Playing at Forever - By Michelle Brewer Page 0,3
on. She couldn’t help it—it seemed only natural to follow his career—and as best she could, his life.
“You know, it’d be nice if he’d remember the little people. Where would he be without us?” Amy had been the stage director during most of Tommy’s performances and Penny had almost always been his leading lady.
“Well, Amy, I imagine it’s pretty easy to forget about your old life when you’re completely overwhelmed by your new one.” This was how Penny had comforted herself over the first few years of silence.
“I’d never forget you,” Amy replied mockingly, wrapping her arm around Penny’s shoulders. “Even if I was worth millions of dollars, with mansions spanning the globe.”
“It’s good to know who your true friends are.” Penny said with a smile as they approached her restaurant, only half joking at that point. She recognized Kevin’s car parked in the parking lot and dread filled her. How much she loathed the idea of stepping inside her restaurant and seeing him there. Probably with Gina, the woman he was now having a supposedly legitimate relationship with.
For a moment, she allowed herself to slip into a fictional reality. She played the role of the scorned lover, betrayed by the man who had promised to love her. Who had promised her eternal happiness.
In this reality, though, Kevin was a horrible man—some sort of Mafioso, who’d finally crossed the line. And in would waltz the hero—tall, dark and handsome with dark blue eyes. He would not only put the bad guy away, but he would sweep Penny off her feet and show her what love was meant to be like.
She almost laughed aloud as she turned and waved to her friend, tightening her sweater once more before turning back and heading into her dream—her dream which was slowly becoming a nightmare.
Thomas Davidson sat high above the ground, staring blankly in front of him. He didn’t notice the waterfall to his left, cascading down into the pool. He didn’t pay attention to the beautiful view in front of him—the way the hilly landscape seemed to contrast so beautifully with the lights of the city. He didn’t even hear the constant hum of noise coming from below him as people he hardly knew, much less cared about, pranced around his house.
The only thing he was aware of was the weight in his lap. It wasn’t heavy—not to hold. But it carried a great deal of substance.
He looked down with a tired sounding sigh, his hands resting on the stack of papers.
It was his script. The one thing he’d ever done in his entire life that he was actually proud of.
The one thing nobody wanted to touch.
He rose to his feet in one graceful movement and angrily tore the stack of paper to shreds, sending it flying over the edge of the balcony and raining down on the pool below him. A few pieces were caught up in the wind and carried off, toward the mountains.
Another burst of anger flashed through him and he turned, rushing into the master suite so that he wouldn’t put his fist through one of the many panes of glass that surrounded him. He at least had enough presence of mind to remember what a hassle that had been last time. Instead, he paced around the large room, his thoughts muddled.
“Yo, Tom—what’s going on?” Tommy turned to find his manager, and supposed best friend, standing in the doorway, propping one of the heavy glass doors open as he leaned against it.
He radiated confidence. Success. Wealth.
Of course, Graham had it all thanks to Tommy.
“Nothing,” Tommy responded, shaking his head as he ran his hands through his already-disheveled hair. Graham wouldn’t understand.
“Nothing? So you just decided to let garbage rain down on the pool?” Tommy laughed morosely. Garbage. Well, it might as well be.
“It was my script.” Tommy replied, his teeth clenched. The other man sighed, shifting his weight so that he was now holding the door open with his hand rather than his shoulder. It seemed to Tommy an act of frustration.
“Look, man—Fox is willing to take it.” He spoke to him almost as an annoyed parent would speak to a spoiled child.
“But not as long as I’m lead.” Tommy closed his eyes, trying to maintain control of the anger that was raging through him.
He’d come to Hollywood looking for an escape. He’d come looking for happiness—a new life, a new future. He’d even found both, and he was grateful.
He had struck gold when he was given the lead