Rogue Gentleman (The Rourkes, Book 8)

by Kylie Gilmore

I cross to his side and lower my voice. “Didja forget we’re royalty? We could be living in a kingdom if we wanted.”

  He barks out a laugh. “Be serious. We’re the riffraff of the family. I don’t care if Dad’s happy to visit his kingdom now as an honorary grandfather. That’s not us.”

  I pick my next shot and take it. “I’m ambitious, and I make no apologies for that, but that doesn’t carry over to relationships. I’m not a social climber.”

  He arches his brows. “It’s a relationship, huh?”

  I set my jaw. “Yes.” Though I’m having serious doubts about it now. I couldn’t seem to resist her. I tried. Is Jack right about me having no sense when it comes to women? Is that why it never works out?

  He jabs a finger at me. “You’re what we call in the biz a serial monogamist.”

  “So?”

  He shakes his head. “So that’s a tough way of life. You fall, you crash, you fall, you crash.”

  I set up my next shot, determined to win this game. Jack’s irritating the hell out of me, mostly because I’m starting to think he’s right. I fall and I crash, over and over again.

  I straighten. “And what do you do? Hook up, leave, hook up, leave.”

  He takes a long swallow of beer. “I never fall. It’s all fun all the time.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s missing out,” I snap. “Look at Dylan with Ariana. Have ya ever seen him so happy?”

  He lifts a palm. “Hey, take it down a notch. I’m not trying to piss you off.”

  I take the next shot. At least I’m doing well at pool. “I’m just tired. All work no play this week.”

  “I’ll let you win at pool.”

  “Ha! Ya never let me win. I’m just more skilled.”

  He chuckles.

  I do win, and Jack flips me his Vegas coin. I catch it and it bends in my grip. It’s made of soft rubber.

  He laughs. “Superstrong man, ya broke it. Don’t ever want that to happen.”

  Then I realize it’s soft because it’s actually a condom in coin packaging. I pelt him in the head with it.

  He laughs. “It really is from Vegas.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Josie

  I’ve been in LA for a week and a half now, which is both good and bad. It’s good because the casting director asked me to stick around for a callback audition, and bad because I miss Sean so much more than I thought I would. We’ve been in touch by text and a few short phone calls since he’s so busy with work. Fortunately, he finished the renovation on time, and inspections went smoothly. It’s looking like he’ll be moving out this Friday. I’m not sure where I’ll land. I don’t want to assume he wants me to live with him at his new place. Winnie’s still at her dad and stepmom’s house. It’s looking like a visit to my parents before I regroup once again for waitressing and auditions.

  Maybe it won’t come to that. I’m supposed to hear from my agent today if I booked the movie. I felt my callback audition was solid. I met the director, cried on cue (twice), and changed up my take on the scene at her direction. There’s five of us going for the role. I haven’t met the others and, since they’re unknowns, I don’t know what my competition is like.

  Now I’m on my way to the airport in a car paid for by the studio on this sunny Wednesday morning, heading back home. Funny how I think of Brooklyn as home now. Maybe it’s Sean I think of as home. I’ve always moved around a lot and never really felt like I had a home before. It’s only six a.m., too early to hear back, but I check my phone anyway. Nothing. I really, really want this role. Sophie is everything I’ve been looking for in a role—a strong empowered woman, who has her own adventure saving the world. It’s such a rarity to find this kind of script, and the complexity of her character will be an ideal showcase for my acting range. It’s a springboard to more work. I’m sure the movie will be commercially successful. It already has a huge fan base from the book. Gah! It’s so hard to wait.

  I watch a movie on the flight home and then just listen to music. I powered down my phone for the flight, and I’m hoping when we land, I’ll turn it on and get the news I’ve been dying to hear.

  We land and I power on the phone with shaking fingers, my heart in my throat.

  No news.

  I remind myself that I might be in a hurry to find out, but that doesn’t mean the studio is. No news is good news. They’re still considering. Maybe it’s really close between me and one other actress, and they’re debating between us.

