by Amity Cross
“Did you get home okay after the party?”
I glanced up at him then, my heart beginning to twist more painfully than I ever thought it could.
Jude was staring at me, his brow furrowed, but nothing in his features said that he remembered. There was nothing there, and it twisted into my heart like shrapnel.
“I got home just fine,” I replied sharply.
Jude glanced to the side, his lips quirking. Not in an amused kind of way but in a I reckon I’m in the doghouse but I’m not sure why kind of way.
“I was a bit drunk,” he began uncertainly.
“I noticed.” So drunk he’d obviously blacked out and lost control of his lips.
“Tessa isn’t going to the awards,” he said out of nowhere.
“Oh?” I rolled my eyes. Like I cared.
“She cracked it big time because she wasn’t nominated,” he went on. “The show was though, but she still doesn’t want to go.”
“Oh…” I wasn’t sure what he was getting at. At least, I was sure I didn’t want to get what he was getting at.
He frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ve got somewhere to be,” I muttered, shoving my tablet into my bag, sick of his inane conversation. He didn’t remember shoving his tongue down my throat, and now he was talking crap about the woman he’d blown me off for. I didn’t want to be his sounding board for whatever tiff they were currently having.
“Lux—”
I didn’t wait around to hear whatever it was he was going to say. I couldn’t deal with putting on a mask today. Not yet anyway. My head was still full of the memory of his kiss, his blistering kiss, and then the car crash that happened not three feet from where I’d been sitting last Sunday. Last Sunday, which was only three days ago.
Striding away, I fumbled in my bag for my phone and brought up the email on the app. The moment I rounded the corner, I tapped the number in the message and pressed the phone to my ear.
It rang twice.
“Miles Schaffer’s office, how may I help you?”
The chirpy female voice threw me for a second. “Hi, yes, it’s Lux Dawson calling for Miles Schaffer. Is—”
“One moment please.”
Bewildered at the abrupt transfer, I glanced over my shoulder, but Jude hadn’t followed me at all. I was alone on the street, which was just as well since I was on verbal enemy ground.
“Lux Dawson,” a male voice echoed down the line. “Miles Schaffer. How are you?”
“Good thank you,” I replied, leaning against the brickwork facade of the building beside me. “I was just reading your email and wanted to give you a call.”
“I was hoping,” he replied.
“I haven’t had much time to think about what happens next,” I said truthfully. “That’s why I called.”
“So, how long are you tied up with Starscape?”
“I’m only signed for one season,” I replied. “There hasn’t been any discussion yet on renewing my existing contract.”
“So, you’re interested?” Miles asked, sounding enthusiastic about it.
“I’m intrigued…”
“Would you like to come out to LA for a meeting? There’s a great deal I’d like to run through with you, and I think it’s best to meet in person.”
“LA?” That was the other side of the country, and I was suddenly conscious of the time difference. It must be around nine a.m. there now.
“That’s where the show will be primarily based, and our offices are here. Have you been before?”
“No, not outside the airport.”
“Well, you’ll love it,” he said. “It’s a very vibrant city with a lot of sunshine and things to do.”
“Okay, sounds like an adventure.”
“I like your thinking, Lux,” he said, sounding genuinely impressed. I was just going with the flow because I didn’t have it in me right at that moment to swim against the current. “Now, I’ll give you a quick rundown of the position if you’ve got a minute to talk.”
The side street was still empty, so I said, “Sure, go for it.”
“Brilliant! We’ve got a new series in the works that’s looking very promising. We’re still very much in the preplanning stage, but we have a bare-bones script for the pilot episode that’s been shipped out to prospective actors.”
“You’re casting already?” I asked, kind of surprised.
“You bet. We’ve got high hopes for this one. We needed something in our catalogue to rival shows like Game of Thrones, The Vampire Diaries, and Naturals. It’s supernatural, otherworldly, dark, gritty, and sexy. This series is shaping up to be the jewel in our crown, and we think you’re the best fit to help us take the story to the next level. The network is pumping serious money into the production. There are options for filming on international locations, too.”
