Bo knew the risks and had been willing to take them for a chance to spend time with her. And what was he worried about anyway? They’d said goodbye on perfectly good terms. Better than good. At least, he’d thought so. True, he hadn’t talked to Sadie in the three days since, but she’d been with her family. He hadn’t wanted to bother her, and he hadn’t expected she’d contact him.
Entering the mostly empty conference room, Bo was surprised to see Sadie pacing back and forth, from one end of the room to the other.
Okay, maybe he did need to worry.
Bo nodded to Ryan and the handful of other team members who were gathered around the coffee station. He tried to catch Sadie’s eye, but she had planted herself at the farthest side of the table and was currently staring at her phone like she wanted to set it on fire.
What the hell was wrong?
Before he could find out, Ryan waved him over. “Bodacious. What’s with this surprise meeting, anyway?”
“No clue.” Bo tore his gaze away from Sadie. “It’s right there in the name. Surprise.”
“Ri-i-ight.” The actor nodded. “Good point.” Ryan flopped back in his chair and picked up a pen, clicking it on and off, over and over again. Click-click. Click-click.
Bo shook his head and hurried over to Sadie.
“Un-fucking-believable,” she seethed.
“What?” Bo sank in to the seat next to hers.
“This.” Sadie slapped her phone down on the table.
Bo leaned forward, scanning the text on the screen. It was an article from 411 on 312, a local Chicago entertainment industry buzz site. The kind of internet rag that mostly covered celebrity bar fights, breakups, and—he narrowed his gaze, skimming the article that had apparently pissed off Sadie—boob jobs.
“According to this, you recently got breast implants.”
“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Sadie snarled. “I read it. Of all the bullshit stories tabloids have written about me, getting my boobs done is one of the most patently false yet.”
Bo recalled how her breasts looked that first day of shooting, round and full as they swelled above the line of her vest.
“Did you?” Ryan asked, barging into the conversation.
“What do you think?” Sadie made a noise of disgust.
“That first day on set,” Ryan said, scooting his chair closer. “That leather vest?” The actor held up his hands. “I’m saying this with the utmost respect, but I, uh, couldn’t help but notice you looked extra … perky.”
“That was makeup and a really good bra.” She glared at him.
“Wow. Really?” Ryan whistled.
Shit, man, stop talking. Bo was too concerned for the guy’s safety to be mad at him for copping to checking out Sadie’s rack. Also, he’d been guilty of doing the same thing.
“Yes, really.” Sadie bristled with outrage. “You don’t believe me?”
“I didn’t say that,” Ryan backpedaled, finally sensing danger.
“I’m telling the truth.”
“I’m sure you are,” Bo agreed soothingly, glancing around the conference room. While he loved the fire in Sadie, sometimes it burned out of control. Once riled, his little abeja had quite the temper. “Is this what the meeting is about?”
“No,” Sadie snapped. “This is fucking bonus material.”
Click-click. Click-click.
Sadie jerked her gaze toward Ryan, shooting him a look that said her costar was one click away from having that pen ripped out of his hand and shoved up his—
“Mind if I borrow this?” Bo grabbed the pen from Ryan.
“Huh?” Ryan blinked, oblivious to the fact Bo had probably just saved him from a grievous injury. “Oh, yeah. Sure.”
Sadie sent Bo a grateful look, and then resumed stewing.
He knew she was upset about the article, but why was she acting like nothing had happened between them? Not that she could, or should, do anything obvious. They had to keep things under the radar. But still, she could give him some clue …
Sylvia breezed into the conference room, Tanya and several other assistants wafting behind her like little bows tied to the streamer of a kite.
The minion assistants began distributing packets to everyone in the room, while Tanya pulled out a chair for Sylvia and handed her a cup of coffee.
Sylvia took the coffee but ignored the chair. Remaining standing, she addressed the group. “We have a situation, people.”
“I can confirm Gold did not have a boob job,” Ryan announced.
“What?” The director gaped at the actor, bewildered.
