Love's Last Chance (20 page)

Again, she and her crew had to wait. Every
half hour, she led them in exercises to keep their muscles limber
and avoid injuries. Meg was on the set. She pulled a chair up next
to Dorrie, who was grateful for the company.

“So, what’s the word on the guys?” Meg
asked.

Dorrie shrugged. “Nothing. No one wants me
to come back.”

“What? I find that hard to believe.”

“Archer is married. He offered me the job of
his mistress. No thanks.”

“Wow, what a surprise.”

Dorrie nodded. “You can say that again. Rick
wants me to come back and continue dating, maybe more often, but
still not on weekends. He’ll be gone every weekend for six months.
And probably sleeping with other women then, too. No good.”

“Really? You two sounded so great, such a
rapport.”

“He’s not ready for commitment, and I won’t
settle for anything less.”

“Stick to your guns, Dorrie.” Meg patted her
friend’s shoulder. “What about Johnny? Did you ever hear from
him?”

“Two weeks late!”

“Really?” Meg cocked an eyebrow. “Give. What
did he say?”

“He said…not to come back.” Dorrie pushed
the heels of her hands into her eyes to stop the tears. Meg gave
her a hug.

“He didn’t mean that, did he?”

“He said it was better for me to be out here
doing the pilot. For my career.”

“He’s right.”

“But, I haven’t been hired for the pilot, if
there is one.”

“You will. He must have said something
else?”

“Yeah. About how that meant he really loved
me, letting me go. It stinks.”

“That was unexpected.” Meg squeezed her
hand.

“Now, I have nowhere to go after the film
wraps.”

“You can come back to New York. Stay with
us.” Meg rubbed Dorrie’s back, eliciting a small smile.

“Thanks, Meg. I may have to return—to make a
living. Johnny’s right about one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“Staying to work on the pilot, and then the
series, would be a dream come true. It’s hard work, but I’d love it
and make good money, too.”

“Fingers crossed.”

“If it’s not too late already.”

“Dance routine!” called the assistant
director.

“That’s us,” Dorrie said, pushing to her
feet. “Thanks for the encouragement, Meg.”

She spent the day on the shoot, but too many
mishaps kept them from having a perfect routine. At ten o’clock,
they called it quits.

“Tomorrow they’d better get it right,”
Gunther hissed.

“They will. It’s just nerves. Waiting around
all the time.”

“Can’t help that. This film is running into
money. Can’t go more over budget than we already are.” Gunther
cornered her. “Make them do it right.”

Exhaustion took its toll, and Dorrie burst
into laughter. “Do you know how silly that sounds?”

“This is no laughing matter.”

“I know. We’ll get it tomorrow.”

“Better.”

“Goodnight, Gunther.” He turned to throw one
last angry look at her before he headed for his limousine.
Same
to you, asshole.
Dorrie rubbed her neck and limped to the
parking lot. Her ankle was killing her.

Once home, her roommates were giggling and
drinking wine in the living room. Their cheerfulness irritated
Dorrie.

“What’s so funny?”

“Marsha got a part in a pilot for a
series.”

“Congratulations,” Dorrie muttered.

“You might know this one, Dorrie,” Marsha
said. “It’s
Hustle and Dance
. I hope the pilot gets picked
up.”

“What?” Dorrie’s eyes widened, and she
stopped.

“Isn’t that the movie you’re working on
now?” Greta asked.

“It is. When did they start casting for the
pilot?”

“I got the audition call two weeks ago.”

A weight the size of an anvil settled in
Dorrie’s chest.
Then they’ve decided not to hire me. Two weeks?
When was Gunther going to give me the bad news?

“Congratulations,” Dorrie muttered again,
heading for her room. She managed to close the door before the
tears started. She fell onto her bed, crying in great, heaving
sobs.
Back to New York with my tail between my legs.
She
cried herself to sleep.

Again, the alarm at five woke a sleepy,
puffy, and depressed Dorrie.
This is the last day. Maybe I’ll
take a short vacation. I need to rest.
When she stood up, her
ankle began to throb. After popping a few ibuprofen, she issued a
silent prayer and turned the key in her ancient car, which started
without a hitch.
No need to replace this. Don’t need a car in
Manhattan.