I wanted to reply with a meek little ‘me?’,’ but I held my tongue. They wanted me to work on a big-budget production. Me.
Miles wasn’t put off in the least by my stunned silence. “We’d like to see your ideas for the pilot and the upcoming episodes, too.”
“You want me to write a script?” I asked, wondering if this was how these kinds of jobs were picked up once writers were on the circuit.
“Part of this position is taking a leading role,” Miles explained. “We’d like to see how well you work with new material and especially how you deal with it under the pump.”
Sounded fairly straightforward and the more I let the idea roll around in my brain, the more it made sense. “Okay. Sounds good.”
“Fantastic,” he said, sounding pleased. “I’ll get an non-disclosure agreement messengered over to you ASAP so you can start.”
“When would you need the script by?”
“Let’s say…” There was a pause, and I assumed he was checking his calendar. “Are you available to fly out to LA at the end of the month? Say…January twenty-sixth?”
I knew there wasn’t anything pressing on my calendar for that week since it was the first of the big award ceremonies, and I was fairly certain it was the one that Jude had been nominated for best actor. I wouldn’t be missed if I slipped away to LA for a day.
“Yes. I’m available,” I replied straight up.
“I’ll get you scheduled in and forward you the details. If you could have the script to me a few days prior, I’d love to have a read before you arrive.”
“Certainly,” I replied. “I can’t wait to start on it.”
“I love your can-do attitude, Lux. Looking forward to meeting you. If you have got any concerns in the meantime, don’t hesitate to call. I’m available to you whenever.”
Man, they must be chomping at the bit to recruit me if Mr. Network Executive was making himself available round the clock for a prospective hire.
“Sure,” I said. “And thank you for the consideration.”
“Are you kidding?” he exclaimed. “No consideration necessary. I’ve got a good feeling about you if your work on Naturals is anything to go by. You’re a superstar.”
Hopefully, with the paycheck to back it up.
Finishing the call, I leaned back against the brick wall and closed my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I allowed myself to spiral for a moment. Round and round on the twisted merry-go-round of show business.
I couldn’t help feeling that this was way too easy, but I guess only time, and my ability to blow their minds, would tell which way the chips were going to fall.
Shoving my phone into my bag and my thoughts about Jude to the back of my mind, I went back to my apartment to await the messenger.
That, at least, was tangible.
Episode Twenty-Three
The Sun Also Rises
I spent every spare minute of the next week and a half working on the script for FMC.
I didn’t want to chance anyone at Starscape finding out, so I stopped going to the café and stayed at home. Working on something new was like a breath of fresh air, and it gave me t
he distance I required to stop obsessing about Jude.
When I finally emerged and braved Mad Mimi’s, it seemed like fate had synchronized watches with the one person I didn’t want to see for the sake of my sanity.
Jude sat across from me, the inside table that I’d chosen feeling different somehow. I always sat out the front because the weather here was always mild to hot and hardly ever chilly. Today, I’d opted for being clandestine because of the proximity of the heartbreak vortex across the street. I was referring to Jude’s apartment, of course. The other vortex, bitchy B-list celebrity, was someplace I didn’t care one iota about.
“There you are,” he said, leaning his elbows on the tabletop. “I was beginning to forget what you looked like.”
He said it jokingly, but it hit the exposed nerves around my heart with uncanny accuracy.
“I was avoiding you,” I retorted, and he laughed like I’d been joking. I wasn’t joking.
“Listen, those awards are in LA next week,” he said, his gaze fixed on mine like glue. “Would you like to go with me?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out.
Me? He wanted me to go to a black tie awards ceremony with him? Lux Dawson? I narrowed my eyes and glanced away. Trickery. It had to be some kind of pyramid scheme.
