Page 3 of Something New

“This was special French toast with almond extract. Chef’s special secret ingredient. Triggered my nut allergy. I even asked if there were nuts, but it was a secret ingredient. I could barely taste it, with Derek arguing that we need to prance down Rodeo Drive for the paparazzi to see him. Seriously, where do you find these divas?”

“The same place I found you, Anna. In the slush pile begging for their shot at their name in lights. You seemed happy enough at the time, and Derek was good for your image.”

“Well, I certainly helped him along. He didn’t even care that I could have gone into anaphylactic shock and died. He was more concerned with looking good on camera,” Anna grumbled, her leg swinging rapidly, trying to dispel the tension in her body. “I had to get a taxi to get myself home and was sick for three days.”

“This is tinsel town, baby. That’s everyone’s number one goal, and if you had remembered that, you would have reacted differently, and I wouldn’t be dealing with the major fallout from the press, the studio, and the producers.” Her voice lowered, becoming very serious, more serious than Anna had ever heard her. “Anna, this is not good. In fact, it might have been better if you had gone into anaphylactic shock. Death might be the only thing to save your career.”

A chill ran up Anna’s spine, and she stilled. She straightened in the chair, her feet firmly on the ground. “Yvonne, what are you saying? It was a stupid argument. I went to the restaurant and spoke with the manager and the waitress. I never asked for her to be fired, though her asshole manager fired her. I even found her something better. Everything is all set. Can’t we put out a press release clearing this up?”

She put on a brave front, hoping her agent couldn’t see past the breezy attitude to the underlying fears that had been racing in her mind since the incident. Yvonne was reinforcing everything that Anna had been dreading, confirming what Anna thought would happen, that this incident was more serious than it should have been.

“No, Anna. It’s not that easy. This is just the latest in a string of events. The producers even asked to have you drug tested this week. You came in looking pale and shaky. They thought you were drying out from an overdose or something. You set the filming schedule back, screwed up the sets, barked at everyone more than usual, which is saying a lot, and were a general bitch beyond compare. Anna, they’ve had it with you.”

Blood pounded in Anna’s ears, and her heart thumped in her chest. Her stomach hurt, and this time it had nothing to do with the vomiting and diarrhea from the allergic reaction, but from fear. “You told them about the allergy, right? You told them what happened, right? Yvonne, tell me you’re on my side.”

Anna’s voice rose by the end of the sentence to an almost scream, pleading for reassurance, but there was only silence on the other end of the phone. Finally, there was a sigh. “I told them that, Anna, but at this point, it’s only an excuse. They’ve called off contract negotiations. The coma your character is in as of yesterday? Well, as of right now, you’re in that state indefinitely and may be killed off. You may have seen your last day on the set ofBlazing Passions.”

A cold sweat broke out across her back, that had nothing to do with the illness plaguing her all week. She swallowed past a suddenly dry throat and pasted on a brave face. “Well, maybe it was time to move pastBlazing Passions. We’ve talked about being concerned that I was being typecast in the role, anyway. What about that role for the Broadway show? I’ve been through a couple of audition rounds already.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone. About the time when Anna thought they had gotten disconnected, Yvonne sighed. “I don’t think you understand the gravity of the situation. Your reputation is tarnished, maybe beyond repair. By breaking off negotiations right after this incident, the producers have signaled that you’re difficult to work with, making other people hesitant to want to sign you, even in a different medium. Your coworkers don’t like you, and Derek is talking about what a diva you are. Not exactly a reputation to recommend. If you had awards and a box office draw, studios might overlook it, but not right now. And I hesitate to mention this, but your age. You’re not the fresh-faced young sexy woman anymore. And we know how that plays in Hollywood.”

A slow burn of anger boiled inside, both at the hypocrisy of her age and the situation. “You set me up with Derek, saying it would help both our careers. Can’t you muzzle him? He knows what really happened, and he’s throwing me to the wolves.”

