Chapter 17 #2
Clint had met her at the motel just after eight, taken one look at her and started running a bath in her heavenly hotel room. He’d gone to pick up food from the diner while she’d soaked and let some of the tension ease from her body.
She’d never been with a man who’d been that considerate without it being about sex. Ever. He’d just been kind, that’s all, and here she was, in the throes, as they say, of a very big dilemma.
What she’d like very much to do was lay it all out for him, piece by piece, but since she wasn’t sure that any of the pieces made sense, she didn’t think it was time. Or maybe it wasn’t appropriate. Probably both.
He wouldn’t understand, anyway. She’d end up sounding like a Tinseltown flake, which was the last thing she wanted.
If she’d really wanted to be fair, she’d tell him they should skip tonight, make plans for tomorrow.
But since she’d worked for fifteen hours yesterday, they’d only talked on the phone, and she wasn’t willing to do it again.
Not when there were so few nights ahead of them. Maybe if they ate and made love, her mind would just shut off and she wouldn’t have to think about how badly she wanted to quit. Walk away. She still hadn’t come to terms with Erin’s willingness to continue working with Jason.
That backstabbing wiener. How many times had Erin saved his hide on this film? On every project they’d ever worked on, but especially this one. The one that counted. And how did he repay her? By giving her job to a butt-head.
Just thinking about it made her muscles tense—and just when she’d finally loosened up.
Hearing the door to the outer room open, she smiled, ready to get out of the tub and into bed with Clint. She quickly dried off, and just as he knocked, she wrapped the towel around herself. “I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time. I got the rotisserie chicken you like, and a salad with Italian on the side.”
“Sounds great. What did you get?” She wiped off the mirror with her hand, but wished she hadn’t when she saw how she looked. Her hair was still in a ponytail, but her eye makeup was smudged, her complexion spotty and she looked about a hundred years old.
But since Clint seemed to like her anyway, she exited the bathroom without giving it another thought.
He’d made the room perfect. The pillows were pushed up against the headboard, the covers turned down, their dinners were laid out on flattened paper bags, complete with a cold beer on each bedside table.
“I got a burger,” Clint said, sounding like a manly man. “With cheese and fries.”
“Mmm. Sounds yummy. You won’t mind if I dine au naturel, will you?” she said, tossing away the bath towel.
He just sputtered in response.
Once she climbed in bed, she pulled the covers up under her arms and watched him strip. Definitely the highlight of her day...so far, anyway.
He uncapped the beers, then joined her. The eating was pretty silent. They both were famished, and as the hunger started to settle, her tangled thoughts took over.
The thing was, quitting was a huge decision. Of course she’d stay until this film wrapped because she’d given her word, but after that? Could she really work with Jason again? And Baxter?
God, the idea was horrible. But bowing out meant leaving Erin on her own, and that would be equally horrible.
Plus there was something else to consider.
Was she just using what happened to Erin as an excuse for something she hadn’t had the guts to do on her own?
Spending three months working on location had really opened her eyes.
Made her reevaluate what she wanted her life to look like in ten years.
Erin wouldn’t understand at first; the role of Tara was too major to give up. She’d advise Lila to suck it up, grab the credit, and after the sequel was finished, Lila wouldn’t have to ever work with Jason again.
A very good argument. If Lila still cared about acting.
Honestly? A role like Tara was only going to add to the pressure she already felt. It was such a cutthroat profession, and there was always going to be someone prettier, younger, more connected.
Clint put his beer bottle down loudly on the nightstand. When she looked, she realized she’d eaten half her dinner but hadn’t spoken a word to him.
“You okay?”
“Tired,” she said. “Sorry. And you were so sweet with the bath and the food. I know I’m terrible company.”
“Tired? Is that all? Because you sure seem like something else is on your mind.”
“No, there’s more. It’s about Erin. She’s not going to get the job she was promised on the sequel.”
“Why not?” He looked stunned. “Everyone says she’s the backbone of the film.”
