strained voice. “Ciao.”
I hang up. I’ll look even stronger and tougher going alone. I don’t need a date to even the score between me and Colton. I will rise above.
I walk to my trailer for lunch after our Monday morning table read for Living Gold, looking forward to some quiet time to myself. I halt, surprised to find Dana sitting on the trailer steps. She’s in her forties with sleek black hair in a bob and more energy than anyone I know. Except maybe Josie. That woman is nonstop.
“Surprise!” she exclaims, rising from her perch on the top step.
I give her a one-armed hug so I don’t spill my take-out container of sushi on her. “I can’t believe you flew all the way from LA to see me. Is this about the gala?”
“Hey, I like to check in with my New York contacts on the regular. Not everything is about you, though you are my favorite client.”
I unlock my trailer door and head inside. She follows, unusually quiet.
Once we’re both seated on the sofa with drinks, I offer her half my lunch.
“Already ate, thanks,” she says. “You go ahead.”
I pull the built-in table in the adjacent wall closer, set my lunch on it, and open the lid of the take-out container.
“So how’s things here?” she asks. “Are you enjoying playing Lexi Gold?”
I get out my chopsticks. “I love it.” On Living Gold I get to play against type as a single mom with a vulnerable side, which is the main reason I took the role. The premise of the show is that the wealthy family (the Golds) have a maid problem. Namely, the former maid’s illegitimate daughter—played by the comedic genius Josie—just inherited the mansion from the recently deceased patriarch, who had an affair with her mother. Sitcom gold. Ha. Gold.
Dana’s quiet again. She’s working up to something.
I eat my lunch and wait.
Finally, she says, “Wouldn’t it be great to bring that sensitive fashionista persona into the public eye at the gala? Instead of being pegged as that tough bitch, you become the socialite with a heart of gold.”
“What’s wrong with being myself in public?” I take a bite of sushi. I do my job, get in, get out, as polite and professional as can be. Not that it’s easy for me, but at least it’s honest.
She nods and takes a long drink of water.
I lift my brows in question.
“Nothing, of course,” she finally blurts. “You’re wonderful, very sweet, just that sometimes you’re so reserved it makes reporters fill in the blanks. Empty expression on your face can mean tough or aloof or angry.”
“My so-called resting bitch face. Screw ’em. Let them think what they want.”
She laughs nervously. “See, that’s why I’m the publicist and you’re the talent. So who’s your date for the gala?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “Tell me you did not fly out here just to harass me about a date.”
“Of course not. I have other business in New York. I just stopped by to make sure you take the next right step.”
I shake my head. She totally came out here to harass me.
“This is bigger than you,” she says. “This is about putting the spotlight on Best Friends Care. Everyone wants to know about this new guy you said you were seeing; therefore, everyone will listen when you talk about this great cause. We’ll come up with a noncommittal sound bite to shift the attention from him to the service dogs.”
I sigh. She knows how much this organization means to me. I helped foster puppies for them in LA years ago when they were just getting started in that one location. As my name recognition grew, I was able to help them grow. Soon they had training centers across the country and now across the world.
I put my chopsticks down, my gut knotting. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I just don’t want him to feel used. And it’s embarrassing what I’ve put the man through. I can’t let that hold me back. I can get over my embarrassment for the cause. “Fine. I’ll ask Garrett—”
She pumps a fist. “Yesss!”
I hold up a palm. “But I’m going to tell him he’s under no obligation, especially after I dragged his name into the press.” And dragged him into my trailer. Then I remember what he said when I asked him why he let me think he was my guard: I should’ve said something, but it felt like we were connecting, ya know? I