Signed

by Marni Mann

  “It’s a pleasure,” I said, taking in his grip that was as firm as mine.

  “My golfing buddy, Henry, doesn’t praise many people, and he had some nice things to say about you. Therefore, I knew you were someone I had to meet.”

  “Thank you for giving me the time.”

  He released my hand and moved over to James. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss Ryne. I was just upstairs in my screening room, reviewing your last release.”

  She surrounded his hand with both of hers. “Wow. Thank you. I’m a huge fan, and I’m so honored you were willing to meet me.”

  She sounded humble, but I could still hear the anxiety in her tone.

  Neither of us sat until Ralph walked to the other side of the coffee table where he took a seat on the couch. That was when the butler came back in and placed a can of soda in front of him.

  “Tell me something, James,” Ralph said once we were alone. “What type of role are you looking for?”

  She paused, and I could tell she was thinking about his question. “I want one that challenges me.”

  She could do better than that.

  “You haven’t been challenged so far in your career?” he asked.

  She was thinking again but finally said, “Not emotionally, no.”

  I wanted to reach across the space between us and shake the hell out of her. Her short answers weren’t going to impress him. They were flat, generic. They showed him nothing.

  “Explain,” he said.

  And, again, she stalled before slowly parting her lips. “The roles I’ve taken had me act with such basic human emotions—love and sadness. I’m not opposed to either, of course, but I want to dig deeper. I want to read a script and feel the full range, my chest pounding, my tears streaming, my stomach churning. Angst and anger and pain and courage. I’ve experienced them all in my life, and I want to channel those memories. I want to feel the script. I want to become the character. But I don’t want to be known as an actress who can only do love and sadness.”

  That was my fucking girl.

  She was finally turning it around.

  Ralph crossed his legs and put his pointer fingers in a steeple under his nose. “About ten years ago, I released a movie called Burnt Away. It’s about a team of firefighters who go into a high-rise that’s on fire. Once they get inside, the entire building explodes. It was an act of terrorism, and only two out of the twenty-five survive.”

  “The sole female on the team and the rookie were the only ones who made it out alive,” she said.

  “You’ve seen it.”

  She smiled. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  Ralph’s eyes narrowed. He was looking at her differently now.

  I was, too, with so much fucking pride in my eyes.

  “It took me months to cast that role,” he said. “Everyone I called in wasn’t right for the part. I needed someone to forget that there were cameras, that there was lighting, that there were lines to read. I needed that person to live in the moment. When actors came in, I made them audition the hardest scene in the film. The one where the female was in the hospital, and she’d just gotten her hands treated for third-degree burns. As she processed what had just happened to her and her squad, she moved into the corner of the room, and she rocked in a ball, losing herself, screaming out in so much pain.”

  I remembered the scene well. The actress had won an Oscar.

  “May I be frank?” James asked.

  I wanted to smile but didn’t.

  “Please,” he said.

  “I heard the pain in her sobs, and I saw it on her lips, but it didn’t make it all the way to her eyes. It stopped at her cheeks and didn’t go further.”

  His hands dropped, and he rested them on his knee. “You’re right.”

  She had balls, and I wanted to fucking kiss her for it.

  “She did a wonderful job,” James added, “but her eyes lacked emotion almost the entire film.”

  “You’re right again.” He stared at her, and I would kill to know what he was thinking. “Show me your version.”

  “Right now?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  I knew our meeting would be short. I had a feeling it would only take a few minutes before he knew if James would fit into one of his roles.

  I knew this was the moment that, if she nailed it, would change her future.

  I felt the pressure in my chest, so I could only fucking imagine how heavy it was for her.

  Slowly, James held out her hands and gazed at them like she’d never seen them before. Her fingers shook and twitched, her mouth opening as she moved her hands around her face, checking them at every angle.

  She gasped, the air getting caught, and a choking sound released from her throat.

  She slapped her hands on the armrests, screaming as they hit the wood, the pain so great that her ass fell from the chair. She landed hard, crying out once more, and tumbled forward until her palms banged on the floor.

  “Nooo.”

  It wasn’t a scream. It was an emotion that came out, and it followed her as she crawled to the corner of the fireplace before falling once again on her ass.

  Her body rocked.

  Her eyes widened.

  Tears streamed so goddamn fast, I wanted to wipe them away.

  “They’re gone,” she whispered through sobs.

  She might have been talking about the firefighters who had been lost in the explosion, but James was pulling from the time she’d lived in her closet, her career gone, her naked body exposed to the world.

  I saw that in her face. I heard it in her voice.

  It reflected in her fucking eyes.

  She didn’t need a script. She didn’t need a camera or lights or a set.

  This was what she was meant to do, and she gave it everything she had.

  When she finished, when there was no air left in her lungs, when the camera would have zoomed out for the next shot, she wiped her face and finally looked at the two of us.

  No one spoke for several minutes until Ralph said, “It’s too bad you were just a young kid when I casted that role. Had the actress done what you just did there, Burnt Away would have been my favorite movie, too.”

