After the Climb (River Rain #1) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,61

have been excitement.

But enduring what amounted to fifteen years of declining quality in the roles I was offered, culminating in that last offer…

An offer that came on the heels of having been asked to lunch by a longtime friend who was a studio head, who told me, “Darlin’, you need to Lucy Liu. Get into directing and find a TV show where you can be smart, but sexless. Or find your Goop. You could sell the shit outta crystal-infused water bottles, or whatever the fuck. I know it’s harsh, but it’s the only way to go for talent like you.”

I disagreed greatly that Lucy’s role in Elementary was sexless.

It was smart, but just her wardrobe, intelligence and no-nonsense, with-it attitude made me want to jump her, and I wasn’t a lesbian.

I also didn’t have a dick.

And it was dick that drove that business.

In too many ways.

In my career, I had successfully avoided the casting couch.

And to this day, I carried some shame that I had not done this because I was a strong and willing to put myself and my peace of mind above my career.

I’d done it because my first real gig was with Teddy, and Teddy was absolutely not that man.

But I’d also done it because I quickly got involved with Tom, and when this was intimated by a producer who held the reins of a movie role I very much wanted, and I told Tom, he blew his stack and went to visit said producer.

I did not get that role.

But I did get a call from a friend who was an actress who said, “I don’t know what Tommy did, girl, but thank him for castrating that prick.”

What Tom had done was what I should have done.

Told him that if he didn’t stop with that shit, “Bonnie is going in front the reporters and sharing what a schmuck you are in a way you’ll never sell another ticket to a movie.”

He was not wrong. The American public thinking that some creepy guy was going to make Bonnie from Rita’s Way suck his cock to get a job?

He’d be finished.

But it should have been me who had done it.

Actually done it.

Gone in front of the reporters.

But then, I would never work again.

Never.

I knew it.

Every woman in my shoes knew it.

And the lasting gift those kinds of assholes gave us was the shame we carried that we blew it because, in order to continue in our chosen profession, we never did anything about it.

Somehow, it was our responsibility to put our necks on the line to put a stop to it, not their responsibility to be decent human beings.

And when things finally blew up, no matter how awesome that was, I was not surprised that the fingers were pointed.

Why didn’t they say something?

No one really understood the power that was wielded and just how over you would be if you stood up against that power.

It was so easy to sit at home and cast judgment when you didn’t understand most those actresses weren’t living in nine-million-dollar homes in the Hollywood hills and their choice was work and eat…or not.

But we could just say, Tom doing that and me being with Tom for the next twenty plus years meant that never happened again.

At least not to me.

On this thought, my phone rang, and as if I’d conjured him, Tom’s picture was on the screen.

Needing to get down to finishing eating, and then showering, then getting to Chloe so we could ride before I met Duncan for lunch, I hit the screen to take the call and put it on speaker.

“Hey, Tommy.”

“Seriously, Imogen? I mean, fucking seriously?”

I was arrested by his enraged tone.

So much so, I couldn’t speak.

He could.

“We had a deal,” he bit out.

A deal?

I was scrambling to think about what deal he was talking about, when he spoke again.

“And him? Him? Christ, honest to fuck, you’re starting it up again with him?”

My back-together-with-Duncan happy daze mingled with my am-I-really-going-to-get-to-work-again confused haze shifted and it hit me.

We had a deal, Tom and me.

If we started dating, even casually, we’d share.

I did not share.

Things were so crazy, I didn’t even think about it.

But then again, no matter what that Insta picture showed, it had only happened yesterday.

“Tom, let’s talk.”

“Fuck you, Gen.”

My body jerked violently at his words and his call disconnected.

Duncan had an explosive temper.

Tom did not.

He was an athlete, and even when he retired from professional tennis, he continued being very active, played all the time, and worked out daily.