Page 9 of He's The Reason Why

Paul hurried off, gesturing to the now quite substantial group clustered around the catering table. “Gather ’round, friends. It’s time to officially kick this baby through the gate, so to speak.”

Blake watched him go, stunned. It was like being run over by an information freight train.

There was a shuffle to determine who was supposed to sit where, then negotiations on whowantedto sit in their assigned space, followed by deals for seat switching and general discussions of the latest projects. Nobody actually sat down.

Blake stood behind his assigned seat. The director, Tamar Shurer, a legend who’d worked with his mother back in the day, was supposed to sit to his left, with Piper Bellamy in between them, but so far, he hadn’t seen either woman.

He spotted Rachel Morris headed in his direction with grace and determination and suppressed the urge to run. The last time he’d been this close to her, she’d worn tattered jeans and flip-flops, and her hair had been chestnut brown. Now, she was a platinum blonde in a designer dress that fit so tight she probably couldn’t breathe and sky-high heels.

She had the same imperious tilt to her chin that she’d had at nineteen, and her lips were still enticing, only now he knewexactly what those lips promised. A gorgeous but oppressive prison of affection with no chance of parole.

There was a reason he’d changed his phone number when that project, and their relationship, wrapped.

He gripped the back of his chair and wished like hell the read-through would get started in the next two seconds.

“Hi, handsome. Long time no text.” Rachel held her arms out wide, obviously expecting a hug.

“Hey, Rachel.” Blake gave her the Hollywood hug, which basically let him keep her at arm’s length and relegated her to air kisses instead of the real thing.

“You’re not still worried about me texting you, are you?” Rachel winked. “I promise it was just a phase. You don’t have to hide.”

His smile was plastered on so tight it started to ache. “Nah, texts are yesterday’s news. I’m sure you’ve moved on to the next big thing.”

She blinked, then giggled. “Can’t tell you how excited I was when I heard you would be lead. It’s a perfect choice. Just wish I could sing that duet with you. Then again, I don’t see Piper Bellamy anywhere. If she doesn’t show, I’ll fill in for her during the read, so maybe we’ll get to sing together after all.”

He hoped like hell that Piper Bellamy showed up soon and that she had a backbone of steel. Rachel would sweep in and take over if she didn’t, which was the last thing he wanted. Rachel had a way of slowing production to a standstill while simultaneously making sure nobody was able to relax. If she wasn’t so damn talented, she’d never be hired for anything because she was so difficult to work with.

“Good morning, everyone,” a gravelly smoker’s voice shouted behind him.

Tamar Shurer, infamous for being a taskmaster with a heart ofsteel and a will of stone, clanged a bell back and forth with vigor. “Get to your seats, please.”

She was a small woman, barely over five feet, and thin enough that a strong wind would probably blow her away. But her ability to project her voice made up for that. Her hair looked like she’d been swimming in the ocean and hadn’t bothered to brush it after.

He knew from past experience and stories his mother told him that Tamar was like the tide, able to grind a boulder down to a pebble and then make a sandcastle out of it. She did more than craft a story; she created an experience.

She put her hand on Blake’s shoulder to steady herself while she climbed onto a chair. “Good morning, everyone, and welcome toScorched! Please take your seats. Now, please. We have a lot to sort out and we’re already a year behind. Sit, sit, sit.”

Rachel patted Blake’s back and winked at him. “We’ll continue our little chat later.”

Some moved to their seats at the table, while a whole group dressed in workout clothes filed in from the hallway to take the chairs along the walls.

Tamar stepped from the chair onto the table, then released his shoulder. “Thank you for the assist, Mr. Ryan. You can take a seat.”

“My pleasure.” He sat and looked around the room. At some point, it had filled with people, most of whom he didn’t recognize. He’d never seen so many at a simple table read before. He hadn’t realized there were that many speaking roles.

Tamar cleared her throat. “Okay, quiet, please. Quiet. Yes, even you, Paul.”

It took a few seconds for the message to travel through the room and for people to give her their attention. She waited with the air of someone who knew she would be obeyed.

Once quiet settled, she smiled. “Thank you. As you can see,we’re a little crowded this morning so keep the chatter to a minimum. I want to make a few personal remarks and then we’ll get to it. For those who haven’t figured it out or who are trying to forget, I am Tamar Shurer, and I am your director.”

The audience applauded, and a few whistles permeated the air.

Tamar waved the applause away. “Let’s see if you still like me at the wrap party, shall we?”

A smattering of giggles filled the room.

Tamar pointed to a woman on the far side of the room. “The lovely lady with the notebooks is the woman who wrote this magnificent tale. When Diane showed me this script five years ago, I knew it was something special and I jumped at the chance to be a part of it. Unfortunately, we hit several speed bumps along the way. Timing was bad, economy was bad, the cast was bad…no, I’m kidding on that part. Mostly.”

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