Telling her husband she was leaving town had set her off, Sam Easton had said as much. “Were you angry?”
“No! Disappointed, but not angry.”
“But you ended up at her house.”
“We talked things through over the phone. I promised to take the subject off the table for the time being. She seemed calmer, more like herself, and invited me over.”
Make-up sex. “Is there anyone here at the hotel who can confirm you’ve been here since the gym and room service?”
“I’ve been working in my room for the past four hours.”
“So that’s a no.”
He suddenly withered like an underwatered plant and his eyes filled with tears. “I loved her. I would never kill her. I’m sure Sam loved her, too, but he’s very unstable.”
Lightner was emotionally immature and self-involved, which went hand in hand with jealousy. If I can’t have her, no one else will, Nolan thought. It could apply to both the men in Yukiko Easton’s life.
Chapter Forty-five
MELODY WASN’T SURPRISED WHEN ROLF WALKED into Pearl Club. Actually, it seemed inevitable. He was on a mission to cast Sam in his film, and he wasn’t going to give up without a fight. But if he thought he’d find an ally in her, he was dead wrong.
He looked around, smiled when he spotted her, then headed to the bar. He carried a raggedy, canvas satchel that wouldn’t have been out of place on Skid Row downtown. When he took a seat, she walked over and placed a coaster in front of him. “Hi, Rolf, long time no see. I don’t suppose you’re in here for lunch.”
“Nope, just a drink.”
“Uh-huh. You wouldn’t happen to be following us, would you, trying to wear down Sam?”
He reared back and held his hands up. “Hey, no way, you got me all wrong.”
Melody scowled at him. “Sam’s not working today.”
“No problem, I’ll catch up with him another time. I just stopped by to drop off a script with you. Can I have an orange juice?”
“Ice?”
“Not if it’s fresh.”
“Of course it is, we couldn’t charge seven bucks for it otherwise.” Melody filled a glass with juice and passed it over.
“Thanks. So what do you think about being a part of my movie, Melody? You and Sam … it’s picture-perfect in my mind.”
“I told you, I’m not an actress.”
“Everybody starts somewhere.”
“Not interested. There’s plenty of underused talent in this city, why are you so hung up on Sam?”
“Because he’s made for the role. He’s got an undercurrent, an edge, the kind of vibe that brings a character to life. And he’s mysterious. So are you.”
“I’m a bartender. Not much mystery there.”
“You’re more than that. So is Sam. He told me he got his scars in a farm accident.”
It took great effort to stifle her laugh. Farm accident? What a smartass. “He doesn’t like to talk about it.”
Rolf took a sip of his juice, rolled it around in his mouth, and nodded approvingly. “So anyhow, I wanted to invite you two over to my place tonight if you’re free—take a look at the storyboards, talk about my trip to the desert this weekend. I’m scouting locations and I want you and Sam to come along.”
“You’re a relentless pitchman.”
“You also think I’m annoying, I can tell.”
“What gave me away?”
“Your eyes. They’re a really bitching green, by the way, they’d really pop on film.” He frowned. “Do you have a black eye?”
“I got bumped with a surfboard. Rough water.”
“I tried surfing once and the same thing happened to me. You did a good job covering it up, I almost didn’t notice.” He folded his hands on the bar in what Melody imagined was an attempt at supplication. “Look, I’m just fighting for something I believe in. You and me and Sam, we can all fight together. We can all share the dream.”
“Is this when the mawkish music cues up and the heroes hug and walk off into the sunset?”
He gave her a sheepish smile. “Pure cheese ball, right? But I mean it. I offered Sam Guild rate, but I can probably do a little better than that for both of you.”
Melody dipped some glasses into the wash sink. Rolf was weird, naïve, and immature, but he wasn’t entirely unpleasant. And like it or not, she felt a connection with him. She knew what it was like to be creative and have a dream, knew what it was like when the dream fell apart. They also shared the journey of recovery from addiction, which said a lot about his strength and character, even if he was a little whack.
Still, she figured him for a spoiled Hollywood brat with delusions of grandeur and a bank account that opened doors in his world. Had anyone ever told him no? Would that two-letter word launch him into a tantrum? Part of her hoped so, it would be good entertainment on a slow day. “Thanks, but there’s some stuff going on. Personal stuff.”
“Yeah? I hope it’s not bad.”
“It’s not a good time for Sam or for me.”
He nodded in understanding. Disappointment. Both. “Okay. Doesn’t hurt to ask, right?”
“For what it’s worth, you made a good case.”
He reached into his bag and laid a bound script on the bar. “This is my screenplay. It’s called Deep into the Dark. I hope you have time to read it someday.”
Melody glanced at the script, then stashed it in her bag beneath the bar. So much for a tantrum. “Thanks. I will.”
“I did some rewrites last night. I’m pretty happy with them. Don’t forget, storyboards tonight. You could even stay if you want. There are ten extra bedrooms—and Pops is out of town, so I have the whole place to myself. We could leave early tomorrow morning for the desert.”
“Ten extra bedrooms?”
“Yeah. And a pool with a waterfall. Give me a call if you change your minds. Sam has my number. And you do, too, my card is in there.” He finished his juice and hopped off his stool. “How long have you worked here?”
“A couple years.”
“Do you like it?”
“I like it fine.”
“Do you play guitar?”
“No.”
“Too bad. The female lead plays guitar, but we could fudge that if you decided to take the role. I can teach you a few chords, and we won’t light those scenes much.” He laid a hundred-dollar bill on the bar. “Keep the change. I’ve gotta run, I’m picking up some lenses. Think about the trip to the desert. I’ve got a suite at Two Bunch Palms for the weekend, and I can always book another one for you and Sam. Hope to see you around.”
Melody looked down at the hundred, wondering what it would be like to leave a ninety-three-dollar tip for a glass of orange juice or book a couple thousand-dollar suites at Two Bunch Palms without a second thought. She would probably never know, not unless she won the lottery. But in spite of Rolf’s privilege, she had the sense that he was a lonely, lost soul, loitering on the outer perimeter of life, hoping to buy his way in.
“Mel?”
She looked up and saw Ashley slipping behind the bar, moving faster than her usual, wine-mellowed pace. She looked anxious. Maybe Langdon had finally figured out the white coffee situation. He was cool; but drinking on the job, along with personal cell phone use, was expressly verboten, grounds for immediate termination.