HOT SET: Playing with Fidelity (A romantic suspense novel) (10 page)

“
Stop being ridiculous Stephen, it’s not going to bite you.”

“
It might.”

“
It’s a cave.”

“
It’s what’s in the cave that might bite me. Plus, it’s dark.”

“
Oh, dear God. How you got to adulthood is beyond me.”

“
I got to adulthood by not climbing into black holes.”

“
Well, you can stay out here in the heat or grow a back bone, climb into that hole and find the world’s best petroglyph collection. You know what this’d do to your career.”

“
That’s why you’re going.”

Huff.
“Fine. I’m over arguing with you. Enjoy your sunburn.”

“
I will.”

Leon, the standin for the yet-to-be-announced lead male, crossed his arms and blew air noisily through his teeth, glaring at
Kate theatrically.

She glowered at him and was just about to start her next line when Mac, the director’s, voice cut across the small, worn room at Fox Studios they were casting in.

“Okay, thanks Kate. That was great. We’ll be in touch.”

Kate
shook hands with Leon, smiled at the casting panel and crossed the room for her bag, feeling a bit smug with her performance.

But o
f course, life loves to humble someone and as she bent down to scoop up her bag, she missed one handle and the entire contents tumbled loudly onto the worn pink carpet and scattered. Feeling about the size of an ant, she knelt quickly and started stuffing the lipsticks, purse, hair ties, mobile phone and three tampons haphazardly into the bag. She hoped to hell no one was paying any attention but hell wasn’t listening because Frankie and Mac were watching, very closely in fact. Frankie glanced at Mac and nodded, which Mac acknowledged with a thumbs-up.

It was then Frankie’s phone rang and just as
Kate was putting the last of her possessions away, Frankie whooped.

“
Rhys’s on board,” she excitedly chirped, with the other casting panel members cheering with her.

Rhys
?

Rhys
... Rhys... the only Rhys she knew of was Rhys Bradford. Surely it couldn’t be him?

Ooo
, very interesting!

Kate
left the chattering room and closed the door with a click. They didn’t notice she’d gone.

Amelia had a dream; one that initially felt clever and inspirational. She was going to cook dinner for
Rhys. From scratch.

Not kitchen-inclined, she nonetheless ploughed through the recipe for homemade tortellini, her confidence initially high but
dropping like a chicken off a cliff with each piece of disfigured pasta that formed under her clumsy fingers. She hoped Rhys was his usual starving self and wouldn’t notice.

They’d now been together for three-months, more time than she’d dared hoped for, and the tabloids were reporting them as a couple
. Amelia victoriously read the reports and sucked up the attention she was receiving as the girlfriend of one of Hollywood’s A-listers. Shop assistants now fell over themselves to help her and she’d go into the stores not to purchase anything, but to get a kick out of the effect her presence had on retail staff. In the last month, she’d been invited to more exclusive parties and charity functions than she could believe. She’d had three scripts arrive from her agent in the last week, all with considerable dialogue, and there had even been a sniff of interest from a big make-up company.

Yes, this was her moment
. She was nearly at the top.

She was shrewd enough to know it wasn’t entirely her doing and now she had to ensure she stayed there
. Even after three months, she was unsure where she stood with Rhys, although she thought of him as her boyfriend, he’d never admitted the title out loud. He made love to her in a way that curled every hair on her body, they cuddled on the couch watching movies, went to dinner frequently and they talked enough. Yet something was in the way. There was reservedness and although he talked about himself, he didn’t really talk about
himself
. She was bewildered as to why she cared.

A
melia tried her best to shut out the developing feelings in her heart and remained as aloof as he, playing the game with skill, reiterating she only needed him to get what she wanted. Yet in the hidden cupboard in her mind, the lonely woman she barely acknowledged was awake and wanting the full swept-off-her-feet romance. Pointless, but she wanted it anyway. Researching his history, she was pleased to see she was the first women he’d been seen with consecutively since entering Hollywood’s elite and supposed he was testing the waters, as was she.

Listening to him rabbiting on about his mother’s cooking, she’d garnered he liked
homemade meals and decided to tempt fate. Hence, dinner.

