Page 8 of Not Exactly a Small-Town Romance

The other is personal. It’s rare for any of the women I’ve dated, especially if I met them with business intentions, to move from the official phone to the private one.

But Jester’s on there. We sometimes get a beer together.

My mother. My sister. My niece, who somehow has her own phone at age six. A few of my acting school buds, the ones who haven’t gotten too big to take calls from washed-up old me.

And Kelsey, of course.

Kelsey.

I almost say her name out loud, but stop myself. I’m failing to stop myself more and more with her lately.

Stop working extra hours to be near her.

Stop making up excuses to do things together.

Truth is, she’s the person who knows me best. We text nonstop, any time of day or night. She doesn’t seem to have a life outside of Desdemona, and often, neither do I.

We’re getting too tight, though, and it worries me.

Which is why I want to push her toward dating again. I’m wrong for her. She needs to find herself someone more suitable, someone who isn’t an industry joke who made his name in gross-out comedies and then failed even at those.

My phone buzzes, the private one.

It’s Kelsey.

Jason Venetian already texted me.

This one gets me in the gut. They’d looked good together. Kelsey has that fresh-faced appeal that would have been killer for her career if acting were the direction she’d gone in. She could have played twenty-year-olds for two decades like Jennifer Aniston or Reese Witherspoon.

And Jason was way into her. I could see it from his posture, the way his eyes kept taking in that red dress.

But he’s an actor. The exact sort of man who is wrong for her.

I quickly tap out a message.

Kelsey Whitaker strikes again.

She sends a fire emoji back at me.

Which brings me back to that red dress. Now that was fire.

I strip off my shirt and pants, trying to decide between showering or sleep.

But Kelsey starts rapid-fire texting me all her ideas for Jason.Limited Fateis her priority, but the Demon has to approve pitching them to the director, which takes a bit of a dance to make her think she thought of it.

And, of course, the director gets the final say. In this case, it’s Drake Underwood. He’s got a lot of clout, but he’s old guard, like Desdemona. He’ll listen to her. If Kelsey can convince the Demon to accept her choices, it’s likely they’ll get cast.

Kelsey sends me headshots of several women she thinks will work with Jason, but she’s after that Netflix star.

I reply to every text, occasionally having to look up a long abbreviation.

FFSDYKWIM.

On days like this, I really feel the eleven years between us.

She’s ribbed me about the women I take out, some professionally, others with a thought to something more. They never pan out.

I’m in this weird place. A little famous once, but not a working actor. A stepping stone, not a ladder. And never a place to land.

---