by Elle Rush
Karma could take him right now.
*
There were no words to describe her anger. Well, there were, but since Sydney suspected her mother had the ability to reach across three states with a bar of soap, she held her peace and bit her tongue. Hard.
Chris didn’t let go of the limo door. He was going to dump her on the side of the road. Classy. At least they weren’t in the boonies. She knew where she was and how to get home from here. It wouldn’t be fun, but it was doable. It might be easier to call her best friend to come and get her. Sydney checked the street for a bus stop and saw one half a block up.
She walked around him and bent over to look into the backseat at Benny. “It was nice to meet you. Good luck with your photography career.” The teenager stared at her, mouth moving but nothing coming out.
Then she turned and walked away.
“Where are you going? Why did you say good-bye to Benny?”
“To catch the bus since you’re kicking me out of the limo.”
“What makes you think I’m kicking you out of the limo?”
Sydney stopped in her tracks. “I’m out here, and the inside of the limo is in there, and you’re in the way.” She pointed at the blocked entrance to the idling vehicle.
“I’m not stopping you from getting back into the limo,” Chris insisted. He looked down at his arm and how he was standing. “Okay, maybe I am, but I wasn’t doing it on purpose. I have to tell you something, and I was working up the nerve.”
“Tell me what?” There was nothing to discuss. He wanted something she wasn’t prepared to give. Lines drawn, fight over. She won. Okay, Chris had won the battle by dropping her off twenty miles from her house, but she had won the war because, once she got home, the rest of the day was hers. This guy had made her think that actors were human, and in the end, he lived up to the stereotype of being a self-centered jerk who wanted to take advantage and use her to get ahead. Story of her freaking life.
“I’m sorry.”
She was so confused. “For kicking me out of the limo?”
“I’m not kicking you out a million miles from your house.”
“Twenty miles. Maybe fifteen.”
“Can we stick to one subject at a time, please?”
“I don’t know what the subject is!”
“Sydney, I am very sorry for assuming that my photo shoot this afternoon was more important than your plans. You’re right; I didn’t even ask what you were doing.”
“Oh. Okay then.”
“So, what are you doing?”
“I’m going to the beach.”
Going by the insane tempo the vein on his forehead was beating at, Sydney thought his head was going to explode in the next three seconds. He started a breathing cycle of inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth that she recognized as a relaxation technique. He wasn’t good at it.
“You’re blowing me off to go to the beach. Okay, I understand. That might be more important to you,” Chris said slowly. “I can still drive you home at least. Thank you for this morning, especially since you didn’t get any notice. I appreciate your time.”
Chris swung his arm back to clear the doorway for her, but she grabbed it. She hadn’t made the beach comment to be mean. She was simply too confused to be more clear. “Have you heard of the Curse the Darkness Foundation?” she asked.
“No.”
“It’s a small charity that helps burn victims. The idea behind it is that burn victims often stick to the shadows because of their scars. Curse the Darkness raises funds to help with plastic surgery so they aren’t afraid to be seen in the light anymore.” She bit her lip at the end of that extremely brief explanation.
There was so much more to her foundation than that, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it with a guy she’d just met. She really didn’t want to tell Chris she was one of those victims. The flirting would vanish and be replaced with sympathy so thick she’d choke on it. It always did.
A year ago she flirted as easily as breathing. She’d been doing it that night at Cosmo’s. She remembered her waiter’s name had been Carlos. She and the girls had gone out for her best friend’s birthday, and all was right with the world. Until it exploded.
Sydney woke up pinned to the floor, caught under a table after a SUV crashed through the restaurant’s front wall. Her view had been limited to the undercarriage and the fluids leaking out of it. At the time she thought she’d been lying next to a pool of gasoline, but it had actually been ouzo.
It didn’t matter. They both burned. The ouzo just reached her first.
The rest was fuzzy. She’d seen the videos, the ones people had taken with their phones on the scene, and the ones the news crews had taken of the wreckage later. Sometimes she thought she had a real memory, but even now she was never quite sure. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t think she wanted to remember any more of that night.
“The foundation sounds like a good cause.”
“It’s a very good cause. It’s a great charity, and its biggest fundraiser of the year starts at three o’clock this afternoon at Manhattan Beach. We’re holding the final game for the thirty-two team beach volleyball league that has been raising money since Christmas.”
“And you have to be there to organize?”
“I have to be there to play.” Beach volleyball was one of the few things left in her life that she did for fun. She would have been playing without the fundraiser, but signing up for it cost her nothing but a little time finding sponsors. It also got her into another league, even if it was temporarily.
“Your team made it to the finals?”
“Of course we did. What kind of girl do you think I am? Anyway, I have to be there. Really, when I said this morning that any other weekend was preferable, I wasn’t kidding. I need this afternoon and tonight. I’d help you if I could. Honestly. But this trumps meeting a roomful of people who want to take some goofy pictures of the two of us. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re right. That trumps a PR event any day.” Chris took her arm and guided her back into the limo.
