he says. I can tell he's humoring me—and I get it. If Bexley had any interest in a movie career, she would have angled the conversation toward that, on some level. Any level. Instead she deflected, letting me lead. "But, you owe me a decision on the script. Soon."
No one owes anyone a thing in this town , I think, but all I say is, "Understood."
I head back inside, toward Bexley, frustrated like hell that the meeting I set up bombed, but determined to finish the day by showing her that this life is hers for the taking.
Chapter Twenty
Bexley
S omething's off when Holden returns to the patio.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Uh, yeah," he says, smiling, reaching for his beer.
"I didn't know you and your agent hung out, like, on the weekends."
"Trenton's a good guy."
"Seems like it." I twist my lip, trying to read him. The entire situation. "It feels like you're not saying something."
He shrugs, takes a swig. "I'm good. Great. You're here with me, Bexley. I've been trying to tell you that's all I want."
"All you want?"
"Is that too hard to believe?"
I shrug, not wanting to fight, but also not seeing how we could work beyond a fling. And if this is just a fling, do I need to press every single thing to the point of breaking?
"Hope you don't mind, but I thought we could meet up with some friends for drinks before we have dinner tonight," he says, surprising me. Again. I figured tonight would just be us.
"You want me to meet your friends already?"
"Well, yeah, I've been talking about you enough. They want to know who you are."
"No pressure," I say, laughing into my wine glass.
"There isn't. My friends are awesome."
"Tell me about them." I set down my glass, tuck my feet under me, cozying up beside him.
His eyes crinkle. "You may have heard of some of them. Cassius is Cash Flow, and his girl Evangeline—"
"Shit, Evie?" I ask, eyes wide.
"You're a fan?"
"Well, yeah," I tell him. As if isn't obvious? It should be. "She's gorgeous, and so talented. At the Grammys this year she looked like an angel. I mean, I downloaded her album on iTunes the moment it released."
"Yeah, she was crazy nervous. But man, her solo album is off the chains. Don't tell Cash, but I think Evie's is better."
I smile, agreeing. "Don't get me wrong, Cash Flow's music is so raw and emotional, but Evie is breathtaking."
"I met them last fall," Holden explains. "Evie actually moved in here, into my guest house. For like a month, before she met Cash."
"How did you meet her?" I immediately feel a flash of insecurity over someone that beautiful, that famous, living here.
"She's the cousin of my other buddy, Jude—you'll meet him tonight, too."
"And who's Jude? Let me guess? A model or a screenwriter?" I smile, enjoying this insight into Holden's personal life.
"Jude's a film maker. You may have heard of him? Jude McCall? He produced Dead Bird Falling ?"
I purse my lips, trying to remember. "Is that the indie move that won all those awards at Sundance?"
"Yeah, it was big deal."
"I remember. I haven't seen it, though."
"Jude's the shit. He moved to LA to be an actor, but he's a few years older than us. We signed with Trenton at the same time. Anyway. Jude called bullshit on all the movies he auditioned for—including Johnny Jumper. That asshole auditioned for the part before me, got offered the fucking gig. Turned it down."
"Wow. Does he regret it, now that you've become such a success?"
Holden shakes his head, taking another drink of his beer. "Nah. The commercial thing isn't his scene."
I admire that about Jude, and I haven't even met him. When I used to think about coming to LA, it was never for the movies Holden makes. Though, looking around this gorgeous property, I know that way of thinking was a little naive. A blockbuster film pays the bills, in a big way.
So when are we meeting your crew?" I ask. "I should probably change."
"I can help you with that, if you want." He leans closer to me on the love seat, his finger running
No one owes anyone a thing in this town , I think, but all I say is, "Understood."
I head back inside, toward Bexley, frustrated like hell that the meeting I set up bombed, but determined to finish the day by showing her that this life is hers for the taking.
Chapter Twenty
Bexley
S omething's off when Holden returns to the patio.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Uh, yeah," he says, smiling, reaching for his beer.
"I didn't know you and your agent hung out, like, on the weekends."
"Trenton's a good guy."
"Seems like it." I twist my lip, trying to read him. The entire situation. "It feels like you're not saying something."
He shrugs, takes a swig. "I'm good. Great. You're here with me, Bexley. I've been trying to tell you that's all I want."
"All you want?"
"Is that too hard to believe?"
I shrug, not wanting to fight, but also not seeing how we could work beyond a fling. And if this is just a fling, do I need to press every single thing to the point of breaking?
"Hope you don't mind, but I thought we could meet up with some friends for drinks before we have dinner tonight," he says, surprising me. Again. I figured tonight would just be us.
"You want me to meet your friends already?"
"Well, yeah, I've been talking about you enough. They want to know who you are."
"No pressure," I say, laughing into my wine glass.
"There isn't. My friends are awesome."
"Tell me about them." I set down my glass, tuck my feet under me, cozying up beside him.
His eyes crinkle. "You may have heard of some of them. Cassius is Cash Flow, and his girl Evangeline—"
"Shit, Evie?" I ask, eyes wide.
"You're a fan?"
"Well, yeah," I tell him. As if isn't obvious? It should be. "She's gorgeous, and so talented. At the Grammys this year she looked like an angel. I mean, I downloaded her album on iTunes the moment it released."
"Yeah, she was crazy nervous. But man, her solo album is off the chains. Don't tell Cash, but I think Evie's is better."
I smile, agreeing. "Don't get me wrong, Cash Flow's music is so raw and emotional, but Evie is breathtaking."
"I met them last fall," Holden explains. "Evie actually moved in here, into my guest house. For like a month, before she met Cash."
"How did you meet her?" I immediately feel a flash of insecurity over someone that beautiful, that famous, living here.
"She's the cousin of my other buddy, Jude—you'll meet him tonight, too."
"And who's Jude? Let me guess? A model or a screenwriter?" I smile, enjoying this insight into Holden's personal life.
"Jude's a film maker. You may have heard of him? Jude McCall? He produced Dead Bird Falling ?"
I purse my lips, trying to remember. "Is that the indie move that won all those awards at Sundance?"
"Yeah, it was big deal."
"I remember. I haven't seen it, though."
"Jude's the shit. He moved to LA to be an actor, but he's a few years older than us. We signed with Trenton at the same time. Anyway. Jude called bullshit on all the movies he auditioned for—including Johnny Jumper. That asshole auditioned for the part before me, got offered the fucking gig. Turned it down."
"Wow. Does he regret it, now that you've become such a success?"
Holden shakes his head, taking another drink of his beer. "Nah. The commercial thing isn't his scene."
I admire that about Jude, and I haven't even met him. When I used to think about coming to LA, it was never for the movies Holden makes. Though, looking around this gorgeous property, I know that way of thinking was a little naive. A blockbuster film pays the bills, in a big way.
So when are we meeting your crew?" I ask. "I should probably change."
"I can help you with that, if you want." He leans closer to me on the love seat, his finger running
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