Hollywood Flirt: Hollywood Name Game Book 2

by Alexa Aston

  “I know. I need that time to establish myself in the industry. Then if we still have the same feelings—”

  Dash came out of his seat and yanked her to her feet. He ignored the flash of fear in her eyes. Words weren’t getting through to Sydney. Maybe actions would.

  His lips came down hard on hers in a punishing kiss. His hands gripped her waist. She tried to protest but Dash kept kissing her. Gradually, her resistance faded. Sydney’s arms wrapped around his neck. He gentled the kiss into a more leisurely exploration of her mouth. Those little sounds of satisfaction came from the back of her throat, the ones he loved to hear.

  Dash broke the kiss. “If the feelings are still there? Babe, they’re here now. They’ll be the same in six months. And always. I love you, Sydney. You. No other woman but you. I want to marry you someday.”

  Tears welled in her eyes. “I believe you.” A stubborn look entered her eyes. “I still want time apart, though. I promise I won’t see anyone else. I’ll bury myself in work. Can you try to understand?”

  He ran his fingers through her hair. “No, I don’t want to understand. But if that’s what you want, it’s what I want.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  Sydney kissed him. Dash could taste loss and a bitter sweetness. Still, he wished the kiss could go on forever.

  “Do I have to pretend not to know you?” he asked, finally come up for air.

  “No. I just don’t want others to know we’ve been intimate.”

  “What about after hours? Could we see each other at my house?”

  “No!”

  Her empathic response set warning bells off in Dash’s head. There had to be more to this sudden decision than she was admitting. He planned to discover exactly what was driving this unexpected turn in their relationship.

  “When does this not seeing each other start?” he asked.

  Sydney’s eyes gleamed with mischief. For a moment, he had the old Syd back.

  “How about . . . tomorrow?”

  “That means we’ve got all night.” Dash’s mouth came down on hers. If he couldn’t change her mind, he’d make the most of the time they had left.

  “Babe, I’m going to give you a night you’ll never forget.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Two months later . . .

  Dash couldn’t believe how smooth the shoot had been so far. Three weeks into filming, and No Regrets was easily his favorite experience. Monty Revere’s direction made it easy for him. Dash had met with Cassie Corrigan before rehearsals started and she gave him several insights into the character of Paul that anchored him.

  As far as emotions went, when Paul needed to be calm or show a blank slate to his unknown enemies, Dash envisioned how empty his life had been without Sydney in it the past few months. Fear? He’d pretend to himself that Sydney wouldn’t let him back into her life once filming was completed. Anger? He drummed it up thinking how much he hated working with Marlyn November. The actress had only arrived on set yesterday since hers was a small but pivotal role. Dash could tell problems were brewing and the scenes with Marlyn would be challenging for everyone involved.

  He glanced at a busy Sydney, who really seemed in her element. She took her responsibilities as first AD seriously and her organization had really kept the production stress-free and ahead of schedule. As first AD, Sydney truly ran the set, giving the specific cues for each take and ensuring that the cast and crew present were all aware of their roles, minute by minute. Because of the calm she brought, Dash believed Monty was getting the most from his actors, many times securing what he desired in one take. The director would cut the scene and consult with Sydney, who more often than not said, “Happy with the take,” allowing the next set-up to occur.

  Dash had been on sets where he dreaded hearing, “Going again” or “That’s a take two—or twelve”. So far, he was relaxed and happy with the dailies that he’d seen.

  Of course, the mood had changed yesterday when Marlyn appeared. Dash had to admit that the hair and makeup people had done an outstanding job. It was hard to tell Marlyn was under there because all he saw was Rachel. He was grateful Marlyn knew her lines. The two scenes they’d filmed yesterday crackled with tension and passion. Still, Dash didn’t see or feel the fragility that Rachel should possess. So far, Monty hadn’t been able to draw it out of Marlyn. Dash thought that aspect was a vital piece to the film. He hoped Marlyn would dig deep and find it.

  “Call the roll,” Sydney shouted. She quickly assessed who was there and clarified for a lighting director what needed to be done. After that, Dash knew the next words that would come out of her mouth.

