by Alexa Aston
So he’d left.
The sun broke over the horizon as he drove. As the minutes ticked by, Dash realized he wasn’t angry with Sydney.
He was mad at himself.
He never should’ve opened that notebook. When he did, he should’ve closed it the minute he realized what it was. His curiosity got the better of him.
He couldn’t help but be interested in everything to do with No Regrets. By not receiving any pages in advance, he had no idea what kind of character Paul was. What made him tick. What arc he’d have. Any actor would’ve grabbed the chance to read what he’d stumbled upon.
Even as he gotten deeper into the storyline, what impressed him more was Sydney’s talent. She was a first-rate artist but an even better storyteller. Though he hadn’t read Cassie Corrigan’s script, he could tell Sydney had nailed the essence of each scene. He saw plot in a way he’d never experienced before. Dash was blown away by what she’d done in under a week.
He slammed a hand against the steering wheel, letting out a stream of curses. He’d also blown any chance he had with her. If he could go back in time, he would’ve closed that notebook like it was poison and hurried back into her bed. He would’ve wrapped his body around hers and enjoyed every minute of it before he fell asleep. Then when they awakened, he would’ve made love to her again.
Yes, made love. Not had sex.
Dash always had sex. Sex was a great physical release for him. He needed it like he needed the air he breathed.
He’d never made love with a woman. Not once in his almost thirty years. He’d never let down his walls or gotten emotionally involved. He kept every female at a distance while he stayed totally in control. Somehow, Sydney Revere had wriggled her way into his heart. They’d experienced a great physical connection but it was the emotional one that had hit him as hard as a train wreck—and now she hated his guts.
He turned on the radio and kept punching buttons, switching stations every few seconds. No song came on that he wanted to hear. Sports talk, which he listened to religiously, suddenly bored him. He turned it off.
Then he heard the sound of a siren and saw the flashing lights behind him. Great, just another way to add to his morning. Dash signaled and pulled over. He cut the engine and sat, tamping down his frustration.
He watched the CHP officer approach in his side mirror. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the anger that simmered under the surface. This police officer hadn’t done anything wrong. Dash was the one who had.
“You were speeding, sir. License and registration, please.”
Dash dug in his console for the registration paperwork. He started to reach for his wallet and found it missing. Shit. It was sitting on Sydney Revere’s nightstand, right where he tossed it after he’d retrieved his lone condom.
He handed the registration to the officer. Before he could explain where his driver’s license was, the man whistled low and looked him in the face for the first time since he’d pulled Dash over.
“Wow. Dash DeLauria. I can’t believe it.”
“It’s me, Officer. I wish I had my—”
“My girlfriend loves you, man. I mean really loves you. She would leave me for you. We have that deal. You know. If one of us ever had the chance to do it with our fantasy person, it’d be okay. Well, you’re her wet dream come true.”
Maybe he could out of this.
“Do you think she’d like an autograph? When I sign my ticket, I could—”
“No ticket, Dash. I’ll just let you off with a warning. Oh, hell. Selfie with me and I won’t even show that I stopped you.”
“You got it.”
The patrol officer stepped back and Dash exited the car. He posed for a shot by himself and then one with the cop.
“I’ll text her the single first and then the one with us together. Oh, she will die. I’ll get laid tonight for sure.”
Dash shook hands with the man and winked knowingly. “Good luck with that, Officer.” He got back in the car. “I’ll watch my speed,” he promised. He wanted to tell the cop that he’d just had a tiff with his girlfriend and that’s why he was going way too fast but Sydney wasn’t his girlfriend. And then the cop would want to know who she was. He already knew Sydney valued her privacy so he kept his mouth shut. He’d talked his way out of the ticket. It wasn’t the first time.
He waved and pulled out, making sure that the rest of the way to Santa Monica he kept his speed a few miles under the limit. With minimal traffic, he’d made it from Malibu in just under forty minutes.
Dash cruised past the street Monty Revere lived on. Dash only lived three blocks away, which is why he’d walked to the director’s place the other night. He wondered how long Sydney planned on staying at her dad’s house.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t in high school. He wouldn’t drive by to see if she was home. At least he didn’t think he would.
He pulled into his driveway and scooped up the newspaper. Despite his addiction to news on the internet, Dash still liked the feel of a newspaper in his hands at breakfast.
Tim was already up, brewing coffee.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call Herc last night,” Dash said. “Was he upset?”
Tim pulled the creamer from the refrigerator. “Nope. Herc was so tired from his day at Disneyland that he collapsed into bed without even brushing his teeth. He was out like a light. Didn’t even put his PJs on.”
Dash sighed in relief. At least no one was mad at him on this end. “He must’ve been tired if he didn’t brush. That’s been his new thing lately.”
“You good?” Tim asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah. Just in my head too much. I have a big audition in the morning. I’m worried about it. My last three pictures I didn’t have to do that. They just signed me.”
Tim poured both of them a cup of coffee and handed Dash one. “Don’t be. If you’re meant to get the part, you will. If you don’t, move on. It’s like a woman. If you’re meant to be with her, you will be. If not, there are a lot of fish in the sea.”