It was more important. It didn’t mean she didn’t want to go do a photo shoot with him at a real Hollywood soundstage. Sydney was rigidly scheduled, but she did know how to have fun and, honestly, the experience would have been cooler than hell. It didn’t matter. She genuinely had someplace to be this afternoon, and she was not putting it off for a stranger who appeared on her doorstep, no matter how good he looked in khakis and a golf shirt that showed off his yummy tan.
The last fifteen miles were still silent, but the tension between them was gone. Benny fidgeted but refrained from speaking after Chris waved him off for the second time.
Her house appeared much too soon. Benny took a few more shots of Chris helping her out of the limo and escorting her to her door before disappearing back into the car.
“Thanks, Syd, for today. You have no idea what it meant to me.”
She would have loved to lean in for a good-bye kiss—or a hug at the very least—but the whole situation was too awkward. She settled for a handshake and for a moment thought she saw the same regret in Chris’ eyes. It would have been nice.
Sydney slid the key into the lock when she was spun around. Chris grabbed her by the arms and pulled her close, pressing a hard kiss to her mouth. She closed her eyes and stretched her hands out until they hit his chest. She leaned in to him and let go of the rest. His lips moved against hers, and Sydney swore the nerves in her lips were wired to the rest of her body. The sensation was indescribable. Then it was gone. Chris let her go and was down the steps before either of them had a chance to say a word.
Chapter 9
Sydney locked the row house door behind her and watched through the peephole as Chris retreated to the limo. She pulled her phone out of her purse and hit the first number on speed dial. Three rings later, the voice she most wanted to hear answered. “Hey, Syd, you ready to kick some booty?”
&
nbsp; “Hey, Ashleigh,” was all she had to say.
“What’s wrong?”
It was relief beyond words to have a best friend who knew her so well and who could tell in two words everything she wasn’t able to say.
“I just kicked a god to the curb.”
“Which god are we talking about? A god? Or the God?” Ashleigh asked in clarification.
“You are such a Groundhog Day freak. A Greek god. Zeus.”
“You know the rules. No dissing Mr. Murray. Also, Zeus? Chris ‘Zeus’ Peck? You won the Olympus sweepstakes and you didn’t even mention it last night? I thought we were friends!”
“I didn’t know last night.” Sydney kicked off her shoes. One bounced off the television stand. The other landed on the piano bench in the corner and balanced precariously on the edge above the pedals. Sydney collapsed onto her loveseat with a groan. “He showed up at the butt crack of dawn this morning. Apparently I didn’t receive my notification.”
“Was he wearing his toga?” She’d forgotten that Ashleigh was a bigger fan than she was.
“He was wearing a tux.”
A heavy sigh came across the line. “Call me back in fifteen minutes. I’ll be in my bunk.”
“Ash, this is serious. He wanted me to do a publicity thingy this afternoon.”
“This afternoon? Can you reschedule?”
“No, it’s part of the sweepstakes prize. They added it after the fact, thinking the winner would be more than pleased to go along with it. So not only did I not plan for Chris, I couldn’t have planned for it.”
The four word response was drawn out. “Oh, that just sucks.”
That right there was exactly why Ashleigh Jessup was her first call. There was not a flicker of doubt in her friend’s tone that Sydney had both turned down the photo shoot and that it was the right decision to make. “You can say that again. He just left.”
“Tell me everything,” Ashleigh insisted.
So she did, sparing no details about the tuxedo or the six-pack hugging golf shirt and khakis. Sydney had time to get a glass of water while Ashleigh recovered from her giggle fit when she heard about Polk and Odin. She held back the fact he’d held on to her hand a little longer each time he’d helped her into and out of the limo. And the kiss was her secret alone. That one thing she wanted to keep for herself. It wasn’t sexy or flashy, but it was hers. Chris hadn’t said anything, but it was enough to let her pretend there might have been something if they’d had a chance. It was more than she’d had for a while.
“And then he came up and met Nana.”
There was silence on the line. “How did that go?”
“He thought I was a little rough on her when I raised my voice because she moved the fire extinguisher again.”
“What did you do, Syd?”
“I may have told him to stick to show business and stay out of my family business.” She couldn’t help wincing as she remembered the look on his face when she’d snapped that at him. In any other instance, she would have loved the fact he was sticking up for her grandmother. He couldn’t have known the old lady had been moved into an apartment without a stove for a reason.
“Harsh.”
“I made it up to him by introducing him to the Dobsons. I think Mr. D is one of his heroes or something. Anyway, they hit it off. Then on the drive home, the show’s PR person did a short interview with me over the phone—and remind me to get some screen captures of it on the site—and she said she looked forward to meeting me. At which point, Chris had the limo pull over and I overheard the part of his conversation where he was admitting that he wasn’t taking me home like he’d promised but was kidnapping me to take me to the studio for the photo shoot. I yelled. He apologized and brought me home. The end.”