“Anything you need is on me,” he offered, sensing that I wasn’t down at all with the arrangement. “I invited you, so I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m sure there’s someone else you should be taking,” I said, my gaze falling to the half-empty mug of hot chocolate in front of me.
He was rubbing salt into the open wound that was my heart. He’d kissed me, forgotten about it, gone back to Tessa, and now he was… What was he doing? I didn’t belong on a red carpet.
“I need to take someone, and the only person I want there is you.”
So he wasn’t with Tessa after all? Dangerously, I wondered if it was just a one-time thing if she wasn’t going to the awards. I vaguely remembered that he’d said she wasn’t interested in going because she hadn’t been nominated. It hadn’t sunk in before I’d gotten up and fled.
Recklessly, I actually began to consider Jude’s proposal. Maybe this was my last chance to spend time with him and see exactly what these feelings were. If they were unrequited or if that drunken kiss had actually meant something he wasn’t ready to acknowledge yet. One last chance.
I sucked in a sharp breath, took a chance, and looked up.
“When is it?” I asked warily.
“Next Thursday.”
“Thursday?” It was the same day as my meeting with Miles, and I wondered if I could swing both without being found out. That damn universe was up to its old tricks again.
“Flying out Wednesday, coming back Saturday,” he murmured.
“Would I have to do anything?”
“Like what?”
I shrugged. “Red carpets, photos.”
“I guess you’ll be on camera if you’re sitting next to me in the theatre,” he said, watching my reaction.
Remembering the day we met in that stupid elevator and the swarms of camera-wielding vultures that had been waiting for us, I frowned. He’d looked at me with an unspoken question in his eyes and I’d shaken my head. I didn’t want people to know who I was.
But now?
“You don’t have to do those things,” Jude said. “But it might be good to get your name out there.”
“For what?” I asked. I already had a job…but for how long? Maybe he was right…and maybe he knew something I didn’t.
“Naturals won’t go on forever,” he replied.
“It might. Supernatural was renewed for a thirteenth season.”
His lips quirked, and he shifted in his chair. I was making excuses, and he knew it.
“Lux, would you like to come to LA with me?”
I made a last ditch effort. “I don’t have anything to wear.”
“We’ll find you something in LA,” he countered. “There are tons of stores for those kinds of things.”
“But—”
“Any excuse you can think up, I’ve got a rebuttal,” he declared, flashing me that cocky grin of his that hooked and reeled me in every time.
“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
“In meticulous detail.”
“Okay,” I said, placing my fate into the hands of the universe that had been such a bitch to me in the past. “I’ll go with you.”
Jude’s grin morphed into a full-on smile. Game on.
A secret meeting with a rival network and a red carpet encounter on the arm of Jude Atwood. What could go wrong?
* * *
“Close your mouth,” Jude said, nudging me with his shoulder.
We were currently walking down Rodeo Drive in Los Angeles, having just gotten off a plane from Atlanta that morning. I knew it would be posh, but I’d never seen anything like it. The paved footpaths, the palm trees, the perfect asphalted road with its expensive cars cruising by, the number of people who did double takes when they saw Jude. It was like another world.
“I must be naive,” I said as we walked past a designer store I had no hope in hell of being able to pronounce, let alone afford anything inside. When they charged ten grand for a bag, I knew I was out of my social class. “I can count the places I’ve been to on three fingers.”
“No, you’re not naive,” Jude shot back. “Just not well traveled yet, but you’ve already made a bang. Melbourne, Atlanta, New York…”
Never in a million years would I ever forget New York. Snow, ice skating, and magic.
Smiling at him, I turned back to peer into the shop windows as we walked past. Hunting for a dress suitable to wear to an epic, televised, awards ceremony wasn’t something I had much experience with. The most contact I’d had with this kind of stuff was the time I was walking past the cinema in Crown Casino back in Melbourne and stumbled on the red carpet premiere of a film that Chris Hemsworth had starred in. Even then, I’d been too shy to stick around to catch a glimpse.
