Whitney guided Elle to a long table across the room. Elle thought she smelled marinara sauce. “Ah, yes, well, we have Gina to thank for that.”
“Gina?”
“She told me about this hole-in-the-wall restaurant ten minutes from here, and they specialize in . . .” Whitney stepped to the side, revealing the most delectable table of food Elle had ever seen.
“Chicago-style pizza?” Elle squealed, eyes wide. “Here in Los Angeles? How do I not know about this place?”
“Because it’s a dump,” Gina said, jumping into the conversation. “But it’s the real deal. It’s just as good as anything I’ve had in Chicago.”
Gina Romano had fully embraced her life and stardom in Los Angeles. Most people didn’t know she was a Midwestern girl just like Elle. She was raised in Milwaukee, but dropped out of high school to pursue a career in acting. After several cosmetics commercials, and two failed pilots, she’d been cast as the female lead in Follow the Sun. Since rising to stardom, she’d gone out of her way to distance herself from her Wisconsin upbringing, even hiring a dialect coach to assist her in abandoning her persistent Milwaukee accent.
“Here, let me get you a piece. Sausage and mushroom, right?” Whitney grinned, retrieving a spatula from the table and pushing into the steaming pie covered in thick tomato sauce. The spatula cut through layers of cheese and toppings until it made contact with the thick crust. Elle’s mouth began to water.
“My favorite,” she said as Whitney placed the dish in her hand before grabbing two glasses of red wine.
“Come, let’s sit.”
Elle cut into the hefty slice, steam spilling from the thick layers of mozzarella. She blew on the generous bite before placing it in her mouth. Her eyes closed as she took in the flavors. The flavors of home.
“This,” she said, licking her pink lips. “This was worth changing out of my yoga pants for.”
Whitney lit up, her smile genuine and proud. “I knew it would be.” She raised her glass. “To you, my friend. Happy birthday. I’m blessed to know you.” She glanced around the room, bustling with actors, cameramen, and makeup artists. “We all are.”
Elle placed her hand on Whitney’s wrist, her eyes misting. She pushed her blonde hair behind her ear and locked eyes with her best friend. “Thank you. Seriously, thank you.” She took another hearty bite, pushing away all the feelings of sadness that had gripped her heart earlier that evening. “And I seriously need the name of this place. This is freaking delicious.”
The ladies clinked their glasses together as Elle pondered all the ways in which she would change her attitude to improve her life. She was finished clinging to her past like she had planned to do that night. She was thirty-five now. It was time for her to enjoy the blessings of her life and she vowed to begin the very next day.
You what?” Elle shrieked, rising to her feet. One of her fists crashed into her coffee cup, and it plummeted to the floor. The ceramic cracked into several pieces and the piping-hot beverage spewed onto her floral office rug.
Her assistant, Nicole, flung her notepad and pen into the air and sprinted out the door. Elle and Rob watched as she flew from the room.
“What the hell?” Rob mumbled under his breath, his mouth hanging open as he stared at the open door.
“Focus, Rob,” Elle snapped before glaring at Nolan Rivera, who sat in her office chair, avoiding eye contact. His tan cheeks were turning a dark shade of crimson as his fingers tapped against the arm of his chair. “Nolan, what on earth—”
“Unfortunately, Nolan simply has too many offers on the table,” Shane Crawley, Nolan’s agent, interrupted, instead of allowing Nolan to speak for himself and defend his bombshell of a decision. Nolan was leaving the show, and there was nothing Elle could do to stop it. Hollywood was a machine—one that was constantly changing, evolving, and screwing over television writers like herself.
“What kind of offers?”
“Film mostly.” Shane crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was a portly man with more hair on his arms than the top of his head. His smug demeanor sent Elle’s anger through the roof. She ignored him, turning her attention back to Nolan, who was watching her from the corner of his eye.
“I don’t understand. You’re a star. This show gave you a name.”
“I’m sorry.” He shrugged, pursing his lips together. “It’s time for me to move on.”
