“So you’re not interested in finding love?” she asks.
“To tell you the truth, I’m not really sure it exists. I mean, I see it all around me. My friend Ben and his wife Jasmine have been together forever, and they’re still as in love as ever. But I’m not so sure that something like that exists for me. That’s okay. I have other things. I have my career and my friends. I love what I do, and I’m really lucky that I get to do this for a living. Do you know how many people try to get into this business every day and fail? Well, not fail, but aren’t able to get the right roles. Aren’t lucky enough to get a paying job?”
“Finn, you’re selling yourself short,” Dolly says after a moment.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re selling yourself short. When you were going to auditions, what kept you going? What kept you motivated?”
“I don’t know. I believed in myself, I guess.”
“And you didn’t quit no matter what?”
“I couldn’t. I had to believe in myself before anyone else could believe in me. In this business, you face constant rejection. I had to build up this insane belief and confidence in myself. I had to know that it was going to work for me, no matter how long it took. Without that level of belief, you can’t be successful. Because then you let other people’s doubts and second guesses derail you.”
“That’s exactly my point. It’s the same thing with love. It requires belief. You need to believe that one day you’ll find the person who is absolutely perfect for you. She will get every aspect of you. She will be the person who will always be there for you. Without that level of belief and confidence that this is something that you deserve, you will never find her. Because you will always doubt every person who comes into your life, and with doubt, you will plant seeds of destruction.”
“I never really thought of it that way,” I say after a moment.
“Okay, well, I think this conversation has been quite fruitful. Typically, I like to meet all of my clients, but given the circumstance and the urgency of this matter, I have someone who will be a good date for you this Saturday.”
“Already?” I ask.
“I met with her a few days ago, and I have a feeling that you two will be a good match.”
Then something occurs to me.
“Wait, but you didn’t ask me anything about what I’m looking for.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“Like what kind of woman I’m looking for. Height, weight, hair color. Body type.”
“Finn, I’m going to pretend that you did not just say that.”
“What? Is that offensive? I know looks are shallow, but they are important.”
“Physical chemistry is important, and some of it can be attributed to looks, but the majority of it comes from demeanor and essence and the identity of the individual.”
I hate how shallow I’m coming off arguing this point, but I’m a man after all.
“What about age?” I ask.
“What about age?”
I’m starting to hate her tendency to repeat my questions back at me.
“I’m not particularly interested in dating someone who is 50,” I say.
“I assumed that you weren’t going to be. Let’s say this about age: she’s going to be age appropriate for you.”
I swallow a gulp.
“Are you going to tell me anything about her?”
“You two are going to meet at the Beverly Hills Hotel at 7 pm, forty five minutes before your event starts.”
“I’m not going to pick her up at her house?” I ask.
“No, I don’t think that’s going to be such a good idea.”
I don’t like this. Not one bit.
“Dolly, I’m not sure that this is such a good idea. Why does she get to know who I am and will read everything about me on Google before she gets here and I don’t get to know anything about her?”
“Oh, I’m not telling her who you are,” Dolly says. “All she knows is that she’s going to a black tie event with a man who I thought would make her a good date. That’s it. You both don’t know a thing about each other.”
That sounds better. I still have a lot of hesitations.
But then I see Chloe come out of her trailer. I have a few minutes until I have to be on set, and I want to talk to her.
“Okay, fine. That’s fine. Listen, I have to go. Text me the details,” I say, ending the conversation abruptly. “Hey, Chloe!”
I walk up to her. She’s wearing a tight pair of jeans and a nice, loose-fitting blouse. It’s so sheer that I can see her bra through it. The bra is black and lacy. Incredibly sexy.
“What’s up?” she asks.
“How’s your day going?” I ask.
“Hectic, actually. One of the dresses got ruined, so I had to run it out to get it dry cleaned, but it won’t be ready in time for the afternoon scene. So, Martha and I are trying to figure out how to make it work.”
I nod, pretending like I care. Even though my mind is almost exclusively focused on her breasts and what they look like without that sexy bra.
“Everything is okay with your wardrobe though? Nothing got ruined during lunch?” she asks, looking me over up and down. For a second, I think that she’s checking me out, but then I realize that she’s just scrutinizing my clothes to make sure that I didn’t get any food on them.
“I’m a very careful eater,” I say.
“I know, but accidents happen. In the future, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to change out of them before you go out to lunch. We just don’t have any backups, and it can put the whole project in jeopardy.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” I smile. “It’s just a suit jacket.”
“I know. It doesn’t seem like a big deal, but it is. I don’t have any duplicates. So if you get something on the pants, then we have to get them dry cleaned and the production has to wait. Otherwise the scenes don’t have continuity.”
“I’ve worked on a movie before Chloe. You don’t have to talk to me about continuity,” I say sternly.
“I know you have. But not one like this. Your other movies had big budgets and lots of wardrobe people. There were a lot of contingencies in case of an emergency. But here, we’re not working with very much.”
