Love Me Again, Cowboy

“What if I puke?”

Landon laughs. “Bring a change of clothes and a toothbrush.”

The things I do for love.

Chapter Twenty-Five

MALIA

I sashay into the Sunset Tower Hotel and approach the polished concierge desk. A woman in her twenties with blonde hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail smiles at me with red lipstick. “Welcome to the Tower. How may I help you?”

My nerves are on fire. It turns out I couldn’t get here on time. I’m fifteen minutes late, and I don’t know if Mr. Wilson has left already. If he’s still here, I’ll have to be extra charming to make up for poor punctuality. It’s a horrible first impression to be late for an audition. No one wants to hire an actress that could be behind schedule on set, so many people would have to wait for the production to start and it would waste a ton of money and people’s time. “I’m here to meet Harry Wilson. Could you let me know what conference room he’s in?”

She flips through some papers in her notebook. “Ah, yes. Mr. Wilson is waiting for you at the Tower Bar. It’s down this hall,” she points to her left. “You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” I rush down the hall, my heels clicking on the hard surface. I wonder why Mr. Wilson is in the bar. I thought this was going to be an audition. I can’t exactly audition in front of a bar full of people. He’s probably waiting there because he got sick of waiting in a conference room for me.

When I enter the bar and restaurant, I scan the place for Harry Wilson. The entire room is rust, cream, and taupe colored with rich wood throughout. It reminds me of a man’s office except that the lighting is dimmed for an intimate setting. The smell of garlic, herbs, and meat cooking knots my stomach. I can never eat much when I have an audition. I’m too anxious.

I spot Harry on a tall bar stool, talking to a woman to his left. It’s apparent by his body language and where his eyes are focused that he’s more interested in her cleavage than what she’s actually saying. Perhaps they’re dating? I glance down at my own dress, grateful for its high neckline.

I take a deep breath, readying myself. My heart might still be broken, but right now I have to be what Harry wants to see—the perfect actress for his new movie. I approach him. “Mr. Wilson?” I ask.

He turns to me, and a smile spreads across his round face. He’s five-foot-nine and wears a blazer I’d guess is Versace with a pair of dark jeans. His white button-up dress shirt is unbuttoned low enough to send a message I don’t want to hear. The wrinkles that Botox couldn’t touch says he’s in his fifties. His fake-tanned face is ruddy from too many years of over drinking. Seeing as his glass of scotch is almost gone, and an empty one sits in front of him, he’s probably already buzzed. Highly unprofessional, but then I was late. He’s had more time to get buzzed.

An uneasy feeling takes root in the pit of my stomach. I contemplate turning around right there, but I can practically hear JulieAnn telling me that would be career suicide. Besides, it’s probably just nerves.

“Malia, sweetheart,” he says drawing out the word. He comes in for a hug and kiss on the cheek. Since I’m Hawaiian, I’m familiar with this type of greeting, but Harry lingers far longer and embraces far closer than is typical for my culture. He makes the greeting feel downright vulgar. The smell of liquor on him is as strong as if I were sniffing straight from the bottle. I pull back as quickly as I can and give him a tight smile. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Wilson.”

“Please, call me Harry. The only people who call me Mr. Wilson are my lawyer and my doctor, and you’re much prettier than either of them.” He drops his voice. “But I wouldn’t mind playing doctor with you.”

I’m stunned to silence, and he must notice how uncomfortable I am because he laughs, a hearty, reverberating sound. “I’m kidding, dear, kidding. Come, let’s get a table.”

I suddenly envision myself avoiding him every time he comes to a shoot—for his protection, not mine. I give him a winning smile so that he has no clue I’m not comfortable. “Oh, I thought we’d head to a conference room for my audition.”

“No, no. I can’t make any decisions on an empty stomach.” He pats his belly for emphasis. “Besides, people spend too much time these days on phones and not enough time talking. I need to get to know you better to decide if I want to work with you or not. I like to get up close and personal with those I work with. Come, come.” His eyes wander over me again, and I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest.

The next two hours

I have to watch Harry Wilson eat like a pig, be rude to our waitress, suggesting that she’s too uptight because she’s probably not getting laid enough, and then go on and on about how brilliant and successful he is. I’ve concluded that he’s a total douche. I’ve worked with douches in the past but none as bad as this.

I’ve texted JulieAnn under the table a few times that I don’t know if I can follow through with this. She keeps insisting that he’s just eccentric, that he’s hardly ever on the set of his movies, and that I need to think of the long-term goal.

I’ve spent the last few weeks with some of the most gentlemanly men on the planet—men who know how to speak to a woman. The role that I keep thinking about is the one where I’m back in Bisbee with Jax and Audrey. And I may have messed that up for good. Jax made it clear that he doesn’t want to be with me when I’m bending my integrity to fit my career choices.

Finally, Harry pushes his plate away and takes a last slug of his scotch. “Okay, let’s go up to my suite and go over that contract.”

“The contract? But what about my audition? Don’t you want me to read for the role?”

“I’ve seen your show. I know you can act. I’ll have the wait staff bring some dessert to my suite while we go over the details.” Before I can respond, he stands and closes the distance to our waitress to talk to her about it.

I use the opportunity to pull out my phone and text JulieAnn.

Me: He wants me to go to his suite. Said he left the contract up there, but this whole audition has been unusual. He’s not even having me read.

She responds immediately.

JulieAnn: Totally normal for his type. He likes to keep things casual, friendly. Just go with it, make sure you’re being friendly back. Get the contract signed. I’ll be outside with paparazzi. Once it’s done, we can make a statement about you landing the role. You’ve got this. Kisses.