“That was a scripted answer. Just be honest with me.”
“My client owes you no explanation. His contract is up this spring and he’s choosing to explore other opportunities. End of story.”
Elle looked to Rob for support. When he offered a meager shrug, Elle was instantly irritated that he didn’t seem nearly as shaken up by this as she was. He was the director of the show—he should have been incensed!
Elle plopped back into her leather chair, her breathing ragged as she struggled to calm down. Nicole whirled back into the room, rolls of paper towels in her lanky, tan arms. She threw herself to the carpet and covered the coffee with towels.
“Sorry I took so long,” she whispered.
“It’s fine, don’t worry,” Elle responded, holding her hand to her chest, her eyes pressed tight as she struggled to focus. “Well, gentlemen, I guess we’re done here.” Elle stood, walked to the door, and opened it, ready to usher Nolan and his agent out of her office. Her gesture was received loud and clear. Nolan and Shane said their good-byes and left the office. Just before closing the door, Nolan peeked back inside.
“I really am sorry, Elle.”
“Just go.” She knew his apology was genuine, but it was impossible for her not to take his departure personally. This show was her baby, her creation, and he was threatening its success.
“So what do we do?” Elle asked Rob. The idea of Nolan Rivera leaving Follow the Sun made Elle’s skin sweat, her heart race, and her mind swirl. The fourth season was set to start filming in just a few short weeks.
Panic.
Total and utter panic.
“He’s obligated to stay until the end of the season. Then, we’ll just write him off,” Rob said.
“He’s the main character,” Elle snapped, glaring at Rob. Did he not realize that losing the male lead would completely destroy the storyline?
Rob rose from his chair and walked to Elle’s desk, easing his bottom onto the corner of the mahogany wood. He crossed his arms in front of his thin chest and crossed one leg over the other, leaning in toward Elle. She was used to this routine. He’d perch on her desk and act like a wise sage, guiding her to a resolution, then convince her she’d come up with it all on her own. He meant well, but sometimes, Elle just wanted him to be real with her—have a frank conversation, not a politically correct one from a Hollywood script.
“If anyone can fix this, it’s you.”
Yep, right on cue.
Elle inhaled and exhaled deeply, forcing the panic from her chest and out through her mouth. “So I have to change the story? That’s what you’re telling me, right?”
“We have time to bring someone else in . . . let the audience get used to him . . .” His voice trailed off, allowing Elle to process his suggestion. And she did.
“A love triangle,” she murmured, her mind racing. She did her best thinking when she tuned out the world around her.
“Brilliant,” Rob stated and rose to his feet. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
Elle rolled her eyes, knowing Rob had planted the seed. They both knew it.
She searched her brain for another character from her books, but no one came to mind.
The novels and television series were all set in Las Vegas. The two main characters, Desmond and Molly, worked for a hotel and casino—both striving to replace the owner when he retired. The two bickered, argued, and sabotaged one another to impress the boss. Hijinks ensued and their chemistry was undeniable. The couple dated, broke up, tried to be friends, dated again, etc. The characters belonged together. And everyone could see it but them.
>
There were twists and turns, of course. Side characters tempted the two leads and increased the drama. But in her novels, the two had never cheated while together, and neither had ever walked away completely. And part of her felt that was the appeal of the novels. People wanted to believe in soul mates, in true love, in forever. So how the hell would she maintain that appeal if she had to replace the male lead?
“Can we recast him?” Elle said, deliberately veering off course from her original idea.
Rob sighed, and she knew he was disappointed in her sudden change of heart. “The network won’t allow it. It’s in their contracts. Nolan and Gina are the only two who can portray Desmond and Molly.”
“Ughhh.” Elle pushed back in her chair, which teetered up and down, up and down.
“But that love triangle thing. That could work.”
Of course it could work. But it would deviate from the story Elle had written. It would no longer be a variation on their story. Then again, maybe that was exactly what she and the show needed.
A fresh start.
