Page 2 of False Start: Chicago Engines (Gridiron Warriors #3)
Gia
The restaurant felt like a film set as I strode toward the man who could make or break my career on a whim.
A sea of black tables, polished to a high shine stretched across the floor with blood red chairs tucked in tight.
Ringing the room were booths with plush red leather seating for those wanting a little more privacy for their dining experience.
Some tables were occupied by well-dressed men and women in business attire, murmuring over glasses of wine and tiny entrées.
I imagined the diners as extras, people strategically placed to fill out the main character’s world. The air felt charged, the scents of garlic and tomato mingling with a low-level buzz to create the perfect set for the hero to embark on their journey.
Deep breaths, Starlet, this role is yours .
My favorite podcast, Successfully You, taught me to manifest my goals.
“Belief in your achievement is half the battle. Don’t talk in terms of I want, or I wish; tell yourself you already have it.
Be who you want to become.” Athena Colwell, the podcast host’s voice, drifted through my mind, and I steeled my spine against the fear of failure, and history repeating, as Denny Hayes rose from a booth at the back of the room and beckoned me closer.
“Gia, so good to see you again.”
His veiled reference to our last meeting hung between us as he pulled me into a hug, dropping a kiss on my cheek that left me feeling like a slug had crawled over my body.
Instead of letting the memories overcome me like they had outside, I smiled politely as I dropped into the booth across from him and dug my nails into my knees to keep from swiping away the slimy feel of his fish lips from my skin.
We were in public. He couldn’t do anything in broad daylight with this many witnesses. History would not repeat itself.
Then he slid into the booth beside me.
Don’t panic .
I shuffled as far into the corner of the bench as I could, twisting my body to establish space between us.
“This is more cozy, isn’t it?” he asked with a pleasant smile. He slid his hand across the gap between us, his fingers brushing against my knee.
“Lydia mentioned you were casting a recurring role for this season of Shifting Sands . Thank you for considering me. I’d love to hear about the character,” I said, covering a wince as my nail broke the skin on my thigh.
The uncomfortable sensation of blood under my nail grounded me as he reached across the table for his tablet.
“Nikkita is an independent contractor who is recruited by Draven to infiltrate Thane’s inner circle.
She has martial arts training and is an accomplished seductress.
There is the potential for a romantic arc and a regular role reprisal if viewers respond favorably to her character’s addition to the show. ”
“That sounds amazing.” It did. This role had the diversity to showcase my acting range and, if I did well, had the potential to establish my name in the industry.
“It’s a highly sought-after role. You’re not the only girl auditioning for this part, but you might be my favorite.
” Denny’s eyes slid over me, full of innuendo.
I could tip the casting in my favor if I was willing to give him what he wanted.
I had been here before, and the thought of having to live through it again made me want to scream.
My talent should speak for itself. I shouldn’t have to offer every part of myself unless it was on camera. For a role.
“Sorry I’m late.” The voice was vaguely familiar, and it wasn’t until I felt a rush of fresh air that I realized someone was addressing our table, and Denny had retreated from me.
“Can I help you?” Denny asked, standing to address a familiar blond giant of a man. It was obvious the move had been intended as a challenge, but the height difference left Denny Hayes looking like a Chihuahua fronting up against a Great Dane.
“Weston Naylor. Pleased to meet you, man. I’m just here to support my girl. Sorry, babe. Parking is a nightmare around here.” It was the man from outside. His hazel eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned close, but didn’t touch me.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice a low rumble. A waft of something warm and spicy hit my nose, and I breathed deeply, letting his scent ground me as I dipped my head in a barely there nod.
“Glad you made it.” My voice was more breath than sound, but his lips tipped up in an encouraging smile as he slid into the seat next to me, forcing Denny back to his side of the booth.
“Pretend I’m not here,” Weston said with a shark-like grin as he spread his arms along the back of the booth.
From the other side of the table, the move would look like a claiming.
But not a single part of Weston was touching me.
I snorted, covering it quickly as he cast me a curious glance.
The man was a giant. It was a little difficult to ignore his hulking, yet completely non-threatening vibe.
Well… non-threatening to me.
“I’m confident I would be perfect for this role. You’ve seen my work before, and I’ve continued to expand my repertoire since then. I have updated headshots and availability to come to set for screen tests—”
“How long has this been going on?” Denny cut in, his gaze flicking between me and Weston.
