As always, everything was given to Landers, but Devlin had to work hard for what he got.
For a few moments, he’d had no idea what to do. But then he thought, I’ll have to get someone else to tell her.
The story about the girl and the picnic had been impromptu—and if he did say so himself, it was some of his best work. Just that morning he’d been thinking of Rachael. On the TV show, their sex scenes in front of so many people had turned him on so much that he’d been eaten up with desire. Uncontrollable. He’d pulled her into his dressing room and not given her a chance to say no. But then, what could she say? Devlin was the star of the show. His word was law. If she refused him, he’d just tell the producer that Rachael wasn’t right for the part, and she’d be killed off—which is what he’d ended up having to do.
Even though today hadn’t gone as planned, Devlin had spontaneously come up with the idea of Rachael and a threesome picnic. His acting had been so good that he wondered why he’d never before realized how brilliant he was at improvisation. Really quite remarkable.
Smiling at the discovery of yet another talent, he took out his phone, found her number, and touched the call button.
“Rachael? It’s Devlin,” he said into the phone.
“What the hell do you want?” she snapped.
“Come on, baby, don’t be like that.” His voice was low and coaxing.
“You got me fired! That TV show was the best job I ever had. A regular paycheck. And all I had to do was look at you like I gave a crap whether you lived or died.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean that. I hear you haven’t found another job yet.”
“Nobody will hire anybody who was on that show you ruined. It’s like you put a curse on all of us. The guy who played your boss won’t even put it on his résumé. I wouldn’t but—”
Why did people always blame him? Devlin wondered. He cut her off. “How about if I make it up to you? I have a job for you. It’ll only take a couple of hours. I’ll fly you out here to the glorious state of Virginia, you’ll play a part, then you can go home the next day. I’ll even shell out for a night in a hotel. How does that sound?”
“Like you’re up to no good.”
“Do you care?” he shot back.
“Not when I owe three months’ back rent, I don’t. Except I won’t do anything that’ll get me put in jail.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, baby. How well do you know Tate Landers?”
“We’re great buds. He hangs out around my pool. We have drinks together every Friday.”
&nb
sp; Devlin gave a little laugh. “I miss your humor. Then you haven’t been one of Tate’s millions of girls?”
“If he used to be your brother-in-law, how come you know nothing about him? Word around town is that it’s easier to get a front-row seat at the Oscars than to get into Tate Landers’s bed. Some girl I know tried, but—”
“Do you want the job or not?” Devlin snapped. “Or are your scruples going to get you thrown out on the street?”
“How much are you paying?” Rachael asked through clenched teeth. “And what exactly is the job?”
“You’re going on a picnic, so wear something conservative. No cheeky shorts.” He paused. “You can wear them later. For me.”
“You ever touch me again and I’ll make you sorry. Now, talk to me about money and what I have to do to get it.”
Casey glanced at her phone yet again. There were emails from her mother, Stacy, and a couple of friends from Christie’s, but nothing from Tate. It had been four days now and she’d not heard a word from him.
Yesterday at the rehearsals, Gizzy said she’d received several texts and emails from Jack. She wanted to ask Jack about Tate, but Casey said no. “He’s probably just busy,” Casey had mumbled, then returned to her lines.
Right now she was sitting on a quilt with Rachael Wells. Devlin was far downstream, a fishing rod in his hands. He didn’t seem to be very practiced at flinging the line into the water.
She looked at Rachael. She was a pretty woman with lots of dark hair, and wearing a sundress that could have been in a 1950s movie. Her bare arms and tan legs were quite thin. “For the camera,” she’d told Casey when they first met.
On the drive to the picnic site, Rachael had given Devlin several come-on glances, but he’d ignored them. When they got to the area, he’d slapped some cheese on bread and run off, leaving the women alone.
“You’re going back to L.A. tomorrow?” Casey bit into a slice of quiche.