“Yes, he is. I’ve talked to him, but the damage is done. You need something good to happen or at least some time away to let this all cool down. I’ll see if the restaurant manager will speak on your behalf, since you talked to them and made your apologies, but he’s getting more publicity from your bad behavior than if it blows over, so I doubt he’ll want to sweep it under the table. I can’t fix this with a publicity stunt.”

“The last one with Derek Harper went so well,” Anna muttered under her breath. “Besides, I only did what you wanted—performed on cue like a trained poodle to generate publicity. And I’m not over the hill yet, dammit.”

Why the hell had she listened to her agent, followed her directions on her behavior? Yvonne swore this would garner interest from the paparazzi and the fans, creating buzz and interest from other studios and producers. Instead, look where it put her, at the proverbial end of the road for her career. Yet another person she shouldn’t have trusted.

Yvonne continued as if she hadn’t heard, although the pause in conversation showed she had. “I never said you were over the hill. Right now, you just need to say low and, for God’s sake, out of sight.”

“Run and hide,” Anna stated bitterly, the words tasting worse than the vomit over the past few days. Her gaze was drawn to the ruby red bridesmaid dress hanging in a plastic protective case in her hallway, dropped off by the dry cleaners earlier that day. “Lucky for me, I have a ready-made excuse. An all-expense paid trip to my past.”

She only hoped it was less painful than her current life, although she doubted it.

Chapter Two

Wyatt Turner prowled through the bowels of the University of Texas football complex, headed for the gym. He had spent the better part of the past few hours preparing for tomorrow’s game with the other coaches and the backup quarterback, Michael Billington. Their usual starter, Terrence Carter, was injured and not playing that week—and Wyatt well knew, injuries or worse, could happen at any time.

Now, Wyatt was hoping to indulge in a little stress relief by lifting some weights and running off some late-night frustration before falling into bed and sleeping dreamlessly. His preferred way of stress relief was off the table and had been for a while.

As he got closer to the weight room, grunts and low cries came from the room, sounding like a woman and a man. Since the room was reserved for the football team only, no women were supposed to be in the room. He cautiously opened the door and saw the reason for the sounds. Their quarterback, Terrence Carter, lay on a weight bench, straddled by a young woman, riding him as she might a mechanical bull in a bar. Her cries echoed through the empty weight room. Terrence turned and watched them in the wall to ceiling mirrors, then fisted one hand in her long dark hair and tugged her head down. The scene threw him back into the past, memories assailing him of his days as a young football player at the university and another young woman. In that moment, Wyatt expected to see a different face on the woman, a face from his past, and he froze in the doorway, heart pounding, eyes fixed on the image.

The woman’s brown eyes met his gaze, and she gasped, jerking away from the younger man and scrambling for her clothes. Terrence slowly sat up, accustomed to being naked around other guys in a locker room. He grinned a cocky smile—the grin of a young man confident in his place in the world and in who he was. Not looking away from Wyatt’s disapproving glare, he casually draped the towel around his waist and swung a leg around on the weight bench to face Wyatt.

The young woman had finished dressing, although she barely had any clothes to put on, and started to dart away. Terrence grabbed her wrist and yanked her down onto his lap, kissing her thoroughly before pushing her away.

She squealed. “Terrence. You’re terrible. See you after the game?”

“Maybe, babe. Depends on how the game goes.” Terrence gave her a casual push, and she sashayed away with a saucy look at Wyatt.

The door banged behind her, leaving Wyatt and Terrence in the weight room alone. Wyatt heaved a sigh. So much for a quiet workout alone. Terrence stood and, holding onto the towel, headed for the door. Wyatt put his arm out, blocking the younger man’s exit.

“What’s up, coach? I have things to do, you know?” Terrence rolled his eyes and leaned against the doorjamb, completely unconcerned with Wyatt’s irritation.

Arrogant prick. Wyatt’s palm itched with the urge to smack the kid for his utter disrespect for Wyatt and how casually he acted about his talent, as if it was going to be there forever. Wyatt knew better than most that talent was a gift that could be taken away in an instant. “You know the rules. Only football players in the training room.”

Terrence shrugged. “She was helping me rehabilitate my shoulder.”

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