by Joanne Rock
Couldn’t his father see it was Trey’s turn for recognition? Trey’s time to shine?
“I’ve noticed you haven’t been social since I shut down your last film.” Thomas strolled around the studio, drink in hand, eyes roving over his creations. He stopped now and again to brush stone dust off one or trace a groove along a clay model.
Fighting to hang on to his patience, Trey reminded himself he was here to get answers, and that he couldn’t let his father distract him with their twisted personal relationship. That was how Trey had gotten talked into joining his dad’s film company in the first place—misplaced sentimentality and the hope that they could work together as adults even if they’d had a contentious relationship in his youth.
Bad idea.
“With good reason.” Trey took out his cell phone and scrolled through the entertainment news items. “But I think you owe me a heads-up if you’re going to try to muscle out the picture you wouldn’t let me make.” He read aloud, “‘Fraser Films options Quiet Places, a Vietnam war book about an unlikely friendship between American POWs.’”
“So?” His dad took a long drink, not even looking at him.
“I’ve got a fantastic, gut-wrenching screenplay about POWs during the Korean war. You know that.”
“Yours has an Aussie POW. My project is more firmly American.”
“Right. Good point.” Trey switched off his phone and stood. He’d gotten as much of an answer as he needed. His father wasn’t committed to the film as much as he was committed to pissing off Trey. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t make the movie. But so far the story hadn’t excited him on an artistic level. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
His father said nothing. Trey was almost to the door when he heard him clear his throat. Shake the ice cubes in his glass.
“I heard you’ve been keeping late hours on the town.” He said it casually, as if it was a simple observation.
Trey turned around. He needed to get the hell out of his old man’s house, but he waited for the other shoe to drop. No doubt his father had a reason for bringing up the only late night Trey had enjoyed in a long time.
“Disappointed I didn’t invite you?” He kept his tone light, but tension knotted the muscles across his shoulders.
“I’m concerned, Trey.” He set his empty glass on the pub table before picking up a small pick and approaching a clay figure of a lion’s face. “You’ve got some underage clients in that new talent agency of yours. I’m not sure it sends a good message to the parents of young actresses when their manager is patronizing dance clubs with his clients.”
“I’d be surprised if anyone thought anything of it.” Los Angeles wasn’t some Heartland small town where an agent might be viewed as a seedy character.
“Trust me. All it takes is one well-placed article to turn that into a scandal.” He took the pick to the lines of clay fur around the noble creature’s face. “You’d hate to lose your young clients. They’re the future of any good agency.”
“End scene.” Trey used his hands to pantomime snapping shut a slate. “Great take, Dad. Too bad the cameras weren’t rolling.”
“I try to help you, Trey,” his father argued. “I only push you so you achieve more success. Don’t you see? It’s a father’s role.”
Trey couldn’t think of many fathers who took the role so seriously, but he wouldn’t go down that road again. He’d found out what he needed to know.
“Okay, Dad. Thanks.” Shaking his head, he walked out of the studio and across the lawn to his car, ticked off that he’d made the drive all the way out Pacific Coast Highway just to be treated to more games.
At least he had figured out his father’s next move. Thomas was still trying to maneuver Trey like a chess piece in a game that he’d never wanted to play.
Good thing the next item on his appointment list was lunch with Courtney Masterson. The seemingly shy research accountant had been full of all kinds of interesting surprises the last time they met.
For the last twenty-four hours, he’d been thinking about her a lot. That white feather on her desk had sparked his imagination and made him wonder about how she spent her time when she left the office. It was a crazy idea that Courtney would have anything to do with Natalie Night. But the picture of her inside the dance studio had definitely spurred the thought.
Chances were that Courtney had only gone to the studio for a bachelorette party. Naughty by Night advertised events like that often enough in local media outlets. Yet Courtney shared a few key traits with Natalie, including the rare ability to turn him inside out with just a look. So, even though a connection between the women was highly unlikely, Trey’s fantasies were having a field day with the idea.
Besides, returning to Backstage would be dangerous for him if there was any chance his father would sink so low as to go gunning for his reputation. To be safe, Trey would keep his fantasies to himself.
Or better yet, he’d keep them between him and Courtney.
* * *
TEN TIMES I’D PICKED up the phone to cancel the date. Er, lunch meeting. Ten times.
But when I heard the receptionist, Star, clicking down the hall in her heels, I still hadn’t made the call that would end this madness. Now there was no turning back.
“Courtney?” Star tapped lightly on the open door, her red hair piled high like a school teacher from another era.
There was something very proper about Star with her retro hairdo and her china teacup, which she carried around the office from nine to five. But appearances were deceiving because she was the same colleague who chose to have her bachelorette party at Naughty by Night. I had her to thank—or blame—for turning me into a featured attraction at the local gentlemen’s club.
“Yes?” I stood, ready to bolt from my office for this lunch appointment even though I had removed any incriminating evidence of my Backstage adventure. Or even my dancing.
“Pendleton wanted me to give you this.” She handed me a fat folder from the boss. The file had the name of a well-known Silicon Valley company typed on the tab.