As Dash took a swig of coffee, he thought about the only fish that remotely interested him.
And how he’d have to come face-to-face with her tomorrow.
CHAPTER 10
Dash arrived at Monty’s house at eight-thirty, just as a short, bulky woman wearing a gray and white housekeeping uniform waddled up the drive.
“You here for the auditions?” she asked wearily as she pulled her key out and inserted it into the front door’s lock.
“Yes, ma’am. Dash DeLauria.”
She gave him a disgruntled look. “I don’t go to movies. I like to read. So, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. Don’t waste time sucking up to me. Or to my daughter.”
Before he could ask who the woman’s daughter was, a tall, thin woman with dark skin and warm brown eyes came around the corner.
“Hey, Mama.” She embraced the housekeeper. “Stick to the upstairs today if you can. Downstairs may get pretty crazy.”
“It’s Thursday. That’s my upstairs day,” the woman said testily. “I don’t know why Mr. Monty has to have people traipsing through the house all the time. The man has money. Why can’t he open an office somewhere so I can clean in peace?”
“You love it because you get to see me this way.”
The older woman grinned. “That I do.” She parted from them and went up the staircase.
The younger woman held out a hand. “I’m Jayla Jefferson, Mr. Revere’s assistant. That was my mom, Diamond. She’s cleaned for Mr. Revere since before I turned three years old.”
He took her hand. “Dash DeLauria. I see your mom isn’t enthralled with actors.”
“Or anything about the movie business. She hated when I went to work for Monty, but he paid for my degree at UCLA on the condition that I would come to work for him after I graduated. Six years later, here I am.”
He mentally did the math. “You’re close in age to his daughter.”
Jayla nodded. “Sydney�
��s almost two years older than I am. I wore all her hand-me-downs. She let me follow her around some. Taught me how to play gin rummy and poker. Do you know her?”
“We’ve met,” he confirmed, not elaborating.
She glanced at her watch. “I hope you realize that you’re very early, Mr. DeLauria. You’re slotted for ten and we’ll probably be running behind by then. We aren’t even starting until nine.”
“I like to be early,” he said. “Tell me where to park myself.”
“Follow me.”
She led him to a small room off the main entryway. It was full of natural light and comfortable furniture. He could also see the front door from this spot.
“Would you like anything? Coffee? OJ? Water?”
“Nothing right now. Thanks, Jayla.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a bit and give you your pages.”
Dash paced restlessly for five minutes until he heard a car pull up out front. He watched through a large bay window as Cassie Corrigan got out of a Prius. She was the reason he’d arrived this early. Dash figured Sydney was upstairs. He wanted to grab the screenwriter and pump her for information.
He went to the front door and opened it before she could ring the doorbell.
“You startled me,” she said. Then her mouth flattened in a thin line as her eyes narrowed.
“I understand the sisterhood of women thing,” he said quickly. “I know you’re totally on Sydney’s side and that she’s told you everything but that’s her version of things, Cassie. Not mine.” He let his eyes do the pleading and didn’t see her softening any as she entered the house.
“You’re saying you didn’t violate her privacy and go through her storyboards?”
“I can tell you that my inquisitiveness got the better of me and that, yes, I did look at them. It was like Pandora opening that damned box in a weak moment. I was tempted, just as she was.” He grew serious. “Like Pandora, I slammed the box and left one thing inside.
“Hope.”
Dash saw understanding light Cassie’s eyes.
“Exactly. I know I blew it with Sydney but I wasn’t using her. If anything, I was taken by her. She’s Hollywood royalty. A real-life American princess. About as far out of my league as I could imagine.” He paused. “And I’m absolutely crazy for her.”
Cassie pondered his words. “You’re telling me you didn’t use her.”
“No. I really like her. She’s not like any woman I’ve ever been around. She’s smart and beautiful and way talented. Yes, a small part of me flipped through the storyboards wondering about Paul’s character but the rest? I was fascinated by her artistic talent and how she captured everything about the plot so fully and succinctly.”
She gave him a long, tough look. “I don’t know, Dash. You really hurt her. I haven’t known Sydney long but we’ve already grown close.”
“I can tell. Not only did I hurt her, I hurt myself. My chance of having a shot with her. Of staying friends with you and Rhett. Listen, I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed the cookout at your place the other night. I’ve been a loner in this town for a decade yet I felt so at ease with you two and Ken and Melanie. You’re all stand-up people. Smart. Interesting. Honest. I want you guys in my life as much as I do Sydney.” He amended his words. “But I want Sydney more. She’s . . . she’s special.”
“My role in this middle school soap opera is to act as the go-between? Sure you don’t want to write a note for me to pass to her? Check yes or no if you like me—that kind of thing?”
Dash had to laugh. Cassie joined in and he sensed the tension between them dissolve.
“I know Sydney doesn’t want to have anything to do with me now. I don’t have her number. I can’t text her. Call her. Still, I wanted someone close to her to know the truth. I mean it, Cassie. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
“No promises,” she emphasized. “If the opportunity comes up, I’ll do what I can.”
“Thank you,” he said sincerely, hoping she would be able to help him make some headway.