The woman at the other end of the line snickered.
“Are you laughing at me, Ash?”
“Just a little. Only you could have something so good happen and have it go so very wrong.”
Sydney threw herself on her living room sofa. “What time is it? Is it too early to start drinking?”
“How can you even think about booze after the sake last night?”
“Have you not been listening?”
Ashleigh gave her a moment to wallow in self-pity before hauling her back on track. “Are you still without a ride to the beach? I can swing by and pick you up around one,” she offered.
“That would be great.” The knocker on her front door echoed down the hallway. “Hold on a second. Someone’s at my door.”
“Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
Sydney peeked through the peephole and nearly dropped the phone.
“Syd, who is it? Syd?” Ashleigh must have been yelling if she could hear her with the cell at her hip. She raised the phone to her mouth and whispered, “It’s him.”
“Him? Zeus?”
“Yeah, he’s back. What do I do?”
“Open the damned door!”
* * * *
Chris made sure the driver waited until Sydney was inside her house before he drove away. This morning had alternated between divine and disaster like a rollercoaster. Karmically, though, he could see how it couldn’t have ended any other way. Maybe his agent was right. This impulsive thing was kicking his ass. Rolling with it and seeing where he ended up was fun, but the price tag had officially become too high. Flushing the role and an afternoon with Sydney in the same move drove that home like nothing had before. The limo rounded the corner by Bella Bean when he decided he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Banks, pull over.”
Like any top chauffer in Los Angeles, the driver was able to find a space on the busy street within half a block. Benny didn’t even look up. He was too busy downloading photos from Chris and Sydney’s good-bye.
Chris jumped to the curb and paced in a tight circle for a full minute before he pulled out his phone. “Nicky, she’s gone.”
“Gone? You kidnapped her; then you lost her? What the hell are you doing? Go find her.”
“She’s not lost. She left.”
“She can’t do that.”
“She can, and she did.”
At the other end of the line, Nick whistled. “Not good, Chris. Martine and her lawyers are going to have a fit.”
Nick wasn’t kidding. The noise on the other end of the line quieted, and Chris heard a door close. “Where are you?”
“My trailer. She can’t leave. It’ll ruin everything,” Nick whined.
Nick’s denial of the situation was a pretty solid hint that he had been the one to set up the last minute photo shoot for this afternoon just to mess with him, and Nick was not taking the thought of changes to his prank well. He knew Chris was planning to use the sweepstakes as a lobby to get the rom-com role, but he wasn’t above screwing with his best friend even while helping him out.
His co-star played Ares—the god of war—but he wasn’t much for conflict. Nick Thurston was a golden boy in Hollywood, a child star born to two long-time, successful actors. He didn’t do conflict because he always got what he wanted when he wanted it. Nick was the first to admit he was spoiled, but Chris was the first to say he wasn’t an asshole about it. Chris had no idea how one guy could be so lucky. Nick seemed to be part Midas. He barely had to audition, if he did at all. As far as Chris knew, all of Nick’s roles had been offered to him or created for him. Not to mention, every single project Nick got involved in was a success that never failed to turn a tremendous profit.
Chris didn’t know how yet, but he knew Nick would find a way to turn this around and make it work for both of them. He kept pacing. There wasn’t anything to lean against and no benches in sight. “She did. She never even received notification that I was coming over this morning.”
“That’s impossible.”
Chris heard the crack of the seal on a water bottle breaking. “Want to bet? Guess who got the roses and my note? Russ,” he said without waiting for an answer.
“That explains his
mood this morning. When I got here, I thought he was going to kill me. It took forever to convince him I hadn’t done whatever he thought I did.”
“You’re lucky he believed you at all.” Chris understood the potency of his trainer’s vengeance. Russ had fallen victim to one of Nick’s pranks in the first season and had not been amused. Lesson learned—don’t piss off the former navy guy in charge of your workouts.
“Who screwed that up?” Nick asked.
“My TV wifey’s sister and oh-so-efficient assistant. Kristin didn’t even speak to anyone. She left messages. If we didn’t notify Sydney, we can’t hold her responsible for not knowing.”
“Then how’d you get her to agree to this morning?”
“My charm and good looks.” The sad thing was that six hours ago, he would have believed it. After spending time with Sydney, he thought she might have seen something more to him. Until he’d blown it.
“Are you sure you explained it right? We are throwing this thing in her honor.”
“She has a charity thing this afternoon. It’s a really big deal to her. I can’t ask her to blow it off because nobody from the show bothered to do a follow-up call. The show and the studio will look like assholes. Which also kills Martine’s lawyer option.”
“You’re right, bro, you’re screwed. The word is someone from High Note is going to be here.”
Of course karma would give him that now.
There had to be a way. Had to. There must be something he could do to get Sydney to agree to spend part of the afternoon with him without her missing her charity gig. He couldn’t offer to write her a check; people expected her to show up to fundraise.
He was an idiot. Thank God he wasn’t playing a genius.