Page 14 of Out of the Gold

I glance at Thomas, whose head swivels from side to side. “What are you looking for?”

“Chase Wright. What have you done with him? I swear I just heard you turn Jessa Mendes down.”

His antics give me pause. “I’m not.” I search for the words. “In the mood.”

“Dude. You’realwaysin the mood for Jessa.”

Crap. I have been off lately. A flash of blond ponytail captures my attention for a split second, and I force my attention to my PA. “It’s nothing, really. I have a very early call time and only want to unwind for a while before getting some rest.”

He quirks his lips to the side.

I add, “It’s a big day of shooting tomorrow.”

He holds his hands up, as if in surrender. “Can I get anything for you?”

“Nah, I’m good.” We both check out the dance floor, and soon he’s wiggling in his seat. “Go out there and have fun. I’ll probably join you once I finish my drink.” I swirl the scotch.

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Thomas drains his glass and, with one more appraising look at me, heads toward some crew members. Alone, I will my whirling brain to quiet, even in the loud club. From my vantage point, I check out the dance floor. Everyone from the mother of the child actor I “cured” today to many of the other actors and crew are out there. Jessa’s in the middle, dancing with a small group, including Mark. The song changes to “Taboo” by Cole Manchester, and I let the sultry beat flow through me.

As I take another sip of the required drink, Judith sits down next to me. “Chase, I’m glad to catch you alone. I’m so sorry about what happened today. But the new gloves probably will work out even better.”

I finger the rim of my glass. Not wanting to stoke any ill feelings, I reply, “Yeah, I think the new ones will be good.”

She sips a glass of red wine, forcing me to swallow my desire to rip it out of her hands.Anyred would be better than scotch.

Judith continues, “The costume fits you perfectly, Chase. It really did transform you into the superhero, that’s for sure.” She lets out a small laugh.

She deserves to know how I feel about all the thought that went into her design, even if I didn’t show it earlier. “Thanks to your innovations. I do appreciate all the effort you put into making it more, uhm, accessible than the last one.”

A self-congratulatory smile steals across her face. “Thank you. We wanted to do something different. I worked a long time designing the costume to make it easier for you. The whole team did.”

She sips her wine again, and I swallow my own saliva. “By the way, I hope you can get along with Melody. She really is a wonderful person. Is there something I can do to smooth things over between you two?”

At the mention of the woman with the golden hair, my body tenses. I can’t let my distaste for everything my dresser represents—my own childhood and living her dream—show. “She’s fine.”

A woman from accounting approaches and catches Judith’s attention. Happy not to probe the subject further, I stand up. Leaving my remaining scotch on the side table, I excuse myself and head toward the dance floor. Maybe some physical exertion will do me good.

Before I even hit the actual dance floor, a couple of women from makeup and hair surround me, gyrating. Smiling, I twirl them around and away from my body. I’m not interested in hooking up tonight. I only want to blow off some steam.

The music changes, blaring “Your Kiss Destroys Me,” Hunte’s first Number One. A yell goes through the crowd as fists pump into the air.

About halfway through the song, one of the ladies in the crew places her hand to my ear and says, “That’s Melody’s father’s band, you know.”

“Yeah.”

Hard growing up in Chicago without knowing about all of its famous citizens—and their families, even if we never met. I grab the woman by the hand and spin her, my mind bouncing back to my almost-forgotten audition for the upcoming movie about Hunte’s rise, fall, and rise again to success. Sam touted it as the best role of the year. Maybe Melody can be of some use after all? She might be able to give me the inside scoop about the movie. Possibly even talk me up to her father?

The music changes to a Daughtry anthem. With everyone else, I roll my hips and clap with the beat. I dance with Janie from set design, and the song ends with us laughing and high-fiving each other.

After a few more songs, I need a break and make my way toward a sofa—anemptyone, preferably. “Looking good out there,” Joe, the camera operator, says as I sit down.

“Thanks.” I wipe sweat off my brow. “It’s been a while since I danced like that.”

“Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’d love some water. I’m parched.”

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