Cora Bentley’s gorgeous face flits through my mind but I shake that away. She doesn’t fit in the game plan. As much as I’ll treasure the memory of her, of how responsive she was to my touch, and how beautiful she looked falling apart at my mouth and fingers, it can’t happen again. I can’t afford distractions. Not even her.
Four
Cora
In spite of my lack of sleep, I showed up today and crushed my audition. I know it. The director knows it. The producer knows it. It feels damn good. I take a seat across the table from the producer, who shoots the director a long look, knowing what they’re going to say before they speak the words aloud.
“I’m sure this comes as no surprise, but we want you for this role,” the casting director says.
I let my smile beam, and radiate joy from my entire body. “I would be honored to take on this project.”
“There’s just one thing.”
There’s always a thing. With my smile in place, I nod and brace for whatever it is.
“How soon can we get you on location?” the director, Isabella Martin, asks and leans back in her chair.
“My schedule is open.” I wouldn’t have auditioned otherwise. “My next project is six months out and that’s a cameo, so they’ll be flexible if needed.”
“Good.” The producer, Marc Andrew, says. “I was hoping you’d say that. We know what we’re asking is out of the ordinary, but I’m sure you’ve heard the rumors. The original lead cast for this, Katie Benson, dropped from the project last minute.”
I shake my head and rein in my surprise. Katie is as big as it gets. That she would give up this role, or be let go so close to filming, isn’t normal. “No, I hadn’t heard.”
“That’s why we need you on a plane to Brazil. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” My brows rise, along with my shock. My agent failed to mention this. Or maybe she wasn’t aware. Even still, I’m caught off guard.
“It’s extenuating circumstances, we know,” Isabella says. “We understand the inconvenience.”
“No. No, it’s fine. I can do it. I want to do it. I just didn’t realize.” I’ll be having a word with my agent when I leave. Packing. Canceling plans. My mind reels with the start of a to-do list.
“We are trying to keep rumors at bay, but you know how that goes. One of the main financiers of the film will likely pull his support if we don’t deliver a strong lead before the first day of shooting.”
“Oh?” I’ve read the script. I want this role. It’s a stretch for me. Would showcase my versatility. But if the funding is uncertain, this could be a torrential waste of my time.
“Not that we expect him to!” The producer’s brows shoot up, most likely reading into my silence. “I’m sorry. You’ll get paid. We have a generous offer. We just require that you live in Brazil for the next six weeks. Ever been?”
“Once.” I exhale a breath of relief. Am I really doing this? How can I not? “It’s probably the most beautiful place on earth I’ve stepped foot. So far at least.”
“Good.” Isabella Martin leans forward on her elbows. “So, you’re open to it?”
“Of course.” A ping of disappointment clouds my excitement. It’s an adventure, and I never turn those down, but if I leave tomorrow that’s not much time to track down my late-night orgasm delivery man. I shake that thought from my mind. “Only six weeks? Won’t shooting take longer than that?”
“Yes, a good majority of the scenes will be filmed in the studio. We’ll return to shoot those here in LA.”
“Okay, that makes sense.” I nod and can’t think of a single reason why I’d pass on this opportunity. Except for Isaac. Which is ludicrous to even entertain. We hooked up, not even a proper hookup, and I’m not passing on a role like this for the chance he might want to see me again. I meet the director’s gaze. “I want the role. I read the screenplay.”
“So, you can appreciate why we want to film as much as possible on location? Her story is nothing without the cultural influences.”
I nod, and a bubble of excitement balloons in my belly with the thought of what this role could mean. I may be America’s sweetheart, but I want to be taken seriously in this industry. Not that there’s anything wrong with the roles I’ve played. I am thankful to have work, but I’m capable of more. I believe it. I only have to show the world.
Marc Andrews stands and reaches out his hand. “Miss Cora Bentley, you can expect an offer to your agent within the hour.”
“Thank you for the opportunity.” My grin takes over my face as I shake his hand, and then Isabella Martin’s.
“Thank you, Cora. I’ll see you in Brazil.”
Brazil. Tomorrow! The laundry list of things I have to get done, including laundry, tallies in my mind as I get in my vehicle and head back to my apartment. I got the role! The excitement from that alone is enough to make me scream at the next stoplight and do a little dance inside the cab of my Hummer. I crank the music to my favorite top forty playlist and sing along at the top of my lungs. This is big. Huge. I can’t believe I landed a starring role in a Marc Andrews film. Fuck me! It’s all happening. Everything I’ve done, all the missteps and trials have led me to this very moment in time. Exactly where I’m meant to be.
I wish I had someone to share it with.
The thought comes as quick as my breath and stings my eyes with emotion. No. I won’t allow myself to go there. I haven’t put energy or time into building relationships. I’ve been focused on my career. I wouldn’t be where I am today without that commitment to myself. I won’t apologize or feel guilty for making my dreams a reality. Sometimes we make sacrifices, and I refuse to live with regret.
At least that’s what I tell myself as I scramble to prepare to live in another country for the next month and a half.
Today was exhausting, but I’m packed and mostly ready for my early morning flight. I should be home in bed, or at the very least trying to sleep, but instead I hop into my vehicle and cruise down the street. It’s ridiculous, really, but the Hummer practically steers itself to the coffee shop. Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
Isaac probably won’t be working. What are the chances? I can’t help but worry I’ll never find him again if I don’t do this now.
It’s almost ten, but the place is pretty packed. I usually don’t stop by until after midnight when the coffee shop is more of a ghost town. I shuffle forward with the line, taking in the two women dressed in the café’s logo T-shirts behind the counter working to make drinks and fill orders. There’s no sign of him. Damn it.
One of the women behind the counter moves to the register when it’s my turn to order. “Sorry about the wait. What can I get you?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, a bad habit from when I was young. I’m only interested in staying if he’s working. “Is Isaac working tonight?”
She cocks her head, her gaze growing with interest. “Aren’t you?” Her eyes are wide as saucers and the pitch of her tone draws several stares. “Oh, my gosh! I loved you in The Marriage Pact.”