He
was due to arrive in an hour and her tortellini looked like pathetic lumps of bird poo. Taking a deep breath, she tipped a handful of the mangled pasta into the boiling water then swore as the contents of each spread spitefully across the surface and sank into a sludge of ricotta cheese, beef and parsley. Damn that retail assistant who sold her the ingredients, smugly informing her it was easy.

Damn, damn, damn
!
Now what
?

She looked around her little-used kitchen, having no idea how to fix the slurry in the pot
. In her frantic sweep, she spotted the phone and it was a simple decision to take the easy route.

Forty-five minutes later, perfect portions of hand-made tortellini were served under a creamy sage sauce with a side of rosemary and rock-salt encrusted baked potato, delicately steamed broccoli and honey carrots
. In her bin, double tied in two plastic bags in case the mess crawled out to strangle her, was the tortellini soup, banished from ever seeing the light of day again. Hidden even further underneath were the boxes from the food delivery. While waiting on dinner to arrive, she’d changed into a tight pair of olive three-quarter length pants and a long sleeved cream coloured top with a low-plunging cowl that showed the inner side of her bare breasts. Her straight hair was in a pony-tail, her face perfectly made up as usual and now she was ready.

Five minutes passed the hour, her
buzzer went off and she pressed the button to let Rhys into the building.

As usual, the first sight of him turned her knees to water
. Rhys was his usual delicious self in his standard jeans and buttoned, slim fit shirt. He always looked like an overgrown teenager with his long, slightly messy hair and boyish grin. He breezed past her, planting a kiss on her cheek and flopped on her in the lounge while picking up a Cosmo magazine from the coffee table.

“
Smells great. How was your day?”

She took a moment to memorise the image of him sitting back in her white couch, flicking through the pages of perfume and clothes adverts in the magazine
. She replied, “good, I got another script in today. Would love your thoughts on it.”

Rhys
quickly found the sealed section of the magazine. It contained an article on male orgasms and he started reading the editorial. “Interesting…” he murmured, leaving Amelia wondering what.

“
Anyway, I’ve made tortellini for dinner” she spoke, the lie pouring off her without guilt.

“
Did you? I thought you hated cooking?”

She felt a moment of triumph that he actually remembered something about her
. She quickly quashed the girlish thought; this wasn’t a high school crush.

“
Occasionally I feel the motivation.”

“
Great.” He was reading the article with great interest now. “Hey, did you know a guy can come so hard he can pass out?”

“
Like you’d believe a Cosmo article?” She sat on the edge of the couch and ran her fingers down the back of his neck and through his hair.

“
Sounds like it’d be worth testing.”

She lowered her
voice, “I can schedule you in for after dinner, but time will be tight. I have all my other boyfriends scheduled for tonight, too,” she teased.

“
Uh-huh.” He was deep in the article again. She was after a response that hinted at jealousy. Again, she was disappointed.

“
Well then, dinner is ready.”

“
Right… just a moment.”

She hated it when people didn’t do what she said, even him.

“It’s getting cold, Rhys.”

He
raised his eyebrows.

“
Okay then.” He smoothly rose to his feet and sauntered to the table. Amelia felt a bit guilty; she never spoke to him like that. But she was also tired of him always having control.

She served the pasta onto plates and put the vegetables into two bowls and walked as alluringly as she could to the table, holding the plates like a roller girl
. Sliding them onto the surface, she asked Rhys to open the wine while going back for the rest. He didn’t say a word but grabbed the bottle and she started to regret getting snappy at him. Her hold on him was so fragile; she’d do practically anything to keep it. The silence started to lengthen. Would it be too obvious to put on some music? She did it anyway and in a moment, the melodic strains of Sons of Mumford helped fill the stilted silence. Rhys was filling the glasses and didn’t look annoyed. Again, she couldn’t read him. She slid into the chair and reached for her glass.

“
So,” she said, “this script I received. Apparently it’s going to be directed by Thomas Burlin. This role would be minor, but has a fair bit of speaking so it’s a good opportunity. It’s one of his usual fantasy-types. Amazing man. Anyway, I’d like you to take a look before you leave tonight.”

