Carter
I RETURN FROM Aruba to the Philly condo I’m still renting for another few weeks. A day later, Julian visits me, and his appearance forces me to stop thinking about the many ways I screwed up any chances I might have had with Tori.
“What’s up?” I ask after closing the door.
Wordlessly, with a thick letter-size envelope under his arm, he glides past me and enters the living area.
I plod after him, scratching my ass through my sweats and not giving a shit that I haven’t showered or tackled my beard today.
Julian faces the wall of windows, an imposing dark-suited figure with impeccable posture. When we were younger, we’d wrestle each other to the ground, giving each other noogies and wet willies. Even the occasional wedgie was part of our bond. I wonder if he remembers that as well as I do, or if he chooses to stuff it away in some part of his brain he refuses to access when he’s in agent mode.
I’m reaching for the remote on the coffee table when he rounds on me.
“Is there something wrong with your phone?” he asks.
“Nope.”
His eyes diminish into narrow slits. “So you’re intentionally ignoring my calls?”
“I needed a little space.”
“I’m not your girlfriend, Carter. I’m your agent—”
“Friend,” I say, my voice rising to match his. “Don’t forget you’re my friend, too.”
He takes a deep breath. “If you want me to be your agent, you have to pick up the phone when I call. I can’t do my job otherwise. I half expected the doorman to tell me you wouldn’t see me.”
“Sorry, it won’t happen again. Did you have a chance to talk to Ashley?”
He drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s fine. But can we talk about that later?”
As usual, Julian approaches our discussion like a Venn diagram: agent business in one circle, personal business in the other, and any overlapping is limited to transition sentences. Taking in the bags under his eyes, I resist giving him shit for it. “Okay, what’s so important that you got on a plane to see me?”
“I was here for other business. Thought I’d stop to check in on you, since you’re so hard to get ahold of.”
What business does Julian have in Philadelphia? Sure, he has other clients, several of them to keep him busy when I’m not, but they’re all in LA or New York. “Other business, huh? You cheating on me again?” I say with a laugh.
Julian’s face reveals nothing. “It’s only cheating if we’re exclusive. And we’re not. I’d hardly be able to make a living otherwise.” He circles the couch, sits on it, and motions for me to do the same. Satisfying my need to be contrary, I take the single seat to his left and prop my feet on the coffee table.
Julian shakes his head and pitches the envelope onto my lap.
“What’s this?” I ask as I lift the flap and pull out a stack of papers.
“That’s the partial script for Swan Song. They want you to read for the lead.”
My gaze shoots up to his. “Seriously?”
Julian nods, a hint of a smile softening the hard lines of his face. “Seriously.”
Getting a lead in Swan Song would be huge. Career-defining. The film adaptation of the best-selling book by the same name is still in development, but it’s already the subject of a lot of buzz. Gwen Styles is rumored to be in talks to play a fifty-something divorcée and cancer patient who falls in love with a soldier twenty-five years her junior.
I cover my mouth and blow into my hand. “They want me to read for Alex’s part?”
Julian again nods. “I wouldn’t have bothered coming here if it was a minor part. But remember, it’s just a read. And before they make a final decision, they’ll want you to do a read-through with Styles.”
“Where and when’s the first read?”
“New York. May fourteenth.”
Holy shit. That’s two days from now. “Location shooting?”
“New York and Denver.”
“You think this is the right move?”
Julian furrows his brows. “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
“But maybe I’m reaching. Playing a cantankerous soldier who falls in love with his pen pal isn’t exactly what my fans expect of me.”
“The question is, what do you expect of yourself?”
I expect to be perceived as more than a handsome face or a well-timed joke. I want my work to matter. Losing forty pounds for my cameo in Hard Times was my first attempt at making that happen. A featured role in Swan Song would cement it. “Point taken.”
“So you’ll do it?” Julian asks.
This time there’s no hesitation. “Hell, yes.”
“Congrats.”
I flip through the pages, my hands already itching to read and highlight my parts. “Thanks, J.”
Julian and I discuss a few issues about my contract renewal for Man on Third.
Twenty minutes later, he asks, “Anything else? Are we done here?”
