Yet.
13
Reese
“You still awake, Floozy?” River asks, his warm breath tickling the top of my head.
I laugh dryly and lift my head. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. We’re standing next to his truck, and I have no idea when we stopped moving or how long I’ve been leaning on him, but he certainly gets points for his patience.
“I’m awake. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” Cautiously, he scans my face before brushing my mussed-up hair behind my ear. “I’m sorry I was an ass inside. Let’s get you home.”
With his help, I climb into his lifted truck, then rest my head against the leather headrest and close my eyes as River rounds the front of his vehicle and gets behind the wheel.
“I’m sorry I made you leave your date,” I whisper.
He turns on the ignition, and the rumble from the engine is all I get in reply.
Defeated, I squeeze my eyes shut and release a shaky breath.
I don’t feel so good.
“It wasn’t a date,” he mutters, pulling onto the road.
I glance over at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze.
“You said it was a date.”
“Well, I lied.”
“Oh.”
More silence.
Then I add, “It looked like a date.”
“She’s not my type,” he divulges under his breath.
“I heard you weren’t too picky.”
He breathes out a deep laugh. “Where’d you hear that from?”
Shrugging, I dodge his question and follow it up with one of my own. “If it wasn’t a date, then what was it?”
He cracks his neck from left to right before rolling his shoulders.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I clarify, though I’m dying to know.
Glancing my way, his forearms tighten as he squeezes the steering wheel. If there were such a thing as arm porn, he’d be able to make bank. Actually, he’d probably be able to make bank at real porn, too, but…
“She’s my agent,” he answers me tightly.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. I know. You don’t usually meet agents at a bar unless it’s for porn or something.”
Dude. Can he read minds?
“But,” he continues, “an opportunity popped up, and we wanted to go over the game plan.”
“What kind of opportunity?”
“She was able to get me in for a photoshoot with a pretty big-named photographer who happens to know a guy that’s looking for a fresh face for one of the last movies that he plans on directing.”
Wait. A movie? Like a legit one?
I shake my head in an attempt to focus before acknowledging that Gibson was right. I’m going to be so sick tomorrow––scratch that. I might be sick in five minutes.
“T-that’s…big, right?” I stutter. “I mean, I know I’m drunk, but that sounds like a pretty huge deal. Is that a huge deal?”
That same deep laugh puts my mind at ease as he glances at me with a wry grin. “Yeah, Reese. It’s a pretty big deal, but I didn’t want to jinx it or anything by telling the guys yet.”
“So, how did it go? The whole game plan,” I clarify.
“It went very well. She thinks I have a shot at the part as long as the photoshoot goes well with the photographer. He’s known for hooking up his models by helping them shoot a quick audition tape to send to his friends in the film industry if he thinks they have potential. It’s…complicated and pretty unheard of, but he’s done it at least a dozen times. And, if the photoshoot goes well, and I can bring the heat”––he winks––“then he’ll pitch me to the director for one of the leading roles.”
Bring the heat? Yeah. Call it a hunch, but I don’t think that’s going to be an issue.
“That’s amazing, River. Want to know a secret?”
He glances over at me. “What’s that?”
“When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an actress.” I laugh. “The movie stars all looked so happy, ya know? And I loved pretending to be anyone who wasn’t me. Someone who didn’t have alcoholic parents. Someone who people wanted to be around. Someone who could be whoever they wanted without anyone else to tell them they couldn’t. But that’s a pipe dream, ya know? And yet…here you are. You’re actually pulling it off. I’m seriously proud of you, Riv.”
His smile is shy and totally adorable as he meets my gaze. “Don’t be too proud yet. And don’t tell anyone, okay? I need to make sure my mom keeps her nose out of it, or else I’ll walk away from the project. I swear she has eyes and ears everywhere, so keeping this on the down-low is going to be impossible.”
“Your mom?” I ask.
There’s something about the way he mentions her, with a hint of disgust and animosity that would break a woman’s heart.
“Yeah.” His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t give me any other explanation.
“Who’s your mom?” I press. I blame the liquid courage but don’t back down.
Clearing his throat, he pulls into the driveway and turns off the car, but he doesn’t open his door, which gives me hope that he won’t end the conversation when I’m dying for a few more details.
Still, my stupid mouth feels the need to backpedal. “You don’t have to tell me––”
“Monet Cavier. That’s my mom.”
Jerking back, I hit my head on the passenger window and rub the sore spot with my fingers. “Ouch,” I mumble before adding, “Like…the Monet Cavier?”
He nods. “That’s the one.”
“Like…award-winning Monet Cavier?” I press.
“Yeah.”
“Holy shit, River. That’s insane!”
His giant hand rubs his tired face roughly. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Uh, I mean… It’s kind of a big deal.”
He rolls his eyes, though there’s a genuine smile threatening to break through his annoyance, so I’m going to say that’s progress.
“Can I ask you something, Riv?”
“What’s that?”
“Actually,” I correct myself. “Can I ask you two somethings?”
He chuckles. “Go ahead. Apparently, when I’m around you, I’m an open book.”
“One.” I raise my index finger. “Why do I get the feeling you hate your mom? And two…”––I lift my middle finger to join my other one in the air––“Why do you live with three other guys when your family’s loaded? Oh! I take it back. I have three questions. Question number three. What’s your last name? ‘Cause I could’ve sworn it isn’t Cavier.”
“One. My childhood was hell whenever my self-centered mother was in town. She didn’t even want me around growing up. In fact, she didn’t want me, period. As soon as she found out she was pregnant, she wanted an abortion, but my dad convinced her to keep me around. Not sure how he pulled that one off, but…yeah. I guess he had a convincing argument to justify a few stretch marks that she could pay to have fixed once I was born.”