“Open the door,” Jacob demanded.
Owen started to rise, but Kellen figured if the guy was going to go, the guy was going to go. No one would be able to change his mind. Jacob would have to come to the conclusion that he was a fucking rash idiot on his own.
“Great fucking plan, Jacob,” Gabe called after him. “This doesn’t solve a goddamned thing. Jacob!”
“Let him go if that’s what he wants,” Kellen said. “God knows he’s a stubborn son of a bitch.” The understatement of the evening.
“He might get hit by a car,” Owen said.
Kellen snorted. Leave it to Owen to be worried for someone who had called him a wuss and then destroyed their livelihood in the space of twenty minutes. The bus rolled forward and returned to the traffic lane, leaving Jacob behind on the side of the road.
“What the fuck just happened?” Gabe stared at him and Owen as if he didn’t recognize them. “What the fuck just happened?”
“Jacob just screwed us all, that’s what happened,” Kellen said. And Jacob thought Adam was the irresponsible, selfish jackhole of the band? The man needed to take a look in the mirror.
“Did Sole Regret just break up?” Owen grabbed Kellen’s arm. “Did he actually leave? He’s coming back, though, right? After we find Adam and Jacob clears his head, he’ll be back.”
“I’m not so sure,” Kellen said. “I think we’re through.”
Now what the fuck was he supposed to do?
Chapter Fourteen
Dawn smoothed her hands over her clingy sage-green evening gown. She hoped it appeared to be a movement of elegance rather than what it actually was—a way to wipe off her sweaty palms. She wasn’t sure why she was so nervous. Perhaps because this meeting was being held at Spago Beverly Hills and there were several highly recognizable A-list actors seated at nearby tables. A few of them had even glanced her way. Probably wondering what a nobody like her was doing sitting at a large table by herself. Or maybe they’d seen the ugly red jellyfish sting welts on her ankle as she’d crossed the floor. There’d been no way to hid them in this dress.
Wes had already texted that they were on their way. They would have picked her up from home, but she had been coming from the opposite side of town and didn’t want to put anyone out. But that meant she’d arrived alone, and despite policy, they’d seated her before her party arrived. Two buckets holding chilled champagne sat near the table.
A group of laughing men and women entered the restaurant, and Dawn was equal parts relieved and terrified to see Wes heading the large party. She tore her eyes away from the one familiar face in the crowd, only to realize she recognized at least half of the other faces. Two major directors, a well-known producer who also happened to be a famous actress, a world-renowned composer of blockbuster films—a job she currently wanted—and to her utter astonishment, her former music teacher, Pierre.
“I hope you haven’t been waiting long,” Wes said, rushing past the ma?tre d’ to kiss Dawn’s suddenly clammy cheek.
What the hell was Pierre doing there?
Into Dawn’s ear, Wes whispered, “You look gorgeous, so save the deer-in-the-headlight look. Take a deep breath, kiddo.”
Dawn did what she was told, sucking in an enormous breath, and then she commenced to gush.
“Oh, Mr. Steinberg, I’m such a fan of all your movies. Oh, Dr. Everlong, the compositions in Space Trek were so moving.” She was sure she said equally stupid shit to the rest of the group, and then she was being hugged by Pierre and the entire world stood still. She was back to being that fifteen-year-old girl who trembled when he sat beside her on the piano bench.
“I’m so proud of you. I knew you’d be great. From the moment I first saw your fingers strike the ivories, I knew.”
He said that now. When he’d been instructing her, she’d felt she’d never live up to his expectations of perfection. But maybe that was why she’d tried so hard to please him. Maybe that was why she’d been so head over heels in love with the man.
A hand on her elbow drew Dawn back to the present, and she felt her face smiling as Wes encouraged her to take a seat between Mr. Steinberg and Dr. Everlong. Pierre was seated on the other side of Dr. Everlong, so unless she leaned forward or back, he was out of sight. Which was good. Not because she didn’t like to look at Pierre—he was still as devastatingly gorgeous as she remembered—but because she couldn’t spark a single thought beyond What the hell is Pierre doing here, as long as he was in view.
“Terribly sorry to make you come all this way to meet with us, Ms. O’Reilly,” Mr. Steinberg said, “but I’m off to shoot a film in Ireland tomorrow, and Drew and Pierre are off to Venice. Jill leaves for Toronto, but we were all here in L.A. this weekend. Except you. I hear you’re leaving for Prague soon.”
“Uh.” She was having a hard time following him, because he’d called Dr. Andrew Everlong, Drew, and Jillian Calipso, Jill, and was she really sitting at a table with these powerhouses?
“She has a performance,” Wes said. “Chopin.”
“I adore Chopin,” Dr. Everlong said.
“I hear him in your compositions,” Dawn said.
“And I, yours,” Dr. Everlong said. Which meant he’d listened to her compositions. The idea blew her mind.
“I’ve always thought his sound is timeless,” she said, her brain finally kicking on. She always got all-star struck and stupid—not usually to this degree—but . . . What the hell is Pierre doing here? She leaned forward and found him toying with the napkin on his plate. “You’re going to Venice with Dr. Everlong?”
Dr. Everlong elbowed Pierre in the side and offered Dawn a kind smile. His blue eyes twinkled with mischief. “He’s the one who brought you to our attention.”
Wes cleared his throat. “I was the one who suggested Dawn for the project when you called my agency.”
Dawn didn’t bother hiding her smile. Wes never shirked on taking credit when due.
“But why do you think we called your agency?” Dr. Everlong asked.
“I’m still confused as to what this meeting is about,” Dawn said.
“We’ll explain,” Jillian Calipso said. “But let’s order first. I’m starved.”
The award-winning actress was so strikingly beautiful that Dawn couldn’t help but stare. She’d seen Jillian Calipso on the big screen countless times, but it was hard to believe she was as achingly gorgeous in real life as she was in the movies. Was she even wearing makeup? Lord.