Page 22 of Dirty Dealer
I find an open parking spot and then wander outside the studio. This time of day, the lots are still busy. Some still filming. Others breaking for dinner. One thing most people don’t realize is the crazy hours that come with the film industry. I wonder if Rachel always works on sets, and if she has a regular gig. Something tells me she doesn’t. Not with the way she lugs her own makeup kits around.
“What the hell? Jude Lawrence?”
I turn toward my name and the man jogging my way. I recognize him instantly. “Trent Donavan.” Rock star. Business owner. He hired me to track down a few guitars for his wife’s recording studio a year or two ago. Classics, no longer available for purchase, and played by icons like Hendrix, Idol, and Joplin, make for a challenging hunt and stellar payday.
“How are you?” I smile wide.
“Great, man.” He holds out his hand and then pulls me into a hug, releasing me with a slap to the back.
“How’s business?”
“Dude.” He shakes his head, smile wide. “My wife and her sister have been signing artists left and right. Albums going platinum. Couldn’t ask for more.”
“That’s great.” I glance around for Lexi, or any of the guys from his band, but he must be alone. “Conquered the music scene. Now on to movies?”
“Oh, no. Meeting a friend for dinner.” He rocks back on the heels of his combat boots. “She’s supposed to be on break now, but you know how that goes.”
I’ve dated a few actresses over the years, so yeah, I do.
“Jude?” Rachel’s voice reaches my ears like a hit of my favorite drug.
“Good to see you, man.” I clasp Trent on his shoulder, and nod over to where Rachel stands. “I have my own dinner plans.”
“I won’t keep you.” Trent grins and tips his chin, offering Rachel a wave good-bye as she approaches. “See you around.”
As Trent walks away, I turn to meet Rachel. Slack jawed and eyes glued to the rock star, she’s distracted by his retreating form. Irritation prickles down my spine. I want her looking at me like that. Only me.
“Was that who I think it was?” She all but bounces on her toes.
My lips pull down in a frown. “He’s married.” I grumble. I stalk to the Escalade and unlock the doors.
“I know that!” She blinks and shakes her head with a smile, catching up to round the vehicle and climb in. “I also listened to his album on repeat for most of my senior year of college.”
“You went to college?” I snap my seat belt into place and start the engine.
“Yeah.” She rolls her eyes. “Didn’t you?”
“Sure. Yeah.” I mean, technically I went. For a semester. She doesn’t need to know I dropped out, and I have no desire to take a walk down memory road.
“But because I’m a makeup artist, what, you assume I’m not smart?” Her smile fades. “That I couldn’t possibly have a degree? That instead of working some corporate gig, I decided to take a chance and follow my passion? Do you even realize how competitive this industry is? How difficult it is to find regular work?”
My mouth hangs agape as I try not to cringe under her rant.Shit. I have a lot of work to do if I expect to convince her to have dinner with me again. I pull out of the lot and into traffic.
“What?” She juts her chin in defiance.
“First off, I guessed you didn’t go to college because I assumed you went to school for this. You’re really good, Rachel.” I sneak a side glance. “That doesn’t happen overnight.”
“How do you know I’m any good?”
“I did a little stalking of my own last night.”
“What?”
“Sorry, that sounded wrong.” I inhale a breath, not understanding how I always end up saying the wrong thing around this woman. I scrape up what’s left of my bruised confidence and try again. “I found your social media accounts. You’ve worked on a lot of different sets and jobs. The costume makeup is especially impressive.” I might have watched all her YouTube videos last night. Okay, I did, but that’s something I won’t admit.
“Oh, yeah.” She shrugs, but her cheeks redden with my compliments. “It’s fun. I’ve always been into that.”
“Do you work on a lot of movie sets?”
