The anger that touched me was pure and hot. “What a bastard! So I’ve chosen career over him. That lets him off the hook, doesn’t it? He couldn’t manage to get himself disentangled from a crazy woman who pretended to be pregnant and produce a brain tumor just to manipulate him, but I left to follow my career.”
“Whoa, there!” Tinkie pulled me up short.
“Sorry. It’s just so unfair.”
“Sarah Booth, you do have an amazing talent. Whatever you decide to do with it is up to you. Remember, you can only paddle your own canoe. Coleman has to paddle his.”
And that was the perfect answer. “Thank you. I am now paddling mine. My screen test is at eleven tomorrow.”
“That’ll be one o’clock here in Zinnia. I’ll rally the troops and we’ll light a candle for you in Millie’s while we’re eating burgers and fries.”
My mouth watered at the thought of one of Millie’s burgers. Now that I was in Hollywood, it would be a long time before I could indulge in such foods. The camera loved to see the bone structure beneath the flesh. “Eat a piece of apple pie for me.”
“That I can do.” She was laughing when she said good-bye. “You keep your strength up. See you soon.”
CHAPTER TWO
“Magnifico!” Federico Marquez’s voice rang out through the studio, and though the scene was over, I couldn’t pull my gaze away from Graf. His dark hair, so silken, fell forward, almost but not quite covering his compelling eyes.
We were lying on the floor of a studio set, acting the scene where Ned overpowers Matty with his passion, and her last restraint snaps. The teasing scent of Graf’s cologne clouded my senses as the warm weight of his body pressed against mine. He leaned closer, the desire so evident in his eyes that I felt a blush creep up my neck, and I wasn’t a girl prone to flushing.
“Cut, Graf!” Federico laughed as he grasped Graf’s shoulder. “You look as if you mean to devour her.”
“I do.” Graf reluctantly eased off me and then offered his hand to pull me to my feet. It took a few seconds for me to become fully aware of my surroundings again, so deeply had I been captured by Graf’s eyes.
“Sarah Booth, you are incredible!” Federico kissed both of my cheeks in the French style. “You are a star. You were born to make love to the camera.”
“And me,” Graf said under his breath but loud enough for all to hear.
A twitter rippled among the crew, and to my chagrin, I felt another flush move along my skin. Graf noticed and gave me a knowing look. So far, he’d played the game by my rule book-no kissing or making love. But the movie scene had called for a kiss, and he’d delivered one that seared me to the tips of my toes and brought back memories of a time in my life when I’d lived for his embraces and the dream of being a star.
Sweetie Pie ambled onto the set and gave Federico a big sloppy kiss. “I think we must find a role for el perro.” He lifted Sweetie’s ears, holding them out from her head. She bore a strange resemblance to Dumbo, the flying elephant of the childhood story. “She is extraordinary.” He turned to the scriptwriter, Ron O’Gorman. “Can we write her in?”
“Sure, Federico. Whatever you say.” He shot me a glare as he walked away.
“Hollywood can’t function without writers, but no one respects them,” Graf whispered in my ear. “They’re all so surly.”
“I see his point. The original version of the movie didn’t have a dog in it.” I’d only seen the movie about a billion times.
“If Federico wants a dog, this one will have a dog. Let’s hope Sweetie can pull it off. I wonder if we can get her in the union?”
I rolled my eyes and noticed that Federico was watching the two of us. He came over and took my hand.
“I want to see the takes, but I know how good you’re going to be on screen, Sarah Booth. You’re perfect to play Matty. And Graf is an exceptional Ned. The two of you will be hotter than Kathleen and Bill.”
“I’ve loved this part for years,” I admitted.
Federico put his hand on each of our shoulders. “You two share a magic that the camera relishes. Be careful. Love can turn to hate in an instant in this town. Competition, jealousy, betrayal. The camera will see all of that, too, so treat each other with kindness and respect. It’s a lesson I’ve learned the hard way.” His eyes reflected sadness and regret before he turned away.
“Federico, are you ready for lunch?”
We all turned to see a woman with legs that seemed five feet long come walking onto the set. She was beautiful, with silvery gray eyes and blond hair that swung about her face with each step. I recognized her instantly. Jovan. She was the number one Victoria’s Secret model and the “sexiest woman alive” according to People magazine.
Federico made the introductions. Jovan, who was at least twenty years younger, was his main squeeze. In Hollywood, magnetism was often created by equal power. A man Jovan’s age would find it difficult to meet her head-on. She was too beautiful, too sexy, too much for a young man’s ego to deal with. Federico wasn’t threatened by either her beauty or success. Hollywood was already teaching me some valuable lessons.
Federico put his hand on Graf’s arm. “I need to shoot some footage of you with Jovan after lunch. The chemistry between you must be on the screen.”
The tiny little flame of jealousy caught me unprepared. Jovan was so incredibly beautiful. I hadn’t realized she had a part in the movie.
Federico must have caught my look because he turned to me. “Jovan is going to play Matty’s sister-in-law,” he explained. “She is beautiful, yes? A perfect complement to the dark sexuality you exude, Sarah Booth.”
A bit soothed, I whistled up my dog and decided that I would take my insecurities to the ocean. If I was going to work in this town, I had to get a grip on my fears. In New York, I’d always played it a little too safe, a little too reserved. The stage demanded big gestures. Film, so much more intimate, was perfect for me-unless I let my own self-doubt erode my confidence.
I gave Graf a kiss and told him I was taking Sweetie to lunch at the Vineyard, a little place in Malibu that I’d heard so much about from Millie. Stars dined there on a regular basis. I was smiling when I left the building and stepped into a perfect, cloudless California day. I put an Eagles disk in the CD player as I edged the Thunderbird convertible, circa 1957, that Graf had rented for me onto the highway. Sweetie wore her sunglasses and a scarf. We reeked of Hollywood success.
The Vineyard was bare of celebrity but offered the best green salad I’d ever eaten. Sweetie was served grilled free-range chicken cubes, and after lunch, I took her to the beach. The sand was coarser, duller than the sugar-white powder that comprised the Gulf of Mexico beaches with which I was familiar. Instead of the gentle Gulf swells, this surf pounded the shore. While Sweetie ran into the waves and came out to shake the cold water all over me, I stayed well on land. The Pacific wasn’t a body of water to tease. Like so much of California, it seemed designed for pleasure, but there was a definite undertow of danger.
When we got back up the mountain to the house, I was surprised to find the front door unlocked. I was certain Graf had locked it. I checked throughout the house, but there was nothing that I could find missing.
Perhaps the owner had come to retrieve some personal item. Bobby Joe Taylor was in the vicinity, holed up somewhere on Sunset Boulevard with his girlfriend, writing another brilliant script. He said he didn’t like to taint the ambiance of his home with actual work, so he loaned his home out to friends while he finished a project.
It wasn’t until I went in the bathroom that I found the note, written in bloodred lipstick. “Pack your hick ass up and head home.”
Instead of frightening me, the message made me furious. I got the glass cleaner and a roll of paper towels and instantly scrubbed it away. It was only after I’d finished that I realized my actions were rash. Someone had broken into the house to leave that message. It might have been a smarter move to call the law and at least establish a pattern of craziness if the author of the note decided to act again.