Page 115 of Howl for Me
Johnny lets out a breath that I think he must have been holding this entire time, his hand still gripping mine like he’s afraid I’ll vanish.
“I won’t be using that footage, although from what I hear, it's the most beautiful thing we’ve ever shot. I’ll be giving you both that footage. A going away present, I guess. I may be a demon, but even I can’t fuck with fate.”
“So that’s it. We’re done. We just leave?” Johnny asks.
Hector stands, brushing imaginary lint off his suit jacket. “No, you’re done.” He nods to Johnny. “You’re out of contract, Howler. Which means, sweetheart,” he says, turning to me, “you’re technically unemployed.”
My chest tightens. “It’s okay,” I say quietly. “I get it.”
Hector tilts his head and gives me a look like I’ve just insulted him. “Please. You think I’m letting someone like you walk out of here? Don’t be an idiot.”
He walks around the desk and hands me a slim folder. “Starting Monday, you’re shadowing Stan.”
I blink. “Stan… the director?”
“The one and only,” Hector confirms. “He’s ready to retire, finally. We need a new director. Someone with brains, vision, and a spine. You’ve got all three.”
“A director position, wait.. really?” shock and excitement course through me like electricity.
“If you can manage this feral mutt, you can handle anything. You’ve got the knowledge, the degree, and you’ve already won over half the crew. They respect you. Hell, I respect you. You’d be perfect. If you can prove to me that you can run the damn show, the job is yours.”
I glance at Johnny. He’s smiling at me, all teeth and pride in his eyes. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and murmurs, “You deserve this, baby. I’m so proud of you.”
I beam up at him, every inch of me glowing.
“Now get the hell out of my office,” Hector grumbles, already lighting a cigar.
We don’t wait around for him to change his mind. We leave the studio knowing everything is ok; we are ok. Now the real fun begins.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Johnny
The second I hear the car engine, I’m already heading toward the front door, pretending I wasn’t just pacing like some love struck fool. I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror on the way and snort at myself. Jesus. If I had a tail, I’d be wagging it like a goddamn idiot.
She steps out of the car, hair pinned up, sunglasses pushed back, script binder clutched under one arm. She makes her way up the driveway and I can’t take my eyes off of her. God, look at her. My mate.
She finally looks up and sees me. Her face lights up in this easy, familiar way, like she expected me there all along. She steps right into me, kisses me quick, a press of lips, then walks past, already slipping off her shoes and dropping her bag by the table.
“Long day?” I ask, following her inside.
She exhales through a tired laugh. “You could say that.”
I close the door behind us, then catch her by the waist and pull her in slowly. Her back settles against my chest and my arms slide around her middle. She relaxes into me without hesitation. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.
“I had the pleasure of working with your favorite today.” She murmurs.
I groan. “Please don’t say who I think you’re about to say.”
“Oh, it’s exactly who you think.” She turns in my arms, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. “Frankie Fountain herself.”
A full-body shiver runs down my spine. That woman’s scent is like napalm. I still cringe at the thought.
Cassidy leans close, presses her chest into mine with a slow grind and whispers, “Actually, I think there might still be a little of her ‘fountain’ right here…”
I stumble back, horrified. “Cass, what the fuck!”
She pounces, dragging me down with her as we fall in a heap onto the living room rug. She’s laughing, straddling me, her hands on my chest, her body warm and alive against mine.
