Page 7 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

I hold on tight to the table’s edge. “Do you have, like, an exact date? I work better with a deadline.”

She laughs, but it’s rough, like a cackle. “Before the summer moon turns to autumn.”

I lean forward. “Mid-August, then? September 1?”

She holds my gaze. “You will know when your time is up.”

My breath comes fast. I try to pull up the rational side of my brain, but she’s kicked me into panic mode, thinking about my mom dying so young, and how I’ve wasted so much time dating unlovable scoundrels.

Zach takes my arm. “We should go.” He seems displeased to have brought me here. “Come on, Kelsey.”

I stand up. “Thank you.”

Her ball goes dark, and she no longer looks old, as if only the strain of premonition aged her.

Zachery leads me away. “I think we need more champagne.”

I keep looking at her, astonished at her youthful face. What just happened? Did she hypnotize me?

We thread our way through the tables as I try to shake off the unsettled feeling. Zachery procures more champagne, and I sip it absently. Should I do what she said? Go home this summer? Take the long way?

There’s a splash. A woman has fallen in the pool, and two men in outfits worth more than the average mortgage payment of an Alabama farmhouse wade in after her.

She looks up at one with big heart eyes. Yup. She did it on purpose. She orchestrated her own meet-cute.

Is that what the fortune teller meant by learning from the movies I love? Maybe my encounters need a nudge?

I should go back and ask.

And get her name.

I could look up her history. I bet she’s done method acting on paranormal activity and that’s how she got me so out of sorts. Heck, the way she could use lighting to age herself may mean she’s worked in makeup or special effects.

But there’s a crowd around the pool watching the woman get pulled from the water. I have to fight my way through them to go back the way I came.

“Are you okay, Kelsey?” Zachery asks, but I ignore him. I want to find out more about this fortune teller. If I can prove she’s a fake, then I don’t need to listen to a word she said.

But by the time I make it to the corner where the woman was, her table is gone.

Chapter 4

ZACHERY’SSECRETOBSESSION

When I get back to my condo after the party, it’s almost four a.m. Kelsey and I tried to make a break for it after the fortune teller incident, but Desdemona found us.

We approached two more actors at her behest, wooing them to Team Demon for a TV pilot we’re currently casting. Kelsey’s mark was a hard sell, having heard rumors that Desdemona was the Disney equivalent of Ursula—she’d give you a part, but at a price.

The actress hadn’t even wanted to send in a headshot, but we convinced her to contact the office next week after our boss leaves for Cannes.

We’ve been up against this sentiment before, particularly with new actors who seem to think a casting director is a commitment, like an agent or manager.

But no, we’re hired by the producers or director and often see the actors only during the casting process, although sometimes we’re invited to the first few days of shooting.

Desdemona loves going on set and is well known for her ability to convince an actor it’s in his or her best interest to straighten up and fly right, lest theynever work in this town again.

They fall for it, even though there’s a certain cachet to getting targeted by Desdemona. Casting directors like Arista and Jacobs delight in finding work for the Demon’s rejects.

I set both my cell phones on the dresser. My business one, the only one Desdemona has access to, is filled with messages. I’ll get to them in the morning. Or, I suppose, in a few hours.

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