She was babbling a bit
. How did he make her so uncomfortable?

“
If it’s a Tom Burlin, it’ll be good. Heaps of people try out for his movies.”

“
Have you?”

“
Yes.”

“
How many have you been in?”

“
Three.”

“
Three?” She was amazed. Getting onto one of Tom Burlin’s movies was such an honour and although she’d extensively studied Rhys’s movies, this info she’d missed. “I’m impressed.”

He shrugged and said no more
. She was certainly getting tired of the short answers.

“
Well then. It’s getting colder.” She held out her hand for his plate and once she had it, dished a scoop of the tortellini then decided to add a second and let him add his own vegetables – which he then did with little ceremony. The meal started in silence and the annoyance was building within Amelia. She didn’t like being treated like this, even by him. She watched Rhys tuck in with gusto. She wanted to ask what was wrong and whether she was at fault but at the same time, didn’t want to hear the answer just in case it was her. But if it wasn’t, then she could probably help and come across as the caring, supportive girlfriend. She was torn. It wasn’t like her to hesitate; normally her brashness declined decencies like timely wording, but she’d try it anyway. She put down her fork.

She took
a deep breath and blurted in an annoyed tone, “What’s wrong Rhys? The monologues are wearing thin.”

“
Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”

“
It’s just that I don’t like sitting here pretending to be a Stepford Wife.”

He cracked a small smile at that
. The idea of Amelia being a Stepford Wife was ludicrous.

“
You did make dinner.”

Her face tightened but she still didn’t confess to ordering
in. “Let’s stick to the subject shall we?”

“
What subject.”

“
The subject of you sitting there not saying anything.”

“
Just trying to work out this conversation. There’s nothing ‘wrong’ with me.”

“
Well, you’re usually more chatty than this.”

“
I’ve had a busy day.” He talked over a mouthful of food, conversation only slightly slowing down the influx.

“
Right.” She picked up her fork again. “Want to talk about it?”

“
Not really.”

“
Why not?”

“
It’s over now.”

“
So, is there something I should say?”

“
No, why?”

“
I’m just trying to get you to tell me what’s wrong.”

He
sighed. “There’s nothing wrong.”

“
This conversation is stupid.”

“
Yep.”

They resumed eating in silence
. Rhys was down to the last few tortellini pieces. He figured he’d better tell her now.

“
I’m going to Australia.”

Amelia’s fork stopped half way to her mouth, her eyes wide and her mouth opened in an unflattering ‘o’
. He had her attention now.

“
I’m going for four-months.” He paused. “Could be five.”

She exhaled and put her fork down gently with a tiny
chink. “There was something wrong.”

“
It’s not wrong, it’s work. I’ve agreed to do a movie in Sydney and then later in Central Australia. Will be down there for five months.”

“
You said four.”

“
Four-ish.”

“
But…”

“
It’s okay you know, Australia’s not on the moon. You can visit.”

“
Of course. Kangaroos and stuff.” The thought filled her with fear. She knew so little about Australia. Wasn’t it full convicts, desert and poisonous snakes?

But even worse,
he was leaving her.

“
What about you coming back to L.A.?”

“
I’ll be in the desert most of the time so I don’t think so.”

“
Oh.”

He wanted to placate
her. “I can try of course.”

“
Of course.”

She pulled on her professional face.

“Anyway, congrats on the movie. I’m sure you’re glad to be going home.”

“
Oh yeah, it’s been too long. I’ll spend a week with the family before the production meetings start in Sydney. I’ve missed them heaps.”

“
You haven’t told me much about them.”

“
Haven’t I?”

She shook her head and smiled while putting more food into her mouth
. This was a safer conversation. She indicated the left over pasta was his.

“
Not really,” she started. “I’d like to hear about them.”

He pulled the pasta bowl over
and emptied it without decorum onto his plate. She shook her head.

He
said, “well, my parents Bryn and Dave live in Brisbane, which is about half-way up the east coast. I have two older sisters, Gwen and Erin. Gwen is married with four kids and lives in Rockhampton, which is about 600 miles north of Brisbane, and Erin lives with her long-time boyfriend around the corner from mum and dad and has a son.”