Page 6 of Catch Me (Townsend Legacy #4)

A ndreas

Irritation courses down my spine from the buzzing of my cell phone in my pocket. I already know who the message is from before looking at the screen.

Stan:

Did you see my last message?

He’s at it again with this damn business proposal with Amber Jones. His insistence is one of the reasons he’s lasted for nearly thirty years in this business. Typically, it’s one of the traits I appreciate about him.

But not about this.

“Shall we run the scene again or do you have to go?” Victor, my acting coach, asks from the small stage at the front of the room.

We’re in his modest, yet popular acting school that’s been around for forty years. Some of the greats have come and gone through these four walls. You wouldn’t know it by the looks of the room, though.

The theater room is tiny, likely an audience of no more than fifteen to twenty people could fit comfortably into the space. The stage is only about eight feet wide and four feet deep, but it might be one of the priciest pieces of real estate in Los Angeles, which is saying something.

You name anyone of the greats of this town, and they’ve graced Victor’s stage at some point. Which is why I make it to his school at least a few times a month in order to continue fine tuning my skills as an actor. Even more if I have an upcoming role that I would like his input on.

So, when Victor asks if I need to go, I have no problem tucking my phone back into my pocket and telling him, “You have my full attention.”

He gives me a pleased nod of his head.

“How about this,” he says. “Instead of redoing it, tell me from your perspective why this scene is so pivotal to the character.”

I raise a brow as I think about his comment. We’re working on the most important moment for my Late Nights’ character, Shawn.

“Well, he’s almost just died,” I explain to Victor.

This makes him frown. “And?”

I cock my head to the side.

“He nearly died, so what?” he elaborates. “What does it mean to him? Didn’t he start out the beginning of the movie wanting to die? He almost got what he wanted. What’s the change he went through to make him realize life is a gift? What brought him to that point?”

It’s the last question that strikes me.

Every role I take on, I do my best to get inside of the head of the character. Acting is more than pretending, as most people like to think of it.

I have to believe these characters are real people. While their reactions may come across as nonsensical, if I’ve portrayed them accurately, the audience will pick up that given the character’s state of mind, their reaction makes perfect sense.

The role of Shawn is a character that both intrigued and intimidated me ever since I laid eyes on the script. He’s different from anything else I’ve ever played.

Since Michael selected me for the role, I’ve spent at least one afternoon a week working with Victor to prepare. This is my final visit before I head out of town and then start filming on Monday.

“I need to re-read the script,” I tell Victor.

His frown doesn’t leave his expression. Instead, he moves closer to me and presses a fist against my chest. “You’ve read enough. Now you need to feel. From here.” He punctuates the final sentence with a small press to my chest, indicating my heart.

Chuckling, I nod. Victor’s always saying shit like that. He’s technical in many ways, but his underlying belief is that at some point, all the mechanics and strategies in the world amount to bullshit if your heart’s not in it.

“If you say so,” I tell him, making him smirk.

“Smartass.”

“Your favorite smartass, though. And most talented,” I add.

“Ha! The Girl Scouts neighbor that harasses me about cookies every January has more talent in her pinky than you.”

My laughter bubbles over. Victor is also known for hating to give compliments. The more he teases and calls you a talentless hack, the more talent and potential he believes you have.

Before I can reply, the bell at the top of the front door of his building sounds, as someone enters.

“The next victim just arrived,” he claims. “Give me a minute.”

I nod as he heads out to greet whoever just came in, even though his assistant could’ve gotten it. In the meantime, I pull out my phone to look over Stan’s latest messages, since my phone buzzed a couple of more times.

Stan:

This is going to be stellar for your career. You two would be on the cover of every magazine and blog.

My eyes roll involuntarily. He knows to text me this bullshit, instead of saying it to my face because I’d tell him exactly where to put his magazine cover and blog write ups.

