Hollywood Dirt
Page 25
I sank onto the couch and rested my head back. The damn thing now smelled of him, some exotic scent I would need to Febreze out. Well, there went my chance to get any type of job on the set. Not that Ben had had much luck with Eileen WhatsHerFace. I’d heard his half of the conversation with the AD. It hadn’t been great for my self-esteem. I really didn’t have a lot of brag-worthy talents. ‘Making delicious carrot cake’ and ‘a sparkling sense of humor’ didn’t really seem like Top 10 Qualities Desired on a Movie Set. Damn. I kicked out a foot and rested it on the coffee table. Looked at the ring of moisture caused by Cole’s glass and frowned. Leaned forward and wiped it away. He’d left his water. I could be a dear and bring it out to him. Apologize for my outburst and invite them back in.
Nah. Ben had a car. They could get in it, crank the A/C, and head into town. Ben was probably on the phone with Mrs. Kirkland. Her house would be close to ready, their RV already delivered, big plans in place to road-trip around the country on Envision Entertainment’s dime. Cole Masten moving in a month early shouldn’t be much of an issue.
I blew out a frustrated breath. What the hell would he do here for a month?
CHAPTER 30
“There’s only a month before we start filming. It’s impossible.” The clipped tones of the director came through a burst of static and Cole glanced at the cell, cursing at the low number of bars.
“Nothing’s impossible. You know Minka is dying to get out of this movie. Let’s call her agent, make them think we are rolling over, and get something out of it. Maybe a cameo. Or cash. Or I don’t care. But this girl is perfect, I’m telling you. Right now, get your ass on a plane and over here.”
“You’re an actor, Cole. You know everyone can’t do this. The last thing I want is to stick a wooden face on the screen.”
His hand grappled for the seat’s controls, sliding the chair all the way back and attempting to stretch out his legs a little. “That’s the beauty of it, Don. She won’t have to act at all. She just has to be herself. Aniston has made a freakin’ career out of it; this girl just has to do it for one movie.”
“No. I’m not doing it. I’m not throwing this entire movie in the can just because some wanna-be starlet sucked your dick in a corn field.”
“Cotton field, Don.” Cole grinned. “Didn’t you read the book? I know I sent you the book.”
“WHATEVER!” the man exploded. “I’m not doing it.”
“I’m not in love; the girl blew me off. But she was Georgian as hell in doing it. Pure freakin’ Southern Charm. Be at the Santa Monica airport in an hour, I’ll have a jet waiting. Meet the girl, and you can tell me tomorrow to go to hell and fly back home. It’s twenty-four hours, Don. And you know this Price thing isn’t going away. She smells Oscar on that Clooney piece and is creaming for it.”
There was a long pause, and Cole watched as they slowed, a tractor ahead of them, a man perched atop two huge wheels.
“I’m somewhere. Give me an hour and a half… and make it Van Nuys. I want to see this girl tonight, I don’t care how late it is when I arrive, and then I’m flying back. My kid has some awards ceremony thing in the morning.”
Cole smiled. “It’s done. Call me when you land.”
There was a grumble, and the call ended. Cole slammed a hand on the dash in celebration, the loud sound making the man beside him jump. “What was your name again?” Cole asked.
“Bennington. Ben,” he amended.
“Ben, pull the car over. I’m gonna drive.”
Ben obeyed, the sedan bumping as it rolled over the tall grass. By the time he put the car into park and opened his door, Cole was there, larger than life, the afternoon sun haloing him as Ben looked up and stepped out.
“Thanks,” Cole said, settling his long legs into the car, Ben jogging over to the passenger side, half afraid the man would pull off and leave him behind.
When Cole hit the gas, the wheel yanked left, the car slid a little in its U-turn, and Ben gripped the handle.
“Sir, the… uh. Town is back there.”
“We’re going back to the girl. What’s her name?”
“Summer. Is she… uh… is she the one you were just talking about on the phone?” There was a bit of shrillness in the man’s voice, a highness that didn’t really fit, and he glanced over, his hand tightening on the steering wheel as they took a curve fast. The car had some pickup. Surprising.
“Yes. Something wrong?”
“You’re wanting to cast her? As an actress?” The man’s face was almost white, and Cole glanced at his hand, holding the center console tight, his knuckles almost bleached from the grip. He couldn’t tell if the man was scared of his driving or the prospect of Summer as an—
Summer. A terrible name. Was Ethel or June already taken? Summers should be reserved for thirteen year old girls with braces on their teeth. He slowed down a little, brought the speedometer needle under sixty and watched the man’s shoulders relax a little.
