Hollywood Flirt - Alexa Aston Page 0,34
car. “I’ll watch my speed,” he promised. He wanted to tell the cop that he’d just had a tiff with his girlfriend and that’s why he was going way too fast but Sydney wasn’t his girlfriend. And then the cop would want to know who she was. He already knew Sydney valued her privacy so he kept his mouth shut. He’d talked his way out of the ticket. It wasn’t the first time.
He waved and pulled out, making sure that the rest of the way to Santa Monica he kept his speed a few miles under the limit. With minimal traffic, he’d made it from Malibu in just under forty minutes.
Dash cruised past the street Monty Revere lived on. Dash only lived three blocks away, which is why he’d walked to the director’s place the other night. He wondered how long Sydney planned on staying at her dad’s house.
It didn’t matter. He wasn’t in high school. He wouldn’t drive by to see if she was home. At least he didn’t think he would.
He pulled into his driveway and scooped up the newspaper. Despite his addiction to news on the internet, Dash still liked the feel of a newspaper in his hands at breakfast.
Tim was already up, brewing coffee.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call Herc last night,” Dash said. “Was he upset?”
Tim pulled the creamer from the refrigerator. “Nope. Herc was so tired from his day at Disneyland that he collapsed into bed without even brushing his teeth. He was out like a light. Didn’t even put his PJs on.”
Dash sighed in relief. At least no one was mad at him on this end. “He must’ve been tired if he didn’t brush. That’s been his new thing lately.”
“You good?” Tim asked, looking concerned.
“Yeah. Just in my head too much. I have a big audition in the morning. I’m worried about it. My last three pictures I didn’t have to do that. They just signed me.”
Tim poured both of them a cup of coffee and handed Dash one. “Don’t be. If you’re meant to get the part, you will. If you don’t, move on. It’s like a woman. If you’re meant to be with her, you will be. If not, there are a lot of fish in the sea.”
As Dash took a swig of coffee, he thought about the only fish that remotely interested him.
And how he’d have to come face-to-face with her tomorrow.
CHAPTER 10
Dash arrived at Monty’s house at eight-thirty, just as a short, bulky woman wearing a gray and white housekeeping uniform waddled up the drive.
“You here for the auditions?” she asked wearily as she pulled her key out and inserted it into the front door’s lock.
“Yes, ma’am. Dash DeLauria.”
She gave him a disgruntled look. “I don’t go to movies. I like to read. So, I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. Don’t waste time sucking up to me. Or to my daughter.”
Before he could ask who the woman’s daughter was, a tall, thin woman with dark skin and warm brown eyes came around the corner.
“Hey, Mama.” She embraced the housekeeper. “Stick to the upstairs today if you can. Downstairs may get pretty crazy.”
“It’s Thursday. That’s my upstairs day,” the woman said testily. “I don’t know why Mr. Monty has to have people traipsing through the house all the time. The man has money. Why can’t he open an office somewhere so I can clean in peace?”
“You love it because you get to see me this way.”
The older woman grinned. “That I do.” She parted from them and went up the staircase.
The younger woman held out a hand. “I’m Jayla Jefferson, Mr. Revere’s assistant. That was my mom, Diamond. She’s cleaned for Mr. Revere since before I turned three years old.”
He took her hand. “Dash DeLauria. I see your mom isn’t enthralled with actors.”
“Or anything about the movie business. She hated when I went to work for Monty, but he paid for my degree at UCLA on the condition that I would come to work for him after I graduated. Six years later, here I am.”
He mentally did the math. “You’re close in age to his daughter.”
Jayla nodded. “Sydney’s almost two years older than I am. I wore all her hand-me-downs. She let me follow her around some. Taught me how to play gin rummy and poker. Do you know her?”
“We’ve met,” he confirmed, not elaborating.
She glanced at her watch. “I hope you realize that you’re very early, Mr. DeLauria. You’re slotted for ten and we’ll probably be