She sighed. The freedom to drive down to the
beach whenever she had free time was something she loved. Now, that
would be a thing of the past.
One more day. Please God. Let the
shoot work today.

The weariness in her bones was due as much
to her emotional state as her physical one. She re-wrapped her
ankle, which still hurt. The dancers looked refreshed.

“Let’s get it right today. Please. Then you
can all go home.”

Amy stopped by to give Dorrie a check.

“I’ve been waiting for this.” She smiled at
the girl.

“Gunther gave it to me two weeks ago. I’m
sorry I forgot to deliver it. Please don’t tell him. He’ll kill
me.”

The fear in her eyes brought out kindness in
Dorrie. “I understand. I won’t breathe a word.”

Amy’s face relaxed, her shoulders lowered,
and she smiled. “I don’t know how much longer I can work for
him.”

“I get it. He’s not an easy man.”

“He’s a damn tyrant!” Her placid expression
became animated.

“Shhh. Here he comes.” Dorrie folded the
envelope and tucked it into her dance bag.

“Better be good today, Dorrie,” he said in a
clipped tone.

“They will be.”

“Amy, didn’t I tell you to do something?”
Gunther turned his eagle eye on her.

“Uh…did you?”

“You’re supposed to remember
for
me.
I can’t remember everything! That’s why I have an assistant. Come
along. Later, Dorrie.” Gunther walked away with Amy tagging
behind.

“He has her on a tight rein,” Meg said.
Holding hands with Chaz, she joined Dorrie.

“I’m in this one, Meg. You can watch from
here. No noise.” Chaz pulled a chair over for his wife. She made a
motion to zip her lips.

“We’d better make this good, or Gunther will
have my hide.”

“What can he do to you? Nothing.” Chaz fell
into stride next to Dorrie as they approached the set.

“Not hire me ever again. Destroy my
reputation in the industry, for starters.”

Chaz sucked in a breath. “Stupid of me to
ask.”

After twenty minutes of warm-up exercises,
the performers took their places. Two run-throughs were all they
seemed to need. Then, the cameras were rolling. Dorrie bit her lip
and clasped her hands tightly in front of her as she watched.

One hour became two. Two became three. After
five hours, the director had a version on film he was satisfied
with. Dorrie let out a big breath. The dancers clapped and
smiled.

“We’re having a party tonight at Sal’s,
Dorrie. Would you come?” Donnie, one of the troupe, said.

“Thanks, but my ankle is killing me. Go
celebrate. You all did a fabulous job.”
Just because I’m not in
a party mood, don’t have to bring everyone down. Don’t have to tell
everyone why either.

He shrugged and caught up with others. Chaz
and Dorrie joined Meg.

“That was fantastic. This movie is going to
be a big hit.”

“Bite your tongue! Too much confidence can
sink a film,” Chaz said.

“So, you worry every second, and it gets
better?” Meg cocked an eyebrow at her husband.

“Not exactly. But not being over-confident
means you try harder. You’re more of a perfectionist.”

“Speaking of perfectionist,” Dorrie said,
motioning toward the back of the studio. “Here he comes.”

Gunther Quill approached, his gait
leisurely, his face relaxed and smiling. “Well done, Dorrie.”

“Thank you.” She sank down into a chair and
rubbed her leg.

Gunther watched her with growing concern.
“How’s the ankle?”

“It’ll be okay. With a little rest, the pain
will stop.”

Gunther squatted down and massaged the
joint. “I should hope so. You’ll need to be in tiptop shape. We’re
meeting on the pilot next week.”

“Good luck with that,” Dorrie said, trying
to keep bile from rising in her throat.

“What do you mean ‘good luck’?”

She stared at him in silence for a moment
before looking away to hide the tears gathering in her eyes.

But Gunther was not a man to be fooled. He
turned her chin to face him. “Why the waterworks?”

“Don’t expect me to be happy you hired
someone else to choreograph the pilot, Gunther.” Her voice wobbled
a bit, though she tried to sound strong.

“I didn’t hire someone else. I hired you. By
the way, where’s the signed contract. I need that before we meet
with the director.”

“You didn’t hire me.”

“Of course I did. Stop joking. This isn’t
funny.”

Dorrie pushed to her feet. “I’m not joking!
I don’t have a contract.”

“Didn’t Amy give it to you?”