“You don’t have to worry about me. I’m careful,” I say abruptly and walk away.
I don’t know exactly what just happened. Did we really get into a fight over clothes? She’s right of course, I shouldn’t be wearing my ‘costume’ out to lunch, even if it is just a regular outfit. So, why did I get so rude? Why did I take it so personally?
I turn back to apologize, but her trailer is swarming with people. She’s adjusting all of their clothes, approving their outfits, making suggestions. This isn’t a good time. Shit.
Martha comes to talk to me about the next scene we’re shooting. I listen, but my mind is elsewhere. I don’t really know what’s going on, but for some reason I keep dwelling on what just happened with Chloe. There’s something about her that flusters me. Makes me lose my cool. My thoughts drift back to what it would be like to take Chloe to the Governor’s Ball instead of this date that Dolly will find for me. The idea of the whole thing sends goose bumps up my arms.
What the hell is going on, Finn? Get it together, I say to myself. You’ve been on plenty of dates before. What is it about Chloe that makes you nervous all of a sudden?
“Finn,” Martha says. “Are you listening?”
“Oh yeah, of course. I definitely think we should do it that way. Sounds perfect,” I mumble.
Suddenly, it hits me. I’m nervous because I don’t actually know how a date with Chloe would go. She isn’t like anyone I’ve ever gone out with before.
Chapter 13 - Chloe
I see him standing there, watching me. I hustle around the other actors, getting their clothes together. Compliment them on how they look. Help them pick out the right pair of shoes. And still, he stands there. I don’t know what just happened. Was I re
ally that rude? Did I say something that inappropriate? The conversation that Finn and I just had runs over and over in my head. I didn’t mean to insult him. I don’t know if I did. He just got mad for no reason. I want to apologize to make things right, but I can’t. Not now. Still, an apology is in order so that we can work together without issues in the future.
“Excuse me,” I say to Lindsey. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles and continues to try on shoes. I’ve never met someone so in love with shoes before. I doubt that she will even notice if I don’t ever come back.
I walk over to Finn, determined to put this whole thing behind us. The expression on his face changes when he sees me getting closer. It looks as if, for a second, he gets scared. Timid. But then catches himself.
“Finn, I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong foot back there. I didn’t mean to insult you about anything.”
“No, you didn’t. Not at all. I was being a dick. I have a lot on my mind right now, and I shouldn’t have said that. Any of that.”
“Okay,” I sigh deeply. “That’s a weight off my mind.”
I feel tension and relief leaving my shoulders. I turn around to walk away.
“It is?” he asks.
“What?”
“That’s a weight off your mind?” he asks. Why is he pushing this? What is going on?
“Well, yes. I don’t want to have any unresolved conflict with anyone I work with. And I just wanted to come over and apologize, in case I said something to offend you.”
“Oh, I see,” he nods. “That’s what I thought. Well, as I’ve said before, I’m sorry too.”
“No worries. Let’s just toss this up to a misunderstanding.”
“Got it,” he says. Finn flashes me a smile and my heart melts a little. I take a deep breath and force myself to go back to work.
Is this really happening, Chloe? I say to myself. Are you developing a crush on him? Finn Dalton? How pathetic! How cliché! Every girl in the world has a crush on him. Dolly has set up a date for you for Saturday night. You’re going to look stunning and meet an actual eligible bachelor. Someone without baggage. Someone whose longest relationship isn’t a week.
I talk to myself in second-person whenever I need to convince myself of something. It gives me a sense of authority. But it doesn’t always work. I’m not one to acquiesce to authority easily. So, as I say these things to myself, I keep glancing over at Finn, who continues to stare at me from a distance. Why won’t he look away? Why does his gaze have to be so entrancing?
After work that evening, I brave through LA traffic and arrive on Rodeo Drive just in time. I’ve lived in LA for years, but have never actually been here. Of course, I never told Lila that. She would have a fit and insist that we go there right away. Even though every single store here sells pants that cost as much as we pay for rent. Luckily, there’s street parking in front of Charlotte’s – a boutique where Dolly told me to meet her. Dolly is standing outside the boutique with a cup of Starbucks coffee, watching me parallel park. My parallel parking is not the most embarrassing thing about this moment, though. It’s really the fact that I can’t open the driver’s door and have to get out through the front passenger door. Luckily, I wore skinny jeans and nothing gets caught on anything.
“You didn’t have to wait for me outside,” I say.
“I wasn’t going to, I was just finishing my coffee,” Dolly says giving me a brief hug.
Even though she’s at least twenty-five years older than I am, I feel older than she looks. I’m haggard and tired from a long and stressful day at work, and she looks refreshed and well-rested. She’s wearing a pair of to-die-for Louboutins with the red soles, and a tight black pant suit. Again, all of her assets are on full display, starting with her hair down to her five-carat diamond ring. I don’t actually know how many carats that diamond ring is – I don’t know anything about jewelry – but it looks big. I’ve never seen anything that big on a person, but I know it’s not a fake. Even as evening falls, it sparkles with full intensity.