  I watched her swallow, and then I saw the shock register across her face.

  “There’s a difference between someone who’s studied their craft and someone who was born with natural talent. I’ve worked with both, but natural is a rare find. I’ve put some of the most educated actors into roles no larger than a walk-on because that’s what they deserve. But not you, Miss Ryne. You’re raw. You’re natural. What’s holding you back is life. Once you get that part figured out, you’ll be unstoppable. Mark my words.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I ran my fingers through my beard to hide the smile on my mouth.

  “It’s time for me to go,” Ralph said and stood.

  James thanked him, and I did as well, shaking his hand like a goddamn robot because I still couldn’t believe his reaction to her. As soon as he walked out, the butler appeared, and he took us down the hall and toward the front door.

  Once we climbed into the back of the SUV, James turned toward me with tears in her eyes.

  Real ones.

  Ones that had come from happiness, not because she was in a hospital room with burned hands.

  “Brett, what the hell just happened?”

  I shook my head, licking across my bottom lip, thinking of the ways I was going to fucking devour her on the plane. “You just killed it, baby.”

  26

  James

  “To one of the most incredible performances I’ve ever seen,” Brett said, holding his champagne glass in front of mine as we sat in the corner of a restaurant. “For blowing Ralph Anderson’s goddamn mind. For knowing your shit and studying your craft even though you were born a natural.” He nibbled the side of his bottom lip while his legs surrounded one of mine under the table. “I’m so fucking proud of you right now.”

&nb
sp; Before we clinked glasses, I added, “For having the best agent in the entire world.” I lowered my voice, so the tables nearby couldn’t hear me. “Whom I’m also lucky enough to be sleeping with. Cheers.” We touched flutes, and I took a sip. “Seriously, Brett, how did you make that meeting happen?”

  “It happened. That’s all that matters.”

  “Hard-ass.”

  “I’m going to be so fucking hard on your ass when we get on that plane tonight.”

  I laughed just as the waitress appeared at our table.

  “What can I get you guys to eat?” she asked.

  “Is your mom in the kitchen?” Brett inquired.

  “Yes, and I know she’ll make your favorite. I don’t even have to ask her.”

  He shut the menu, grabbed mine, and handed them to the waitress. “We’ll take two.” He looked at me. “Trust me.”

  I nodded at the both of them, and once she left the table, I said, “I didn’t think we’d be able to go out to eat in LA without being seen. Thanks for bringing me here. It feels so date-ish.”

  “It is a date.”

  “It’s a wait-for-Max-to-be-done-with-his-meeting-so-we-don’t-have-to-sit-on-the-plane kind of date.”

  “That’s still a fucking date, James.”

  I laughed again and looked around the room at the pictures of Greece that were framed on the walls, all places I’d traveled to over the years. Wine corks and grape vines decorated the ceiling. This was the cutest little Mediterranean restaurant I’d ever been to.

  “I never even knew this street existed, so how did you find this place?”

  “The guys, Scarlett, and I were right out of college, poor as hell, and just starting our careers. We all lived together right down the street in a two-bedroom apartment. We used to come here almost every night for soup. It was all we could afford. The owner, who’s the chef, felt so bad, she used to give us loaves of bread to take home and whatever daily specials hadn’t sold. She was so good to us. Now, whenever I’m in town, I stop in. The other guys do, too. The food is some of the best I’ve had, and it’s safe to bring clients here because the paparazzi don’t stalk this area.”

  “I like hearing stories like that.”

  “You’ll like the food even better.”

  I smiled. “I mean, about you.” I shifted my legs under the table, my foot now pressed against the side of his thigh. Not only was the restaurant paparazzi-proof, but my movements were also hidden by the long tablecloth. “Did Max say when we were supposed to meet him at the plane?”

  Brett had called him on our way here, and their conversation was short. I’d only heard Brett’s side, which told me nothing.

  He shook his head. “He was just finishing up with a meeting and then going to grab some food with a client. I bet we’ll be there around the same time.”

  The waitress came to our table with a bread basket. I unwrapped the napkin that covered it, grabbed a roll, and dipped it in some oil.

  “Wow,” I groaned, covering my mouth.

  “I have fucking dreams about these olive rolls.” He took one for himself and swirled it around in the oil.

  “I don’t even like olives.” I swallowed and immediately took another bite. “How do we get her to open another location in Miami?”

  He stared at me for several seconds with a strange grin on his face. “A place in Miami, huh?”

  I shrugged. “Wouldn’t you like that?”

  “I’m wondering why you would want one there.”

  “Because I live there, Brett.”

  “For now.”

  “Well, yes, but who knows when I’ll be returning to LA.”

  “The point is, you’ll be returning.”

  I wrapped my hand around the stem of the glass and watched the bubbles pop on the surface of the champagne. Then, slowly, I met his eyes again. “Why do I feel like we’re having a deeper conversation than one about your favorite restaurant opening in Florida?”

  He shook his head, and then his eyes moved to a spot behind me, his fingers now gripping the edge of the table. “Goddamn it.”

