Typecast (13 page)

“Well, at least Ivy cares enough to try to promote the bar. Do whatever you need to keep her happy.”

“I need to pick between Erin and Ryder.” He spat out the sentence.

“Oh man, you must have it bad if you’re going to break the seal.” Wilson chuckled. “Who gets the gig?”

He considered his options. Ryder, the personification of the teen heartthrob especially to a woman who studied the movie, or Erin, the . . . well, the female. Too bad he couldn’t pick Drew. “Who would you choose?”

“They both sort of suck ass.”

“I’m just going to pick the lesser of two nightmares.” He resumed his pacing and dialed. The phone rang once, twice, and a third time, and he squeezed the device. No matter what, he had to have something for Ivy when she arrived, and he didn’t want to leave a message.

“No one ever calls anymore, everyone texts, so either I’m special or you want no proof you talk to me.” Erin used her actress voice, the smooth tone trying to tell him she didn’t care an ounce if he called or not when he knew the truth.

“Maybe because I don’t need you having a record of anything I say to you.” He squeezed his eyes shut.

“If you want to do things off the record, I say we both put our phones aside and focus on something much more interesting and fulfilling.” She let out a low laugh.

“Not tonight.” He opened his eyes and stared at nothing.

“By not tonight you mean not ever, right?”

“Something like that.” He turned to his brother.

With narrowed eyes and his arms crossed, Wilson stared at him.

“That’s not what you used to say.” She gave him an over exaggerated sigh.

“Well, in the spirit of rehashing the past, I need to set up a time for an interview with Chargge.com.” He grabbed the edge of the counter.

“Logan.” At last her tone changed. She turned into Erin the girl, the one who always hated her hair, who wanted to hide behind him or Ryder when faced with fans, who couldn’t make a decision or stand up for herself.

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure Brian explained the project.” He would give her only enough nurturing to appease her. In a snap, she could turn on him, as he had found out too many times. “The woman in charge of putting the piece together is really smart, brilliant actually. She has a degree in cinematic arts, and not any old degree, but a master’s degree, and she is a huge fan.”

“Are you sleeping with her?” Erin whispered.

For a moment, he lowered the phone. How did they have the same conversation for over two decades? They were stuck in a time warp. He lifted the phone again. “That’s none of your business.”

“You don’t usually recite someone’s resume. You barely remember their name,” she countered. “I thought with our arrangement I wouldn’t need to do this. Isn’t that what I pay for?”

“More than that.” He smiled at her comeback. “You haven’t spoken about
Hollywood Stardust
in twenty years, so everyone will be hanging on your every word. You were the one every girl wanted to be.”

“That is true.”

Erin’s vanity always worked to his favor. “Fine, so it’s settled. I’ll text you a time so you do have a record.”

“At least I get to see you.” She paused. “Logan.”

“Don’t.” Now she would ask about Drew.

“Have you seen him?”

If he didn’t know she had the ability to cry on a director’s cue, he would have sworn her voice cracked. Erin only wanted what she couldn’t have, and she wanted to see Drew and hurt him again.

“Doesn’t matter.” Her voice lowered. “Text me and I’ll be ready.”

“Fine.” With too much force, he pressed the button to end the call and had the overwhelming urge to take a shower. Ivy would be here soon.

“You are a wimp.” Wilson stood with the exact same expression on his face.

“I set up the interview. That’s the last thing I wanted to do.” He shoved his phone into his pocket.

“You chose Erin for you, not Ivy. I guess you only want to be the gentleman when it suits you. Though honestly, I would have banged her and given her Ryder.” Wilson waved his hand as if trying to make him disappear. “Scared of a little competition?”

“He’s nothing.” After a quick check of his watch, he headed toward the door. “I need to make sure the place looks presentable.”

Wilson caught him by the sleeve. “Just because he’s the one who looks like he made it, doesn’t mean he did.”

“I guess the movies and television sort of gives that impression.” He snapped his arm away.

“If Ivy is who you think she is, she won’t be swayed by the pretty boy.” Wilson opened the door for him.

He stomped into the main room, the heart of the establishment. Rather than a typical bar, the place was unique. At his urging, Wilson designed something different, part old-world library where gentlemen would sit with a book and a brandy, part hipster cocktail lounge rolled into one. Aside from the long antique bar with every available type of glassware and a display of backlit vintage alcohol bottles, different seating configurations dotted the large space—tables for two, areas for a larger group, and even a couple cozy little alcoves for something a bit more intimate.

He set his focus on a curved black leather booth in a corner. “That’s perfect.”

A quick glance at the time told him she should be here. “I should probably be ready for her.” He scurried around the bar, collecting some glasses and a bottle of wine and a candle, and set them up on the table. Maybe they could use the wine later. He played his gentleman card last night, but now they could cement their relationship.

“How pretty.” Wilson joined him with the video camera. “I thought I would take some establishing shots for Ivy.”

“I’m going to get some air before she gets here.” He would tolerate Wilson wanting to plug the bar since he agreed to shoot the footage and they didn’t have to have a camera crew come here. His brother might be a good elixir to her stage fright, but he would like his starlet to show on time.

“Okay, go wait for her. She’s like a minute late.” Wilson set up his gear.

Ignoring his brother, he walked out the front door, grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, and placed one in his mouth. He shielded his eyes from the midday sun and checked out their corner, a little off the beaten track in Hollywood, but still close enough to be relevant.

Where was Ivy anyway? Once again, he looked down at his watch. The one-minute acceptable grace period turned into five and then ten. His chest tightened. Why didn’t she call? Wait. Maybe she couldn’t call. Driving in Hollywood could be a challenge—narrow streets and a lot of tourists who didn’t know their way around.