  “Waiting on talent,” she barked out since Marlyn had yet to appear and was probably still in her trailer.

  Dash moved toward Cassie, who showed up at the set sporadically to see how things progressed. She had watched all of the dailies, though, and had praised Dash’s performance. He knew in his bones he was doing the best work of his career—and he wasn’t about to let Marlyn November change that.

  “Is it Marlyn?” Cassie murmured to him under her breath.

  “What do you think?” Dash glanced over and saw that Monty Revere’s anger was visible, thanks to his heightened color. The director waved him over.

  “These are no longer the days of Marilyn Monroe when an actress can shut down a set while she sulks in her trailer,” Monty told Dash. “Do you know her? It’s not as if she’s an A-lister—although I wouldn’t put up with tardiness from one of them either.”

  “Yeah. I know her some. She’s bad news even if she’s immensely talented. I told Regina but it didn’t seem to make a difference.”

  “I understand why Marlyn was cast,” the director said. “You two are dynamite together. This, however, is the last time Miss November keeps me waiting.”

  At that moment, Marlyn breezed onto the set looking confident and carefree. Monty waved the actress over. Dash retreated to a corner. The director took her aside and spoke for less than a minute. His voice was quiet enough that no one could hear what was being said but everyone present knew precisely what he’d said from the look on Monty’s reddened face.

  “Final checks,” Sydney called out once the brief conference ended.

  Last minute adjustments were made to hair, wardrobe, and props as Dash and Marlyn took their places.

  “Quiet, please.” That was the cue Sydney gave that let everyone know the take was imminent. She paused and then said, “Action.”

  Dash was happy to escape into Paul’s character. The dialogue was quick between him and Marlyn and she flubbed a line partway through. They made it through the scene but Dash wasn’t surprised when Sydney told them to go again. The next take was flawless. Sydney had them check the gate. When she got a thumbs up, she told everyone to move to the next set-up.

  The makeup artist began fussing with Marlyn’s lipstick so that freed Dash up from having to speak with the temperamental actress. He glanced at Monty and saw the director mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. His color didn’t look good. The redness should have subsided by now.

  Sydney was giving directions to the lighting director about the shot so Dash meandered closer to Monty to see if he was all right. As he reached the director, Monty grimaced and brought a hand to his chest.

  “Sydney!” Dash shouted to get her attention.

  She looked at her father, who now bent over at the waist. “Get him some water!” she fired off to Bernie as she rushed over. Monty clawed at his chest and went limp. Dash caught him before he crashed to the floor and eased him to the ground.

  “Call 911,” he yelled as he cradled the older man’s head.

  Sydney barked orders to clear the set and go home, telling everyone to check their email for tomorrow’s call sheets. Cast and crew scattered quickly, with only Cassie and Jayla remaining behind. The assistant had aspirin in her purse and dug one out. Dash placed it under Monty’s tongue.

  Sydney remained calm, in control of her emot
ions. Dash eased back and let her take his place, Monty’s head now resting in his daughter’s lap. Dash loosened the top buttons on the director’s shirt and took his hand. Monty was conscious but his breathing was labored.

  “You’re going to be fine, Dad. I know you are,” Sydney reassured him, brushing the hair away from his forehead. “We’re in this together. Just breathe. Hang on.”

  Paramedics appeared within minutes and assessed his condition. They placed Monty on a gurney and told Sydney where they were transporting him.

  “I want to ride with you,” she said, her voice still steady as a rock.

  “No, ma’am. No one in the ambulance but us and the patient. You can meet us in the ER at St. Helen’s.”

  They rolled Monty from the set.

  Dash took Sydney’s hand. “I’ll take you.”

  Fat tears rolled down her cheeks as he enfolded her in his arms. The calm façade crumbled with her father out of sight and she trembled violently in his arms.

  “It’s going to be all right, babe. I’m here.”

  ◆◆◆

  Sydney sat in the waiting room, her stomach in knots. Cassie had come with them to the emergency room. She’d called Rhett, who wanted to come, but Cassie told her husband to stay away because he generated too much attention in public.

