solitary life was the safe life. Little to no risk.
I figured the blonde was around twenty-three, a couple years older than me and probably the brunette, who had a younger feel about her, though graceful and sophisticated too, as though she came from an upper class home and was accustomed to luxury. I hoped the enchanting sound of the brunette’s voice wasn’t a ruse. If her face held a fraction of the beauty, I’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of it.
I watched as the blonde gave the mystery girl a once over in her perfectly fitted clothing. “That can’t be comfortable,” she sympathized. “Aren’t we just reading today?”
The brunette shrugged. “My father discourages dressing for comfort almost as much as processed foods.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Do you always do what your father tells you?”
“No,” the brunette replied quickly, almost self-consciously. “But let’s just say he plays a big part in my life.” She laughed quietly to herself. “I’m so sorry, I feel like you know way more about my father than you ever wanted to. I’m Gwen.” She held out her hand to the blonde.
Gwen. I raked my mind for all the Gwens I knew in Hollywood. Was it Guinevere, another variation of it, or just Gwen? I needed to see her damned face for a complete picture.
“Erica,” the blonde replied, shifting her plate to her left hand so she could offer Gwen her right one.
“Oh.” Gwen’s voice lit up. “You’re the author. Erica Ellis.”
“Guilty,” the tall blonde confessed with a lopsided grimace.
Of course. Erica Ellis, author of Straightlaced , the book our TV series would be based on. It sat on my bedside table with her face plastered across the back cover for months, collecting dust. I’d picked it up exactly once in all that time. I’d never been big on researching roles, preferring to jump into them with my own twists. Colleagues praised me for it. Evidently though, Gwen had done her homework.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” Gwen cried.
Erica shook her head. “I’d be a little offended if you had. I know I look different without the blowout and heavy make up. I really need to get that author photo redone.”
“I fell in love with your book,” Gwen gushed. “I’m sure you get that all the time.”
Erica chuckled and shrugged a frail shoulder. “I do, but never before from a critically acclaimed celebrity.”
Critically acclaimed? My brow furrowed. Surely I knew this Gwen, or knew of her. But so far, I couldn’t place her. I straightened my jacket, getting ready to casually enter the room and take command, as though I hadn’t been eavesdropping this whole time. But then…
“Do you know who else we’ll be working with?” Gwen asked. “I never heard back from Lyle.”
I pulled back against the doorframe to keep listening. If my name came up, this was my chance to be the proverbial fly on a wall.
Erica rolled her eyes. “Oh wow, I have the same problem. He never replies. It’s been such a hassle communicating with him. For a director, he’s pretty disorganized. But yes, I helped with the casting process, so I know who you’re working with. Garrick Maze is playing your Payton.” She donned a sly, flirtatious smile.
My chest swelled with pride.
Wait… Your Payton? So Gwen was…my female lead? I craned my neck for a better look.
“Garrick Maze?” Gwen parroted with less enthusiasm. The disappointed tone in her beautiful voice instantly cut me down, and air leaked from my mouth like a deflating balloon. “The guy who starred in Blast Zone ?”
“One and the same,” Erica said, scrutinizing Gwen for a long moment. “You seem a little uncertain.”
“No, it’s just...”
I bore the weighty silence of her pause like one waiting for the punch line of a bad joke. What was she getting at? What was so bad about working with Garrick Maze? I heard he was a pretty awesome guy.
“Isn’t he an action star?” Gwen asked. “I’ve seen several
I figured the blonde was around twenty-three, a couple years older than me and probably the brunette, who had a younger feel about her, though graceful and sophisticated too, as though she came from an upper class home and was accustomed to luxury. I hoped the enchanting sound of the brunette’s voice wasn’t a ruse. If her face held a fraction of the beauty, I’d be lucky to catch a glimpse of it.
I watched as the blonde gave the mystery girl a once over in her perfectly fitted clothing. “That can’t be comfortable,” she sympathized. “Aren’t we just reading today?”
The brunette shrugged. “My father discourages dressing for comfort almost as much as processed foods.”
The blonde raised an eyebrow. “Do you always do what your father tells you?”
“No,” the brunette replied quickly, almost self-consciously. “But let’s just say he plays a big part in my life.” She laughed quietly to herself. “I’m so sorry, I feel like you know way more about my father than you ever wanted to. I’m Gwen.” She held out her hand to the blonde.
Gwen. I raked my mind for all the Gwens I knew in Hollywood. Was it Guinevere, another variation of it, or just Gwen? I needed to see her damned face for a complete picture.
“Erica,” the blonde replied, shifting her plate to her left hand so she could offer Gwen her right one.
“Oh.” Gwen’s voice lit up. “You’re the author. Erica Ellis.”
“Guilty,” the tall blonde confessed with a lopsided grimace.
Of course. Erica Ellis, author of Straightlaced , the book our TV series would be based on. It sat on my bedside table with her face plastered across the back cover for months, collecting dust. I’d picked it up exactly once in all that time. I’d never been big on researching roles, preferring to jump into them with my own twists. Colleagues praised me for it. Evidently though, Gwen had done her homework.
“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you,” Gwen cried.
Erica shook her head. “I’d be a little offended if you had. I know I look different without the blowout and heavy make up. I really need to get that author photo redone.”
“I fell in love with your book,” Gwen gushed. “I’m sure you get that all the time.”
Erica chuckled and shrugged a frail shoulder. “I do, but never before from a critically acclaimed celebrity.”
Critically acclaimed? My brow furrowed. Surely I knew this Gwen, or knew of her. But so far, I couldn’t place her. I straightened my jacket, getting ready to casually enter the room and take command, as though I hadn’t been eavesdropping this whole time. But then…
“Do you know who else we’ll be working with?” Gwen asked. “I never heard back from Lyle.”
I pulled back against the doorframe to keep listening. If my name came up, this was my chance to be the proverbial fly on a wall.
Erica rolled her eyes. “Oh wow, I have the same problem. He never replies. It’s been such a hassle communicating with him. For a director, he’s pretty disorganized. But yes, I helped with the casting process, so I know who you’re working with. Garrick Maze is playing your Payton.” She donned a sly, flirtatious smile.
My chest swelled with pride.
Wait… Your Payton? So Gwen was…my female lead? I craned my neck for a better look.
“Garrick Maze?” Gwen parroted with less enthusiasm. The disappointed tone in her beautiful voice instantly cut me down, and air leaked from my mouth like a deflating balloon. “The guy who starred in Blast Zone ?”
“One and the same,” Erica said, scrutinizing Gwen for a long moment. “You seem a little uncertain.”
“No, it’s just...”
I bore the weighty silence of her pause like one waiting for the punch line of a bad joke. What was she getting at? What was so bad about working with Garrick Maze? I heard he was a pretty awesome guy.
“Isn’t he an action star?” Gwen asked. “I’ve seen several
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