He opens the door wider, apparently expecting me to agree. Chaser settles his hand on the small of my back, reassuring me I’m not going anywhere without him.
“Is she here?” A masculine voice calls out a few seconds before an older gentleman steps into the living room in his bathrobe.
I briefly close my eyes and shake my head.
I knew it.
“Who the hell are you?” he demands, glaring at Chaser.
“Her bodyguard,” Chaser answers in an even voice.
Anger twist the director’s face. “What is this? Are you hoping for an audition too? I’m fresh out of parts for grungy hitmen.”
“I’m here for Miss Dove’s protection.” Chaser’s solemn tone makes it clear he has no plans to leave and no interest in auditioning.
My heart swells with love for Chaser. For trying so hard to maintain an illusion of professionalism, when this whole thing reeks. He’s keeping his cool for me. I know he’d prefer to handle this by throwing a few punches.
Mr. Woods continues to glare at Chaser. But Chaser’s in full junkyard dog mode tonight and doesn’t back down.
“Mr. Woods, do you have some lines you’d like me to read,” I ask to break the tension.
“Well, I, yes.” He throws one more exasperated look in Chaser’s direction. “Let me grab the script.”
He returns with one sheet of paper. I scan it and grit my teeth. The role is for “massage therapist” and judging by the lines on this sheet, he plans to take off his robe and have me rub oil all over him at some point.
Not happening. So not happening.
“I’m sorry,” I say, handing the paper back. I keep my chin up and voice even. Plenty of time for tears later. “I don’t think this role is a good fit for me.”
He stares at me dumbfounded. I guess no one’s ever said no to him before. Well, sign me up to be the first. I’ll be damned if I’m spending my night rubbing some flabby old man for him to get his rocks off. I doubt there’s even an actual role to go with this “audition.”
The assistant stares at us with his mouth slightly open.
Chaser steers me toward the door.
In the hallway, I shake my head, feeling dejected and embarrassed. A complete foolish failure.
“Sorry, babe,” Chaser says, rubbing his hand over my back.
“I need a new agent.”
“I don’t think that will make a difference,” Chaser mutters.
“Probably not.”
“You okay?” he asks once we’re inside the elevator.
I shake my head. “I’m tired of this. What would’ve happened if you hadn’t come with me?”
His jaw clenches, and he looks away. “If this band thing doesn’t work out, maybe I need to start up a security company for young starlets.”
I huff out a sad little laugh. “Obviously, it’s a needed service.”
“Hey,” he says, gently curving his hands over my shoulders and looking me in the eye. “No more auditions unless I can go with you, okay? Even calls—”
“If I ever land another role. I’m sure I’ll be blacklisted and branded ‘difficult to work with’ any day now.”
“Mallory, look at me. I refuse to believe someone as talented as you won’t find work.”
His faith in me means everything. “Thank you.”
“You’re my tough girl.” He traces his knuckles over my cheek. “When your life was turned upside down, what did you do?”
I lift an eyebrow. “Stole a bunch of money and ran from my father’s goons?”
He doesn’t crack a smile. “No. You took a chance and followed your dream. It took guts to come out here the way you did. Lots of people say they’re going to chase their dreams but few ever have the courage to do it.”
“You did.”
“We’re not talking about me.”
I tap his chest. “I think that’s why people call you Chaser. Not the other reason.”
The corners of his mouth lift. “I like your version better.”
“Call your agent,” Chaser reminds me the next morning.
Not a conversation I’m looking forward to, but Chaser’s persistent. He’ll keep “reminding” me until I do, so I might as well get it over with.
“Mallory, did you walk out of the meeting?” she says as soon as her secretary puts me through.
“He moved the meeting to his hotel room, Marilyn. That’s not what I agreed to. He met me in his bathrobe and wanted me to give him a rub down.”
“Oh, honey. He’s just a little eccentric. No one’s ever complained about him before. You probably misunderstood.”
Misunderstood my ass.
“The film is about a massage parlor.” She huffs. “What’s he supposed to ask you to do, tap dance?”
I don’t appreciate her subtly pushing the blame on me. As if I’m stupid or paranoid.
“Well, it’s not the role for me,” I insist.
“Okay.” Her heavy sigh almost has me apologizing, but I keep my mouth shut. “I may have something else for you, but you’re going to have be a grown up and do the audition.”