“Yes.”
He removes his jacket, folds it in half lengthwise, and places it over the back of the couch. Then he turns back to me. “Okay, now that we’ve got the business out of the way, why don’t you tell me what bug crawled up your ass.”
I collapse in the chair. “No bug. A woman.”
“Didn’t know you rolled like that,” he says, his face deadpan. “Figured you for missionary all the way.” When I don’t hit him with a snappy comeback, he leans back and surveys my face. “Back the hell up. A woman’s got you twisted?”
That’s not what’s going on. It’s just . . . I can’t shake the memory of Tori’s face when the paparazzo ambushed me at the resort. She’d been ready to charge into the fray in my defense, until she’d undoubtedly heard his question and figured out I’d been less than forthcoming with her. She’d furrowed her brows as her run had turned into a trot, and then she’d stopped altogether.
With the photographer’s camera flashing in my eyes and chaos surrounding me, she’d become my beacon, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her. I’d expected her to be livid. Wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d clocked me. Instead, she’d taken a visible breath and dropped her shoulders before she turned away in the direction of the resort’s courtyard.
“I met someone on vacation.”
Julian motions for me to continue, his eyes impatient. “Do tell.”
“And I liked her.”
He again motions for me to continue, this time wearing a grimace. “But?”
“But I didn’t tell her I’m Carter Stone, and when she discovered that small detail, she bolted.”
Julian’s face relaxes. “Ah, she’s a challenge.”
He’s wrong. Well, maybe there’s a kernel of truth in there somewhere, but it isn’t as simple as he’s making it out to be. “It’s more complicated than that. At first, she didn’t know who I was, and she liked me anyway.”
“Given that you look like shit, I question this woman’s taste.”
“Fuck you, Julian. My point is, we hung out, just as friends, and I think she liked me. It was nice.”
“Nice? It was nice? Who the hell are you?”
I rise from the chair and chuck the remote onto the couch. “Screw it. Forget I said anything. It’s neither here nor there anyway. She obviously wants nothing to do with me. The end.”
Julian slouches and falls back against the couch, a million personalities away from the guy in the suit who arrived thirty minutes ago. “I’m not trying to be a dick, man. If there’s something there, why not explore it?”
Because I misled her.
Because I’m sure she thinks I was toying with her.
“Because it’s pointless,” is what I tell him. Then I recount my run-in with the paparazzo.
“Did you tell her your compelling reasons for withholding critical information about your identity?”
“It’s scary how those words just roll off your tongue.” The observation reminds me of the jab Tori made at me at the bar. “Are you sure you aren’t a robot, J?”
He ignores my question. “What did you tell her?”
Needing something to do with my hands, I swipe a pillow off the couch and toss it in the air. “I didn’t tell her anything because she never gave me a chance to explain. She left the next morning.”
Julian considers me for a moment. “Ah. Then what you need is closure.”
“C’mon, man, it’s not like we were dating.”
“No, but you’re feeling guilty, and you want to be absolved of your sins. Can you locate her?”
I nod. “She manages a fitness center here in Philly.”
Julian jumps to his feet and slips back into his jacket. “Then find her and apologize. You’re trying to get the acting role of your dreams. This isn’t the time for you to be distracted.”
He’s right. I need to make peace with Tori, so I can be in the proper mind-set to prepare for auditions. But I want more than that, too. I want a chance to experience that sliver of magic I felt in Aruba.
I walk Julian to the door. He surveys the kitchen and living areas as he slips into his jacket. “Nice digs. How long you plan on staying here?”
“I have the place for a few more weeks, but I think I’m going to ask Jewel to negotiate a lease through the end of the summer. I’m in no rush to go anywhere. I’ll check in with you after the read.”
“You do that,” he says.
After I close the door, I lean my head against it and realize Julian never fully answered my question about Ashley. And I still don’t know what other business he had in Philadelphia. That sneaky bastard. I’ll hound his ass later.
For now, though, I’m focused on Tori. Tomorrow I’ll find her and apologize. Maybe then I’ll be able to concentrate on preparing for the audition that could make or stall my career.