“A new account for me to research?” I took the folder from her and laid it on my desk, all the while realizing I was extremely let down that she wasn’t here to announce Trey’s arrival.
“Not only that.” Star smiled and wiggled her eyebrows. “He asked me to tell you that he’d really like you to consider taking the lead on this one.”
“Me?” My heartbeat faltered a little. “He knows I’m a behind-the-scenes person.”
Pendleton had been there for my interview with the company. He knew better than most how awful my public speaking skills could be. Still, having client contact could increase my paycheck if I ever felt ready to tackle it.
“Maybe he’s noticed you’re not as shy as you used to be.” Star straightened the chain of the vintage looking cameo necklace that she wore. “And, by the way, Trey Fraser is waiting for you out front.”
An undignified yelp of alarm escaped me.
“Why didn’t you say so?” I hissed at her, grabbing my purse and checking my teeth in a mirror tucked inside a bookshelf.
“You’re fun to surprise,” she admitted, walking with me as I hurried down the hall.
“So you can see me trip and maybe even stutter?” Everyone in my office had heard the glitch in my speech at one time or another. But I had to admit, they’d all been very cool about it. And, except for the occasional clueless summer intern, everyone was very patient with me if I got into trouble with my words.
It was mortifying to have people try to finish my sentences for me.
“No.” From behind me, Star tucked a tag back into the neckline of my shirt. “Because you’re way more animated than most people on staff here.”
“That’s a new way to put it,” I grumbled, even though I realized what she meant. There were some people in accounting who you’d swear didn’t even have a pulse.
“Go get him, Courtney,” Star whispered in my ear as I opened the door into the
reception area. “And don’t worry if you don’t come back after lunch. I can always cover for you.”
The words rang in my ears as I snagged my first view of Trey. A gorgeous, breathtaking view. I still couldn’t believe I’d had a chance with him the other night. And I really, really couldn’t believe that I’d ignored it and gone home.
I had to stop letting old insecurities run my life.
“Hi,” I said lamely, halting in the middle of the foyer.
Animated? I couldn’t think of a single word to say to the man. He wore jeans and a faded red T-shirt, but his shoes were killer. Distressed leather loafers—sort of Italian gigolo meets American cowboy. He looked delicious.
“You ready?” He grinned and I wondered what he had in mind for lunch.
Probably not nearly as much fun as what I was imagining right now. Besides, I had dressed in a boring khaki skirt that hung to my knees and a white T-shirt that I’d bought in the men’s department. I’ve always figured that with the right jewelry, a man’s shirt could make a fashion statement. Although the statement I was making now was probably something like—I’ve given up! I guess I was trying hard not to dress for seduction since that’s all I had on my mind.
And no matter what fantasies I might have had about Trey, relationships with clients were off-limits.
“I hope so.” I had my digital tablet tucked in my bag and a few notes prepared to help him with cyber security. “That is, yes.”
Belatedly, I remembered to be more firm. Direct. If I was going to succeed as a public speaker, I had to articulate better.
“Great.” He glanced down at my feet and I remembered I wore canvas tennis shoes. “Those are perfect for what I have in mind.”
I was relieved, since I’d had every intention of bringing a pair of high heels to work today specifically for this lunch. But my mom had called right before I went out the door, rattling me with her monthly barrage of questions about what I planned to do with my life. She still didn’t acknowledge me in public since I continued to embarrass her in her perfect world, but she hadn’t given up on her quest to mold me into a better human being. She still signed me up for elocution classes I didn’t attend, and design workshops intended to help me learn how to dress with more flair.
Um. No thanks, Mom.
“Really?” I stepped through the office doors and out into the noontime heat. A few threatening clouds were rolling by, but for now the day was just humid and hot. “Are we doing a vending truck? There’s a Greek guy the next block up who sells gyros that are...” I was too enraptured with my culinary memories to describe the taste “...amazing.”
“No.” Trey guided me through a handful of suit-wearing businessmen who walked elbow to elbow, all talking on their cell phones. “My car’s this way.”
Trey’s hand on the small of my back was fleeting but sexy. My skin tingled in that spot even after he ended the contact.
“Now I’m curious.” About Trey, I realized. Immediately I felt flustered. “I mean, about where we’re going.”
“Do you like surprises?”
“Actually, yes.” I spotted a low-slung black Jag down the street and guessed it belonged to him. “You might not think that a shy, quiet girl like me would go for surprises, but my parents were both older when I came along and they never did anything without major planning.”
Trey’s hand moved to my back again and he guided me around a corner onto a side street. Turned out the Jag wasn’t his. I caught the tiniest hint of his scent and wished I could move closer.
“Shy?” he asked, tilting his head at an angle to peer into my face. “I would have never taken you for shy.”
Oh, my God. Something about his tone of voice made me think he knew my secret. He knew I was the dancer at Backstage. My heart pounded wildly and my feet got a little tangled.
Trey took my arm, an amused smile on his face.
“Here’s my car.” He pointed to a big white sport utility vehicle.
