Page 2 of Fire and Smoke (Nothing Special #9)

“Are you serious? A commercial… A local commercial?”

Wes walked laps around his mother’s two-story town home as his agent tried to sell him on an audition that was so insulting he was having a hard time understanding the specifications of the job.

“What the hell are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that you said you’re strapped for cash and need work,” Forest said dryly.

“I meant in LA. I meant something I can make a comeback with.”

Wes plopped down on the couch and leaned back against the crocheted quilt. He yanked the scratchy material away from him with a curse and tossed it onto the coffee table.

“I’ve been pitching you, Wes, but you know the score.”

“I know. But I was hoping you could talk to the stunt coordinator on the Die Strong 4 production. I know Jansen. He and I worked on six other—”

“Wes, come on.” Forest sighed. “You know you don’t have that kind of clout anymore. You and Law have really made a mess of yourselves with the constant fights and tech errors. Directors don’t trust you on their sets anymore.”

Wes groaned, his chest aching when he thought of his nemesis…his angry lover.

“Where is he?” he asked, knowing his agent knew who he was referring to.

“He’s there in Atlanta, but he’s not working as far as I know.”

Wes thought about the way Law had left things between them. How he hadn’t even given him a chance to say goodbye.

“Look, Wes, the only way another company will take a chance on you is if you’re solo or if you and Law can play nicely together.”

When, or if, I see Lawson Sheppard, the last thing I’ll be thinking about is playing nice.

He pushed Law from his thoughts, needing to worry about one thing at a time.

“Finish telling me about the commercial.”

“It’ll be an easy few hours of tech for you. Show ’em your green-flame explosives, and I guarantee they’ll contract you on the spot.”

“Wait a minute. I have to audition?” He asked in disbelief.

If he were in LA, he’d understand…but in Atlanta, come on.

“Jesus Christ, Wes, aren’t you from there?

” Forest asked. “The jazz concert is a big deal. The venue is huge, and some of the biggest music artists in the country perform at it—acts that could be scouting for a special effects director on their tour.” Forest continued to try to sell him on the gig.

“And this could lead to more opportunities while you’re home.

Did you even know there are over twenty movie studios in Atlanta now? ”

Shit .

It looked as if he would have to start smaller than he thought and work his way back to the top.

He scratched nervously behind his ear. “Okay, tell ’em I’ll be there.”

“Great. Dress nice, like you’re making an effort, and show them your skills instead of telling them how lucky they’d be to have you,” Forest reasoned.

Wes frowned. “Sure.”

“Call me and let me know how it went.”

“Will you keep talking me up in LA? Because I’m coming back, Forest. Fuck Law.”

He knew he was asking a lot. He couldn’t afford to pay his agent’s fee, and he hadn’t in months, but Forest always said he was his friend before his agent, and he had refused to abandon him at his lowest point.

He and Law had made a terrible mistake—one that was his fault, and an innocent person had paid the price for—the kind that cost him his career.

He’d been out of work for almost a year now, and his savings had almost dried up. But he was glad he’d been frugal and not thrown his money away on silly, man-child toys like one showboating dumbass he knew.

“I’ll keep mentioning your names in some circles, Wes, but people need to see you working well with others, and that’ll go a long way back here,” Forest said. “No one wants a hot-headed pyrotech on their set, handsome. You understand me?”

Wes nodded, even though Forest couldn’t see him, and said goodbye to the one friend he had left from that world.