Page 39 of Call Back

“No.” I frowned. “But we need to get the cameras out of there ASAP.”

“I’m ready for Stage One, but I need a little more time.”

“What? Why?”

“Just stay with Brady for a few more days. We don’t want to screw this up.”

“What are you waiting on?”

He hesitated. “I’m getting a friend to help me.”

“Help you do what?” When he didn’t answer, I shot him a glare. “This was supposed to be between you and me.”

“He doesn’t know any details.”

“Then what are you doing?”

He groaned. “I’ll have a plan in place by tomorrow. I’ll tell you more when I have it nailed down.”

“I want to know before you do anything.”

He smirked and gave me a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

I scowled. “The sooner this gets done, the better. I need to go in there now to find a change of clothes before I meet Momma for lunch. Those cameras creep me out. I want them gone.”

His brow furrowed and he studied me for several seconds. “I know, Mags. I hate it too. But we only get one shot at this, right?”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. “You’re right.”

“Then trust me. I need to set this up, so follow my lead.”

“Your lead? Just tell me what you plan to do. I’m an actress, Colt, and I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“I know, but go with it anyway.” Then he grabbed the keys out of my hand and bounded up the stairs. By the time I reached the landing, he had already stomped inside.

“I don’t like it, Magnolia,” he said in a stern voice. “Just let me handle it.”

This was his way of getting me to play along? Vague dialogue cues? “Yeah,” I muttered, walking into the kitchen. I set the box on the island, then opened the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water, pretty much one of the only things in there. “Why am I not surprised a good old Southern Georgia boy would say something so misogynistic?”

“You know it’s not that,” he said, his face pleading. “I’m protecting you. I promise I’ve hidden it somewhere no one will find it. The less people who know where it is, the better. And that includes you.” He was either wasting his time trying to break into the country music world instead of acting in LA, or he was being sincere. For some reason, I believed the latter.

I took a long drink and my stomach rumbled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I waved the open bottle in a wide sweep toward him. “Fine, but I’m only giving you until the weekend, and then I want to see it for myself.”

“Fair enough.” He snatched the water bottle from my hand and took a swig. “You still meeting Lila for lunch?”

“Yeah.” I needed to change, but it would look suspicious if I took clothes with me and didn’t change here. “I have to get ready. You can leave if you want.”

“Nah,” he said, handing back the water bottle. “I noticed your car’s not out front. I’ll wait and take you to meet her.”

I headed for the bedroom, telling myself this was no big deal. I was wearing a bra and panties, which provided the same amount of coverage as a bikini. Besides, I was used to quick costume changes backstage, and anyone with access to YouTube could see a whole lot more of me. But this was different. This was a violation of my privacy.

But I sucked it up and pulled a white, button-up shirt from a hanger and grabbed a pair of khaki pants. If I had been wait staff, I would have worn black pants, but Momma and Tilly had long since learned it was best to keep me in the kitchen at catering events. I tugged down my yoga pants, taking comfort in the fact that my T-shirt was long enough to cover most of my backside.

“It’s set,” I heard Colt say in a low voice in the living room.

After pulling on my khakis, I edged closer to the cracked door.

“She doesn’t suspect a thing.”

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