Page 56 of And I Love Her

“Richard?”

“Yeah, man.” Impatience cut through his agent’s voice. “When does your flight land? Or are you driving? Why would you drive? You want me to send up a limo or a town car? I’ll get you that good driver…what’s his name…Bernie.”

“No.” Jake pulled in a heavy breath. “I’m not coming back yet.”

“Why the hell not? We need to finalize this dealyesterday.”

“I’m not signing the contract, Rich.”

After a second of silence, his agent barked out a laugh. “Oh, man, you’ve got balls of steel. Okay, okay. What the hell else do you want? I’ll go back to the table, but I gotta tell you, the studio won’t take well to being strong-armed after what they agreed to.”

“No. I’m not doing anotherFatal Glorymovie. I’m done with the franchise.”

“Phone cut out there for a second. I thought I heard you say you’re done with the franchise.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What the…” Richard sighed heavily. “Look, I know it’s been rough, man. We’re still working on the wholeJake Ryan Punches Reporterthing, but this contract is your ticket! Once the press finds out that you’re doingFatal Glory 7and you start doing interviews and appearances, no one will give a shit anymore about some stupid incident. Trust me, the studio is going to roll out a crap ton of advanced buzz and—”

“Rich, I’m not doing it. The script sucks. The story is laughable. The director is an asshole. I can’t stop the studio from making the movie, but it won’t be with me.”

More stunned silence. “Clearly your stay in Buttfuck Town is affecting your brain. You get your ass back down here, sign on the dotted line, and rake in millions for both of us.”

“No.” Jake’s shoulders tensed. He was done with feeling guilty. Rich had a huge slate of A-list actors who made him plenty of money. Jake had signed on with him after the fourthFatal Glorymovie, but he still wasn’t Rich’s biggest client. “I appreciate everything you’ve done but—”

“Then get down here and sign the fucking contract! Is this about you wanting serious roles again? Haven’t we had this conversation a million times? You’re atype, man, the perfect, handsome muscular action hero that all the girls fall in love with and all the guys want to be. This franchise is a success because of you. You try to play some drugged-up loser or abusive husband, and your fan base willrevolt. You’ll lose them faster than you can say,‘straight to video.’Then your career will be back in the toilet, except this time you’ll get flushed down with the rest of the shit.”

“I’m not doing it, Rich.” Jake stared at a poster advertising a new mystery novel series. “You can support me or not, but I’m not signing the contract. I’ll call Hal over at the studio and explain.”

Rich swore again. “You’re making a huge mistake. I’m not pulling the plug yet. Take a few days and—”

“I don’t need a few days.” A strange lightness filled his chest. “I’m not doing it.”

“Then you’re a bigger fucking idiot than I thought you were. You must need rehab or something because—”

Jake ended the call and texted his assistant to send Rich an extravagant thank-you gift. It wouldn’t do much to appease his agent’s fury, but Jake was thankful for all that Rich had done for him. The problem was he needed an agent who didn’t try and bully him out of wanting a change in his career.

Though he didn’t like the hard left turn the studio was taking with Blaze’s story, the continuation of the franchise would mean plenty of jobs for the production crew. That was something, at least.

He dragged a hand over his face. He wanted to call Callie and talk to her, hear her smooth, calm voice, but she was on campus and he didn’t want to bother her when she was working.

He left the breakroom and continued shelving books. He had no doubt there would be plenty of fallout over his walking away fromFatal Glory, but Hollywood was nothing if not fast-paced.

He’d take his lumps for a while, then everyone would move on to the next big story. And now that he wouldn’t be spending the next year in rehearsals and filming, he’d have time to do whatever he wanted.

Not that he knew exactly what that was yet.

“Well, look at this. A bookstore that’s actually open.” A woman’s voice, edged with sarcasm, came from the front of the store.

“I was open yesterday too,” Sam said.

“Did anyone ever tell you that opening your business whenever you please is a poor business model? Successful retail stores should maintain regular hours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam replied dryly.

The woman made aharrumphsound and rounded a shelf toward Jake. Pausing, she looked him over with interest.

“Hello, there.” She was in her early fifties with coiffed blond hair and cat’s-eye glasses. “You’re new here.”

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