CHAPTER 23
“You’ve been a real bastard this past week,” Chad says as we sit on the terrace of his enormous Brentwood mansion.
“Yeah,” I reply as I take a huge swig of beer.
“Not even an argument from you? You are fucked up in the head my friend. This girl must be something else to have you all knotted up like this.”
I ignore him and stare out at the trees that dot his property, not looking at anything in particular. I was supposed to fly home this weekend but there was some fuck up at the hotel and Sydney had to work. Fuck, I should be with her right now.
“Jesus, I hate to get all touchy feely with you man, but are you okay?”
I respond with a grunt. I really am a moody prick. Putting down my empty beer bottle I turn my head toward one of my oldest friends, the guy who gave me my first job in this town, and grab another beer.
“No, I’m not okay.” I snatch up the bottle opener and flick off the cap, taking a big swig of beer. Pissed and needing to vent, I huff out a breath, then proceed to tell Chad about Adam Reynolds and the big party at Verve and how I want to rip Reynolds’ arms off and beat the shit out of him with them. “She’s so sweet and caring! She can’t even see that he just wants to get in her fuckin’ pants! And this job she’s doing? Her boss is a total douche and he’s working her so hard that she’s falling apart.”
“So I guess you don’t want me to tell you that everyone I know is trying to get an invite to that party?”
Frowning, I feel the white-hot rage surging through my body. I clutch the bottle too tight and swallow half of my beer in order to stop it from manifesting into something ugly. “No,” I snap. “I don’t want to fucking hear that. And yes, in case you’re wondering, I did see the newest Rolling Stone.”
That fuckhead Reynolds was on the cover and once again talked up the fucking party at Verve as if it’s being thrown just for him. His hard-on for Sydney is getting on my last nerve.
Chad sighs and swings his legs off of his lounge chair so he’s facing me. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to production and see if they can juggle some scenes so you can be there for that party.”
I perk up at Chad’s offer. “That would be so… you’d do that?”
He reaches up and pats my shoulder. “Of course I would. First, I’ve known you forever and you’ve never asked for a schedule change, ever. Second, in all the time I’ve known you, this is the first girl that’s ever played hard to get. It’s damn entertaining,” he says jokingly.
I glare at him and open another beer. “I’m glad my problems are fuckin’ hilarious Chad.”
He grins.
Bruce drops me off at the Sunset Marquis a couple of hours and too many beers later. I’m not drunk, but sporting enough of a buzz to not be completely sober. All I want to do is talk to my girl. I’ve worked late all week and I haven’t been able to catch her in several days.
I collapse into the desk chair and boot up my computer. “Fuck!” I slam my fist on the desk when I open Skype and see that Sydney isn’t logged in.
I stand up and dig my phone out of my pocket, dialing Sydney’s number as I pace the room. When it goes to voicemail, I lose my shit. All of the agitation that I’ve felt over the past two weeks comes exploding out of me at once.
“Motherfucker!” I rear back and throw my phone across the room. It hits the wall and shatters into pieces that scatter everywhere.
That didn’t do nearly enough to satisfy my rage. I spin on my heel and strike out at the nearest object, which happens to be the massive armoire. The door cracks upon impact with my fist. I pound on it over and over until the door is shredded and so is my hand.
“Goddammit!”
I slide down the wall and land heavily on the ground, cradling my bleeding hand in my lap. This girl is going to be the death of me. Either that or I’m going slowly insane.
Or possibly both.
A quick knock on my dressing room door alerts me right before it opens and Jane walks in, carrying a bag from the Apple store.
“Here’s your new phone,” she says, glancing at my swollen, makeup-covered hand with a scowl on her face.
“Thanks Jane.” Embarrassed, I avoid eye contact. Only Jane and my mom can make me feel about two feet tall when I do something stupid.
“Want to talk about it?” She sits on the couch next to me.
All I really want to do is try to reach Sydney again. Without a phone since last night, I haven’t been able to think about anything else.
I shrug. I’m tired of the sympathetic looks that she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. And I already got bitched out by Chad, Lou the executive producer, and the makeup artist today for the scrapes and the black and blue marks on my knuckles.
“Well, if you change your mind, I’ll be around.” She gets up and leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
I yank the phone out of the bag and see that it’s already powered up and has my contacts in it. God, I love my assistant. I find the correct number and hit dial.
“Drew?” Sydney’s sweet voice calms me down instantly.
“Sydney,” I breathe. “Where have you been? I’ve tried reaching you but you never answer.”
I’m fucking pathetic. Sitting around wondering why a girl isn’t taking my calls.
“I’m so sorry. I’ve been working all the time and when I get home I crash. I’m exhausted.”
The anger I had yesterday comes mushrooming back up from my gut, about to boil over. “Your boss is a fucking asshole,” I hiss. “You’re going to get sick, Sydney.”
“I’ll be fine,” she says, trying her best to placate me, which just makes me angrier. She should be worrying about herself, not me.
“Christ Syd, can you please just do as I say and take better care of yourself?” I growl, wanting to jump through the phone and make her take me seriously.
“Yes, I will Drew. So, how’s your project? Is everything going well?”
I feel like such a shit for lying to her about my job.
“It’s going great babe. The hours are long but the faster I get this done, the sooner I can come home.”
“Well, as long as you take care of yourself,” she jokes.
I laugh, she has no idea how much working out I’ve been doing with Damien just to vent my frustration at this ridiculous situation and the stress of being not being able to do anything while she falls to pieces.
“I manage to keep up,” I say sarcastically.
“That’s good, oh, hold on.” I hear someone talking to her about chairs or something. “I’m sorry Drew, I have to go. A shipment just arrived.”
“Okay Syd, if I call you tomorrow will you answer?”
So I don’t have to break another phone, or possibly my hand?
She giggles and the sound goes straight to my dick. Fuck, this is unbearable.
“Yes, I will. I promise.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Bye Drew.”
“Bye.”
The crackle of the speakerphone in my room startles me. “Forrester, we need you on set.”
Fuck! Late again.
I get up and hurry down the hallway only to be immediately intercepted by Jackie from wardrobe.
Shit.
“Hey Andrew,” she purrs.
“Jackie,” I nod and attempt to keep walking.
Naturally, she steps in front of me and juts her giant fake breasts in my face. Sydney or no Sydney, this chick and me would never happen. She just can’t get that through her damn bleached head. As if I haven’t noticed her eye-fucking me at every costume fitting. I should have shut her down then, but I didn’t think she’d be so damn persistent.
“So, I was thinking…” she begins.
“Jackie, I really don’t have time for this.” Ever, I want to add.
When she reaches out and puts her hands on my chest, she’s crossed the line. I wrap my hands around her wrists and she smiles, thinking she’s won. Then I slowly remove her hands from my body, put them down at her sides, and release them.
“Don’t touch me like that again, or you won’t have a job,” I say in a low voice.
She pouts her lower lip out. In her mind, I’m sure she thinks it looks sexy. It doesn’t.
“I heard you were more fun than this,” she whines.
“Well, don’t believe everything you hear,” I say as I step around her and dash to the set.
I really wish Sydney were here.