Hollywood Triplets - Layla Valentine Page 0,23

she remembered.

“Sometime,” he agreed. “But not tonight.”

“You should do it to me,” she encouraged. “Show me how it works.”

“No way,” he said. “You don’t know the choreography that goes with it. It’s too dangerous. The guy who plays the ex in the film is really more of a stuntman than an actor. He’s the one doing ninety percent of the work, even though he’s the one getting hit. If you really want to see what it looks like, I’ll have you down to the set sometime, and he and I can show you.”

“Will that be okay?” Annalise asked. “I mean, bringing me on set? You’re not supposed to let anyone know that we’re dating.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “I’ll tell them you’re my cousin or something. We’ll just have to wait until we get back home to kiss.” He winked at her.

She melted a little. “All right,” she said. “So if it’s not an action movie… it’s another rom-com?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I was hoping for more action, actually, when I took the job. I’m really trying to branch out. But I’m afraid I might be pigeonholed as an actor. Everyone sees me as just… the leading man.”

“Well, you’re a good leading man,” Annalise said. “I should tell you that my sister and I watched Four Nights Adrift the other night.”

Curt grinned. “And? Did you like it?”

“I liked you in it,” she said.

He burst out laughing. “Really well done,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re good at this.”

“What am I good at?”

“Complimenting an actor when you hated the movie he was in.”

“I didn’t hate it,” she protested. “It just… it wasn’t my thing.”

“It wasn’t my thing either,” he admitted. “I kind of regret taking the job sometimes.”

“Why did you take it?”

“I guess I’m afraid,” he confessed. “Is that pathetic? I’m afraid that if I don’t stay on top, if I don’t keep reminding moviegoers and studios who I am and what I’m capable of, that I’ll be forgotten.”

“That’s not pathetic,” she said. “You’re concerned about losing your footing.”

“It really wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” he said. “Not to be a famous actor anymore… people have survived much worse.”

“Why would it be hard for you?” she asked, wanting to empathize.

“I always wanted to act,” Curt said. “You know, a lot of people come to Hollywood to become stars. To get famous. But I didn’t come for that. I just wanted to act. It’s my passion.”

“I didn’t know that,” Annalise said. “Though it makes sense. You’re very talented.”

“I don’t have to be a star,” Curt said. “I could act in small roles and be happy. But it’s so much harder to find work when your name isn’t well-known. I struggled for a long time.” He sighed. “I know it’s a little entitled of me, but I don’t want to struggle again.”

“I don’t think that’s entitled at all,” Annalise said. “You paid your dues. You don’t want to pay them again. I completely understand.”

The relief that came over his face was evident. “I thought you might,” he said. “You’re a terrific listener, Annalise.”

“Well, I know what it’s like to struggle,” she said, quietly.

“Do you?”

She set down her fork. “I need to tell you something.”

“This sounds serious.”

“It is. Kind of. Maybe.”

“All right.” Curt put his own fork down. “Do you want to go sit on the couch and talk?”

“Oh, but you haven’t finished eating,” Annalise protested.

“I’m ready to take a break,” Curt assured her. “Let’s go sit and talk for a while. I’m sure this will reheat nicely, if we want to have a second round of dinner after our conversation.”

The truth was, she thought it would be much easier to disclose the things she had to if they spoke in the living room. She picked up her glass of wine, led him in there, and sat down on the couch, half wishing she had a nice fireplace like her sister’s.

Curt sat back and relaxed, placing his own glass of wine on an end table.

“This is cozy,” he said. “I like your bookcases.”

“Thanks.” She wrung her hands, anxiety building. “I painted them. They were brown when I bought them.”

“They look good white.” He reached out and took her hands in his. “What’s wrong, Annalise? We were having a good time, weren’t we? Did I say something wrong?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m sorry. I know I’m being weird. I’m anxious about what I have to tell you.”

“Which is what?”

She swallowed. “The thing is… I have endometriosis.”

He nodded slowly, his face revealing nothing.

“My case is a