Yeah, all of that is a part of the business, but that’s not why I became an actor. Not even close. Storytelling is my reason. I don’t need magazine covers to do that.

As I start to put the phone away, it buzzes. Another message from my manager.

Stan:

She’ll be there soon.

I don’t have time to type back to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before high-pitched laughter rents through the air. A glance toward the door shows Victor entering arm-in-arm with Amber Jones.

“I’m so glad you could squeeze me in,” she tells him before looking my way. Her eyes widen as if she wasn’t expecting to see me, which I know instantly is bullshit. Her expression, along with the text I just read from Stan, is a classic setup.

“Andreas, I didn’t know you were here,” Amber says. “How amazing to see you.” She moves closer and rises on her tiptoes to air kiss my cheeks.

I step back. “Amber, good to see you.”

“Did Stan tell you I would be here?”

There it is. Her microexpression gives her away before she’s able to cover it up. While Amber isn’t managed directly by Stan like I am, she is under his management company.

“He might’ve let it slip,” I answer coolly.

“Are you working on your role for Late Nights ?” She blinks those large, brown eyes that interviewers and movie critics alike can never refrain from commenting on. Apparently, she has the perfect girl-next-door look.

She whips her brunette hair over her shoulder and bats her lashes again.

“Something like that,” I reply.

“Well, I’m nowhere near Victor’s level of expertise.” She looks over at Victor and lightly runs her fingers over his shoulder.

Victor, who’s at least forty years older than Amber and I, actually blushes. You would think a man with as much experience in Hollywood and who’s the literal go-to for the best actors in the business would know when a woman is intentionally playing him up.

I suppose every man has his weakness.

For some, it’s women in general.

For others, it’s one particular woman.

Victor has a soft spot for beautiful women. And most men aren’t immune to Amber when she puts the innocent persona on.

She and I worked together for three years on a television show. And yes, dated for a while.

The busy state of both of our careers combined with our youth ensured that it wouldn’t last long.

Though it’s been years, Stan and Amber are now trying to revive it for publicity since we both have starring roles coming up.

“But I wouldn’t mind watching for a bit in case you need to have an actual audience response.” Amber gives me a coy smile.

I eye the script that sits on the wooden chair behind Amber.

“That would be gr?—”

“Not needed,” I interject. Leave it to Victor and I’ll be here for the next three hours performing the entire film for Amber’s single viewing.

No thanks.

“I was just wrapping up. Filming begins on Monday. I’ve got it where I want it,” I tell her. Then I turn to Victor.

“Victor, I’ll have my assistant give you a call to schedule my next session. Thanks again. Amber, always good to see you.” I give her my signature smile before heading out.

“Andreas, wait,” she calls behind me.

I hear her tell Victor she’ll be right back as I exit the room.

“Andreas,” she calls again, prompting me to stop. “Hey, we haven’t even had a chance to catch up.” She moves closer and attempts to run a finger down my chest. A frown mars that pretty face when I move out of reach.

“We’re both busy,” I remind her.

“Too busy for a coffee? We were both at the studio just a few days ago.”

I knew she was on the set of her film for her own fitting at the same time I had mine. My preoccupation with another woman, however, took up most of my concern outside of work.

“Working. We were at the studio working.”

For a beat, the facade drops and she reveals her impatience. “You were always one to make it clear when you didn’t want something.”

“Glad you noticed.”

She laughs. “You also know how persistent I can be.”

“I do know that. But, Amber,” I pause, meeting her gaze, “you won’t win this. Play the game with someone else.” I give her a final look before turning away.

“Jan,” I call Victor’s assistant, taking her hand when she rises from her chair. I kiss the outside of her palm, making her blush. “You know it should be your name on that front door, don’t you?”

She giggles, which makes me smile. “You, young man, are by far, one of my favorites.”

I pout. “Only one of your favorites? Tell me, beautiful, how do I slide into that number one position?” I cock my head to the side, giving her a sly grin.

