Darcy in Hollywood

“You’re not an actor,” he spat, his stomach churning. This movie was Darcy’s opportunity for redemption. His chance to revive his career. Please don’t let Wickham ruin this the way he has ruined so many other things.

The other man faked a wounded expression. “You don’t have to be so cruel. Just because I don’t have well-connected parents—”

“As far as I know you never even played a tree in an elementary school pageant. How did you worm your way in here?” It was no coincidence that Wickham had shown up on this particular set.

Elizabeth was frowning; no doubt she didn’t like to see Darcy so upset. “George was one of the EMTs who treated me after my fall,” she explained. “He said he was looking for acting gigs. So when we needed someone for Roland, I thought George would be perfect.” The man could charm anyone onto Team Wickham, even someone as infatuated as Elizabeth. For some reason that made Darcy’s blood boil more than anything.

Wickham regarded Darcy with an innocent expression. “See? Perfect.”

Darcy’s hands clenched into impotent fists. He fixed his gaze on Elizabeth. “I doubt he has any training as an actor—or an EMT for that matter. I wouldn’t trust the man to shine my shoes.”

Elizabeth sucked in a breath, but Wickham just laughed. “Enough with the compliments! I’m blushing.” Damn it, that made her chuckle.

“George has also offered to help out with the True Colors shelter project,” Elizabeth said with a meaningful glance at Darcy.

Ugh. Elizabeth had described the project before the start of filming that morning. Darcy didn’t have anything against homeless LGBTQ kids; he was sure their lives were very hard. But people who were gung-ho about charitable endeavors tended to be judgmental or pie-in-the-sky optimists. No doubt that described Ricky, the screenwriter whom Darcy had yet to meet. Elizabeth was enthusiastic about the project because she was young and didn’t know how much crap life could pile on your head.

“How very generous.” Darcy regarded Wickham with murder in his eyes.

Wickham smirked. “I’ve been through some rough patches in my life, and I want to give back as much as I can.”

Darcy was a little worried his breakfast might make a repeat visit. He wasn’t sure which was more nauseating: the man’s total lack of sincerity or the havoc he could wreak on innocent teens. God knew what lies he had told Elizabeth.

“Are you helping out with the shelter?” Wickham’s tone suggested he already knew the answer.

“No,” Darcy answered. “I…unfortunately, my schedule will not allow it.” Being roped into charity events always made him feel like a fraud. “Is Tom in his office?” he asked Elizabeth.

“I think so,” she said slowly, “but you don’t have casting approval.” Wic

kham really was screwing with her head.

“I know that,” he said shortly. Darcy hated when stars threw around their weight to interfere with casting but picturing those scenes with Wickham left him distinctly queasy. Yes, he didn’t have casting approval, but he did have leverage. He was the film’s biggest star. If he insisted, Bennet wouldn’t hire the guy.

Elizabeth’s body was rigid as she stared at Darcy, and he found himself not wanting to do anything that would lower her opinion of him. He had already insulted her appearance and intelligence; he just didn’t have the heart to further disillusion her. Maybe I rather like that she has a crush on me…no that’s silly.

However, if Darcy had to spend one more second with Wickham’s smug smile, he might change his mind. “If you’ll excuse me.” He nodded to Elizabeth and stalked away, hearing laughter float on the air behind him.

Before he was completely out of earshot, he heard Perez call Wickham into her office. Now Darcy could warn Elizabeth. He doubled back down the corridor, where he found her reviewing papers on a clipboard. She looked up when he cleared his throat.

“I won’t discuss Wickham with Tom, but please don’t take everything he says at face value. He’s not a trustworthy man,” Darcy said.

Elizabeth directed her eyes back to the clipboard. “Do you really believe he’s that bad? I thought it was nice to have someone like George mentor the teens since he has been homeless himself.”

Darcy laughed. “Homeless?”

She drew herself up straight. “I think he’d be an asset to the project. The PR people would love having someone so personable and with first-hand experience to do publicity.”

“George Wickham has never been homeless to my knowledge.”

“It’s possible you don’t know everything about him.” She made a note on the clipboard with unnecessary force. He knew she was exaggerating her annoyance to conceal her attraction to him, but damn, she was doing a good job.

Darcy’s hands curled into fists. If only he could tell her the whole story! But there was too much at stake. “I certainly know him better than you do, and I know he is not to be trusted.”

Elizabeth’s lips were set in a thin line. “Thank you for sharing your opinion, Mr. Darcy.”

Her formal language told Darcy very eloquently how badly he had blown it. He wanted to keep talking, to convince her, but he suspected he’d just make things worse. He did that sometimes.

She gave him a pointed look. “If you’ll excuse me, I have other things to do.”