Wheels of Fire

“Promise me our real honeymoon will be longer.” I stare down at my ring and then the stack of newspapers. “And somewhere no one can find us.”

He steps closer and skims his knuckles over my cheek. “Promise.”

Tears sting my eyes but I blink them away. “I hate that you’re leaving again.”

He swallows hard, then shrugs. “This is path we’ve chosen for now, Mallory. You can always come with me.”

Not expecting his harsh tone, I blink and stare at him. “I can’t. I have to be on set.”

“And I have to be in the studio. Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

Wow. I don’t know how to respond, so I duck my head and pick up the phone. “I better call her back.”

“I’m going to unpack and do some laundry.”

“Okay,” I whisper, watching him walk away. The honeymoon really is over.

A painful lump in my throat expands and settles in my chest. Maybe Chaser’s tired of me being so clingy? Or maybe he really expects me to blow off work and go to Vancouver with him for the next month. Whatever the reason, it takes me a few minutes to compose myself enough to call Marilyn.

“Mallory! Are you in town? Please tell me—”

Not in the mood for her theatrics this afternoon, I cut her off. “I’m back.”

“Congratulations on the engagement.”

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

I hate this game. “Bad news.”

“Don’t freak out. The exercise video...it’s not quite what we’d hoped for.”

“We didn’t hope for anything. You talked me into doing it as a lucrative revenue stream.”

“I know. I know. It’s not awful. Not the end of the world.”

“What’s wrong, then?”

“It’s um…a bit more salacious than I anticipated.”

“Salacious, how?”

“Well,” she draws out the word until I’m ready to scream. “The angles. The way it was shot. The outfit. The cheesy music. Overall, it feels more like soft core porn than an exercise video.”

“What?” My voice wobbles. “I was in a leotard and tights.”

“Oh, you look fabulous, honey. Killer. It’s just a bit tasteless.”

“That’s great.”

“It’s fine. You’ve already been paid. We just won’t participate in any of the promotion for it. Let it die on the vine. No biggie. We just move on.”

I’m tempted to point out, yet again, that she’s the one who talked me into wasting my time and energy on this project, but she’s right. I was paid—well—for it. I doubt it’s much worse than the ‘Candy Jar’ video or any of the other music videos I’ve shot. Lesson learned.

“What’s the good news?” I ask.

“It’s really good, Mallory. Really, really good. So good, you won’t want to fire me for the exercise video debacle.”

Wow, Marilyn was really worried. Or the video’s worse than she said.

“I’m not going to fire you, Marilyn.”

“Good.” She takes a long, dramatic pause. “Scout Southgate is putting together a weekly primetime soap opera. And he wants you to audition for it.”

I take a second to absorb the information. “Scout Southgate knows who I am?”

She snorts into the phone. “Apparently, his daughter will be starring on the show—don’t even get me started on how that horse-faced twit can’t act her way out of a paper bag—but she’s a big fan of yours and told her daddy you’re perfect for this role.”

“Madeline Southgate knows who I am?” I’m still having trouble processing.

“Yes, Mallory. People know who you are,” she says patiently. “That’s the whole point of this acting thing, right?”

“Right. Okay, so when and where? And what do I do about Shallow End?”

“No one wants you to leave Shallow End. In fact, for now, I want you to keep this on the down low. Especially from Pamela Scott.” She scoffs. “Not that anyone would buy her in this role, but still.”

“What’s the part?”

“Clueless virgin teenager from some hick town, who moves to Hollywood with the rest of her hillbilly family.”

That’s a lot of insults in one sentence to decipher. “Uh, okay.”

“It’s better than bimbo bouncing up and down in her bathing suit, right?”

“I guess.”

“A little more excitement and gratitude would be nice, Mallory.”

“Oh, I’m excited. Do you think I can pull off playing a teenager, though?”

“You barely look eighteen as it is. Madeline’s at least two years older than you and she’s playing your best friend. Your ‘brother’ on the show is about thirty. You’ll fit in perfectly.”

“Wait, you’re talking about this as if I already have the part?”

“I told you, they’re extremely eager to have you audition.”

“Wow. When and where?”

“Now that you’re home, I’ll get the audition set up. What’s your schedule like?”

I give her my plans for the week and she promises to try and work in the audition so I don’t have to take time off from Shallow End. After one more reminder to keep the audition to myself

I’m still staring at the phone after I hang up, absorbing the information.

“Sounds like a promising audition,” Chaser says.

I glance over and find him in the hallway, leaning on the wall, partially hidden by mid-afternoon shadows.

“It is. I think.” I relay everything Marilyn told me.

“How are you going to find the time to be on two shows?” he asks mildly.

For some reason, the question ignites my insecurities. About my career, our relationship…everything. “I’ll figure it out if I get the part, I guess.”

He grunts in response.

“Are you…mad at me?” I ask.

He doesn’t immediately answer no, which unleashes more anxiety.

“I’m tired from the trip home.” He yawns and stretches as if to punctuate his explanation.

“I take it that means you want to stay in tonight?”

“Why? What did you have in mind?”

“Nothing. I thought you’d want to get together with the guys…or…?”

“Fuck that. I’ll see enough of them in the next couple weeks.” He holds his hand out to me. “I want to soak up as much time with my girl as possible.”

That’s better. “You’re not tired of me? We just spent a solid week together.”

He steps closer. “I’m never tired of you.”

“You seem…annoyed.” I don’t know why I’m persisting but I can’t stand the uneasiness hanging in the air. Not with Chaser.

He blows out a frustrated breath and bounces the side of his fist against the wall. “I’m pissed I have to leave. I wish we were recording the album here like

we’ve done all the others. Figures now that I don’t want to leave Hollywood, I have to.”

“Oh.” I breathe out a relieved sigh and move closer to him. “You trust Mark, though, right?”

“Don’t know. I’ve never worked with him before.”

“But it was a big deal to get him to work with Kickstart.”

“It was,” he agrees.

I bite my lip and glance away, worried Chaser might misinterpret my words. “Trust. You told me he’s been in the business for a long time and has produced a lot of mega-successful albums, right?”

Instead of answering, he nods slowly.

“Everyone’s still sober, right?”

“More or less.”

“Well, the change of scenery, the new producer, everyone coming to the table with clear heads, maybe all those combined factors will spark true sonic greatness.”

One corner of his mouth lifts. “Sonic greatness, huh?”

“Sonic awesomeness?”

“Why do you have to do that?” He wraps me up in his arms. “Just when I think I have a handle on how much I’m going to miss you.”

“What?”

“You go ahead and come up with sonic awesomeness and I don’t know how I’m supposed to leave you again for another four weeks.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Mallory

“Geez, Mallory. Did you partake in a lot of home cooking while you were away on your rock star vacation?”

As nice as I’ve tried to be to the wardrobe girls, they still hate my guts. A few weeks off didn’t mellow them out one bit. Donna’s the worst, though. She makes a big show of sighing and tugging on the straps of my bathing suit. It doesn’t feel snugger to me, but she continues grumbling about having to “go up a size.”

I pat my hip as my mouth curls into a slow smile. “My man can’t keep his hands off me, and that’s all I care about.” With a quick toss of my hair, I execute a spin and strut out of the dressing room without falling out of my flip-flops. Yay, me!

Heart still pounding—I hate confrontation—I make my way to the makeup room, searching for Cindy.

“What did deplorable Donna have to say today?” she asks as soon as she sees the defeat that must be etched on my face.