CHAPTER 8
“Chad, what’s up? When did you get to the Caribbean? Last I heard you were still scouting sites with Lou for the shoot.”
I have my calendar pulled up on my laptop, which took thirty minutes of Jane explaining over the phone to get me to the right place. So, I’m not a computer whiz, what does it matter? I usually do everything from my phone, but it’s easier to see my work schedule on the larger laptop screen instead of the teeny-tiny one.
Chad is clearly in an open top car, the wind roaring around as I speak to him. “I got here six days ago! I pushed some stuff off onto Lou so I could visit this fabulous home I own but only get to use every two years or so!” Damn, he’s yelling since he’s having trouble hearing me. “Sorry¸ I’m on my way to the airport! Convertible, you know?” Yeah, I figured.
Lou Pierce is the EP, or executive producer for the Mind of the Enemy, the film we’re shooting in California. Chad and Lou formed their production company, Surge Films, fifteen years ago when they couldn’t find anyone willing to finance their first project, Upsidedown. Their unwanted film turned into the darling of the Sundance Film Festival that year and Surge Films is now worth an estimated $300 million.
“Lou must be thrilled,” I say dryly. “Anyway, what’s up with the house? You change your mind yet about letting me use it?”
“Why, you’re not going to bring fifty of your closest friends and have a raging weekend-long kegger are you?” I hear the amusement in his voice. He knows me pretty well and is quite aware that not only would I not want to be around fifty people for more than a few hours, but that ‘raging keggers’ are not exactly my style.
“You got me, Chad. I guess I’d better change my plans,” I laugh at him. “Actually, I’m bringing a girl. Just me and her, and I need a little help.”
“Huh? You? You’re bringing a girl on a weekend vacation?” He bursts out in hysterics. “No really, what are you doing this weekend?”
Nice, he doesn’t believe me. So what if I’m not known for my long term relationships, he doesn’t have to be an ass about it.
“Chad, I’m serious. I think I found the girl I’m going to marry.” I’m not sure what possessed me to say that out loud, or even to think it. But somehow I know, I have found her. It’s nothing specific about her that I can explain, it’s just her. I just have to get Sydney to feel the same way. Go big or go home, right? That’s what I’ve always said to myself and I’m not going to change now. That still doesn’t explain why I’m telling this to Chad like we’re two teenage girls gossiping at a sleepover.
“I’m speechless, Drew. If it’s true, then I’m happy for you man. Really.” I know he’s being sincere. This isn’t like me at all, so I’m well aware that it’s probably blowing his mind.
“Thanks, there’s just one thing.” I enlighten to Chad on the Sydney situation and explain that I need him to clear his place of anything related to the film industry. After he finishes laughing his ass off at me, he agrees to call his caretaker and have him move all of his personal items to the locked office.
I hang up with Chad and put my head in my hands, praying that his guy doesn’t miss anything at the house. I can’t ruin this with Sydney. My plan is to make sure she falls for me before she finds out who I am and what I do. Not my best idea, but it’s all I have until she’s willing to tell me what her issues are with fame and magazines and televisions.
There’s a ton of stuff that needs to get done, so I turn to my work laptop and click on the email icon. Three days without an assistant and my life is already a mess. I have no clue where to begin. Jane will be back later this afternoon, and I’m looking forward to having her taking care of all this shit for me.
How she does all this every day is beyond my comprehension. I have about a million emails in my work inbox, there’s over ten voicemails on my work phone, and a huge stack of scripts that I have to go through is sitting on my desk.
Fuck this.
I stand up and head for my bedroom to change. I’m going to the gym to hit something.
After sparring with Damien for an hour and a half, my head is ringing and I’m drenched in sweat, but it’s still better than slogging through hours of emails. The bastard hit me harder than he usually does, still pissed about the ass kicking I gave him yesterday.
“Forrester, drinks tomorrow night? I’ll buy since you got your ass handed to you in the ring.” He’s just as sweaty as I am and sticks it to me like the poor winner he always is.
I sit on a bench and towel off my face. “Sure, why not?” Then I glare up at Damien to see him smirking at me. “By the way, you’re a dick. If you’d have busted my nose, I’d get sued for breach of contract.”
That motherfucker laughs. He thinks it’s so goddamn funny that I make my living partially because of my looks. Not everyone can be like him and have their nose broken four times in the cage and receive a paycheck for it each time.
“Sorry, Drew. I couldn’t help myself.” Damien takes a long drink of his water and then dumps the rest on his closely cropped hair. He doesn’t look or sound sorry at all. “You were out of it today. Where the fuck was your head at?”
“How about I tell you about it later? I need a shower. I can smell myself from here.” I gather my stuff to leave.
“Okay dude, tomorrow at six at The Hub? Bobby wants to go out. The Packers play the Chargers.” He puts his fist out and I bump it with mine then smack the back of his head before he can react.
“Hey!”
“That’s for being an ass,” I tell him, ducking out of the way of his tightly wound towel as he snaps it at me.
The Hub is a dumpy little sports bar near the piers that we frequent. They show all of the games and have about a hundred different beers on tap.
“Six, okay. See ya there. I’ll be the asshole in the Red Sox hat and the ridiculous wig.” Damien laughs so hard that he’s still going at it as I leave the gym. Dick.
My phone beeps as I get into the car and I see that Sydney texted me. She initiated contact? That’s a first.
Sydney <Hey, stuck in hell at Bergdorf’s with Leah. Can’t wait for tonight.>
I smile. She’s so radically different from every other woman I’ve ever known. What girl doesn’t live for a day of shopping at high end department stores? I type out a response and hit send.
Me <Only you would think Bergdorf’s is hell. Bring your appetite tonight! The car will get you at six.>
Now to impress Miss Sydney Allen enough to get her to say yes to St. Bart’s.