Love & Rum Read online

  Nodding, I knew she was right, but I had no idea where to start. “I just don’t ever want to feel like I did with Brad. I finally feel like myself again, you know? I barely even knew who I was after the divorce, and the last thing I want is to lose everything I’ve built over the last year just to traipse after some guy.”

  “But …?” Damn, she could read me well.

  “But I’m so ready to get laid.”

  “Atta, girl.” She downed the rest of her drink and slapped the glass onto the coffee table before fully turning toward me. “Look, if sex is all you’re after, then easy! One-night stands are a dime a dozen. But you can’t treat it like you would a normal date.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because you’re not interested in finding out their views on politics or their favorite childhood memory. It’s not about long conversations or a deep emotional connection. You’re just looking for someone who you’re attracted to and who is down for something quick and dirty.”

  “But what if they’re a dick?”

  She pinched her lips together. “I so badly want to make the obvious joke here. Look, if they’re an ass, you leave. Simple as that. But come on, haven’t you ever just seen someone who turned you on and wanted to know what their skin tasted like?”

  I remembered the man in the leather jacket and felt heat rise to my face. “Of course, I can name at least ten celebrities right now who top that list.”

  “Ok, and they’re great inspiration for some quality you time, but I’m talking about a purely physical relationship with someone you just met.”

  “I mean … it’s not like I’m opposed to the idea, but I don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

  “Good?” She shook her head. “Auds, you’re thinking about it all wrong. It’s not something you’re good or bad at; it’s just about being upfront. Make sure you tell these guys that you’re only after something casual, and they’ll pretty much do the rest.”

  “Really?”

  “Usually. But never do anything with anyone you don’t want to, always text me where you’re going, and don’t fuck anyone who doesn’t respect you. I don’t care how big their dick is. If they don’t come prepared, they can go fuck themselves. Literally.”

  “I don’t know …” On the one hand, the idea was exciting. On the other, the reality was terrifying. “I do want to try something new … but where would I even start?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. I can help with that.” Oh God, there was no backing out now, not if Tiff had anything to do with it.

  And yet, I couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through me, a buzz that went beyond the alcohol.

  3

  Jackson

  Bryson’s voice rang out across the room. “Ok, everyone, take your seats. Let’s get started.”

  I readied myself.

  In the center of the room, a series of tables were arranged in a large U shape, with enough seats to accommodate the main cast, a handful of writers and producers, some key people from the network, and Bryson, our show runner.

  From my seat, I watched as the rest of the room took their seats, and I smiled across the space at my good friend and co-star Wesley.

  Next to me sat Olivia, who played Meira, co-lead and center of the love triangle that was the norm for these types of shows.

  Keeping close to the room’s edges was a small camera crew and photographer, busy capturing behind-the-scenes footage that would get spliced into the promo stuff. I was sure the show’s Twitter account would be trending in under an hour. I’d already been warned that we were expected to participate in more publicity this year.

  Liv nudged me in hello while Bryson cleared his throat. “Welcome to the first table read for season three of The Guild.” Claps and a light cheer echoed around the table.

  Bryson began reading aloud. “Interior. Night. Laying on the ground is Meira, unresponsive. Ares is crouched over her, his bloodied hands cradling her face. Cut to a wide shot of the both of them alone in the darkness. The destroyed house around them is still. Silent.”

  “We hear a gasp and come back to a tight frame as Meira awakens. They stare into each other’s eyes, and Ares smiles, teeth bloody …” Bryson pointed to Wesley, who then said his line, “You took your time, sweetheart. Thought I was going to have to come down there and get you.”

  Wes continued, and I sat back, making myself comfortable. Despite being the lead of the show, I didn’t have any lines until page ten.

  The show was based on a series of extremely successful books and unsurprisingly focused on a love triangle between Wes, Liv, and myself. I played Ryder, a detective with The Guild; Liv was Meira, a witch ingenue I’d rescued in season one from the god Ares, who was played by Wes, villain turned anti-hero over the course of season two. We had gods and magic and ridiculous fights with CGI. We also had the highest ratings of any show on the air right now.

  Yes, it was as campy as it sounded. I absolutely loved every minute of it.

  The table read stopped and started throughout the morning, allowing the writers to tweak certain lines as they heard them, and we were only a third of the way through before we broke for lunch.

  I turned to my left, glad for a chance to finally catch up with Olivia. “Hey, Liv, how are you? Busy summer?”

  Liv looked refreshed and relaxed with her honey-colored hair thrown up in a loose bun. She dropped her glasses onto her script and smiled brightly. “Hey! Yes, it was a busy break. I shot a small indie feature up in Toronto last month, then flew out to LA to do the rounds out there. Fit in a trip to Hawaii with some friends. The usual.”

  “Oh, of course, totally normal activities,” I said, sarcastic, and her light laugh chimed throughout the room.