Why did it matter if I had a boyfriend?
“Not long. We’d prefer to keep it low profile for now,” Weston said smoothly. “Georgie deserves to be recognized for her talent.”
Was he psychic, too?
Wait. Georgie?
I… didn’t hate it.
The name was juvenile, and overly familiar, and exactly what we needed to sell this relationship and the protection it seemed to provide.
“So it’s new,” Denny mused, his gaze sliding over to me once more.
“She made me work for it.” Weston sat forward in his seat, the easiness gone in an instant as he seemed to loom over the man in front of us.
“When we’re ready to announce it, the world will know we’re madly in love and very much exclusive. She’s mine. I expect that you will respect our privacy in the meantime. Right?”
The star of my nightmares shrank back in his booth. His knuckles whitened where he gripped the table and despite his submissive posture, something slimy twinkled in the back of his eyes.
“Everyone loves a love story. It would be… advantageous… for Gia to be seen as a public figure when she steps into this role.”
When? The word vibrated through me as I sat perfectly still, absorbing this interchange that was simultaneously all about, and had nothing to do with, me.
I had no idea how we’d come to this point. Who the hell was this guy?
Without moving my head, so as not to draw either man’s attention, I studied my unexpected ally.
His blond hair was pulled up into a messy man bun that was oddly attractive on a man of his build.
Usually, I associated the hair style with hipster men in skinny jeans, the kind who cared more about the origin of their daily roast than showering on a schedule.
Weston, however, smelled of fresh laundry sheets and something dark and woodsy. I wanted to lean closer and see if I could sniff out the name of the scent, but that would be a little weird, even if we were pretending to be in love.
“She deserves her privacy.” His brows were furrowed, like it truly mattered to him that we controlled the narrative of our relationship.
No shit, Georgia. He doesn’t want it getting out that we’re faking it .
I mentally face-palmed at my stupidity as Denny let out an unimpressed grunt.
“That’s not how show business works.”
A woman in the all-black uniform of the Bar 103 waitstaff stepped up to the table and effectively cut off the rising tension between the men.
“Can I get anything for you? Drinks? A menu?”
Denny waved her away without breaking eye contact with Weston.
“Thank you for meeting with me, Miss Kennedy. Mr. Naylor. We’ll be in touch about the final casting call by the end of the week.”
He heaved out of the booth as I reviewed the last ten minutes in a panicked rush. Had I made any kind of impression with him? Oh god. Had I messed up my chances of getting this role?
I was going to lose my apartment.
Visions swam through my mind of packing up and moving back to Texas. Of having to live under the same roof as my parents again.
I couldn’t let that happen.
“Wait!” I called, throwing out a hand and almost slapping an unsuspecting Weston in the face.
Denny Hayes kept walking. With a straight back and rolling stride, he left the restaurant without a backward glance.
“I can’t go back to my parents’ place,” I whimpered, scrubbing my hands over my face in misery.
This was almost worse than how I imagined the day going.
Okay, that was a lie. Submitting to unspeakable things on a casting couch was way worse, but still…
“Do you live with them?” Weston asked, sliding out of the booth and taking the seat Denny had vacated.
“Live with who?”
“Your parents.”
“What about them?”
He cocked his head, like he might have been as lost in this conversation as I was.
“You said you had to go back to your parents’ place.
I was curious if you lived with them. It seems like something a boyfriend should know.
Even a fake one.” The lift to the corner of his mouth told me he was trying to lighten the situation a little.
I didn’t blame him after what he witnessed outside.
“I’m not usually that… dramatic. I mean I am, because I’m an actor and it’s literally my job — if I ever get cast in anything — but it’s not like panic attacks are an everyday occurrence for me. I’m mostly just normal, y’know?”
Weston’s lips quivered, like he was fighting off a laugh. Rude. He reached across the table and covered one of my hands with his. The warmth of the move shocked me, and I met his eyes, unsure what was happening.
“Are we having two separate conversations right now?” he asked, giving me a gentle squeeze.
“What…?”
“You don’t need to worry about earlier. You clearly have history with that guy, and that’s why I couldn’t leave you to face him alone.
I’m sorry if my jumping in has complicated things for you, but it sounded positive when he left.
I’m not sure how any of that relates to your parents, but I’m weirdly curious to find out. Now, can I buy you a drink?”