiastically.
Vance presses the buttons on the machine, arranging the crane. “What do you think, Payne? Back further?” Vance asks.
Payne moves to the side and I doubt he even really knows what he’s talking about. “Back.”
Vance presses the button and the crane hardly moves. He looks back at me and winks. Giddiness floods my stomach and I almost want to press my face against the glass like Payne’s. Can he get the poop emoji?
“It’s piled in there pretty good,” I say.
Vance and Payne’s heads whip in my direction and I back up with my hands in the air.
“No doubters allowed.” Vance turns to Payne. “Close your eyes when we press the button, okay?”
Payne nods his head up and down. “Can I press it?”
“Sure.” Vance holds
out his arm, allowing Payne to squeeze between the machine and his chest. “One. Two. Close your eyes.”
Payne giggles. Actually giggles as his finger hovers over the button.
“Three.”
Payne presses the button and what feels like pride races through me because he actually listened to someone else’s instructions. Most days, he would have probably just pressed the button on one.
I watch the crane fall down with child-like excitement.
“Layla, tell us what’s happening,” Vance says, his gorgeous caramel eyes hidden under his eyelids.
“The crane is going down… it’s widening now and falling into the stuffed animals.”
“Cross your fingers, Payne.” Vance holds up his own hands with his fingers crossed. Payne does the same thing, although he struggles with getting the middle finger over the pointer. “Keep going,” Vance urges.
“It’s pulling back up now. Seriously?” The poop emoji is in the grasp of the crane.
“What? What is it, Mommy?” Payne must actually have his eyes shut. Unbelievable.
The stuffed animal drops into the toy compartment.
“Open your eyes and look in the drop area.”
Payne bends down and digs his hand into the drop box.
Vance opens his eyes, looking to me first, silently asking me if they won. I keep my expression as neutral as possible.
“You’re awesome.” Payne holds up the poop emoji and Vance picks him up, spinning him around the small restaurant.
“Nah, you’re awesome. You pressed the button.”
Payne smiles over at me, holding the stuffed animal in his hands.
“Now it’s time to eat,” I say.
“No. Let’s do it again,” Payne whines and I sigh. I knew this new attitude of his would be short-lived.
“You need to refuel first.” Vance drops him to the ground and holds his arm out toward the table.
I stand there, watching the two of them venture off to the table. Payne slides into my side of the booth while Vance sits on his own. They’re talking about emojis and which one is their favorite. My eyes won’t turn away but my feet won’t move either.
“Are you joining us?” Vance turns around and asks.
I nod, setting one foot in front of the other. I’ve never seen Payne have a conversation and be so well-behaved with another adult.
Sitting down, I take my fork and knife to cut up his blueberry pancakes.
“What’s your favorite emoji, Mommy?”
“Let’s guess,” Vance says and Payne’s eyes light up. “Anger?”
I narrow my eyes to a smiling Vance.
“Winks?” Payne asks.
Truthfully, I’m twenty-eight years old. I don’t really have a favorite emoji and since I don’t have very many friends who I text on a consistent basis, there’s no emoji I use more than others.
“Yeah.” I smile to my son, pouring syrup over his pancakes.
“I would have thought you’d be more of a face with rolling eyes emoji,” Vance says with a straight face, taking a bite of his pancakes.
I stare at him blankly.
“Oh, I think I’m seeing the unamused emoji face right now.” Vance points with his fork at me and Payne peeks over to see.
“It’s a smirking emoji face now,” Vance says.
My lips start turning up even though I do my best to keep them straight.
“There we go. You’ve got a grinning emoji face now.”
I shake my head, keeping my eyes focused down on my omelet.
“Payne, is your mom ticklish?”
Payne’s fork drops on his plate, in the syrup of course. His fingers start digging into my ribcage, not at all like tickling, more like tiny little daggers, but it’s his way.
“Keep going. She’s almost to a grinning emoji with smiling eyes face.”
I lose all control of my face at that point and start laughing, tickling Payne back.
“You’re talented, buddy. You got her to rolling on the floor laughing emoji.”
Payne raises his arm up in the air and fist-pumps. “I’m awesome.”
We both look at one another and laugh at his serious face.
“I think we should ask Vance why he knows so much about emojis,” I say with a smile.
Vance places his fork down, wipes his mouth with his napkin, and then holds his arms out. “Because I’m one cool guy.”
Payne’s smiling face and nodding head say he agrees and I can’t pretend that I don’t either.
All during breakfast Vance tries to explain the different Ninja Turtles and superheroes to Payne, who keeps thinking Rafael must be a superhero. Eventually they agree to let the Turtles be superheroes, too.
