by Holly Rayner
“They knocked me off early—you can bitch at Sarah if there’s a problem at one of my tables,” Riley called into the kitchen.
She saw smiling faces, heard a few laughs, and some of the lower chefs raised their hands in quick goodbye waves. Riley hugged Sarah at the service hatch, and said goodbye to Parker as he darted out from the restrooms to get back onto the floor.
She had nearly finished making her rounds, stopping at the hostess station and avoiding the tables that Sarah had taken over from her, when Riley stopped to say goodbye to the bar staff and Peter flagged her down.
“Hey Townsend, don’t head out just yet.”
“What’s up?” Riley frowned; Jill had given her the all-clear—what reason could Peter have to waylay her?
“Customer in the corner over there asked me to send you his way; he wants to have a drink with you.” Riley’s frown deepened as she racked her brain, trying to remember the people who’d been at her tables. “From the looks of him, I’d at least give him ten minutes to hear what he’s got to say.”
Riley glanced around. “Which guy? Someone from one of my tables?”
“Nah, he just came in,” Peter said, shaking his head quickly. “Considering your luck lately, maybe he’s a prospector.” Riley smiled at the term; it was what they called the headhunters working Hollywood, seeking out the up-and-coming talent, who sometimes came into the restaurant.
“I’ll see what he has to say, I guess,” she said, thinking that her night was taking stranger and stranger turns by the moment.
Peter pointed out the table, but Riley couldn’t see whoever was in the booth. She headed in the direction of her mysterious caller. It was weird being in the restaurant as a customer, instead of as an employee—even before she’d started working at Le Roi, Riley hadn’t been inside except to drop off her application and have her interview. The menu was too expensive for her budget, and once she’d started working there any thrill at spending a bonus or windfall from a lucky gig had disappeared in the knowledge of what was happening behind the scenes.
At first Riley felt a tingle all over, wondering if the man waiting for her was a wealthy patron; someone who might have wanted to date her, but had avoided it while she was working at the restaurant, only to take his chances now that she was free. But as she approached the table and finally caught sight of the man Peter had directed her to, Riley’s hopes sank. The man at the table waiting for her was gorgeous, and sharply dressed enough to fit Peter’s description of “someone interesting”, but he wasn’t a mysterious stranger. Riley took in the tailored suit and the glinting cufflinks, but no amount of visible wealth would be enough for her to feel excited about a meeting with her ex-boyfriend, Alex.
FIVE
“In case you weren’t aware, Alex, stalking is a crime in the state of California,” Riley said, meeting his gaze as she stepped into the booth.
There had been a time when she would have been thrilled to see him sitting near the bar at the restaurant; Riley had been bewitched by Alex’s boyish smile, curling hair, and designer stubble, but she’d long since told him to get out of her life and stay out of it; it had taken her finding him in bed with another woman for her to realize that his lavish spending and high rolling lifestyle were nothing more than a distraction from his nasty personality.
“Good to see you too, Ri-Ri,” Alex said, giving her the smooth, sleek smile that Riley knew so well. “At least stay for a drink and hear me out.”
Riley considered turning on her heel and walking away, but her curiosity at what he was doing at her place of work, after a year of no contact, got the better of her.
She sat down at the table. “I’m only doing this because I don’t want to make a scene, and I know how you’d act if I tried to walk away,” she said matter-of-factly.
Alex slid a drink towards her; it was one of Peter’s pricier concoctions, a mixture of three different alcohols and fruit juices so well-balanced that she’d seen more than one patron at the restaurant underestimate their tolerance and leave the bar weaving. She took a quick sip.
“You’re looking as effortlessly beautiful as always,” Alex said, giving her a nod. “Did you get a new personal trainer?”
“I do my own workouts,” Riley said, shrugging.
Up close, Riley thought that Alex looked like he was doing well for himself—his suit was more finely tailored than the ones he’d worn when they’d been dating, and in addition to the bright cufflinks, he wore a Cartier watch on one wrist that she thought might actually be genuine; at least it was a much better knockoff than any of those she’d seen on him before.