Lila grinned. “Listen to you sounding like an insider. But you’re right. That’s what makes everything so awful. Baxter will be named first AD.”
“What the hell? The guy has no idea what he’s doing.”
“I know. It’s all about money. Baxter’s uncle’s check was big enough to ensure his nephew could have the job. And Erin was the cost.”
“Even I know that without Erin, the film’s going to fall apart. He’s an idiot.”
“Which is why Erin’s agreed to stay. She says she’ll be paid as if she’s the first AD, and that will help her get out from behind the loan she’d taken out to invest in the movie.
Actually she means for it to help us both pay off the loans.
She’ll also be calling the shots. Baxter won’t override her—he just gets all the credit. ”
Frowning thoughtfully, Clint finished his beer. “What about you? Is your role affected?”
“Nope. I’ll still be in it, but it won’t be the same.”
“I’m sorry,” Clint said, rubbing her arm. “I know how much you wanted this to work out.”
“Honestly? I’m not even sure I care. Sometimes I think I’d rather just keep doing hair, which is something I enjoy.”
“Do you really mean that?”
She sighed. “This business can be brutal. Erin’s going to have to put up with Baxter’s incompetence, and knowing every day that Jason sold her out.
I don’t even know how she’s going to do it.
She can barely tolerate Baxter or Jason now.
” Lila began collecting the takeout boxes.
“But Erin doesn’t give up easily. She can take a lot, always the optimist, waiting for that right door to open. ”
Clint was finished, too, so she stuffed all the containers back into the empty bags, and set them next to the wastebasket by the dresser.
By the time she was back in bed, she felt as if taking one more step might just kill her. Not that she wanted to disappoint Clint, but she wasn’t sure she had it in her to do much more than kiss him good-night.
He smiled at her. “How about we go brush our teeth, then you crawl into my arms and try to get some sleep?”
“You’re joking, right?”
“I can see you’re beat. If you want to talk, I’ll listen until morning, but I’m hoping you’ll conk out. You need the rest.”
She leaned over and kissed him, and while she meant for it to be a quick peck, she found she wanted it to be more. He tasted like salt and beer, and he smelled wonderful. She wasn’t even sure why he was being so nice when she was so preoccupied, but she was grateful.
CLINT WAS TEMPTED to touch her, take the kiss and spin it into what he’d been thinking about for the last thirty-six hours, but she really did sound whipped.
So he pulled back. “Let’s go brush our teeth.”
She nodded and gave him a soft smile. It seemed like she needed a friendly ear, and that’s what she’d get.
Even as he stood next to her in the small bathroom, trying hard not to stare at her breasts in the mirror, it occurred to him that if this thing with Erin blew up and she walked, Lila could leave, too. Go back to California tomorrow. Or the next day.
For a minute he’d gotten excited when she’d claimed she didn’t care about the part anymore. But he knew it was just exhaustion and disappointment talking. And even if she’d meant it, that wasn’t the same as saying she was done with Hollywood, just this film and Jason.
She would of course go right back home, get her agent or whatever to send her out on auditions.
And she’d get roles, too. Plenty of them.
Probably do better once she wasn’t tied to all the crap going on with Jason and Baxter and everything else.
Anyway, like she’d said the other night, she wouldn’t disappoint Erin or her parents.
He looked at Lila, met her gaze, but only for a split second, before she made her way back to the bed.
She wasn’t eager to talk about it, which he understood.
She was hurting and probably hadn’t meant half of what she’d said.
He only hoped she wouldn’t be too embarrassed to use him as a sounding board.
Although, what did he know about her situation? He wasn’t even in the business. He might be the nice guy who poured her a bath and bought her dinner, but he wasn’t her long-haul guy. Never had been, not for Lila. But that was the deal, wasn’t it?
He wiped his mouth, then turned off the bathroom light. As for him, it was too late. Foolish, pitiful hick that he was, he’d already fallen for her. Hard.