  “Brett—”

  My voice was cut off when I heard him add, “Fuuuck.”

  “What’s wrong? Did I upset you?”

  His stare moved back to me. “James, I didn’t know.”

  “Know what? What are you talking about?”

  He breathed several times and finally said, “Max never told me whom he was meeting with or that he was bringing her here.”

  “Max?” The look on Brett’s face made me turn around. That was when my chest started to hurt, and my pulse began to throb in my neck. “What the fuck?” I heard myself hiss.

  Sophia Sully was standing at the door with Max.

  Brett’s Max.

  Eve’s fucking Max.

  I faced Brett again. “What is she doing here with him?” I barely recognized the anger flooding my voice. “I will kill her for trying to hook up with my best friend’s guy—”

  “That’s not what she’s doing, James. Max represents Sophia. She’s been his client for a few years.”

  “He what?”

  I gazed over my shoulder, and Sophia’s stare caught mine. Her top lip curled, and her lids narrowed. The feelings we had for each other were certainly mutual.

  Not able to look at her for another second, I glanced over at Max, who was standing next to her. He gave me a silent apology before he steered Sophia toward the other side of the room where the hostess was seating them.

  With my attention back on Brett, I said, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t think it was important.”

  “You didn’t think it was important to tell me that my ex’s fiancée was represented by your company and your best friend?”

  I didn’t know what angered me more—having to share the same air as her during a night that was supposed to be about Brett and me or Brett not telling me that Max was her agent.

  I leaned back in my chair, my arms covering my chest, unable to even look at the rest of the roll on my plate because the thought of putting it in my mouth made me queasy.

  “You’re mad.”

  I sighed and uncrossed my legs to slide them back to my side of the table. “I just want to get out of here and get away from her.”

  “James, what happened between you and Sophia?”

  I thought back to the day when I’d moved out of the house I had shared with Abel. He had been filming that morning, but Sophia had been home. All her stuff was already there—in the same places where I’d kept my things. Her clothes were in my closet. Her toothbrush was in my bathroom. Her fucking birth control was on my dresser. She’d taken all my things out of the bedroom and thrown them into the garage. The only items she hadn’t put in there was my furniture, which I’d told Abel he could keep. She’d followed me around the house, talking nonstop, spitting so much hatred that I’d cried the entire drive back to the house I rented.

  “She told me she’d been sleeping with Abel for months, and she gave me every detail. Like how she would suck his cock while he was on the phone with me, how she’d lived with him when he was filming in Chicago. She knew about the times he’d turned me down for sex because he didn’t want to cheat on her. Her! Can you believe that? We were the couple, not him and Sophia.” I felt a knot move into my throat, and tears threatened to fill my eyes. I wouldn’t let them. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of making me cry again. “She knew secrets about me that only Abel knew and things we’d gone through during our relationship that he never should have shared with her. She basically tried to crush me emotionally. And she did.”

  “She’s a cunt.”

  “But, Brett, she got us to break up. She got me out of the house we had bought together. She got everything she wanted.” I pulled my napkin off my lap and twisted it around my fingers. “I reached out to Abel so many times before that night in Malibu. Even though we weren’t together anymore, I just wanted to hear his voice, to find out what I had done wr
ong. I couldn’t process that the man I’d been with since I was thirteen was no longer in my life.” I stopped to take a sip of my champagne. “Sophia must have seen my messages because she sent me one from her phone that showed screenshots of my texts to him, and she threatened to share them on her social media accounts to show the world how desperate I was. I didn’t want that to happen, so I gave up.”

  That was only a couple of weeks before I’d moved out. But she had brought up the texts, too, while I was carrying my things to my car.

  I hadn’t spoken to either of them since.

  “James, the guy she got is a piece of fucking trash. He was only relevant and popular because he was dating you. The best roles he’s had are low-budget comedies, and he only landed those because he has a set of abs. You were always too good for him, and he knows that.”

  Brett was only trying to make me feel better, and it helped, but I had loved Abel so much, I never cared about what roles he got or how well he did. But I was sure that was something Abel had cared about. He was so competitive. If I compared the movies I’d landed and the contracts I’d signed, I would always win. And I was sure that had bothered him.

  The waitress stopped by our table with several plates.

  Before she could set them down, Brett stopped her with, “Change of plans. Can we get these wrapped up, so we can take them to go?”

  “No problem, Brett.”

  He waited until we were alone again to say, “We’re going to continue this date on the plane.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t fight me on this. This is your night, and we’re going to celebrate.”

  27

  Brett

  We’d already finished our dinner on the plane, and we were relaxing on the couch, watching a movie, when Max boarded.

  He wasn’t inside more than a few steps when his hands went in the air, and he said, “I didn’t know you guys were eating there. I should have asked before I went. That was fucking stupid of me.”

  I looked at James. She had a blanket up to her neck, and her legs were resting over mine. When we’d returned to the plane with our food, we’d had a long talk about Ralph and the events she had coming up, and I’d tried so goddamn hard to get her mind off Sophia. As far as I could tell, it had worked.