“I would have never taken you for an SUV kind of guy.” I was happy to redirect the conversation since I had no idea what to say to his assertion that I wasn’t shy. Everyone thought I was shy—at least, people who didn’t know me.
“Then I guess we’re already surprising each other,” he observed lightly, opening the passenger door for me and helping me up into the cab.
He came around to the driver’s side and hopped in. We buckled up and he pulled smoothly out into lunch-hour traffic even though it was crazy busy.
“So you like driving a tank?” I used the side mirror to make sure he wasn’t crushing the smaller cars in the next lane when he moved to the right. “I would be a nervous wreck in this thing.”
I was a nervous wreck anyway, being alone with Trey in an enclosed space. A lifetime of my mom’s scathing comments came back to haunt me as I wondered if my outfit matched and if I could get through lunch without stumbling over my words. To distract myself from negative thoughts, I tried to focus instead on his vehicle and wondered if he’d been driving the SUV the other night at Backstage. It seemed plenty roomy. We could have really...had fun.
I had to fan myself to keep from overheating as I pictured his hands all over me.
“It’s a work vehicle,” he assured me, heading west on Sunset Boulevard. “Being in business for myself means I do my own sweat labor. Sometimes I need to haul stuff around.”
Or invite exotic dancers into his backseat? I sneaked a glance at his thighs and pictured me straddling them.
“You’re a talent agent.” I rolled the window down and let in a little breeze to help cool me off. It was fun being up this high. And I never got tired of the ocean. I lived close to it, but I didn’t see it enough. “How could you possibly get sweaty while talking to casting agents and mailing out headshots?”
That got a laugh out of him, and I enjoyed the sound as we left downtown L.A. behind. He seemed way too serious for a guy born into Hollywood royalty. I knew money didn’t equal happiness, but more often than not, it helped.
“You, of all people, should understand that I have bigger aspirations than managing my client list.” He passed a tourist rubbernecking at a couple of reality stars who stood in a crosswalk with their arms full of shopping bags. “So I work a lot more hours in a day than my primary business demands. But this vehicle has proven helpful even for the talent agency. I have a big-name actor who signed with me and he won’t go anywhere without his St. Bernard. I’d never fit Buddy in a sports car.”
“I’m very curious about your film company development.” I studied his profile to see if I’d ventured into a forbidden topic. “I’d love to know more about that if you don’t mind discussing it.”
“Depends. Are you asking for yourself or as a representative of Sphere?”
“Definitely for myself. But I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” He opened the sunroof and I peered up at the palm trees and cloud-filled sky. “I’ve learned to be cautious, but what’s the harm in talking to someone who already knows the plan?”
The miles flew by as he filled me in on a few basics of the industry. I knew a thing or two about start-up businesses, but nothing about the birth of a film company, so I learned a lot. It quickly became obvious that Trey knew what he was doing. It also occurred to me that his father was foolish to let a sharp industry insider like Trey get away.
By the time he turned the SUV up a steep, winding road in the Pacific Palisades, I’d almost forgotten about our lunch date. Er, meeting.
“Where are we?” I looked more closely at my surroundings and felt certain I’d never been here. It seemed an unlikely place for a restaurant.
“Our picnic destination.”
“W-we’re having a picnic?” I hesitated on the words because a picnic felt much more like a date than a meeting. And suddenly I felt more pressured. Wary.
“I realized yesterday that I’ve been busting my ass for months to recover some professional credibility, yet no matter how much I do, my dad is still go
ing to be waiting for me to make a mistake.” He pulled into a parking lot near a grassy field with a sign that read Will Rogers State Park. “I figured I’d better take time to enjoy the journey because I’m sure as hell nowhere near the point in my life where I can escape the old man’s shadow.”
He shut off the SUV and came around to open my door. I began to get nervous now, the relaxed atmosphere of the ride dissipating under the pressure of...helping Trey Fraser enjoy the journey. But he seemed unaware of a shift in mood as he headed around to the back of the vehicle and popped open the rear door.
“Ready?” he asked, handing me a blue blanket while he grabbed a huge, insulated bag. “I hope the rain holds off.”
“Wow.” I couldn’t think of anything else to say because my brain was busy calculating how much time and effort he must have put into planning this. Packing a picnic struck me as incredibly romantic, even though I knew he couldn’t mean it that way.
And yet...what if he did?
I was back to worrying he knew it was me on the stage at Backstage. After all, I could believe that Natalie Night might have gotten under his skin. But me? Courtney? Hell, I was an accountant, and even I couldn’t make that one add up.
“What?” He looked my way as we walked past an empty polo field toward some deserted picnic tables. “Are you anti-picnic? An ant phobia, maybe?”
“No.” I followed him past the picnic table to the shade of a big tree, where we stopped. “I’m just surprised that we’re picnicking for a business meeting.”
“First of all, you said you liked surprises.” He took the blanket from me and spread it out in the shade, careful to avoid any tree roots. “Second, I only threw in the part about business to make sure you came.”
His eyes met mine, and his voice dropped down into that range of quiet intimacy.
