Page 6 of Don't Forget Me
He smiled at that. It was true. She’d taken him on when he was a twenty-year-old inexperienced and troubled kid. Now, she was his closest family. “I know. Bye, Bea.”
He hung up, and the minute he stepped from the black rental car, two production assistants assaulted him. Franklin jumped out and tried to step in front of them, but they pushed him aside easily.
“Mr. Jacobs, there’s someone waiting outside your trailer.” That would be the reporter—the interview was the director’s idea.
Nick slid his dark aviators into his hair and peered at the second assistant—a woman. “And what do you want?”
“Um… Can I get you a coffee?”
That was the routine they had—trying to supersede his personal assistant. Nick didn’t care for on-set drama or jockeying for position. Franklin opened his mouth, probably to protest their question, but Nick shut him up with a wave of his hand.
“Yes, coffee.” It didn’t matter to him who brought it, only that he got a refill in his now empty cup. It took a lot of caffeine to get through his days.
Neither assistant moved. Nick raised a brow, and they walked away with less of a frantic scurrying than Franklin normally had.
He knew he intimidated people. It was one of the many things Stephen told him to be careful of. Not only because of his looks but for the sharpness he spoke with, an affectation.
Though, the looks did have something to do with it. He’d been named on Hollywood’s list of most eligible bachelors five years running. He was taller than almost anyone he met, and well built. Even Stephen used to back up when Nick was mad.
Turning to Franklin, he wished he had a task he could tell him to go do. Something about the man bothered him, something that made Nick distrust him. “Go.”
One word sent Franklin running to find a way to appear useful.
A curly-haired woman stood outside his trailer with her phone clutched in one hand. The tag around her neck marked her as an approved visitor.
“Let’s get this over with.” Nick grunted as he yanked open the door and climbed in.
The woman followed him. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Jacobs. I’m Jasmine Harbor.”
“Harbor?” He threw himself onto a chair at the tiny table and studied her. If she was joking, she didn’t show it. It was no secret in executive circles of Hollywood that the most sought after actor refused to do any movie that would force him into the water or onto a boat.
He had his reasons.
Jasmine’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, Harbor.”
“Okay, Ms. Harbor. Have a seat and let’s get started. I don’t have all day.”
She lowered herself and set her phone on the table between them. “I’m going to record this so we can just talk.”
He shrugged, waiting for her first question.
“So, Mr. Jacobs—”
“It’s Nick.”
“Nick.” She smiled. “Tell us about this new movie Paradise.”
First question and he already didn’t know what to say. Whatever you do, bro, don’t act like a tool. Not in interviews. Yet, Stephen had left right when Nick needed him most.
“It’s your typical romantic comedy.” His director would frown at that answer.
Kind of like Jasmine was doing. “Then, why should my readers pay good money to see it?”
That was the question, wasn’t it? He shrugged. “I’m in it.”
Her lips pursed. This wasn’t the typical Hollywood reporter who swooned at his presence. Instead, she seemed… disappointed. In him? Maybe.
But he’d never cared about that before. The only person’s opinion who’d mattered was Stephen’s. They’d left their old lives behind, including their deadbeat parents, to make something of themselves. They’d always had each other.