  Warmth poured through her. Sydney glanced at her hand wrapped in Dash’s. He’d only let go of it after he’d put her in the car and rushed to the driver’s seat. He’d stayed next to her as they waited for some doctor—any doctor—to let them know what was going on.

  It felt right to have Dash by her side. She had missed him every day since they’d parted. Lying in bed at night, Sydney would give in to the tears that she kept away during the day. On set, she projected cool professionalism. She was courteous to cast and crew alike, no matter what their positions were in the production.

  Marlyn November had studied her during rehearsals, which Sydney came in and out of. She was relieved that they’d gotten a few weeks of film in the can before the sultry actress showed up yesterday. Immediately after her arrival, Sydney knew Marlyn watched her every move. Sydney made sure she didn’t speak to Dash at any time. Even though Marlyn must have figured out that she and Dash were no longer seeing each other, it was a risk Sydney was willing to take. She wanted to keep Dash at arm’s length until she could get a handle on the Wake situation.

  No more arrangements of white roses had appeared either at the Revere home or at Dash’s house. Brenda kept her informed on that end. Her friend knew if a bouquet showed up, she was to dispose of it ASAP, but no flower arrangements had arrived in the months since the roses had been placed on Dash’s doorstep. Sydney wasn’t sure what it meant. Did Wake know she wasn’t seeing Dash any longer? Was some PI still trailing her and reporting back to her ex?

  She would know next week. Her birthday was coming up. If Wake stayed consistent, white roses would arrive on that day. Brenda had already been alerted and knew to get to work extra early, just in case.

  Sydney pushed aside all thoughts of Wake and concentrated on her father instead. Losing him would kill her. They’d been apart for so many years. It had been her choice but now that she was back in LA, she regretted cutting ties with him. So what if he hadn’t been the best parent after her mom died? He was grieving, as she had been, and he’d taken up with other women to ease the loss of his pain. That was in the past, though. Working with him these last few months had been a dream. It was a crash course in moviemaking. Sydney loved soaking up everything he taught her. She’d been born with the movie business in her blood. Her time on this film only whetted her appetite for more.

  Besides his health, she wondered what would happen to the No Regrets production. They only had a quarter of the movie on film. The studio could easily replace her dad but she hoped it wouldn’t come to that. Once she knew his prognosis, she would approach Ron Sampson and see if production could be shut down until Monty was back on his feet.

  If he recovered . . .

  Sydney recalled the pain on his face. His collapse. She assumed he’d suffered a heart attack and prayed it wasn’t severe. Would her dad live? Would he even be able to go back to work? She shuddered.

  Dash squeezed her hand. She gazed at him. Those electric blue eyes met hers. He gave her a reassuring smile. Not one of the lazy, sexy ones that she was used to after they made love, but one that told her not to worry. He was there—and not going anywhere.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “For what?” he asked.

  “For . . . being here. I pushed you away pretty hard. You’ve been nothing but respectful of me during this entire shoot. You’ve given me the space I asked for.”

  “It’s what you wanted. It doesn’t mean I haven’t missed you every single day,” he said huskily. “When this is over, I’ll be waiting for you.”

  Sydney hoped that was true. With the delay now, she didn’t know when that might be.

  “Sydney?”

  She looked up. Great. Ron Sampson was headed her way. She’d known the head of the studio since she was a little girl. He’d done PR back then and had been responsible for several photo sessions she’d done with her mom and brother. Ron worked his way up from PR into producing and then went back into the management end of things. He bounced through various executive titles like a pinball lighting up the board until two years ago when he landed as the head of the studio. After a board coup, the studio had been rechristened Sampson Studios.

  Sydney stood to greet him and noticed Dash had released her hand as he also came to his feet.

  Ron embraced her. “I came as soon as I heard. Your father is like family to me after all the movies he’s done with us. Have you heard anything?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Revere?”

  Sydney stepped forward when she heard a voice calling her name. “Here.”