I dig another five dollars out of my purse so that Payne can go back to the games. Vance and I need to finish our earlier conversation.
“Promise, no putting your hand in?” I hold the five dollars up in the air.
“Promise. I’ll get Vance this time.”
My gaze instinctively moves to Vance and then back to Payne. I hand him the money.
“I’m sorry, we’re taking up your entire morning,” I say.
He shakes his head, his hands wrapped around his coffee mug again. “I have nowhere to be. I already worked out.”
I feel the heat rise up into my cheeks, thinking of our earlier texts. I’d have to be his mother not to notice his amazing body and the fact he works to get it tells me he goes after what he wants.
“Yeah, right.” I grab another Splenda and rip it open, dumping it into my cup. “So, what were we talking about before my son tried to commit theft under a thousand?”
Vance picks up his coffee and leans back in the booth.
“You mentioned something about your immediate needs.” He leans forward, his coffee mug hovering over the table. “Was that code that you want to practice some of the sex scenes?”
The scene in the story where the lead actress is perched up on a dresser in a sleazy motel and the lead has her legs open, eating her out while bags of cash and jewelry lie on the bed, comes to mind.
I swallow deeply, wishing he wouldn’t affect me this much. Where’s his professionalism? I should scold him for his demeanor, but for some reason I don’t want to.
“No.” My giddy schoolgirl voice rings out and he raises both eyebrows, relaxing into the booth once more. “I need a nanny.”
“I’m sure there’s some great agencies. Do you want me to see if I can find some references?”
I shake my head. “I have calls out but I’m back on set tomorrow. I need someone as soon as possible. The agencies will want to interview me and I’ll have to interview them in return. I have no time for that. My parents live up in Napa and they’re too busy starting a bed-and-breakfast to be bothered with my problems.”
“Carver?” he asks, his words sounding like they’re tainted with poison.
I shouldn’t be surprised he knows my ex’s name. Everyone knows everyone’s business in this industry. “Filming.”
“For how long?”
“Indefinitely.”
His lips turn down. “So, what are you asking for, Layla?” His fingers clench harder around his coffee cup.
“Well, for me to agree to the part, I need a nanny.” The napkin in my lap rips apart from the twisting of my fingers.
“A nanny?” Confusion paints all the features on his face.
“Or a manny, as it were?” I clarify, mentally crossing my fingers that this man can be a guardian angel in disguise and help to solve my problem.
Chapter 7
Vance
I heard wrong. Right? What the hell is a manny? And why does she think I’d be able to find her one?
“What do you need from me?” I ask.
The glimmer that’s been in her eyes all morning dims and she sets her attention on where Payne is playing. There’s a note of sadness in them that wasn’t there before.
“The nanny service I use has no one else to send. Payne isn’t a b
ad kid, he’s just going through something right now. It’s been hard with Carver gone.”
Their split was big news last year, but like everything in LA, another story takes over the next day and it’s old news. At the time I thought, Another childhood romance crashes and burns. Usual business around these parts. But seeing the pained look in Layla’s eyes as she looks on to Payne, I can see I was a fool.
“Yeah, I heard. I’m sorry.”
She’s quick to shake her head, feigning nonchalance, but her body language says so much more.
“He’s filming and I have no idea when he’ll be back. Payne puts on a good front but I know he’s confused over why Carver hasn’t returned. Why we haven’t gone to visit him. I don’t know if he’s acting out for attention or what, but I have three weeks left of filming and no nanny.”
I feel for the woman, I do, but I have no idea where to find a good nanny. Hell, when I was younger, it was the kid down the street. No one looked for twenty-four-hour help.
“There must be another service you can call.”
She nods. “No, there is, it’s just I have to apply and most reputable agencies don’t just assign one to you like a package.”
“So how can I help you on this then? You want me to conduct the interviews since you’re busy?”
I’m afraid for this woman’s sanity. I’m a thirty-four-year-old bachelor. What the hell do I know about what makes a good nanny?
“I was thinking you could do it,” she says, sounding hopeful.
Now I know for sure something’s wrong with her.
“Do what?” I raise a brow and take a sip of my coffee.
“Be his manny.”
My coffee somehow takes a wrong turn into my windpipe. I start coughing and coffee spews out of my mouth. I beat on my chest for a second as my eyes water and eventually get my coughing fit under control. Reaching for a napkin to wipe up the mess dotting the table, I ask, “I’m sorry, his what?”
“You seem to like him and he responds well to you. Look at him now.”