Elle stood, walked around Nicole, who was still blotting the already ruined rug, and began to pace. As the ideas built within her brain, the office seemed to grow bigger, allowing her the space to brainstorm, to create a character out of thin air.
“There was this one character—”
Her thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knock at the door. Whitney peeked her head in before Elle could respond. Her cheeks were flushed. She knew.
“I just heard.” Whitney walked to Elle’s side and wrapped one arm around her friend’s waist. “We’ll figure this out.”
“Elle was doing just that,” Rob interrupted. Elle glared at him. Didn’t he realize by now she didn’t want, or need, her ass to be kissed on a regular basis? She was just a writer from the Midwest—despite her new Hollywood name and image, she was just a normal person who appreciated honesty and authenticity—two things Rob lacked. He was way too Hollywood for Elle to handle sometimes.
“We were figuring it out, yes,” she corrected him.
“What can I do?” asked Whitney, a look of worry painted on her face. Her cinnamon eyes narrowed, her cheeks still flaring with heat, and sweat forming on her brow. Elle knew Whitney had run from her office downstairs.
Elle took another deep breath before placing her hands on her hips and summoning all the confidence she could muster. “Find me the hottest actor you can. One who can act circles around Nolan.”
Whitney drew back in surprise. She crossed her arms in front of her, but the corner of her mouth perked up into a slight smile. “I love when you talk dirty to me.”
“I’m serious. I’ll create the character—you get me the actor.”
“On it.” Whitney nodded. “One condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You attend the auditions.” Whitney knew full well Elle never missed an audition. Aside from the extras who were chosen for brief moments on screen, Whitney and Elle had always agreed on every actor who was cast in Follow the Sun.
“You got it.” Elle smiled. “We’re going to have the biggest love triangle this network has ever seen.”
Thumbing through the head shots of the actors who’d auditioned that week, Elle wasn’t convinced any of them could portray the new character of David. They were all attractive, that she could admit. She’d seen a few of them in commercials and sitcoms. But none of them were speaking to her as David, and none of them were good enough to read with Gina. Only the best of the best would reach that stage, and at this point none of them would. Not one had the appeal of someone like Nolan. He was difficult to top.
After seeing dozens of men that week, she’d been hopeful that morning.
Today’s the day, she’d said to herself. But the morning proved to be a bust.
The first actor of the day was gorgeous—seriously attractive. But when he read with Elle, his delivery was flat, seriously lacking any type of charisma. Elle and Whitney had shared a glance of agreement. He would need an acting coach to make himself convincing as David, and even then Elle was hesitant.
The next guy was average looking—attractive in all the typical ways, but nothing head-turning—nothing that made him stand out from any of the other secondary characters on the show. His delivery was fine. His voice was fine and his demeanor was (once again) fine. He wasn’t a definite “no,” but they would need to consult the makeup department to spruce up his overall appearance and he’d need several coaching sessions to improve his delivery. Elle didn’t want fine, she wanted fantastic.
By the time they’d tested seven more actors that day, they were feeling defeated. Elle didn’t want to settle and she knew Whitney was in complete agreement. They needed to find the perfect combination of devastatingly handsome and ridiculously talented. And if that meant they needed to see dozens more candidates, then that was fine. It was worth it to find the perfect fit.
When actor number seven left the room, Whitney followed him out to check in with her secretary. Actors were notorious for jumping in on auditions at the last minute and they were willing to stay late if needed.
“Add one more to the pile,” Whitney said after returning to the room, handing a head shot to Elle. “He’ll be here in a few.”
Elle’s breath caught as she looked at the eight-by-ten head shot of Luke Kingston. He was handsome, appealing, sexy. Wavy hair, square jaw, a perfectly shaped nose. His smug grin made adrenaline spike in her abdomen.
He was perfect.
But could he act?
Elle attempted to play it cool. “What has he done?” She flipped the shot, revealing the actor’s resume filled with commercials and a handful of pilots that had never aired. It was severely lacking compared to the other actors on the docket.