Bo shook his head, wondering if Ryan had hit his California stash a little too hard over the long weekend.
“Tanya, what’s RG talking about?”
The assistant promptly handed Sylvia her phone, opened, Bo presumed, to the 411 story.
The director scanned it briefly, then shoved the phone away. “I don’t have time for this nonsense.” She cast a glance down the table at Sadie. “MG, did you get breast implants?”
“No, I did not.”
“Excellent, I’m sure wardrobe will be pleased to hear they don’t need to refit you.” Sylvia took a sip of her coffee and got down to business. “The reason I called you all in here today was because this morning, I received word Birchwood Stables had a fire last night.”
The room erupted into concerned murmuring. Sylvia took another sip of coffee and held up her hand. “Luckily, none of the staff or horses were injured. But the property sustained significant damage. My location scout has informed me we will not be able to begin filming at Birchwood as scheduled.”
More grumbling.
“How far will this set us back?” Bo asked. This kind of unexpected delay was the exact sort of shit he’d been worried about.
“Hard to say.” The director nodded to her assistant. Tanya took the coffee and handed Sylvia a copy of the packet that had been distributed. “According to our current production calendar, we were supposed to arrive on location at Birchwood today, with calls running through…”
“Next Wednesday,” Tanya supplied. “We also were holding the rest of next week on reserve.”
“This means we’re looking at a setback of one, maybe two weeks.” Sylvia flipped a page. “Any chance we can bump the final fight sequence at the mall?”
One of the head production editors, an uptight guy Bo had privately nicknamed Annoyed Dave, sighed heavily. “I already have the permits for that signed-off and ready. I’ll have to contact the mall’s property manager, reapply to have the area secured for the new dates.”
“Is that a problem?” Sylvia pressed.
“Not for me,” Dave said, though his tone implied it was a huge problem. “However, I can’t speak for the person I’ll need to convince to speed this new request through.”
“That’s not our only problem,” Mark, another production lead, spoke up. “We chose those dates for Birchwood to take advantage of the fall color.”
“We can edit most of that in post-production.” Sylvia waved her hand.
“Some of it, yeah. But there’s something to be said for the real thing, you know? Once the leaves start falling in earnest, it’s going to be hard to re-create that lush autumn feel. Push those dates back another few weeks and who knows what we’re looking at.”
“Snow,” someone muttered.
“In October?” Sylvia scoffed.
“It’s unlikely, but not impossible,” Mark said. “This is Chicago.”
Bo nodded, along with a few other locals who knew this area’s unpredictable seasons all too well.
“Speaking of impossible…” Annoyed Dave swiveled on his chair, “… I’m guessing this means we need to find a new stable, with the right specifications for our shoot, somewhere within an hour’s radius of Chicago, that can be available for us to film on location, starting tomorrow?” By the end of this litany, both the man’s voice and his eyebrows had climbed several notches.
“That about sums it up,” Sylvia
agreed. “Is that a problem?”
The production manager’s face turned a fascinating shade of puce, but he didn’t respond.
In the silence that followed, Ryan retrieved his pen from a distracted Bo and resumed clicking.
Bo glanced furtively at Sadie, worried that a certain pen tip might end up in Ryan’s neck soon. He shifted in his chair, reaching out to nab the clicking time bomb before Sadie committed homicide.
“Yes, Bo?” Sylvia asked.
“What?” He glanced up, startled.
“Did you have something to add?” Sylvia cocked her head, waiting.
Every head in the room followed suit, swiveling in his direction. Bo swallowed, realizing by raising his hand he looked like, well, like he was raising his hand. He couldn’t admit he was just trying to steal a pen before the lead actor was impaled by his pissed off costar. Bo scrambled for an answer. “We need a new stable.”
“Yeah, we got that,” Annoyed Dave ground out. Still purple with frustration.
The man needed to relax before he had a coronary. Bo was worried too. If this schedule fell behind, he was fucked. And it would not be the fun kind.
