gotta say, after your description of him, I can’t believe you haven’t just given him a taste yet.”
“Lindy,” I warned. “Let’s try to remain professional, shall we?”
Cole’s smile widened as if he’d heard what she’d said.
I turned my back on him, needing to put him out of my mind for this conversation. “Now, what’s going on with the studio? Do they have a date they want me back? Have you heard from the police? Any news at all?”
Lindy didn’t answer, but I knew she was still there. I could hear faint chatter on the other end of the line.
“Lindy?”
“Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Amberly. There’s just no easy way to say this.”
A faint wave of fear rolled through me, but I clutched the phone harder and ignored it. I was safe here at my grandmama’s old house. Anything that was happening back in L.A. wasn’t the end of the world. “Just tell me. I can handle it.”
She let out a long sigh. “I tried. I really did. But the studio has decided they can’t hold up the filming. They’re resuming tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I spun and stared at the kitchen wall clock. It was already almost noon. How the hell was I going to find a flight this late and still be at the set by seven the next morning? “Jesus. I have to go. I’ll text you with my flight information.”
I was just getting ready to hit the end button when I heard her call, “Amberly! Wait!”
“What? If I have any chance of getting there by—”
“You don’t understand,” she said, cutting me off. “I’m sorry. I should’ve spit it out sooner, but...”
My stomach was in knots. My agent was never hesitant about anything. It was the reason I’d hired her. No nonsense, just straight to the point...except now. “Lindy? Spit what out sooner?”
“Dammit,” she muttered. “It’s a shit situation. Charles is sick over this. No one wants to see you replaced, but—”
“Replaced!” She had to be joking. This movie had been my project. I was the only reason the damned thing was being made in the first place. I’d been the one to bring the book to the producer, had signed my name to it in order to get funding. “They can’t do that. I am Ceri.”
The book was a rags-to-riches story about a disadvantaged girl from the bayou. She overcame racism, lack of quality education, and an unstable homelife. That story mirrored my own so perfectly. My mother, while determined to make me a star, had suffered from Bipolar disorder. When she was up, she’d accomplished incredible things, but when she was down, life had been hell for both of us.
“You are,” Lindy agreed, her tone full of understanding. “But the lawyers are saying it’s too dangerous to bring you back right now. And the studio heads say they can’t delay production because of budget reasons. Amberly, no one wanted to make this call, but they have no choice.”
“I have a contract.” My words were clipped with anger. They couldn’t kick me off this project. I wouldn’t let them.
“You do. But that doesn’t mean they can’t replace you. You’ll still get paid your full fee, of course. Otherwise we’ll sue their asses.”
I didn’t give a shit about my fee. I’d made more than enough money on my recent movies to last a lifetime. This had been all about the work. “They can’t afford that. This movie will lose money.”
“They seem to think they’ll lose more if they wait. I heard the replacement actress is willing to work for a fraction of your salary.”
Shit, shit, shit . Of course any actress worth her salt would fill in for practically nothing. The script was a career changer; the kind that usually ended up with golden statue awards. And the amount of buzz already surrounding it because of the work I’d done to bring it to the mainstream almost guaranteed box office success. Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” Lindy said quietly.
“Who is it?”
“She’s good, but she’s not you,” Lindy said.
I was silent as I
“Lindy,” I warned. “Let’s try to remain professional, shall we?”
Cole’s smile widened as if he’d heard what she’d said.
I turned my back on him, needing to put him out of my mind for this conversation. “Now, what’s going on with the studio? Do they have a date they want me back? Have you heard from the police? Any news at all?”
Lindy didn’t answer, but I knew she was still there. I could hear faint chatter on the other end of the line.
“Lindy?”
“Dammit,” she muttered. “I’m sorry, Amberly. There’s just no easy way to say this.”
A faint wave of fear rolled through me, but I clutched the phone harder and ignored it. I was safe here at my grandmama’s old house. Anything that was happening back in L.A. wasn’t the end of the world. “Just tell me. I can handle it.”
She let out a long sigh. “I tried. I really did. But the studio has decided they can’t hold up the filming. They’re resuming tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” I spun and stared at the kitchen wall clock. It was already almost noon. How the hell was I going to find a flight this late and still be at the set by seven the next morning? “Jesus. I have to go. I’ll text you with my flight information.”
I was just getting ready to hit the end button when I heard her call, “Amberly! Wait!”
“What? If I have any chance of getting there by—”
“You don’t understand,” she said, cutting me off. “I’m sorry. I should’ve spit it out sooner, but...”
My stomach was in knots. My agent was never hesitant about anything. It was the reason I’d hired her. No nonsense, just straight to the point...except now. “Lindy? Spit what out sooner?”
“Dammit,” she muttered. “It’s a shit situation. Charles is sick over this. No one wants to see you replaced, but—”
“Replaced!” She had to be joking. This movie had been my project. I was the only reason the damned thing was being made in the first place. I’d been the one to bring the book to the producer, had signed my name to it in order to get funding. “They can’t do that. I am Ceri.”
The book was a rags-to-riches story about a disadvantaged girl from the bayou. She overcame racism, lack of quality education, and an unstable homelife. That story mirrored my own so perfectly. My mother, while determined to make me a star, had suffered from Bipolar disorder. When she was up, she’d accomplished incredible things, but when she was down, life had been hell for both of us.
“You are,” Lindy agreed, her tone full of understanding. “But the lawyers are saying it’s too dangerous to bring you back right now. And the studio heads say they can’t delay production because of budget reasons. Amberly, no one wanted to make this call, but they have no choice.”
“I have a contract.” My words were clipped with anger. They couldn’t kick me off this project. I wouldn’t let them.
“You do. But that doesn’t mean they can’t replace you. You’ll still get paid your full fee, of course. Otherwise we’ll sue their asses.”
I didn’t give a shit about my fee. I’d made more than enough money on my recent movies to last a lifetime. This had been all about the work. “They can’t afford that. This movie will lose money.”
“They seem to think they’ll lose more if they wait. I heard the replacement actress is willing to work for a fraction of your salary.”
Shit, shit, shit . Of course any actress worth her salt would fill in for practically nothing. The script was a career changer; the kind that usually ended up with golden statue awards. And the amount of buzz already surrounding it because of the work I’d done to bring it to the mainstream almost guaranteed box office success. Fuck.
“I’m sorry,” Lindy said quietly.
“Who is it?”
“She’s good, but she’s not you,” Lindy said.
I was silent as I
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