  Still no news as I take the AirTrain and then the subway. It’s now five p.m. New York time, which means it’s only two p.m. in LA. I tell myself I’ll hear by the end of the day LA time. I’m no longer on edge at this point. I can only stay worked up for so long. I’m looking forward to seeing my grandmother’s old brownstone now that Sean finished the renovation. We have only tonight to enjoy it in its finished state before we have to move out tomorrow night.

  I step out onto the sidewalk on a warm sunny spring day. It’s late May, birds are singing, daffodils blooming, and people I pass on the street seem to look a little brighter. My phone vibrates, and I whip it out of my back jeans pocket. It’s my agent, Jade.

  Adrenaline pours through me. I answer with a trembling finger to accept the call. “Hi, Jade.” I stand frozen on the sidewalk, waiting to hear my fate.

  “Josie, it was close. They really liked you, but they wanted someone with a more exotic feel that would play well internationally.”

  “Is it my hair? I can dye it.”

  “They chose an actress from Venezuela. They liked the cadence to her English.”

  “I can do accents. Did you tell them that? I can work with a dialect coach.”

  “Not this time. Keep your chin up. You’re close. And remember that just because you didn’t get it, you’re still up one. You met and auditioned for a casting director for a well-respected production company. She’ll remember you and maybe recommend you for another project down the road.”

  I blink back tears, my throat tight. I know that, of course. I’m just tired of being close, but never grabbing the prize.

  “I feel like I’m never going to break in,” I whisper.

  “You will. Would I keep sending you on auditions if I didn’t believe in you? Hell no. I’d drop you like a hot potato. I only stick with clients I believe are going somewhere. It’s just a matter of the right project at the right time. You’ve got the stuff. You just keep doing your thing, I’ll do my thing, and one day we’ll be toasting your success. Don’t forget to thank me at the Oscars.”

  A tear escapes. “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks, Jade.”

  “You got it. Talk soon.”

  She hangs up, and I have the sudden urge to throw my phone. I restrain myself and trudge down the sidewalk. Sean won’t be home yet. He said he’d be here around six. I’m actually glad because now I can have a good cry in privacy.

  Which I do.

  Then I curl up on the couch and watch It Happened One Night. Sean gifted it to me before I left so I’d have my fave movie while traveling. I’m so glad. This movie always makes me smile.

  Sean gets home halfway through the movie and strides toward me, a big smile on his face. “You’re back!”

  I hit pause on the movie and stand. “I’m back.” I’m glad to see him, but I can’t seem to manage a smile in my dark mood.

  He pulls me in for a tight hug and kisses the top of my head. “I missed you.”

  I hug him back, the lump in my throat back in full force. “I missed you too.”

  He loosens his hold and cups my jaw. “What’s wrong?”

  “I didn’t get it.” My eyes well, my throat tight. “My agent told me they wanted someone more exotic. They went with an actress from Venezuela because they liked the cadence to her English.”

  “Sorry.” He strokes my hair. “I know you really wanted it.”

  I pull away, swiping an errant tear with my knuckle. “I feel like it’s never going to h
appen for me. Am I just wasting my time? I keep up with classes, I audition all the time, and all I have to show for it is a commercial and an educational video series nobody cares about.”

  “It’s a tough career.”

  I start pacing. “I know. I knew that going in, but how many times am I going to get close and then get passed over? I still love acting, but nobody will let me do it.”

  “Maybe you could create your own project to be in.”

  I throw my hands up. “I’ve done that. I’ve done tons of student films too. It’s not the same. I want something that people will actually see.”

  He takes a seat on the couch. “What can I do for you? Is this an ice-cream-wallowing situation? You wanna go out for dinner?”

  I flop down next to him. “I’m too miserable to be hungry.”

  He wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Maybe you could stay local, audition for stuff here in New York. There’s lots of theater, and a few TV shows film here.” He sounds upbeat about the prospect, which only makes me feel worse.