Bo glanced at Sadie again. And just like that, he had the answer. The perfect solution. It was so simple and so obvious, he wondered why Sadie hadn’t suggested it herself. She was probably too ticked off and distracted. Bo straightened, turning his attention back to Sylvia. “I know a replacement location for Birchwood.”
“Oh really?” Sylvia finally took a seat at the table. She waved at Tanya, who held up her clipboard, prepared to take notes.
“Yeah,” Bo continued. “A stable about an hour north of here. Nice place. I know the specs. It’s got everything our set needs.” He thought he heard Sadie gasp. She was probably realizing what “nice place” he was talking about. She could thank him later. Bo smiled, feeling rather awesome for saving the day. He glanced at Mark. “Couple of meadows for the wide shots edged with plenty of forest for that fall color you’re so hot for.”
“What about horses?” Chuck, the head wrangler, piped up. “I’m guessing Birchwood already had to relocate their stock while the stables are being repaired. Not sure we want to risk moving the animals again so soon.”
“This place has access to some of the best horses in the world,” Bo assured them. “Used to taking direction and being around crowds.”
“And you’re sure the place is available for us to rent on such short notice?” Annoyed Dave asked, voice doubtful, though his expression bordered on what could almost be called hopeful. “The owners won’t have a problem with a film crew descending on them in less than forty-eight hours?”
“No problem at all,” Bo promised. “I know the owner.” He hitched a thumb toward Sadie. “So does she.” Why didn’t Sadie speak up? He didn’t want to take all the credit. After all, she’d be the one who would likely be making the arrangements.
“You know the owner of this stable too, MG?” Sylvia glanced between Bo and Sadie.
“I do, actually.” Sadie smiled weakly. “It belongs to my grandmother.” Then she turned to Bo and shot him a look that made him think she was plotting to steal back that pen and use it like a blow dart gun on his windpipe.
It was not the response he’d been expecting. What was her problem? She should be happy he’d thought of a solution. Now they’d be able to stick to the current shooting schedule. Annoyed Dave wouldn’t risk going into cardiac arrest by having to reapply for permits, and Bo would have a chance to spend time with Sadie. Despite the intense schedule, there would be some downtime. Bo knew exactly how he wanted to fill those free moments. With her.
But first, he needed to figure out why she still seemed so upset. He tried to catch her attention all through the rest of the meeting, but she ignored him. The second after Sylvia wrapped things up, Sadie hopped out of her chair like a spooked filly and bolted for the door.
“Hey,” Bo called, hurrying after her. “Hey, wait up.” He started jogging to catch up with her as she speed-walked down the hall, supple little legs jerking angrily. “Sadie! Slow your roll.”
“Slow my roll?” She stopped, pivoting to face him as he quickly covered the remaining distance between them. “Did you get lost somewhere in the last decade?”
“You wouldn’t have known if I had.” Damn, where did that come from?
Her eyes widened, and she turned away from him, picking up her pace some more.
“Hold on!” He reached for her hand. “Please.”
Sadie yanked her arm free, but she didn’t run away. “What do you want from me?”
“I want to know what’s wrong.”
“You want to know what’s wrong?” she fumed. “Let’s see, I need to go call my grandmother and let her know a film crew will be descending on her property. Tomorrow.”
“Wait, you’re upset about that? Your grandma won’t care. I know her. If anything, she’ll be thrilled.”
“You don’t know everything, Bonifacio.”
Sometimes Bo wished Sadie had never learned his full name. Only his mother called him that—and only when she was irritated with him. Bo hated it. It made him feel like a grubby, little boy. He fought the infantile urge to go hide in a corner and sulk. They wouldn’t get anywhere if they were both throwing a temper tantrum. “You’re right. I don’t know everything,” he admitted, forcing his voice to be calm, neutral. “Why don’t you tell me? Why are you so mad?”
She remained silent, but he could feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves as she stared down at the scuffed concrete floor of the warehouse hallway.