  A nurse gave her a sign to wait. Within a minute, a platinum-haired doctor with dark eyes approached them. She thrust out her hand and gave Sydney a firm handshake.

  “Felicity Barbosa. I’m Mr. Revere’s cardiac surgeon. You must be Sydney.”

  “Yes. If you know my name, Dad must be conscious and talking.”

  “He is. Your father suffered a heart attack, Sydney. We’re prepping him now for surgery. He’s got a blockage in one artery. Mr. Revere is in excellent health otherwise. I look for him to make a swift recovery—but not as fast as he’d like. He seemed very concerned about the film he’s directing.”

  “Yes, we’ve only been shooting for a few weeks,” Sydney said. “What’s the best and worst case scenarios, Dr. Barbosa?”

  “I discussed those with him. Best case, he’s home in a few days and builds his strength back slowly, with lots of rest built around rehab. I gather a movie set is a pretty intense work environment. If that’s the case, he’ll need to ease into it. He could go back to work anywhere between two weeks and three months. Rest will be paramount, whether he’s working or not. I’ll know more once he’s in recovery and then has started rehab. I wish I could be more specific.”

  “I’m happy he’s in good hands,” Sydney said. “We can always find someone else to direct the film. Just don’t tell him.”

  “Mum’s the word,” the doctor said. “I’ll have the nurse escort you from the ER to another waiting room. I’ll visit with you after his surgery and update you on his condition.”

  “Can I see him now?”

  “No, he’s about to go into the OR. After he’s out of recovery and placed in a room, you’re welcome to see him. You can even stay the night if you’d like. There’ll be a pullout sofa in his room.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Barbosa.”

  The cardiac surgeon left. Sydney breathed a sigh of relief. Her dad would live. She still had him. It made her more determined to make up for the lost years apart.

  Ron Sampson spoke up. “I don’t want to shut down production on No Regrets. Everything’s gone very smoothly, Sydney. I’d questioned Monty about you slid
ing in as first AD but you’ve done a fantastic job of predicting how long it takes to shoot scenes and really streamlined everything. I know there’s only twenty percent footage in the can but I don’t want to send everyone on hiatus while we wait on Monty. It would cost a fortune.”

  She swallowed hard. “I understand, Ron. It’ll hurt Dad that he can’t finish the film but I realize it’s a business decision. Do you have anyone who might be able to step in on such short notice?”

  “I have a few names in mind. I’ll reach out and see what I can do. We might be able to let the second unit director film the car chase or the fight scenes this week so that we don’t lose too much time while a new director is brought up to speed.” Ron glanced to Dash. “Have you worked with the stunt coordinators, Dash? Do you have the fight choreography down enough to try and film those sequences in the next day or two?”

  “No,” Dash admitted. “We’ve blocked everything out but we haven’t begun rehearsing it yet.”

  Ron frowned. “Then maybe it’s best to go forward with the car chase. Give the cast and most of the crew the rest of the week off, Sydney, and then start fresh on Monday. Dash, do you think you’d be up to speed on the fights by then?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes, Ron, but there’s an obvious solution staring you in the face. We could resume the exact shooting schedule tomorrow without missing a beat.”

  The studio exec looked puzzled. “Who do you think would be directing, Dash? Movies don’t get made without directors.”

  “Sydney can take over,” Dash said. “She knows the script forward and backward. She did all the storyboards. She’s worked with Monty every step of the way regarding production.”

  “That’s right,” Cassie chimed in, joining them. “She was even involved in casting. I’m willing to be on set every day to help in any way I can with the screenplay.”

  Ron shook his head. “Are you both nuts? Sydney has no directing under her belt. I can’t trust a multimillion dollar production to some neophyte.”

  “She’s knowledgeable about every aspect of the project, Ron. She knows the material better than anyone. She’s already got the respect of the entire cast and crew. You wouldn’t have to lose any sleep if you put Sydney in charge. She can pick up right where we left off today without missing a beat.” Dash added, “I’d feel comfortable with Sydney helming the project. Supported by Cassie, of course.”