Round tables surrounding the pool were full of people. In the middle of each red tablecloth was a centerpiece that matched the set of the movie, a dinosaur flick that hadn’t worked for me but was probably going to be very popular.
A few heaters had been set up and I stepped close to one. It wasn’t really cold, but my dress was pretty bare and I didn’t have a wrap.
A waiter passed with a tray full of wine and I snagged a glass of red. I wouldn’t drink much. I had to stay sharp in case I met Mr. Right Now. I had to make sure he was single. And heterosexual. Getting turned down on camera might be a bit more than my poor bruised ego could take tomorrow morning, being suddenly without a boyfriend and potentially going viral on social media.
I knew going into this gig that this moment would come. Now I just had to endure it.
My eyes lit through the crowd, trying to spot anyone I knew well enough to approach to chat up. I felt exposed standing here alone. Although, if someone made a move on me, that might make things easier.
I spotted Tellmund, a friend of Frankie’s. He was in his sixties and had aged beautifully, tall and silver haired and broad shouldered. He was definitely not a candidate for breaking my fast, but he probably was in the potential boss category.
I headed for him, but stopped when I spotted a guy leaning against the stage, one elbow up on the platform. Nobody was dancing, at least not yet. This band wasn’t drawing a crowd.
The man was watching the band play and drumming his hands on the edge of the stage. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt. He was crazy tanned, and the way his arm muscles moved as he tapped mesmerized me to the core.
I figured he must be part of the band, maybe a friend or someone who loaded equipment. The members of the group itself were very different, dressed like a ’70s cover band in vests and colored sunglasses.
But this guy? He was glorious. Dark short-cropped hair. A killer jaw. His chest was nicely sculpted by the T-shirt, and the jeans were a miracle on his butt.
A definite candidate.
I couldn’t make my move yet, as Frankie hadn’t introduced me to anybody, and I had to work my contacts while I had them. I turned back to head for Tellmund, but he was gone. Across the yard, I spotted one weaselly looking guy dressed in black, holding a camera with a ridiculously long lens. He caught me looking and aimed at me.
I shot him a smile, knowing that I wasn’t anything he could sell. Without Frankie in the image, I was nothing. Well, until I wrapped myself around some other noteworthy guy. Then those images would be a hot commodity.
That thought brought me back to the man by the stage. I watched him carefully to see how he took in the singers, if he was actually a boyfriend of one of them, and not going to be interested in me.
At that moment, he turned and looked out at the crowd, and our eyes met.
Holy shit.
He drank in my green dress and pink dreadlocks. His eyebrows shot up when I gave him a shy smile.
I brought my wine to my lips. I hadn’t gotten to act this way in ages, so it was fun to shift my body a little, keeping his attention, and watch him over the rim of the glass.
I sensed the click, click, click of the camera even though I couldn’t hear or see it. I’d learned from my time with Frankie to sharpen my awareness of being photographed.
Good. They could make a little spread about when Frankie’s tart spotted “The Man.”
He didn’t waver, watching me openly. I felt a little heat rising in me. This would be a piece of cake, really, but I couldn’t let him approach me just yet. So I lowered my glass, sent him one more sultry look, and turned to head back into the house.
Hopefully he wouldn’t follow. It wasn’t time yet!
I hurried through the sunroom, the couple still locked together at the end, and back through the house. I couldn’t interrupt Frankie. But I had to avoid that boy until I knew I should approach him. The photographer was on to me already. And I still didn’t have any industry introductions I could really use for a job.
Damn, this party had already gotten complicated.
Chapter 6: Chance
Whoa. Who was that girl?
The party was full of women, polished and perfect and snooty in how they appraised me, like they were looking for something, and I wasn’t it.
But not this one.
She seemed nervous, a little lost. Her green dress was as fancy as anyone’s here, but that hair. I didn’t know anybody with pink dreadlocks. She couldn’t be an actress expecting to get many parts, unless the hair was for something she was doing right now.
It was wicked gorgeous. I’d never seen anyone like her.
She took off after we made eye contact, which made me think she belonged to somebody with a jealous streak. Probably best if I didn’t make any moves. I wasn’t invited to this shindig, and I didn’t want to get thrown out.