Rodeo Drive was lined with names like Burberry, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Jimmy Choo, Dolce & Gabbana, Manolo Blahnik, and a myriad of stores that seemed like they were in a different stratosphere than I was. The only reason I knew all the designers was because I’d binged-watched Sex and The City, but even though I could recite them, I had no idea what each of them were like or if they had a gown. Gown seemed a posh enough word because dress wasn’t quite right when you were out shopping for a star-studded, red carpet affair.
“Do you like any of them?” Jude asked as we wandered past each.
“I don’t know,” I replied, slightly bewildered. “I don’t know anything about this kind of stuff.”
“How about down here?” He guided me from the footpath and into a side street that turned out to be a little paved shopping strip.
“I’m so lost,” I complained.
“We’re running out of options, so…” He grabbed my arm and pulled me into the closest store, which was Versace.
Walking into the store was like walking through a tear in space and time. Everything was bright and sparkly, and the clothing was displayed on racks with perfect symmetry and on hangers that were probably solid gold. The chandelier that hung in the middle of the store was probably made from unicorn tears for all I knew.
An impeccably dressed woman sashayed toward us, and jealousy began to rise as she moved past me and straight to Jude. Yeah, she sashayed like a flamenco dancer with hips that could ride an Italian stallion in fancy French lingerie without even cracking a sweat or getting a crease in her flawless forehead.
Her eyes lit up with dollar signs as she recognized Jude, and she plastered a wide smile on her face.
“Welcome to Versace,” she purred, and the urge to slap her perfectly painted face and fight her for him rose in my guts. “My name is Veronica, how may I help you?”
“We’re looking for a gown for the awards tomorrow night,” Jude replied fluidly, not see
ming to notice her fluttering eyelashes.
“At the Beverly Hilton?” she exclaimed. “Of course. We have some fantastic choices.” Then she looked at me, and her smooth forehead actually developed a slight crease. I was sure that was meant to be a frown of some kind. “For your friend?”
“Yes,” he replied. “We need to try all of your most amazing gowns if you could.”
Her perfect lips curved into a smile. “Of course. If you will please follow me, I will pull some choices for you.”
As soon as she turned her back and began leading us through the store, I rolled my eyes at Jude and mouthed, for your friend?
He snorted, the sound echoing through the store, and the woman turned around, her eyebrow raised. Okay, so no laughing in Versace.
We were herded into a private dressing room and asked to wait while she went off and ‘pulled some choices’.
“Do you do this a lot?” I asked, filling in the silence.
“Not really,” he replied. “This kind of stuff is pretty simple for a guy. Shirt, suit, bow tie, nice shoes. Done.”
I rolled my eyes. “Lucky you.”
“Hey, it’s hard to get a jacket that fits my shoulders.”
“Oh, shoosh yourself, Fabio.”
Leaning close, he whispered into my ear, “You love it.”
“Love what?” I retorted, my skin beginning to tingle.
I didn’t get an answer because the woman, Veronica or whatever her name was, emerged from the parallel universe she’d disappeared to, wheeling a rack that had several gowns overflowing on it. Picking up the first, she turned it around on the hanger, smoothing her hand across the bodice.
“This would suit your coloring and frame,” she said to me. “The bodice is designed to curve along your torso and down to the hips where it flares out. It has been handsewn with thousands of Swarovski crystals and beads, and it has a full skirt and train that is perfect for photographing.”
Holding up the gown, she raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response. Reaching out, I ran my fingers over the beading and across the layers of material that made up the skirt.
It looked exactly like the dress Carrie Bradshaw had worn in the season final of Sex and The City. She’d been in Paris, waiting around in her hotel room for that douche Aleksandr Petrovsky, wearing this beautiful dress with a fitted bodice and a skirt full of layers upon layers of tulle and fabric that sparkled delicately every time she moved. I might not have known much about fashion, but I did know that I liked that dress.