  I grip my hands tightly together. “I feel like you don’t get how upset I am right now.”

  “I get it. I’m trying to make ya feel better. You chose a tough career. I’d like you to lean on me, let me be your foundation.” He cups the side of my face, turning me toward him. “Move in with me at my new place. I’ll take care of you, and you’ll never have to worry where you’re gonna crash next.”

  I go cold. “Take care of me?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be the breadwinner, and you can have a home, finally put down roots. You always said you never had a real home. I’ll give you one.”

  I push his hand away and scoot back. “It sounds like you don’t think I’ll ever support myself.”

  He opens his mouth and shuts it again.

  I speak through my teeth. “What?”

  “Okay, but do that while you’re with me. Here in Brooklyn.”

  I take a slow deep breath. I’m getting a very bad feeling about where Sean stands on my career. “I’m going to keep auditioning. It could be my very next audition that’s my breakout, and then I could end up far away, filming. Would you be okay with that? Would you travel with me, or visit me regularly?”

  “I’m pretty rooted here with my job and all, but I’m sure I could squeeze in a visit. Realistically though—”

  “Realistically?” My voice comes out high and reedy. I force a level tone. “Am I living in a fantasy world thinking I can make it as an actress?”

  He puts up a palm. “All I’m saying is I don’t want ya to worry. I have a good job, so let me take care of you.”

  Something in his tone rankles. It’s not flattering what he’s offering. It’s insulting. “How do you see our future?”

  “I’ll give you a good foundation, like I said. I’ll keep building Rourke Management. We’ll get a nice place together in a nice neighborhood. Maybe we’ll get a dog. I’ll introduce ya to my family. We’ll build a life here, and you’ll never have to worry about where you’re gonna crash next, or if you can afford ice cream or whatever. You won’t have to worry about a thing here with me.”

  I can’t help but notice he didn’t mention my career at all. He assumes without him my life will always be like it is now—a struggling actress forced to be frugal, crashing on people’s couches. He doesn’t believe in me. A cold quiet anger settles over me. Claire Jordan’s wise advice runs through my head: Make sure you have a partner who supports your career.

  I stand. “I don’t want you to take care of me. I’m at a low point right now, and I’ve got nowhere to go but up. And I’ll do that through my own grit and perseverance. Not because I depended on a man to take care of me.”

  He blows out a breath. “Josie, I’m not being sexist. I love you.”

  My eyes widen. That’s the first time he said that. But his love comes with one big condition—be his little pet tucked away safely—and I can’t accept it. “No.”

  “I don’t love you?”

  I swallow hard. “When you love someone, you support them in what they care about the most.”

  “I do support you. That’s what this is all about.”

  I attempt to explain. “Like Claire Jordan’s husband traveled with her even when they were just dating, and he works for her now. They’re never separated for her work because he’s fully on board.”

  He shakes his head. “You don’t even have a job. How is this a thing? You want me to travel with you to a job that doesn’t even exist? I should quit my job because you might get something in a year? Or five?”

  I turn away, equal parts hurt and angry. I’m having serious doubts about Sean, and I don’t know if it’s because of what he’s saying, or if I’m just reeling from this audition rejection. It really feels like he doesn’t believe in me, like he always thinks I’ll be hopelessly spinning my wheels, and he has to rescue me from myself. I wish I knew. All I know for sure is everything feels wrong right now.

  “I need to take a step back.” I grab my laptop and shove it in my purse. “I’m going to Winnie’s place in the city.” I head for the door, snagging my wheeled suitcase.

  “When will ya be back?”

  “I don’t know.” My voice cracks. “I just need to figure some things out.”

  I walk out, and he doesn’t follow me. I can’t be with someone who doesn’t believe in me when there’s already so many people telling me no. I need to surround myself with supportive people. It’s the only way for me to survive.

