4. Danny #2
She hesitated for a second before snorting at me in derision. “What? Me? No. I just don’t want to find you dead in your home, surrounded by cats that ate your face.”
I smiled at her. “First, I don’t have any cats. I don’t know how or where the face eating cats are showing up but I’m not concerned. Second, I love my life, and despite your treatment of me I love having you around all the time.”
The twinge of guilt on her face was amazing to see.
Paige never liked talking about stuff like this with me.
Any attempt at a real topic involving emotion was shut down as soon as possible.
She shook her head at me. “Yeah, man. I know, but there’s so much more for you than this.
I know I’m no poster child for stable relationships, but at least I put myself out there. ”
I sat there listening to Paige and realized how much she meant to me. How she always looked out for me and my well-being. It was also rare when she showed any kind of emotion.
So, of course I had to roast her for it.
“Are you feeling, okay? That sounded dangerously close to affection.”
She sighed and flipped her middle finger at me.
“That’s the sister I know and love.”
“Go to bed, Danny.”
“I will if you leave me alone.”
Right before she closed the door behind her, she called out. “Read the notes.”
I dressed for bed and laid down. I halfheartedly skimmed the notes she sent to my phone before plugging it in and tossed it on my bedside table.
I spent far more time with the slip of paper from “Fiona” and memorizing the digits she had written on it.
I eventually fell asleep, still smelling her fragrance on me.
My sleep was short-lived. I got maybe three hours before my alarm went off. I headed to the gym Paige had arranged for me. Jorge didn’t wait for me, having put in a workout before I arrived and was drenched in sweat. “You ready to work out, boss?” he asked cheerfully.
“You and I both know that I am not the boss in this relationship,” I joked.
He let out a long laugh. “Have you been sticking to the diet plan?”
“Religiously.” Technically true. I haven’t been to church in years.
His eyes narrowed a bit. “So, no Snickers bars?”
“No. Not in a week,” I lied.
He poked my abdomen with his index finger, as if making sure.
“Really? You can tell from one poke?” I asked.
“I can tell,” Jorge said seriously.
Jorge had a way of knowing things, so I wasn’t going to question it. “All right, Jorge. If you’re done checking my gut, how are you going to punish me today?”
“We start off with cardio. I got a treadmill programmed with your workout over there. Then we’re doing leg day.”
I groaned, but obediently headed to the treadmill.
I would argue, but the results spoke for themselves.
My abdomen and arms were probably half the reason why the studio went with me as their choice for Tyrst’an.
I had spent weeks before the audition trying to show that, at least physically, I was more than a TV actor.
Stella might be at the end of her career, but she knew what to expect from the audition.
Before I even read a line, they made me take my shirt off, examining me like I was a side of beef.
I got on the treadmill and started my run as Jorge stood to the side. Usually, he wandered off and prepared the next round of torture. Instead, he watched my gait, his head tilted in interest.
I was suddenly worried he somehow knew about the Snickers I’d stashed in my room.
A moment later he gave me a smirk. “You got lucky last night, didn’t you?”
I tripped on the treadmill, falling back a foot and stumbling before the safety clip disengaged the motor. “Did Paige tell you?” I asked, regaining my balance.
Jorge smiled, turning away. “Your gait was off. Get back on the treadmill.”
I stood there with my mouth hanging open. “You cannot tell that by me running for thirty seconds!”
“Jorge always knows!” he shouted back. “You should always be on Team Jorge!”
By the time I got back to the hotel, I was running late. I barely had time to take a shower and get dressed before I realized I had a wardrobe issue. I hadn’t packed any dress socks to go with my suit.
“Paige! We have a problem!” I called out.
Two seconds later a pair of balled up dress socks bounced off my head.
I caught the socks before they hit the floor as Paige walked into the room. I laughed “How did you—”
“Thirteen years I’ve been your assistant, Danny! And every effing trip you forget socks. Every damn time!” she scolded.
“Where’s the Boss?” I asked, pulling on my socks.
“She’s checking out all the authors downstairs and buying a ton of books,” Paige said, holding up my blazer for me. “She’s fine.”
“Didn’t she do that all day yesterday?” I asked, slipping my arms into the sleeves.
“She read reviews on all the books she didn’t buy and went back for more.”
I chuckled. “When does she have time to read all these books?”
“Pretty sure she never sleeps at night. She’s sleeping through most of the day right now. Again. I swear daylight burns her if it hits her skin,” Paige joked.
She hustled me to the elevator, down the various halls and through a back entrance. We finally arrived at what had to be the smallest room in the convention center. “The interview is happening here?” My disdain was clearly evident.
Paige punched me in the shoulder. Hard.
“Don’t go Hollywood on me. It’s a hundred seats, and people are buying standing room tickets to see you and her face off.
Plus, the whole thing is being broadcast live on her stream as well as the MVFC Virtual Con.
It’ll be posted on MeTeeVee on both their channels.
If it goes well, the social media managers for the Tyrant series will post it as well. ”
Suddenly, the room size didn’t seem to matter. My anxiety crept into my gut, twisting it around in knots. I took a deep breath to clear my head. “What was her name again?”
Paige glared at me. My cheeks burned red. I knew exactly what she would say next.
“You didn’t read the notes.”
“I read some of the notes.” Unfortunately, my voice did the pitchy thing where it was too high.
Paige’s eyes narrowed at me. That was not the answer she wanted to hear.
“You’re going to crash and burn this interview.”
“It’ll be fine.” I tried to shrug it off as I fiddled with my collar, trying to get it to sit right. “Fans love me.”
Paige ground her teeth and spun me around, deftly snapping my collar into the right spot.
“Soap opera fans love you. These are obsessed fantasy geeks. That’s a different level of a fan than you are used to.
These are people who write fanfiction and debate endlessly on the internet about various characters.
Meanwhile, your fans swoon when you get amnesia.
Ten bucks says you screw the pooch on this interview. ”
“You’re making a bigger deal of this than it is. Please tell me her name so I don’t embarrass myself.”
Paige spun me around again and finished straightening my collar. “Her name is Jessica Richards. She’s the one in the corner.”
I followed her directional head bob and froze.
She wasn’t wearing the costume or the fuzzy robe anymore, but after last night, there was no mistaking her.
She sat in a chair, her long red hair pulled into a messy ponytail.
She wore a crisp white tailored shirt, and conservative black slacks paired with some expensive-looking shoes.
That wonderful smile I liked so much was nowhere in sight.
She frowned as she tapped on a tablet with her fingertips. My eyes almost popped out of my skull.
Paige stared at me. “What’s wrong? You look like Han Grubber right before he fell off Yakatochi Tower.”
“We have a huge problem.” I nodded in the direction of the woman apparently named Jessica Richards.
“What about her?” Paige said, glancing at her and shrugging.
“Imagine her with black hair and ram horns.”
Paige’s face went from nonplussed to a vicious smile. “Oh, man. She is going to kill you.”