She shook her head.

“I’m going to kill that young woman before
the day is out.”

He looked around and called her name, but no
response. “Probably hiding in the ladies room.”

“Gunther, you can’t go in there.”

“Oh? Just watch me.” He strode over to the
restroom and yanked open the door. Sticking his head in, he
hollered the young woman’s name before backing out. In a few
seconds, the chagrined Amy crept out of the bathroom to join
Gunther.

Dorrie could see he was lighting into the
girl by the way she cowered and the red crept up Gunther’s neck.
He never learns. That’s not the way to treat her.

“What a monster,” Meg mumbled under her
breath.

“A powerful one though,” Chaz put in.

“He’s not really a monster, just wants to
appear to be one. He likes to intimidate people…to control
them.”

“Looks like it’s working with Amy,” Meg
said.

As the three watched, Amy reached into a
briefcase, fumbled around a bit, and then withdrew a manila
envelope. She trotted over to Dorrie. “A thousand pardons. I was
supposed to deliver this two weeks ago, along with the check. I’m
so sorry. I hope it didn’t destroy your life.”

“I’m fine. Thanks, Amy. Better late than
never.”
Actually, it did destroy my life for a while. Kid, you
need to pay attention.
After Amy left, Dorrie peeked
inside.

“You guys don’t mind if I read this, do
you?” Anticipation kicked up her pulse.
This might be the window
I need to a great career.

“Open it!” Chaz exclaimed.

Dorrie slid the flap up carefully then
slipped out the contract, about twelve pages, typed, double-spaced.
Her heart swelled as she held the sacred document. Her eyes perused
it, skimming through the words, barely understanding it. She
flipped through until she found the part about money. Her hand flew
to cover her mouth. The figure was beyond what she expected. Way
beyond.
Bless you, Gunther. Now I can buy a new car. And get my
own place.
She smiled.

“I take it the pay is good,” Chaz said.

She nodded then looked up. Gunther was on
his way back to them, waving a pen in his hand. When he stopped in
front of Dorrie, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed
him.

He moved her back and chuckled. “Can’t have
you driving that rust bucket. Gives the show a bad name.”

“Thank you so much. I’m beyond excited!” She
clapped her hands once.

“So, let’s make it official,” he said,
handing her his fountain pen.

Dorrie shook her head. “Uh uh, no way. Not
until my lawyer looks it over.” She tucked the contract back into
the envelope then into her dance bag.

“Don’t trust me?”

She shook her head.

“Smart girl.” He laughed and placed the pen
in his breast pocket. “Amy will email you a schedule of meetings
for next week. I assume you’re free?”

“Of course.”

“No man waiting in the wings to spirit you
off to Bora Bora?”

“Gunther…”

“Good. Because I’m going to work your ass
off. It’s a lovely ass, but it’s going to work like never before.
This pilot has to be perfect. The reward will be had if the series
is picked up.”

“I’ll be ready.”

“Damn straight you will. Or you’ll answer to
me.” With that, Gunther Quill stalked off with Amy trailing a few
feet behind, like a human dust cloud.

“Wow! He’s some boss,” Megan said.

“He’s tough, but he has high standards.
Makes for better movies.”

“Right.”

“Are you starring in the pilot?” Dorrie
turned to Chaz.

“I am. Not sure if I want to do the series,
if it gets picked up. But I’m going to give it a whirl.”

“Great! One good dancer I can count on.”

“How about a celebration tonight?”

“Let’s meet the kids at Sal’s. They’re
having a party there.”

“Lead the way,” Chaz said, taking Megan’s
hand.

After celebrating at Sal’s, Dorrie staggered
home at two o’clock. Chaz and Meg gave her a ride home in their
limo because she was too drunk to drive. She took five minutes
trying to fit the key in the lock, only to discover the door wasn’t
locked.

That sent her into a giggling fit so strong,
she couldn’t stand. Sliding down the wall into a cross-legged
position on the floor, she collapsed, laughing hysterically, waking
up her roommates. They showed up, groggy and grumbling.

They lifted her up and escorted her to bed,
taking off her shoes and covering her with a blanket. In the
morning, Dorrie didn’t remember a thing. One minute, she was
drinking a toast to Gunther, and the next she awakened to find
herself fully dressed and sprawled in her bed.