A few curses and nasty comments fly out of his mouth.
I should walk away.
I can come back later.
Do it, chicken shit.
I take another apprehensive step, my heart slamming into my chest with each shallow breath I take. When was the last time I was this nervous? Even when I audition for a part, I can keep my shit together.
“Stop tap dancing in front of my door,” Vinnie says as he slams the phone down. “Either get in or get out, Ash.”
Dammit, I didn’t think he saw me.
“Do you have a minute?” I ask as I walk into his office with my head held high.
He leans back in his chair and shrugs. “What’s up?”
“Something happened last night.”
He cocks his head at me. “Speak. I don’t have all day.”
“Dominic Deville approached me at Bella’s Cabaret. He gave me his card.”
Vinnie’s eyes widen, and then he raises his hand, ushering me toward his desk. He points his finger at the chair across from him. “What did he say?”
“To call him today. He said I might be a good fit for his next project.”
“That’s great,” he says with genuine happiness. “But let me give you a piece of advice when it comes to Dom.”
I lean forward, digging my elbows into my thighs as I meet his intense gaze.
He kicks his dress shoe up on the edge of his desk and sighs. “He’s a pig. Be careful with him.”
I give him an appreciative smile. “Thanks, I can handle myself. There’s something else…” My throat feels as though it could close up as I attempt to speak. “If Dominic offers me a role, would you represent me?”
Vinnie purses his lips. He drops his foot on the floor and leans forward, pinning me down with one look.
“Let’s see how this meeting with Dom goes first and go from there.” Vinnie hits a button on his phone and then puts it on speaker.
“Dominic Deville’s office, how may I direct your call,” a woman says.
“Mags, this is Vinnie Sax.”
“Good morning, Mr. Sax. One moment while I connect you to Mr. Deville.”
A few seconds later, the same gruff voice from the club booms through the speaker. “Vin, it’s been a while. You better not be pitching Nico Chase to me again.”
“No, not this time. I have my assistant, Ash Riley, in my office with me. She says you gave her your business card. So, what part do you have in mind for her?”
“She’s your assistant,” he says, somewhat surprised. “I had no idea. Her cabaret act last night, shall we say, inspired me.”
Vinnie rolls his eyes. “How so?”
“I’m working on a satire about a cabaret club. The script is still in progress, but your girl would make a nice addition to the cast. I’d like to see her tomorrow around noon. Give her my home address.”
Vinnie looks annoyed as he says, “You better have a legit part for Ash. She’s my assistant. We take care of our own at Brenton-Lake.”
“Understood,” Dominic says. “I’ll see her tomorrow at noon.”
I have to contain my urge to jump on the desk and scream as Vinnie hangs up the phone. After years of school and failed auditions, I may finally get the chance to show my acting chops.
After I leave Vinnie’s office, I fish my cell phone from my purse and text Dylan.
Ash: I have an audition tomorrow.
An hour later…
Ash: We need to celebrate tonight.
A few hours later…
Ash: You okay?
What the hell is his problem?
I can’t go through this shit again.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ash
On our ride home, I grab Sloan’s headrest and give it a good shake. “What’s up with you today? You got your period?”
“It’s nothing,” Sloan grunts.
“You’re not talking to Dylan. Why?”
Sloan looks out his window. “Ash, stay out of it.”
“Okay, fine.” I slide over to the seat behind Dylan and give his headrest a shake. “Dylan, why aren’t you talking to Sloan?”
“Ash, c’mon,” Dylan says, glaring at me in the rearview mirror. “I’m not in the mood for games.”
“Both of you need to take out your tampons and stop acting like little bitches.”
Sloan snorts with laughter.
Dylan ignores my comment, staring at the road in front of him. We’re stuck in a shit ton of Los Angeles traffic, bumper to bumper with the car in front of us.
“You two better kiss and make up,” I say to no one in particular. “The ride to your house is way too long to sit in silence.”
“I’ll change the playlist,” Sloan offers.
“That’s not the point,” I challenge. “Why are you guys acting like weirdos?”
Sloan groans and then