“Yes,” Cole answered the question, his foot shifting to the brake as he looked for the turn.
“An extra?”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Not… I mean you mentioned Minka…” The man—Ben was it?—swallowed hard and pointed right. “That’s the street.”
Cole applied the brakes, the cheap car skidding to a stop instead of turning. He shifted the car into park and turned to face the man. “What’s wrong? Spit it out.”
Nah. Ben had a car. They could get in it, crank the A/C, and head into town. Ben was probably on the phone with Mrs. Kirkland. Her house would be close to ready, their RV already delivered, big plans in place to road-trip around the country on Envision Entertainment’s dime. Cole Masten moving in a month early shouldn’t be much of an issue.
I blew out a frustrated breath. What the hell would he do here for a month?
CHAPTER 30
“There’s only a month before we start filming. It’s impossible.” The clipped tones of the director came through a burst of static and Cole glanced at the cell, cursing at the low number of bars.
“Nothing’s impossible. You know Minka is dying to get out of this movie. Let’s call her agent, make them think we are rolling over, and get something out of it. Maybe a cameo. Or cash. Or I don’t care. But this girl is perfect, I’m telling you. Right now, get your ass on a plane and over here.”
“You’re an actor, Cole. You know everyone can’t do this. The last thing I want is to stick a wooden face on the screen.”
His hand grappled for the seat’s controls, sliding the chair all the way back and attempting to stretch out his legs a little. “That’s the beauty of it, Don. She won’t have to act at all. She just has to be herself. Aniston has made a freakin’ career out of it; this girl just has to do it for one movie.”
“No. I’m not doing it. I’m not throwing this entire movie in the can just because some wanna-be starlet sucked your dick in a corn field.”
“Cotton field, Don.” Cole grinned. “Didn’t you read the book? I know I sent you the book.”
“WHATEVER!” the man exploded. “I’m not doing it.”
“I’m not in love; the girl blew me off. But she was Georgian as hell in doing it. Pure freakin’ Southern Charm. Be at the Santa Monica airport in an hour, I’ll have a jet waiting. Meet the girl, and you can tell me tomorrow to go to hell and fly back home. It’s twenty-four hours, Don. And you know this Price thing isn’t going away. She smells Oscar on that Clooney piece and is creaming for it.”
There was a long pause, and Cole watched as they slowed, a tractor ahead of them, a man perched atop two huge wheels.
“I’m somewhere. Give me an hour and a half… and make it Van Nuys. I want to see this girl tonight, I don’t care how late it is when I arrive, and then I’m flying back. My kid has some awards ceremony thing in the morning.”
Cole smiled. “It’s done. Call me when you land.”
There was a grumble, and the call ended. Cole slammed a hand on the dash in celebration, the loud sound making the man beside him jump. “What was your name again?” Cole asked.
“Bennington. Ben,” he amended.
“Ben, pull the car over. I’m gonna drive.”
Ben obeyed, the sedan bumping as it rolled over the tall grass. By the time he put the car into park and opened his door, Cole was there, larger than life, the afternoon sun haloing him as Ben looked up and stepped out.
“Thanks,” Cole said, settling his long legs into the car, Ben jogging over to the passenger side, half afraid the man would pull off and leave him behind.
When Cole hit the gas, the wheel yanked left, the car slid a little in its U-turn, and Ben gripped the handle.
“Sir, the… uh. Town is back there.”
“We’re going back to the girl. What’s her name?”
“Summer. Is she… uh… is she the one you were just talking about on the phone?” There was a bit of shrillness in the man’s voice, a highness that didn’t really fit, and he glanced over, his hand tightening on the steering wheel as they took a curve fast. The car had some pickup. Surprising.
“Yes. Something wrong?”
“You’re wanting to cast her? As an actress?” The man’s face was almost white, and Cole glanced at his hand, holding the center console tight, his knuckles almost bleached from the grip. He couldn’t tell if the man was scared of his driving or the prospect of Summer as an—
Summer. A terrible name. Was Ethel or June already taken? Summers should be reserved for thirteen year old girls with braces on their teeth. He slowed down a little, brought the speedometer needle under sixty and watched the man’s shoulders relax a little.
“Yes,” Cole answered the question, his foot shifting to the brake as he looked for the turn.
“An extra?”
He chuckled. “No.”
“Not… I mean you mentioned Minka…” The man—Ben was it?—swallowed hard and pointed right. “That’s the street.”
Cole applied the brakes, the cheap car skidding to a stop instead of turning. He shifted the car into park and turned to face the man. “What’s wrong? Spit it out.”