“Sorry, my car is still in the shop,” I say apologizing for the shitty Honda. It is in stark contrast with every other car on this street. On this street, BMWs and Mercedes look like they belong to middle-class people.
“Oh, don’t apologize honey. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. You’re here to spend money and, as long as that’s the case, no one is going to look twice at you.”
I hear what she’s saying, but I don’t exactly believe her.
“Dolly, I was thinking,” I say, taking her aside before she could open the door. “Maybe this isn’t a very good idea. This guy you’re setting me up with, he has money. He expects to be with a woman who knows how to spend money. I’m not that girl. As much as I love fashion, this isn’t the place for me. I can’t afford a single thing in there.”
“Oh don’t be silly, Chloe. The last thing this man, or any man wants, is a woman who knows how to spend money. And you don’t have to pay for a single thing. This is an expense of running my business.”
I’m still hesitant, but I stop protesting so much. It’s getting embarrassing. I follow her inside the boutique.
“We will need to look at your evening dresses,” Dolly announces. “She has a very important black-tie event this Saturday and she needs to look stunning.”
Two women run over to us and show us to the evening dress section in the back. They offer us drinks and coffee, and Dolly takes a glass of champagne. She picks out three dresses and sends me inside the spacious changing room. Everyone waits outside. I slip on the first dress. Light blue, full-length. It’s made of airy, breathable chiffon and it flows along with me as I move. When I walk outside, Dolly smiles with her whole body.
“Gorgeous,” she says.
I nod. It’s actually breathless. I feel like a princess in it.
“It’s beautiful,” I say.
“Do you love it?”
I twirl around in the mirror. The dress has thin straps and holds my breasts in just the right way. I’m not very well endowed, but from the way the cups are, you’d never know.
“Yes,” I say decidedly.
“Perfect, we’ll take it,” she says, finishing her glass of champagne and taking out her wallet.
“What? But I have two other ones to try on.”
“Chloe, I live my life by a certain philosophy. If you find something that you love, you grab it and hold on to it. You don’t go around comparing it to what other people have. Those kind of comparisons can only lead to trouble. That’s my philosophy in love and in life. And especially in clothes. If you tell me that you love the dress, and I see how happy you look wearing it, then what’s the point of comparing it to something else?”
I never thought about that before, but changing back into my jeans and blouse, I realize that Dolly is right. Comparisons only make you feel shitty about what you already have. In fact, I even read this article not long ago, which said when people are presented with a large variety of choices of a certain product, they are often overwhelmed and end up less happy than if they were just presented with a few choices. Dolly is perfectly right. Wow, I can’t believe I never got this before.
I wait as Dolly pays for the dress ($750!) and the woman packs it up for us.
“And what I said before is especially true about men,” Dolly says. “Once you find the one, don’t waste your time comparing him to anyone else. There is no one else like him, and you won’t find out if he’s the right one for you by turning outward. The only way you’ll know that is by going deep inside yourself.”
“So, how do you feel about this whole thing?” Dolly asks, handing me the garment bag outside the boutique.
“I feel okay, I guess. I’d feel better if I knew who this person was. Or anything about him. What does he do for a living?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t tell you that,” she says with a shrug.
“Why?”
“Because it will affect the quality of the date.”
“Why? Is h
e famous or something? Are you afraid I’m going to Google him beforehand?”
“No, he’s not famous. Still, that has happened in the past on a few occasions. But that’s not why.”
“So why?” I ask impatiently.
“Because he doesn’t know anything about you, and it would be unfair for me to tell you anything about him. I want this to be as…organic as possible.”
I toss my hair from one shoulder to another while opening the passenger side of my car with the key.
“There’s nothing organic about this whole thing,” I say. I catch her staring at my key. “Hey, you might laugh about this thing now, but in the future. This car is going to be a relic. There aren’t many around that you still have to open by sticking the key into the lock,” I say jokingly.
“Be at the Beverly Hilton Hotel by 7 p.m. on Saturday,” she tells me as I slide over to the driver’s side.
“How am I supposed to know who he is?” I ask.
“I’ll think of something. He’ll find you. Do you have shoes that go with this dress?”
“Yeah, either I do or my sister does. I think I have some beige or black stilettos that will go well with it.”
“Perfect. Have a great date! I’ll text you the details.”
I drive away with the garment bag and the most expensive dress I’ve ever held in my hands in the seat next to me. Everything about the exchange today should’ve felt off. It should’ve felt strange and uncomfortable. And many parts were, but something also felt sort of right. It’s hard to explain, but I feel like I’m supposed to be there at this gala. Even though the last time I went to a black tie event, it was prom!
Just as I find the perfect parking spot, only a street away from my apartment building, my phone rings. It must be Dolly. Same area code and the first few numbers look familiar.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Hi.” His voice comes in crystal clear, sending shivers down my back. No, this can’t be him. Right?
“Chloe? Are you there?” he asks.
Auctioned to Him Book 8 Page 68