“Not much,” Whitney answered. “But there’s something about him, don’t you think?”
Elle flipped the resume over to stare, once again, at the strikingly handsome actor. “Yeah. Something.”
“Well, he’s on his way now. So we’ll see if he has that ‘something’ in person.”
“God, I hope so. The others have been so lackluster.”
“Yeah.” Whitney bit on the edge of her pen. “Let’s hope Mr. Gorgeous can act.”
Elle let out a chuckle while secretly hoping Mr. Gorgeous could, in fact, knock their socks off. No matter how handsome he might be, there was no way she’d hire him if his delivery was wooden or forced. The charisma he emanated in the photo needed to translate in his acting. There would be no compromise, as far as she was concerned.
A man cleared his throat and Elle turned her attention to the now-open door. “Excuse me, ladies. I’m here to audition for the role of David McKenzie.”
Elle swallowed hard, taking in the sensation of his voice: deep, soothing, smooth. She felt her cheeks warm as Whitney responded, urging him into the room.
“Yes, do you need a minute to prepare?”
Luke closed the door behind him and walked to the table where Elle and Whitney sat. He placed another head shot on the table before his lips pulled to one side. “No, I’m ready. I practiced all the way here.”
Whitney stood and extended her hand. “I’m Whitney Bartolina, casting director.”
Luke shook her hand. “Pleasure.”
Elle rose to her feet. “Nice to meet you, I’m—”
“Elle Riley, creator of the show,” Luke interrupted, meeting her eyes. “I know who you are.”
Elle felt her cheeks redden. Of course she knew he’d obviously done his research on the show. After all, her picture was on the network’s website; she’d walked the red carpet. She wasn’t exactly a household name, but many in the industry knew who she was.
Her brain knew her body should resist reacting to the actor’s gesture. But she couldn’t contain the excitement that stirred deep in her abdomen. Luke extended his hand to Elle and she reciprocated the gesture. But unlike his simple handshake with Whitney, he placed his left hand over hers as they moved their
hands slowly up and down.
Luke shook his head. “Such a pleasure to meet you, you have no idea.”
“Thank you.”
Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away and returned to her seat. She avoided Whitney’s eyes, knowing her friend would see right through her act of normalcy. She was attracted to an actor . . . in the middle of an audition. She’d never hear the end of it.
“Elle will read through the scene with you.”
“Great.”
Luke stood a few feet from the table, ran his fingers through his wavy brown hair, and took a deep breath. And for just a brief moment, his nerves were obvious to Elle. He took one last glance at the script, then directed his gaze at her. Elle was startled by the color of his eyes. The black-and-white head shot didn’t do them justice. They were blue, bright sky blue. She wondered if they were real or colored contacts. It wouldn’t be the first time an actor had covered up his own eyes for dazzling baby blues.
“Now, keep in mind, this role is still in the creative stages. But David is the head of security for the hotel. He’s tough, obviously, but he’s also smart. Smart in a way Molly doesn’t expect. This character is going to surprise her at every turn.”
“Got it.” Luke’s confidence had returned. He stood up tall, a cocky grin on his face, dimples appearing on his cheeks. “I’m ready.”
As Elle and Luke read through the scene, it was clear to her they’d found the man for the part. He was sexy, charismatic, and his delivery of David’s lines was effortless.
“Thank you, Luke. We’ll be in touch.” Elle maintained her poker face, despite the sizzling nerves beneath her skin.
“It was an honor, ladies. Thank you.” Luke flashed Elle and Whitney a dazzling smile layered with confidence before shaking their hands. Just before his hand grasped the doorknob, he turned back to Elle and smiled one last time. It was a sweet and soft smile, a seemingly genuine expression from the handsome actor. Butterflies swarmed her belly.
“I think we found our David.”
Elle stared at the closed door before finally finding her voice. “Yep.” She cleared her throat, and forced her eyes away. “We’ll need to do a read-through with Gina, just to make sure there’s chemistry.”
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