Chapter 42
Oscar
“Are you sure?” Horner stares through me with suspicion, clearly not believing the words coming out of my mouth.
“Horner,” I lean forward in my seat, “I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”
“I’m not watching you throw away your career for someone who might leave again.”
“Sign it.”
He nods, knowing that it’s true and that it’s what’s best.
Horner and I shake hands and I head out to meet Jax and our PR team for an event. This is officially the last event we have for off season and for the first time ever I’m excited to have the season end.
I haven’t had a chance to call Mare this morning, and—fuck I miss her voice. I’m not quite sure how I went almost two years without hearing her voice.
I dial her number, but it doesn’t even ring before going to voicemail.
I call her two more times, but the same thing happens.
It’s odd, but I also know from my short visit there, how bad service is around the theater. I’m sure she scheduled a meeting with her boss today to iron out contract details.
“Jax, we gotta—” I stop dead in my tracks as I walk into the locker room to grab Jax.
We drove here together this morning. I had a meeting with Horner, Jax was supposed to come meet the painters to show them everything that needed to be spruced up in the locker room during the off season.
This does not look like a meeting about paint.
This looks a hell of a lot like the start to a heated fuck session.
I smile knowing he’s going to want to punch me in the dick for cock blocking him, but inside, a small piece of me can’t wait to see the look on his face.
“Eh-hem,” I clear my throat, and the way he jumps makes me feel tingly inside—proud of myself for returning a favor he’s so damn good at dishing out.
Sloan runs her fingers through her hair, and makes her way to the door, giving me a death glare on her way.
I thought he’d be the one shooting murder eyes my way, but the fact that it was her, makes me feel a little bad about my decision.
“We have to get going, we’re supposed to be at the studio in 20 minutes, and it’s a 15 minute drive.” I start walking to the car, knowing damn well he’s following me.
“We have a five minute buffer, then,” he says sarcastically.
“You might be ok being late, but I’m not,” I tell him.
“It’s not late if you get there 5 minutes early,” he scoffs.
“If we pull into the parking lot five minutes before, we will be walking in at the time we’re supposed to be inside the studio. We should have been getting there…” I look at the time on my phone, “less than 10 minutes from now.”
He opens the passenger door, “Then I guess you should have had a shorter meeting with Horner. Technically, you weren’t even ready to go on time. You just got to the locker room a few minutes ago.”
I ignore his comment and pick up the phone to try Mare one more time before starting the drive. Straight to voicemail. Again.
Taking promo pictures for the new season and shooting commercials and video ads for social media is a hell of a lot more exhausting than most people would think.
If I have to hear “The Fate Of Ophelia” one more time, I might banish myself to my apartment.
I normally don’t mind Taylor Swift, Jax is obsessed and plays her songs all the time at home.
Having the same song on repeat all day while we film…
not a fan. Honestly I don’t care what song was playing, by the hundredth time of the same 30 second section, I’d never want to hear it again.
I look at the time on my phone.
It’s 7 pm here, which means it’s 10 pm New York time. I doubt she’s still at the theater this late.
I try to call her one more time. When it rings, I find myself getting butterflies. When it goes to her voicemail, I get irritated. Why wouldn’t she call me? Why wouldn’t she answer?
I’m quiet the entire 20 minute drive back to the field. We were supposed to pick up wings and head home, but when Jax went to place the order, he realized his wallet fell out during his makeout session.
“Can I just buy the wings and you can send me money? We can get your wallet tomorrow,” I say as we drive past the wing place, and my stomach growls.
“Shut the fuck up. It’s not going to take that long for me to run inside to grab it.”
“You don’t even know where it is. By the looks of things, you were all over that fucking room.”
He doesn’t say anything. He just slams the door and gets out the second I put the car in park. Deciding I’m too hungry to just wait here, I get out and offer to help him.
“I don’t fucking see it anywhere,” I yell at him from across the locker room.
The space is completely empty. All the gear and equipment that’s usually laying around are in the utility closet.
The lockers are all empty for the off season.
And all of the furniture is stacked neatly in the middle of the room so the paint crew can start tomorrow.
If there was a wallet in here, we’d see it.
“How do you even know you had it in here?” I ask as a laugh billows from Horner’s office.
He gives me a suggestive stare.
The laughter from Horner’s office gets louder, causing us both to freeze and look in the direction of his door.
“Do you think…” he mouths, and then finishes his thought by inserting his index finger into a hole made by his opposite hand, suggesting Horner’s banging someone in there.
Horner’s a good looking dude, but I can’t imagine him hooking up with anyone here, but when I knock on the door and slide it open, my mouth hits the floor.