“All that yoga is doing you some favors then,” Alex said, giving her a quick leer. “I remember how flexible you were back in the day—you must be able to stick your feet behind your head by now.” Riley felt her cheeks warming up. The gloss on the outside is better, but he’s the same guy he always was, she thought, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.
“Can we get to the point, please? I’ve got people to meet with. What are you doing in my restaurant?”
“I’ve been hearing some interesting things on the grapevine,” Alex said, steepling his hands in front of his face.
“I’m sure you have,” Riley countered. “Although the grapevine seems too high up for someone like you; I’d have thought you get all your gossip from the gutter.”
Alex shrugged off the insult. “A little bird told me that your acting career is about to take a nice leap,” he said, dropping his voice a little lower. He inclined his head towards her, his eyes gleaming.
Riley’s heart skipped a beat in her chest and she stared at him in surprise. She’d been so careful to avoid giving anyone details about her upcoming gig—at most, she’d told friends that she had landed an acting job and that it was going to be months of filming. Who the hell told him? Quick on that thought was the corollary that if someone had told Alex about her part, she might be the one to take the fall; she’d signed a twenty-page non-disclosure agreement before the production company had even given her access to the parts of the filming script that were relevant to her role. If someone thought she’d blabbed, they could decide she was in breach—and kick her off of the project.
“Tell me exactly what you’ve heard,” Riley said sharply.
Alex grinned at the shock and consternation on her face, sitting back on the other side of the booth.
“I really should make you beg for it,” Alex said, shaking his head. He reached up to the breast pocket on his suit and plucked an ornate, gilded fountain pen out of it, flourishing it for a moment before he grabbed a cocktail napkin and scrawled a quick note on it.
Alex slid the napkin across the tabletop towards her, face down, and Riley picked it up, turning it over to see the two words written on it: Galaxy Wars. She half-gasped, her heart beating even faster in her chest as dread began to weigh down her stomach.
She tore her gaze away from the napkin and looked at Alex, wishing that she could incinerate him with a glance. “What do you know? How did you find out? Who told you?”
Alex looked to be truly enjoying her flurry of panic, taking a sip of his dirty martini and setting the glass down on the table with a clink.
“Keep your voice down; you don’t want to torch a perfectly good opportunity,” he said in a low voice.
Riley took a quick, deep breath, pressing her lips together to conquer the impulse to throw her drink in his face and slap him. Instead she finished her cocktail in a few hard gulps, setting the glass down and exhaling sharply.
“Okay, tell me what the story is,” Riley said more quietly.
“Let me order another round,” Alex told her, raising a hand to hail one of the bar staff.
Riley hesitated, wishing that she could just walk away from the conversation; but until she knew what information Alex had and how he’d gotten it she couldn’t tear herself away. She took her phone out of her purse and, as Alex ordered another round of drinks, sent a quick text to her friends. Sorry guys, some
thing came up and I’m not going to be able to make it out. We’ll celebrate next time I have a day off though! She sighed as the bar waiter left to grab their drinks.
“Okay, Alex—enough. Talk already,” Riley said, keeping her voice low.
Alex smiled, knocking back the last of his martini. “Once you get to a certain level in this business, it becomes a very small town,” he explained. The condescending tone of his voice irritated Riley, but she knew better than to give into the impulse to deliver a quick comeback.
“So I’ve heard,” she said. Their second round of drinks arrived and Riley tried to steady her nerves. Lord, give me patience, she thought without enthusiasm.
“I’ve come up a bit through the ranks, and now that I’m Talent Relations Manager at Empire State Production, it’s just part of my job to make sure I get the earliest news about any up-and-coming talent.”
“It sounds like you’re doing very well for yourself,” Riley said, keeping her voice carefully neutral.
“You can imagine how surprised I was when your name came up in a meeting the other day.” Riley raised an eyebrow. “Word on the street is that you were hand-picked by the executive producer.”