Dash returned to wait for his audition slot. Two other actors arrived. One was a big name that he knew. The other was a fresh face. He wondered how many people were up for the role of Paul. Jayla appeared and handed out pages to all three of them. Dash thanked her and took a seat off by himself. He read through the six pages, which comprised two very different scenes, and mentally prepared himself. Then he read through them again, more slowly. By the third read-through, he had his lines memorized.
He set the pages aside and closed his eyes, imaging both scenes. He took them apart. Put them back together again. He got inside Paul’s head. Inside his skin. He sat differently. Breathed differently.
Dash became Paul.
◆◆◆
Sydney finished up on her notes. She was glad Regina Stevens served as casting director for this film. Sydney thought Regina was one of the best in Hollywood. Now that Sydney had become friends with Cassie, she wanted to do everything possible to help make this screenplay into an outstanding movie. As with any film, the key was in the casting. Put the right actors into the roles and screen magic could happen. With Cassie’s script and her dad’s direction, Sydney had high hopes for No Regrets at the box office.
Sydney pushed her iPad aside. So far, they’d seen two actors. The first had more experience in TV than films but he’d done a decent audition. Not enough to win the part but she could see he had talent. The second actor barely had a resume. He’d done an admirable job but she thought he was too young to play Paul. Sydney’s notes included having him return to read for a different part that she thought more suitable for him.
Number Three would be next. Regina always liked to number the actors and not use names. The casting agent already had full files with headshots and resumes on anyone who walked through the door but she liked to keep things streamlined during the audition process.
Sydney wondered when Dash’s number would be called.
She’d told Cassie pretty much everything, though she’d tried to play down the raw hurt of the experience. The fiery Texan had been furious, ready to find Dash and punch his lights out. It made Sydney laugh but it also had her thankful that she’d already made such a loyal friend. Cassie immediately texted Melanie to make sure that she didn’t invite Dash to the upcoming weekend dinner at the Camerons’ house. Neither of her friends wanted her to be uncomfortable with Dash on the premises.
Sydney still had his wallet, though. She hadn’t opened it. She wanted to, if only to locate his address and have a messenger drop it off, but she’d accused Dash of invading her privacy. She wouldn’t turn around and do the same thing to him. That’s why she’d brought it downstairs with her this morning, knowing Dash would be here sometime today. She would act like an adult and return it to him. No hard feelings.
Just a broken heart.
No, she shouldn’t say that. No strings had been attached to their romp in the sack. That’s all it was, Sydney realized, and she’d willingly played along, swept up in the moment. She’d gone totally out of her wheelhouse and done something wild and spontaneous. Something the teenaged Sydney would’ve done.
Except younger Sydney wouldn’t have regretted it as older Sydney did. She supposed she didn’t have the mindset of having sex for the sake of sex. She wanted—no, needed—an emotional connection. Unfortunately, she’d made one. Dash hadn’t. He hadn’t promised her one so she shouldn’t have had any expectations that he would experience what she had. Most girls ten years younger than her had their hearts broken in this way. Sydney just never had that kind of experience. Now that she was older, she should be wiser, but she felt as wounded as any sixteen-year-old girl jilted by her first love. Not that she loved Dash. No way. That was crazy talk.
“Everyone ready to move on?” Regina asked.
Both she and Cassie nodded. Jayla went to the door and called, “Number Three. You’re up.”
Sydney held her breath as Dash walked in. She swallowed the panic that rose once she r
ecognized him and told herself to be objective. He deserved a fair shot from her, no matter what had gone down between them.
Yet it wasn’t Dash who crossed the room to stand in front of the panel. This man moved uniquely. His body language and posture appeared different. His hair was combed back. Sydney’s mind knew this was Dash, but she was looking at Paul Hannigan—and she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
The atmosphere in the room changed. He didn’t greet them, as most actors would. His eyes roamed over each woman at the table, assessing her. Then he took a long drag from the cigarette in his hand before dropping it in the coffee cup in front of Cassie. A chill oozed through Sydney.
Regina seemed to take it all in stride and said, “We’ll do the first scene you received. Jayla will read Rachel’s part.”
Paul shrugged.
Jayla took her place and held up the typed scene. She frowned. Sydney knew Jayla was wondering why Dash didn’t have any script pages in his hand but Sydney knew.
He didn’t need them.
She caught Jayla’s eyes and mouthed, “Start.”
Jayla spoke her first line and the scene unfolded. It was one full of tension. Passion. Dash delivered every line the way Cassie had written it. He was confident. Charming. The rage that seethed underneath the surface was bottled up and appeared ready to explode at any moment. Sydney was so caught up in his performance, she didn’t think it was a performance. Instead, Dash breathed life into Paul so that Dash DeLauria disappeared. Only Paul Hannigan remained.
The scene ended. Jayla looked shaken. She excused herself and exited the room.
Regina was the first to find her voice. “Nicely done, Number Three. Please move on to your monologue. I assume you also have that memorized?”
Paul gave her an icy stare before lowering his head. Slowly, he raised it. His blue eyes blazed as he spoke.
Sydney felt Cassie take her hand as Paul’s speech unfolded. His voice broke near the end. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He finished and dropped his head again.
