Then his eyes fell to the caller ID and the bubble of hope burst, going sour inside him.
It was his manager. He talked to JD more than he talked to his brothers sometimes—and he was talking to them on a regular basis now. Well, most of them anyway.
“Hey, JD.” Disappointed, it took him a few seconds to process the words that JD bluntly laid out. Very bluntly.
“Ah . . . can you say that again?”
JD did, repeating it in the same blunt fashion and Sebastien closed his eyes. He took a moment to think over his response. Still, even after taking that moment, he couldn’t think of anything decent to say. So he went with his gut response. “What in the hell do you mean, we start working in two weeks?”
“You heard me. We’re stepping up production. We’ve had all the parts cast—save yours—for a while now. A lot of the preproduction shit was in the works before the project got sidetracked and pretty much everything will still work. They’re already hammering those details down as we speak.”
Sebastien wanted to shout, Fuck preproduction . . . I’m not ready.
JD continued on serenely. “They were going to spend the next few months getting ready, but something’s come up and if we want to move forward, we have to do it now. They’re starting rehearsals in two weeks and filming will follow that.”
“What the fuck, JD? We weren’t supposed to start filming until next year!” A sweaty fist of panic wrapped around Sebastien’s throat, not that he was willing to acknowledge it as such. It had been only three weeks since he’d agreed to take the part and while he’d already pretty much memorized his lines, he still wasn’t sure if he was ready to get in front of a camera again.
And he still had to face Marin, get things good between them.
His throat felt dry and for the first time in several days, he found himself looking at the cabinet next to the refrigerator. It was no longer empty. He’d rearranged all the stuff in it just so it wouldn’t be empty. Now all the vitamin shit and protein powder mixes he drank daily were in there, along with a few other things that were all to remind him that he was getting back on track—getting his body healthy—getting his brain healthy.
But he wasn’t craving some power fruit smoothie shit deal.
He wanted a drink. He wanted some scotch, or just some good ol’ Jack Daniels.
“Sebastien.”
JD’s voice was mild, a steadying influence as if he knew exactly what was going on in Sebastien’s mind.
“Yeah, I’m here.” He shoved the heel of his hand against his eye and turned to stare outside, focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. You don’t need a drink, man. You want it. You don’t need it. Breathe . . . breathe . . .
“Look, Sebastien, this is how it is. The director is on board, your costar is on board. The crew is taking care of everything else that needs to be done to get ready on time. So, the question is . . . will you be ready?”
He swiped a hand down his face and tried to ignore the fact that he was sweating. “Sure, man. You know me. Once I commit, I’m committed. Besides, it's not like half of Hollywood is knocking my door down these days.”
“That’s your fault, kid,” JD said pragmatically.
“Suck my dick, man,” Sebastien muttered. He started to pace, deliberately keeping his eyes on his shoes so he wouldn’t be tempted to look back at that damn cabinet. He felt more nervous now than he had in ages—maybe in forever. “Look . . . I’ll . . . Fine. I’m on board.”
He sucked in a breath and told himself to look on the bright side. Marin couldn’t keep ignoring him now, right? Right. “I’ll get in touch with Marin soon so we can start working on—”
“That’s not going to happen right away. She’s out of touch for a few days still. You might be able to reach out to her this weekend.” His manager paused. “But don’t worry—you got this, Seb. The two of you are combustible on the screen.”
JD hung up before Sebastien had a chance to say anything—or demand anything. Like . . . What the hell do you mean she’s “out of touch”? You’re talking to her!
He almost called JD back.
Almost called Marin.
But he didn’t.
He was too on edge and he knew it.
Carefully, he hung up the phone, and then retreated to the couch, playing the conversation over in his head.
“Combustible,” he muttered.
Yeah, he could probably agree with that.
***
Marin sighed, the soup settling gently in her empty belly.
It had been almost a week since the meeting-turned-phone-conference-turned . . . whatever. She was finally getting a handle on things, although really, it would help if JD and Sojo weren’t calling every day.
And one of them did call almost every day. If one of them forgot, then the other filled in. She was about ready to unplug her phone just for some peace, but with time winding down, she knew better.
Soon, they’d start rehearsals and after that, they’d hit the ground running.
She couldn’t believe they just wanted to go ahead.
After what she’d told them.