“Sadie, look, if I messed up, I’m sorry. I really thought this was the perfect solution. But if it’s going to make your grandma upset, I’ll see if I can find someplace else—”
“No. It’s fine. I mean, I’m not upset about that. Exactly.” She looked up at him, face drawn tight. Something was bothering her. A lot.
Bo’s stomach clenched. “Then what are you upset about?”
“You’re going to say it’s stupid.”
“Sadie, I promise. I won’t.”
She wrung her hands. “It’s just, I worked so hard to get this part. I wanted it so bad, but more importantly, I wanted to earn it on my own.” She took a breath and continued. “I know you won’t understand, that you’ll think I’m complaining about something I should be grateful for, which makes it even harder to explain … but it sucks when people assume you’ve never had to work for anything in your life. That it’s all just been handed to you.”
Prudently, Bo kept his mouth shut. He’d thought exactly those things about many people many times. Probably even about her once or twice.
“I had to deal with that shit following me the entire time I played Simone. The rumors my daddy bought me the part. The hints that I wasn’t good enough to be a success on my own.” She was talking faster now, words coming out in quick, angry bursts. “This movie was my chance to show everyone I could do it. That I had what it takes. That I was good enough.” She stopped, voice breaking.
And for the first time, Bo realized Sadie struggled with the same fears he did. She wanted the same things. Respect. A chance to prove herself. To be judged by her own merit. Seeing the picture from this angle, a light bulb went off. “You’re worried if word gets out the movie is filming on your family’s estate, people will assume that’s how you got the part.”
“Bingo.” She sniffed. “I can see 411’s next headline now. ‘Washed-Up Aging Soap Star Makes Big Splash with Granny’s Cash’ or something.”
“Sadie. You are not washed up, and for fuck’s sake, you are certainly not ‘aging.’”
“Oh yeah? I’m turning thirty at the end of this month.”
Bo chuckled, he couldn’t help it.
“Stop laughing, this is serious. Once this story gets out, who’s going to believe I got this part on my own?”
“First of all, I don’t think where we end up for a week of filming is much of a story, but if it does hit the news, so what? The stu
dio’s PR team can easily point out there was an issue with the original location and emergency measures were taken. The dates will show that you were cast long before the choice to film at your grandmother’s estate was made. You have an entire conference room full of people to corroborate the facts.”
“Ugh, you don’t get it! The tabloid people, they’re not concerned with facts. Exhibit A, my invisible boob job! And the people who like to read these stories aren’t interested in facts either. All they need to do is skim a clickbait headline and bam, their mind is made up.”
“Who cares?”
“I do! What people think of me matters. It matters to me, and it matters to my career.”
“Then prove the rumors wrong.”
“What?”
“Sadie, I know how hard you’ve been busting your ass. Anyone who’s seen you in action on set knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you earned this role by yourself. Once people see the film, they’ll know too.”
“You think so?”
Her voice sounded so small, so fragile, it crushed him. “I do.” He brushed a finger under her chin, lifting her face to his. “But what I think doesn’t matter, abeja. What do you think?”
“I think…” She stared into his eyes, twin flames of hope slowly coming to life as she embraced what he was saying. “I think I need to call my grandma.” A tentative smile quirked her lips. “And then I need to buy a car.”
* * *
A few hours after the emergency meeting, Sadie pulled out of a car dealership in her new sporty but sensible coupe. “That was fun.” She smiled at Bo, strapped in to the passenger seat next to her. “Thanks for coming with me.”
“Eyes on the road, please,” he said, gripping the oh-shit handle above his window.
Sadie rolled her eyes. “I may have never bought a car by myself before, but I do know how to drive one.”
Bo snorted. “When was the last time you were behind the wheel of a car?”
“You don’t have to come with me,” she huffed. “You’re welcome to get out and go ride your crotch rocket home, and I’ll drive my shiny new car to my shiny new apartment by myself.”
Once Upon a Bad Boy--A Sometimes in Love Novel Page 18