Page 63 of One Life to Loathe

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.” Sabrina shook her head. “Thirty in Hollywood is really like forty-five. At twenty-two, I’m the proper age for you at thirty-two.”

I didn’t like her attitude. “Sam is a good actress.” I meant it. We played off each other well, and she was marvelous when it came to the quiet stuff. The furtive looks and soft smiles were where she excelled. I was buying our characters’ relationship, and I didn’t even like the genre.

“Are they making you say that?” Sabrina wrinkled her nose. “I know they’re making you guys go out for coffee and walk to set together so they can get photos. I didn’t realize they’d provided you with a script to follow with the rest of the cast, too.”

“They haven’t,” I shot back. “Sheisa good actress. I like her.”

“Since when?” Sabrina wasn’t having it. “You guys have hated each other from the first day. Everybody has been talking about it.”

“I don’t hate her.” Irritation had me by the throat. “She’s a good person. I actually like her a lot.”

“Right.” Sabrina nodded knowingly. “You’re good.”

I wanted to run away from her. Far, far away. I was just about to make up an excuse about how I couldn’t finish my drink and had to leave—I figured talking about the big dump I had to takewould be enough to have Sabrina backing off—when the door to the bar opened to allow entrance to two familiar faces.

Miles, talking a mile a minute, had his hand pressed to Sam’s lower back when he ushered her inside. Obviously, they’d already eaten and were now finishing up their date with drinks. How had they ended up in the same location as me? More importantly, what all-powerful entity was trying to scar me for life?

“Speak of the crone,” Sabrina drawled.

I darted a glare at her before turning my attention back to Miles and Sam. They were settling at a little table in the corner, a candle glowing between them, and Sam looked rapt as Miles yammered on about something I knew had to be boring.

“I wonder if that’s how she got the job,” Sabrina mused.

It took me a moment to realize she’d said something. “What?”

“Sam.” Sabrina was nodding her head as if figuring out something important. “That’s the answer to the riddle. I couldn’t figure out why they hired her—I auditioned for her role, did you know that?—and yet they went with someone older and not even a quarter as pretty.”

Was she serious right now? She couldn’t be.

“It’s Miles. He has a thing for Sam—he probably thinks he can get her to retire because she has no other prospects and have his babies—and that’s why she got the role. It makes perfect sense.”

I glared at her. “Did you really just say you’re prettier than Sam?” I asked finally. Sabrina had spouted a lot of nonsense, but that was the part that bothered me the most.

“Of course I said it,” Sabrina replied. “It’s the truth, too. I mean … look at me and look at her. I pop and she … just does not.”

It was Sabrina’s disgusted lip curl that sent me over the edge. “You’re not prettier than her.” I shouldn’t have said it. I should’ve followed through on my original plan and told her I felt a big dump coming on so I could make my escape. I wouldn’t have been me if I hadn’t gone for the wrong choice, though.

Sabrina’s first instinct was to throw her head back and laugh like a loon. When I continued to stare daggers at her, she stopped laughing and started frowning. “How can you even say that with a straight face?”

“Because it’s the truth.” I’d gone this far. I figured I might as well go all the way. “She’s naturally pretty. She lights up within. You’re cold and you’re buried under two inches of makeup.”

“Um … all movie stars wear makeup.”

“Nobody needs that much makeup.” I was warming up to my topic. “While we’re at it, your skirt is ridiculous. You don’t need to put yourself on display to get others to look at you. At least that’s what I think you’re doing. Just be yourself.”

I thought better of what I’d said. “Actually, figure out who you are—make sure it’s a better version of yourself than what you’re boasting now—and then be yourself.” I stood and dug for my wallet. I found a twenty and threw it on the table to cover my drink and a tip. “Do you need me to walk you back to the hotel?”

Even though I didn’t like Sabrina—heck, I loathed her—I wasn’t the sort of guy who would leave her to make her way in the dark alone.

“I’m not done,” Sabrina fired back.

“Make sure you don’t leave with someone you don’t know,” I admonished her. “The locals will be all over you and you don’t know if they’re dangerous.”

“Why aren’t you all over me?” she demanded.

I opted for the truth. “You’re not my type.”

Sabrina snorted. “I’m everybody’s type.”

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