Riley felt a wave of exaltation; she had been flattered to think that she’d done a good enough job to stand out to the casting team—but to be so good that the executive producer wanted her for the role?
“That’s good to hear,” Riley said.
“Apparently he went over the heads of the casting team; they wanted someone else for the part but he insisted.” Alex gave her a long look. “I wonder what inspired him.”
“My performance,” Riley said firmly.
Alex shrugged. When he spoke again, his tone changed; he wasn’t the silky, slick mover-and-shaker—he looked shrewd.
“Don’t get it twisted, honey,” he told her. “You’ve got about five of your fifteen minutes of fame left. They’ll make you give your all for this movie and when you’re all dried out you can expect to go right back to fighting tooth and nail with all the other wannabes, just to wind up playing the mom in infomercials for cough medicine.”
Riley’s hand tightened on her glass and she scowled. “You know, I think I’ve missed this aspect of your personality most of all,” she said drily.
“I can offer you something better,” Alex told her. “If you agree to pass information to Empire State, I have a role ready for you when filming is over—a role that no one is going to forget about as soon as they leave the theatre.”
Riley stared at him in confusion for a long moment. “How in the world would information from me do anything for your production company?” She shook her head in disbelief, taking another quick sip of her cocktail.
Alex smiled slowly, leaning in closer and lowering his voice to a near whisper. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Empire State is one of the biggest production companies in the industry,” he explained. “And part of how they got to be where they are is by carefully timing their film releases.”
Riley shrugged; that made sense, but she still couldn’t think of how information about the filming of Galaxy Wars 3 would help.
“There’s an Empire State flick scheduled for release in the same week as your project, and the word from above is that Galaxy Wars needs to flop.”
“Okay…but I’m still not getting how me telling you anything about filming would make that happen,” Riley said.
“The director has a temper,” Alex said with a shrug. “One of those brilliant but tempestuous directors who takes offense if you suggest he shave off ten seconds of a scene. If enough information gets out, we predict he goes postal and cancels filming—or at least throws enough of a tantrum that the release goes off-schedule.”
Riley stared at Alex in shock. She had never so much as gotten a parking ticket in her life; not only would what he was suggesting be a breach of contract, but she thought there were probably laws against it. More to the point, if word got out about her sabotaging the first ever major production she was lucky enough to be involved in, her Hollywood career would be over before it even started.
“Thanks for the drinks,” she said, knocking back the last of her cocktail. She picked up her jacket and purse and stood to leave.
“Wait,” Alex said, reaching out and grabbing at her wrist. Riley raised an eyebrow and Alex sighed gustily. “I’m authorized to give you another offer, if the promise of the role isn’t enough.”
“Tell me what it is,” Riley said, not quite sitting down.
“If you agree to act as my company’s mole on set, I can offer you five hundred thousand for it,” he told her quickly. “Think of it as a thank-you from the higher ups.” Riley felt a chill work down her spine. “That’s in addition to a real role in one of our next productions, something you’ll actually be visible in.”
Riley pressed her lips together, pulling her hand free of Alex’s grip absently. The role was one thing; even if she didn’t get much traction out of the Galaxy Wars part, just having it on her CV would bump her pay grade in the eyes of other producers. But the promise of so much money was almost more than she could resist. She had been living paycheck to paycheck ever since coming to LA; half a million dollars was enough to pay her bills for years, with enough left over to devote herself completely to getting ahead in the industry. With that kind of money I wouldn’t have to wait tables for years. I could go on auditions every day of the week until someone hires me. But fast on the heels of those thoughts, Riley remembered the heavy agreements she’d signed, the legalese outlining what could happen to her if she was caught in breach of contract.
“I need to think about it,” she told Alex. “Give me some time.”
“Twenty-four hours,” Alex said, and though he tried to look as smooth and slick as ever, Riley caught the unmistakable relief in his eyes that she was even considering the offer. “After that it’s off the table.”
Riley nodded and turned away, carefully walking towards the employee exit with her thoughts spinning.
Stealing From The Sheikh is available from Amazon here.
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