Sandcastle Beach (Matchmaker Bay #3) - Jenny Holiday Page 0,84
Beatrice. Bossy Beatrice. Ha!”
He was clearly well past his first.
“Hey now, don’t get too happy.” She tried to make it sound teasing, but she meant it. “We have a show tomorrow night. Stamina is important.”
“Yes, Mom.” He rolled his eyes.
He could be such a baby sometimes. She had learned his ways. He was used to getting what he wanted when he wanted. He lived in the moment and took the path of least resistance. She wasn’t sure whether that was because he was a celebrity or whether it was just Holden.
She sipped her wine. It was the wrong one. But whatever, it was fine.
“My agent got me an audition for Ryan Alexander’s new movie,” Holden said with a grin. “Not a lead, but a solid secondary character.”
“That’s…” She’d been going to say “great,” because that’s what she was supposed to say. But by all accounts, Ryan Alexander was a grade-A ass. The Me Too noose was tightening around him, to hear it told. That wasn’t even insider information—Maya’s Canadian stage circles didn’t overlap with the Hollywood studio–based film world. It was stuff she’d picked up reading the Hollywood Reporter.
Also, Ryan Alexander’s movies sucked. “I’d be careful of him, Holden.”
“Huh?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if some shit hit the fan with him in the near future.”
“What does that mean?” he said peevishly, and suddenly there was Ben. He silently took the glass of wine she was holding and handed her a different one.
“It means he’s a misogynistic creep at best and a predator at worst,” she said to Holden, and then, to Ben, “Thanks.” He nodded and retreated.
“What does that have to do with me?” Holden said, his tone a touch belligerent. “He’s not going to prey on me.”
“Right. He’s not. Forget it.” There was no use in trying to reason with Holden—in general, but especially when he was drunk.
“No. You clearly have an opinion on the matter, like you do on everything, so let’s hear it.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by “everything,” unless he was talking about the fact that she was the director of the play he was in and therefore it was literally her job to have an opinion, but she let it slide. “I just think that when you know someone is a bad person, you shouldn’t associate yourself with him. But more pragmatically, I wouldn’t want this to come back to bite you. Think of all those people who’ve had to apologize for working with Woody Allen.”
“I don’t know why you have to get so worked up about everything.”
Wow. And here she’d thought Holden was a happy drunk. She’d rather be fending off his advances, as annoying as they were, than fighting about this. “Can we drop it? You’re a really talented guy. You have a lot of potential as an actor. I just don’t want to see it wasted, is all.”
She started to turn away, but he grabbed her arm, which caused most of the wine to slosh out of her glass. Ugh. He was like a mosquito, a super-persistent mosquito who wouldn’t quit buzzing around, and—
“You will get the fuck out of my bar right now.”
—he was about to be swatted. But not by her.
The last thing she needed was Ben meddling in this. “It’s fine. We were just—”
He either didn’t hear her or was choosing to ignore her. He had Holden, who was protesting that he’d been misunderstood, by the arm. “How do you like being grabbed?”
She didn’t need a scene. She needed Holden to show up for work tomorrow without a monstrous hangover, to be charming and remember his lines—or enough of them, anyway—and to help her earn another thirteen thousand dollars. “Seriously, Ben. Back off.”
Ben let go of Holden, so that was something at least. “I invite you to leave my bar.”
“Or what? You gonna call the cops?”
Holden sounded like such a little boy. It was embarrassing. Anger flashed hot in Maya’s chest. At Holden for being such an ass, but also at Ben for making a scene. She had been handling it.
“No. I am going to walk twenty feet over there”—Ben hitched his thumb toward the bar—“and get my buddy the police chief to come have a word with you.”
“Dude, chill.” Holden rolled his eyes but turned to go.
“Sleep well!” she called after him. “Great job tonight!” She whirled on Ben. “What the hell was that?”
“What the hell was that?” he countered, making a flailing gesture in the direction Holden had gone.