‘You’re not supposed to,’ Claire said. ‘Up and coming actresses spend all their time with their noses to the grindstone. Acting lessons, dancing lessons, exercise class...’

‘“Up and coming,’” Shannon repeated wistfully. ‘Why does that sound so much better than “struggling”?’

‘Because you’re not struggling, not any more. This part on Tomorrows is the break we waited for, sweetie. Good money, good lines, good exposure... ’

‘Don’t remind me about the exposure part,’ Shannon said, reaching towards a large muffin peeking out from a napkin-covered basket, ‘not after I spent the whole afternoon playing hide and seek with Tony in that damned bed.’ She shook her head imperceptibly and drew her hand back. ‘Take my mind off Tomorrows, Claire. Tell me what we’re doing here.’

‘I already told you,’ her agent said casually, smoothing a thick layer of butter o

n half a roll, ‘I have to see some guy who’s at the Coliseum tonight.’ She popped the roll into her mouth. ‘Delicious,’ she said, her words muffled and uneven. ‘I bet that muffin’s even better.’

Shannon shook her head. ‘Too many calories for me.’ She folded her hands in her lap and smiled at the other woman. ‘I thought they played hockey games at the Coliseum. Don’t tell me you’re representing hockey players now.’

‘Can you just picture that?’ the agent asked with a laugh. ‘Not very likely. The only thing I know about hockey is that it’s played with a chuck.’

Shannon burst out laughing. ‘A puck,’ she said. ‘Even I know that much.’

The agent shrugged her shoulders and buttered the remaining piece of roll. ‘You see? It’s a good thing we’re not here to see a hockey game.’ She bit into the roll and chewed silently. ‘They hold concerts here, too,’ she said, swallowing the mouthful of bread. ‘Matter of fact, there’s one tonight.’ She glanced at Shannon and then at the bread basket. ‘I could have sworn I saw a cran­berry muffin in there.’

‘If you wanted to see a concert, we could have stayed in the city. There’s a Chopin program at Lincoln Center tonight.’

‘This is business,’ Claire said, poking at the basket. ‘Aha, there you are, you little devil. Thought you could escape me, huh?’

‘Will you please give me a straight answer? Are you telling me you’re here to watch a musician perform?’

Claire nodded.

‘I didn’t know you handled musicians.’

The agent sighed dramatically. ‘Please, let’s not talk about my sex life, OK? You know it only depresses me.’

‘Come on,’ Shannon laughed, ‘you know what I meant. I thought you only represented actors.’

‘I do, unfortunately. I should only be so lucky as to represent this guy. This is, well, a favor, you might say. Jerry Crawford asked me to take a look at the guy.’

‘I don’t understand. Is this guy a friend of Jerry’s or what?’

Claire’s glance skidded away from Shannon’s. ‘I guess you’d call him an acquaintance,’ she said in a muffled voice, brushing crumbs from her ample lap.

Shannon cocked her head to the side. ‘I must be missing something. You mean we came all the way out here to watch somebody Jerry Crawford hardly knows play the piano?’

Claire shifted uneasily. ‘He doesn’t play the piano. He...’

‘Are you ladies ready to order?’

‘We certainly are,’ Claire said emphatically. ‘I’ll have the—let’s see—the cream of leek soup. And the meat loaf. Mashed potatoes with it, and, um, apple pie and ice cream.’ She looked across the table at Shannon and rolled her eyes. ‘Bring my friend a small salad...’

‘No dressing,’ Shannon warned.

‘Right. And a small steak, rare.’ Claire handed over their menus and settled back into her seat. ‘So,’ she said quickly, before Shannon could speak, ’how did things go today?’

‘Terrible,’ Shannon said with a sigh. ‘We taped to­morrow’s show—the others taped it, actually. I didn’t even have one line. And I told you that Tony and I re­hearsed our big scene.’ She waited while the waitress served her salad and Claire’s soup. ‘Crawford didn’t like my performance very much,’ she said, picking up her fork and toying with the greens before her.

Her agent sipped carefully at a steaming spoonful of soup. ‘Are you sure? I thought he said that you and Tony weren’t giving the characters enough life.’

‘It comes to the same thing, doesn’t it? I’m an actress. I’m supposed to be able to tune out the cameras and the lights and the crew and concentrate on Tony.’ She grinned ruefully. ‘I’m even supposed to forget that I’m not Tony’s type.’

‘Females aren’t Tony’s type,’ Claire laughed.

Tags: Sandra Marton Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net