Page 10 of Callback
CHAPTER FIVE
Marly
“Are you sureabout this outfit, Omar? I really don’t want to end up on Celebrity What Not to Wear tomorrow!” I tugged the too-tight dress down and in doing so, I swore I almost had a nip-slip.
“Stop fidgeting with it. You lookhot. And you are up for a sex-pot role, so get used to these sorts of bare-all outfits.”
I groaned. “Right,” I hissed. “Because the only way to be sexy, is to show a shit-ton of skin.”
“Baby, I hear you. And I acknowledge you. But you and I both know this bullshit is part of the industry.” Grabbing my hips, he tugged me in front of a storefront window display, pointing to my reflection. “Look at that woman and tell me she isn’t the star of the next Jude Fisher movie?”
Heat flushed from my face down to my core as I took in my outfit. It wasn’t that I didn’t know I was sexy. I just freaking hated this game we played in Hollywood. The glad-handing to get award nominations. The chauvinism. The power dynamic between the studio executives… almost all of whom were men. But at least with my “engagement” to Omar, the propositions had stopped.
“If you are uncomfortable, we can go home and change,” Omar whispered in my ear. His deep voice rumbled through me and though the change was slight, the Omar portrayed in public vs. the Omar he was at home, was notable. He wasn’t ever a passive man, but while out and about, he became even more commanding and intense.
I found myself shaking my head, unsure of why. Maybe it was because this outfit was tame compared to the full-frontal nudity I’d have to display if I got this part. Or maybe it was as simple as the fact that I felt sexy, and for someone who usually gets cast as ‘cute’… ‘sexy’ felt pretty damn good.
Omar slipped his hand in mine and with a gentle tug, he pulled me beyond the velvet ropes to the front of the line. “You wanna be a star?” he whispered. “You have to act like a star. And stars don’t wait in lines. Come on.” Without stopping, he nodded at the bouncer and pulled me with him into the club.
The music vibrated through my body, my pulse thrumming with the bass. “What’s your poison tonight?” Omar lifted my hand, pressing a sweet kiss to my knuckles before tugging me close into his body. I had to crane my neck to see him.
“Bourbon on the rocks.”
He rolled his eyes, smiling to soften the gesture. “Do you even like that stuff? Or do you only drink it because your dad did?”
“I starteddrinking it because of my dad. Icontinuedrinking it because I like it.” I raised a challenging brow. “Do you drink IPAs because you like them, or because you think the Hops will put hair on your chest?”
His laugh barreled out of him and he spun me out, releasing me onto the crowded dance floor. “Touché, pussycat,” he said before heading to the bar.Oh God, these heels! I stayed a moment amidst the writhing bodies because I definitely didn’t trust myself to walk anywhere without Omar’s shoulder to balance on.
Once I caught my balance, I moved to the line of VIP tables and hesitated before Omar’s words resonated in my mind.Stars don’t wait in lines. I pushed beyond the massive group of people to the front of the line and gave an apologetic smile to those waiting. A bouncer with a clipboard nodded at me before he unclasped the rope and let me through. “You have the back table, Ms. Taylor.”
“Thank you,” I said as I walked up the stairs—carefully, God, so carefully in these dang shoes. A giant assortment of peonies caught my eye at the back table and warmth seethed through me. I put a hand to my heart while brushing the other over the soft petals. Beside the crystal vase, was a small box of salted caramels… my favorite. Carefully, I plucked the note taped to the top of the box and unfolded it.
Congrats, love. Some salted caramels to go with that inevitable bourbon you will order tonight.
~Omar
“Someone out there takes good care of you.”
That warmth turned cold as a shiver shimmied down my spine. The good kind of shiver. That voice—but it couldn’t be…
I turned to find Jude just over my shoulder. His eyes were sharp, alert, and his stance, rigid. His gaze slid the length of my body and his eyes widened before they snapped back to my face. “Different look you got there tonight,” he said, nodding to my outfit. “The producers at Silhouette would certainly approve.”
“And you?” I asked in a moment of bravery.
His jaw locked and a breath filled his chest. “I approve of anything that will get you the role of Holly.”
But, why? Why did he care?Only the bravery from a moment ago melted away, and instead, I said nothing as I looked around for cameras. Jesus, with cell phones these days, just about anyone could sell a picture to TMZ. “To answer your earlier question, yes, someone out there takes great care of me.” It wasn’t even a lie, I thought with an inward smirk. “Would you like to join u—” I moved to step into the table, only my stupid heel caught on the red carpet, hurling me into Jude’s chest. He caught me around the waist and as I tilted my chin up to look at him, his eyes darkened.
“You weren’t kidding when you said you fall a lot.” Humor flashed across his eyes and a momentary amused smile tipped the corners of his lips.
Instinctually, my hands slid up his broad shoulders as I caught my balance. His hands gripped my waist, doing all sorts of things to my pulse and our eyes locked, the intensity robbing me of breath. Right there in the middle of a crowded club, I was pressed against a stranger. My pulse kicked up a notch as Jude’s brows crept up his forehead.
A crimson stain burned across my cheeks as I pulled back from him. “Be near me at your own risk.” From over Jude’s shoulder, I watched as Omar sidled up to the bar, putting our drink orders in.
“I think I’ll be all right,” Jude said. “I do all my own stunts.”
I lowered myself onto the plush bench. “Do you want to sit? I think it’s a little too dangerous for me to be standing in these heels.” I lifted my leg, showing off three inches of pure danger.
