would reach. And advertisers.
“I would be honored. Wow. Thank you.”
He looks oddly relieved that I’ve accepted his offer. But how would my answer have been anything other than yes? There’s no way this man has been turned down before.
Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he snags a business card out and hands it to me. “This is my manager’s information. He makes sure I’m where I’m supposed to be and when. Shoot him an email and he’ll get it set up. Maybe tomorrow after the con but before I fly home?”
“That sounds perfect.”
Popping his head into our space once again, Andy looks more flustered than ever. “I’m so sorry, but we really have to go. The boss is starting to freak out in my ear.” Sure enough, Andy has an earpiece that seems to be attached to the walkie talkie at his hip. Old school, but effective I’m sure.
“He’s right. Don’t keep your fans waiting,” I encourage, despite my own desire to stay here, talking to Hunter for as long as he’ll let me.
Shoving his hands into his pockets, Hunter looks like he’s preparing to put on a show again. Which means maybe this right here is the real Hunter Stone. The man, not the actor, and certainly not the vampire cop. “Well, it was lovely getting to know you, Celeste.”
“You too,” I say and give a quick wave as he walks away, Andy rapid-firing bullet points of the next event.
“I have to say, I’ve volunteered at a lot of conventions,” Klarissa says next to me, but my eyes are still glued to the now empty doorway. “But I have never seen an actor offer an interview or provide manager information.”
“I’m as shocked as you are.”
“Why don’t you take a minute and email his manager before you forget. I’ve got a little time to set up for the next meet and greet.”
Smiling gratefully at her, I take a seat at the table and let the last ten minutes of my life sink in. Then, I send a quick, yet professional email asking for an interview time for tomorrow, per Hunter’s request.
Then I wait for a response.
It never comes.
Chapter Seven
Hunter
I should apologize to the rest of the people in line. Their pictures are going to feature an insane looking version of me. Exhaustion explained how I felt this morning but now, it’s straight fatigue. My back is tight and my jaw aches from the perma-grin I’ve had plastered on all day. It’s the “actor” smile not the “me” smile. No, I’ve used that only twice today. Both times talking to Celeste.
Celeste.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had an opportunity talk theater with someone other than my mom. Even then, it’s more about my days in the theater and not the craft itself. While Celeste and I didn’t speak long, the time we were together was enough for me to note how her eyes danced at the topic. Her smile. Damn, she has a beautiful smile.
“Hunter, do you need anything?” Not Toy Story Andy asks while we have a short lull between attendees. It’s the first free second I’ve had to grab a drink of water in close to two hours.
“A lobotomy,” I mumble, rubbing my temples.
“What was that?”
Inhaling, I lift my lips to a small smile as I exhale. “Nothing. Do you think maybe they can turn the music down a little? The bass has somehow burrowed into the deep recesses of my brain.”
“Like a worm?”
Chuckling, I nod my head and slap a hand on the kid’s shoulder. “Yeah, man. Like a worm. If you could scale down the house music a little I may make it to the end of the line.”
Stepping aside, Andy walks over to the photographer whose motto is the louder the music the better the pictures and leans in to speak in his ear. After a tense moment where Mr. Photog stiffens and pretends not to roll his eyes, the thumping music quiets a bit. It’s not off, but it’s quieter at least.
Hey, I get it. I’m an artist. We all have our own creative process. But it was about to make my brain explode. I need to remember to call Eddie, my manager, and tell him next con, no loud music in the tiny-ass rooms. Better to address that before an event to give everyone time to prepare themselves.
Taking a pull from the now room temperature bottle of water, I stretch my back and shake off the cobwebs in my head.
A scream rips