The adrenaline surged through his muscles, and he ran back into the bar, right past Ivy and some blonde.

Wait.

He skidded to a stop, inhaled, and turned only to have the breath knocked out of him.

Thus far, Ivy had given him quite a sampling of decades with her unique style choices, but hands down, no holds barred, he would say with absolute and complete certainty that her 1980s black lace bustier and black leggings layered with a matching blazer, spiked heels, and a contrasting string of white pearls had to be his favorite. His girl gave new meaning to the trend of lingerie as outerwear. With her underwear in full view, what was she wearing underneath?

He put his cigarette behind his ear. “I have wine.” Those three words were the best he could do at creating a coherent sentence, since his blood supply had been diverted elsewhere.

“And good afternoon to you too.” She licked her perfectly pigmented lips.

He wasn’t going to make it through their interview. Maybe they should test-drive her outfit first and then do the taping. He blinked and swallowed in an effort to get himself together and took his time approaching her. “How did you sneak past me?” With the urge to kiss her too great to deny, he bent down. “I thought you were late.”

“We came in through the kitchen. There was a little traffic down Melrose.” Ivy stepped back and motioned toward the blonde. “I don’t think you ever formally met my best friend, Giselle.”

With nothing but air meeting his lips, he glanced at the woman boffing his brother. “Hello.”

The woman elbowed Ivy. “It is Logan Alexander.”

He sort of wondered who she was expecting. He turned his attention back to the right woman and went to greet her with a proper hello once more.

She put her hand to his chest and leaned back. “Don’t you think we should get started?”

He never thought he would receive the cold shoulder, or in her case, the cold lips, for not making love to her, a situation he would not repeat. “First, why don’t I give you a tour, and we will have ourselves a little chat?”

“I think I pretty much got the lay of the land. Wilson gave me a little tour while we were waiting for you not to smoke your cigarette.” She pointed to his ear.

“Let me show you something in the kitchen.” He narrowed his eyes at his brother. Any dealings with Ivy should go through him.

“If you insist.” Her voice came out nonchalant, as if nothing was all too special.

“I do.” He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her away, taking a brief second to take in how the leggings clung to her form. No, he was never going to make it.

“Something smells great.” She entered the small kitchen he had designed when they were completing the build-out.

Without a word, he went to the stove, retrieved a plate, took his time portioning out a bit of his treat, and returned to her. Steam rose from the dish. “There are too many things in this room that are too hot to handle.”

Though her expression didn’t change, her cheeks took on a bit of color.

He cut a piece of the chicken and made sure to get a representative sampling of each vegetable to make the perfect bite. “So, while you were making yourself even more luscious than ever, I got a bit of work done on our project.”

“What would that be?” As she leaned against the small island, her cleavage came into clear view, making his mouth water.

With his focus solely on her, he lifted the fork and blew on the food to cool it down, but just to make sure, he pressed the bite to his lip before holding it out to her. “Open.”

After a brief pause, she opened her mouth.

“My mother used to make this dish. It sort of tastes like home.” He fed her the bite.

Her eyes widened as she chewed and swallowed. “Who made this?”

“So, as I was saying, I did a little work and called one Erin Holland.” He prepared another bite, making sure to go through the same ritual as the first.

“You called Erin?”

With a bit of flourish, he placed the next bite on her tongue. “Yes, and tomorrow you and I will go interview her if that is acceptable with my cohost?”

Upon swallowing, she opened her mouth for more and nodded.

Once more, he repeated his actions. “I think maybe a wardrobe change is in order. You are so gorgeous, I think I may be jealous of the entire world seeing you.”

“Logan.” The color on her cheeks deepened.

“I suppose we should get to work. You have a deadline to meet.” He placed the dish aside.

“Logan.” As he turned, she caught his arm.

“You paged?”

“I thought you might want a taste.” In a sudden move, she pulled him down and kissed him.

His body reacted instantly. The combination of his food and Ivy created an insatiable combination, but rather than a full course, he got merely an appetizer when she broke the kiss. “Ivy.”

“Okay, let’s get to work.” With one last peck, she walked back into the main room.

He watched her leave and shut his eyes. Without a doubt, he had to have her, and without a doubt, he couldn’t screw up. At least he chose Erin rather than Ryder.

CUT TO:

INT. CAR ON THE ROAD– DAY

The four pass the time by playing traditional road games.

WILLIAM

All right, let’s play a new game. What are you most scared of?

WILLIAM twists to look around the car, pointing, trying to find a player.

No one speaks.

WILLIAM

Come on. Charles?

CHARLES puts his book aside.

CHARLES

I guess I’m afraid of not making it, not being successful, and relying on others.

The car becomes silent.

STEVEN

What about you, the question man?

WILLIAM

(Pauses.)

I’m afraid of not being noticed, fading into the background.

WILLIAM hits STEVEN in the shoulder.

WILLIAM

Now you.

STEVEN

(Sarcastic tone.)

I’m terrified this highway will never end.

WILLIAM

Seriously.

STEVEN

I’m afraid that nothing matters.

STEVEN clears his throat.

STEVEN

Let’s hear from our resident female.

ROXY

I’m afraid I’ll never find my place.

Chapter Nine

“While I appreciate the infomercial on Logan’s brother’s business, I would like to know where we stand on something more substantial.” Even through the phone, her boss’s voice came out strained with stress or the need to yell.

“Craig.” Ivy winced. It was probably a good idea she chose not to mention that while he may not have liked the story, Wilson’s place was receiving a ton of calls to reserve a spot for the grand opening.