  I make my way to the subway through a blur of tears.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Josie

  By the time I get to Winnie’s apartment building in the city, my eyes are swollen from crying too much. Then I remember she’s still at her dad and stepmom’s house and let out a stream of curses. Now what? I don’t want to crash at a friend’s place with my eyes so red and swollen. I’m sure I look a mess, and who wants that showing up on their doorstep?

  I pull out my phone and call Winnie. “Hi, it’s me. How’re you?”

  “What happened? You sound upset.”

  I blink rapidly, trying to hold the tears at bay. “I’m at your apartment in the city and my life sucks and I just wanted a place to crash. I’m such an idiot. I forgot you weren’t here.”

  “I am. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  I nearly collapse with relief. I tuck my phone away and step into the lobby. I hope the fact that she’s home means she’s doing better. She’s got much bigger things to deal with than I do. Here I am crying over an audition rejection and an unsupportive boyfriend when she’s dealing with a pregnancy with her asshole ex.

  She appears in the lobby a few minutes later, her expression sympathetic. “Come on, we can lean on each other during this sucky time.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I know you’re dealing with some heavy stuff.”

  “We’ll talk upstairs.”

  I nod and follow her to the elevator. Once we’re inside her apartment, a nice one-bedroom furnished mostly with white furniture with touches of glass and chrome in the end tables and coffee table, she pours us each a glass of white wine and takes a seat on her couch, patting the spot next to her. Soft classical music plays in the background. Winnie is so cultured and sophisticated. It was something she aspired to and achieved beautifully. She might be a little dreamy, but she’s living the life she always wanted, so maybe that’s not such a bad thing.

  I take the offered seat. The couch is too firm to be comfortable. Probably Colin picked out everything to his taste. But couch crashers can’t be picky.

  “So what’s sucky for you?” she asks.

  “You first. I’m sure yours is much suckier.”

  She lets out a shaky breath. “Okay, well, I miscarried.”

  “Oh, Winnie! I’m so sorry!” I should’ve noticed she poured herself a glass of wine, which she wouldn’t do if she was pregnant.

  She nods, quiet for a moment. “Thanks. I cried for three days straight, and then I seemed to be
out of tears. So here I am.”

  “Did Colin know about the pregnancy?”

  “No. I was going to meet him in person last Saturday to tell him, but I miscarried the day before. How’s that for timing?”

  “I’m so sorry.” I hug her.

  She pulls back and sighs. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

  She takes a long swallow of wine. I do the same.

  I’m sure Colin won’t let her stay here for long. He paid for it. “Are you looking for a new place?”

  “I’m moving back to my place in Brooklyn until it sells. Then I’ll use the money to buy into a co-op here in the city. I want to be close to work. New York is the center of the art world. At least that’s what my boss always says.” She gives me a small smile.

  I smile back. “That sounds like a good plan.”

  “Now you.”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Jo-Jo, I have known you your entire life. Do not come in here with your red swollen eyes and blotchy face and tell me it’s nothing.”

  “Jo-Jo,” I echo softly. “Haven’t heard that one in a while.” My family called me that until I was a teen when I insisted they call me the more sophisticated Josie. Funny how I thought that was sophisticated back then when my full name is much more so, Josephine.

  I sigh and take another sip of wine. I can feel her eyes on me. I know she won’t judge, but I’m afraid if I say it out loud, I’ll start crying again. My eyes hurt too much to cry anymore.

  She elbows me. “I’ll sit here quietly waiting for you to spill, until this entire bottle of wine is empty if that’s what it takes.”

  I drain my glass, about to tell her my career is in the toilet. Again. But what comes out is, “Sean and I argued about something pretty important to me, and I think it’s a relationship ender. I’m not sure. I’m really confused.”

  “Can you be a little more specific?”

  Now why did I start with that? My sob story started with my crappy rejection today. Another close, but no thanks. Not exotic enough! What the hell do they want from me? If I’d known they wanted an accent, I would’ve done one. I can pick up any accent easily thanks to my nomadic childhood.

  I fill her in. “I was up for the lead in what is definitely going to be a major movie, and I didn’t get it because I’m not exotic enough.”