Page 161 of Faking the Pass
Of all people, I knew how irresistible he was to women.
Still…
I picked up my phone and stared at it for a few minutes, breathing fast. Then I hit the button to place the call.
There was no answer. An automated message informed me “this customer cannot be reached at this time.”
So either phone service was out on the East Coast, or he’d blocked me. Didn’t take a genius to figure out which was more likely.
That was fine. If it was what he’d needed to do to move on, I had to respect that.
I just wished it didn’t hurt so much.
Danielle came back into the living room, smiling. “Out for the count again. I don’t have any wine, but I think we should at least celebrate with some ice cream. What do you think?”
“Even better,” I said, returning her smile, though my mood had dimmed considerably in the last few minutes.
I didn’t have to deal with Randy anymore.
But I’d also lost Presley for good, and it felt like life would be permanently dimmer from now on.
Even ice cream couldn’t fix that.
Chapter 40
Dream Project
Rosie
A few days later, Elka Herwin called me. I didn’t remember even giving her my number, but maybe Iris had?
“Rosie, it’s Elka. We met at the Cosmo Gala, remember?”
I laughed a little, surprised once again at her humility.
“Of course I remember you. How are you?”
“I’m great,” she said. “Even better now that I know you’re out from under that Cinderella sequel.”
“You heard about that?”
“Everyone’sheard about it,” she drawled. “I have a script for you.”
“What? For me?” I asked even though,duh, she’d just said it.
“I think you’re going to love it. Can you come to my house in Beverly Hills today and talk?” she asked.
I was already grabbing my purse, heading for the door. “I can be there in an hour, traffic-gods willing. Just give me the address.”
Driving through the open gates of the director’s mansion felt like an out of body experience.
I didn’t think I’d ever parked more carefully, terrified of overshooting the courtyard stones and damaging the expensive landscaping. A single one of those exotic plants probably cost more than my old beater car.
As soon as I got out of it, Elka appeared in the front doorway of the house.
Walking toward me barefoot in a pair of cutoffs and a crisp, white button-down with the sleeves rolled up, she looked cool, comfortable, and very, very rich.
“Rosie,” she exclaimed in a happy sing-song voice. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
