Page 22 of Order Up

I’m touched that Mason went through all this trouble to arrange a date inside before this place no longer exists.

I look toward the door, expecting him to return at any moment with whatever it is he forgot in his truck. A chime echoes in the empty room, drawing my attention to his phone. My first reaction is jealousy. It takes all my effort not to reach for the phone on the other side of the table to see if some woman texted him.

“You wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t love you. No buts about it,” I tell myself.

The chime echoes again, making my fingers itch. I look toward the door, waiting for him to reappear.

The third chime is too much.

I slide the phone to my side of the table. Just in case it’s an emergency and I need to go get him. At least, that’s the lie I tell myself as I stare at the screen notifications.

Wes:It’s official now. The theater is all yours. Congratulations!

Wes: Come down to the brewery and have a beer on me to celebrate.

My heart leaps into my throat as I reread the two texts over and over, certain I’m imagining them.Masonis the developer who bought this place? The one who plans to tear it down and build a box store? I’d heard he was buying up commercial real estate in the area, but this? This is too much.

“I forgot the wine,” he says, holding up a bottle.

My hand is shaking so violently I almost drop the phone. I stare at the man who feels more like a stranger than ever before. So this is why he brought me here. To let me have one last night in this place before it’s ripped apart, block by block.

I push out of my chair, storm across the stage and down the stairs.

“What’s wrong?”

I march right up to him and poke him hard in the chest. “Youbought this place.”

“I did—”

“You’re the seedy developer. I should’ve known. All week long I’ve been hearing whispers of all the businesses you’ve been buying. All of which you’ve never once mentioned to me. But this? This is unbelievable. You know what this place means to me. I can’t believe you’d tear it down to build some fucking store. I never thought you were so wrapped up in making a buck that you’d actually stoop this low.”

“You done?” Mason asks.

“I—” This time, it’s my phone that chimes. Except it’s not a text, it’s an incoming call. From Claudia Morrison. I stare at the screen, tempted to send it to voicemail. But I’m so fired up. It’s only fair I get myfuck you, Claudiamoment.

“Are you going to take that?” Mason asks, nodding at my phone. He can see the name on the screen. He knows exactly who it is. “Or can we finish this fight you started?”

“Shut up. I’ve been waiting to give her a piece of mind.” I answer the call and yank the phone to my ear. “Hello?”

“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Claudia’s voice sounds suspiciously sweet, and it instantly puts me on edge. After calling me sparkless and fat, she has some nerve calling me at all.

“Didn’t know you called all your friends fat.”

“Fat? I meant curvy. Which is exactly the body type you need for this starring role. How would you like to be the lead in a romantic comedy?” She’s practically shouting into the phone. Mason no doubt hears every word. Though returning to Hollywood is the last thing I want to do, I’m feeling a little vengeful, so I play along.

“I thought you said I had no spark.”

“The director saw your early work. He handpicked you. Come back with that spark—and your curves, don’t lose those—and the role is practically yours. All you have to do is a quick audition and the part is yours. Five hundred thousand dollars.”

I nearly choke.

That’s the kind of money I have only been able to dream of since I moved out to that godforsaken town. “When’s the audition?” I ask, my voice barely a whisper. My heart pounds in my ears, my palms sweaty. Thisshouldbe everything I want. At one time, it was. Mason’s hardened eyes drill into me. I never dreamed of hurting him a second time. If only he hadn’t just hurt me to my core.

“Two days.”

“I’m in Alaska.”

“It takes more than two days to get back? What are you taking a dog sled?” Claudia cackles at her own joke. “Tuesday, nine a.m. I’ll text you the address.” She ends the call without so much as agood-byeorgood luck.

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