“Keep bringing these muffins.” She holds up a half eaten peanut butter and chocolate-chip muffin I brought for her earlier.

“You got it, beautiful.”

She giggles again before sending me a wave as I exit.

As soon as I reach my car, I call Stan. He answers on the second ring.

“Did you see her? Did you two talk? Dammit, I should’ve sent some paps out there to get pictures.”

“Do it and you’ll lose the twenty-percent commission for being my manager because I will drop your ass.”

He pushes out a heavy breath. “I don’t know how you got the reputation for being the most charming twenty-something in Hollywood.”

That does make me laugh despite my irritation with Stan and his stunts. “Because I know how and when to turn it off and on.” I take in a deep breath.

“We’re not doing the Amber thing,” I tell him.

“Do you know what this would mean for?—”

“I’m well aware, and we’re still not doing it. Set her up with Donovan or Deacon Chase. They both have roles coming up.”

Stan grumbles. “You and I both know you and Amber make the most sense.”

“On paper,” I correct. “But in real life …” I let my words trail off as the image of a certain woman comes to mind. My lips crest into a smile on their own.

Ivy.

Such a perfect name.

Her oval face appears in my mind with the most kissable lips I could imagine.

“Anyway, did you make sure to get that issue straightened out with the costume design team?” I ask.

“What issue? Oh, you mean having the team on the set for filming? Yeah, yeah, Michael was okay with it. Said in case there are any last-minute changes it makes sense to have the costume design team there since the designs play such a heavy role in the film’s visuals.”

“And what about Ivy?”

“Who?”

An immediate scowl makes its way across my expression even though he can’t see me.

“That’s right, the assistant. Yeah, she’ll be there. I’ve gotten confirmation from the team.”

“Good.”

Tasks like this aren’t Stan’s normal role when it comes to my career. However, Michael was busy with script workarounds and I wanted to make sure I had someone competent ensuring that Ivy not only kept her job, but would also be on set throughout filming.

I’ll be damned if that fitting is the last time I get to see her.

“We’re not done with this discussion about Amber. You two are magic on screen together.”

“We were done with the conversation before it ever began. Unless she and I are starring opposite one another, there’s no need to set up bogus run-ins like this stunt you two tried today. I have to go,” I tell him before disconnecting the call.

Stan has been amazing for my career, and while I respect his professional opinions, I have my limits.

I’ve never enjoyed having my private life broadcasted for the public to see or know about. Does it help in this business to have the public interested in my private life? Unfortunately, yes, it does.

However, that’s one line I’ve managed to draw from the start of my career when I was just fifteen years old. I even took on a new last name, publicly, to put distance between my public profile and my real life.

That’s not changing anytime soon.

The moment I press the button to start the engine of my Mercedes, my phone rings. A smile crests my lips when I see the name on the screen.

I answer using the hands-free connection between my phone and my car’s speaker. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, baby,” my mother’s warm voice pushes through the line. “I just got home from the library and was thinking about you. Are you busy?”

“I’m driving home and will be picked up in an hour for my flight for work, but never too busy to talk to my favorite lady.”

She chuckles. “How many women have you used that line on today?”

“I think you’re number three, but don’t fret, I really mean it with you.”

“Such a charmer.”

“That’s what they say.”

I turn onto the road that leads onto the main highway to take me home. I have at least thirty minutes, and I can’t think of a better way to kill my time driving than talking to my mom.

Despite my words, Patience Townsend truly is one of my favorite people on the planet. My father comes in at a close second, but I let him think he’s tied with my mom.

My parents and the rest of my family are the reason I go by Knight instead of Townsend. To protect their privacy given the public nature of my career.

Somehow as I talk to my mom, my mind wanders to Ivy. Does she know my real last name? Most people don’t. Our family’s security goes through extra lengths to ensure my privacy.

I’m not a Knight. I’m a Townsend, and suddenly, I want Ivy to know that about me.