  She leaned in conspiratorially. “A little birdy told me you were caught creeping out of another model’s hotel last weekend.” It didn’t surprise me that she’d heard. Gossip traveled fast in this business.

  “I’m not one to kiss and tell,” I said, but Liv knew me well enough to read into my smirk.

  “Unlike Wes,” she said, moments before a hand sharply slapped down on my shoulder. “Talking about me already, Liv?” Wes said.

  When I stood to hug him, I was freshly reminded of our physical differences—the four extra inches he had on my six-foot frame, his long, lean limbs wrapping around my broader muscular body, and his grown-out black curls contrasting with my short, blonde cut. “Hey, Wes, how are you?”

  He looked every bit the devilish rogue the show sold him as. “Great, man! I’m fucking ready, you know?”

  “Tell me about it. This season is looking good.”

  “It really is. Did you see the fight we have in episode three? It’ll be nice to kick your ass for once.”

  “Only in the fakery of TV magic would you ever be able to beat me, so enjoy it while it lasts.”

  “You wish, man.” Wes laughed, clapping me on the shoulder for the second time. “Hey, what are you doing later? We should catch up properly. There’s a bar downtown I gotta take you to. It’s totally weird, looks like the inside of my grandma’s house, but the drinks are killer, and the bartender is hot. Called The Basement.”

  “Sounds interesting, but I can’t tonight. I’ve got a wardrobe fitting first thing in the morning.”

  “Next week then. Let me know.” And then he was off to chat with one of the film crew, who, from her giggling response, definitely had a crush on him.

  Before the break ended, I checked my messages, noting two missed calls. One was from Sarah, my baby sister, and the other from my agent, Terry. I dialed his number without listening to the message.

  “J! Glad I caught you. I’ve got good news; we finally got the offer on that teen movie series. It’s a three-picture deal, lead role, filming in Vancouver next year.” Terry’s ever-present optimism wasn’t dulled by the phone connection.

  “That’s great, Terry. Any word on the Michaels script?”

  “Not yet, but don’t worry, I’ve got my feelers out there. Ar
e you free for lunch tomorrow? We can go over this offer.”

  “I should be. I’ve got the fitting at eight, but I should be done by noon.”

  We arranged to meet for lunch near his office before I was given the sign that the break was over. I’d have to call Sarah back tonight.

  Terry was a great agent, persistent and clever. It helped that he was a genuinely nice guy on top of that, a rare trait. Plus, he understood what I wanted, and he was good at pushing me to think about what I was going to do next. Not that the show wasn’t going great, but it was not going to be around forever.

  Having a hit show these days didn’t guarantee anything.

  I wasn’t ignorant enough to think I had the luxury of time in this industry. Here today, gone tomorrow, was very much a job hazard.

  By the time we finished the reading, I was tired and ready for home. During the last scene, Wes had texted me “Your fly’s undone”. It wasn’t, and when I’d looked over to scowl at him, I knew he’d done it on purpose, as the film crew was directly behind him, and they’d perked right up when they saw me giving him the evil eye. Bastard loved pulling shit like this.

  From his smug grin, he could tell which finger I’d imagined giving him.

  I only hoped I’d hidden it well enough that I didn’t get scolded by the PR team.

  Despite my exhaustion, I loved days like today. The work, the process, the thrill of another season. Working like this, surrounded by the creative team, always felt like a real collaborative effort. The cogs all working together.

  That said, I was looking forward to getting home. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to go to a bar the night before the read. It hadn’t really been worth it; the dim atmosphere made it impossible to see anything. Which, yes, had the benefit of helping me keep a low profile, but it had made it difficult to catch the eye of anyone who wasn’t three feet in front of you.

  Still, there had been one woman. A good sense of humour and incredible thighs. Pity her date had rocked up when he had.

  4

  Jackson

  Once home, I returned Sarah’s call, shucking my leather jacket over the back of a chair while it dialed.

  “There’s my favorite brother,” she said. It was Sarah’s custom to answer my calls as if we were already in the middle of a conversation. Somehow it made me love her more.

  “I’m your only brother.”

  “That just means I’m obligated to love you. Not to like you.”

  “And yet you manage it anyway.” Her giggle was swift and made me miss her.

  There were six years between us, but Sarah and I had always been close. Growing up, our parents both had to work long hours to make ends meet, and I’d taken it upon myself to look after Sarah to help them out, even if Sarah had treated me more like an annoyance than an authority figure. We’d spend hours watching movies and arguing over our favorites. Sarah must have made me watch Notting Hill a million times until I finally had to embargo any Julie Roberts or Hugh Grant film for at least six months. Then I repaid the favor by forcing her through a Wesley Snipes marathon.

  We’d lost touch a little bit when I’d first started acting. The grueling schedule of audition, audition, audition had left me little time for a life. I felt guilty anytime I wasn’t working towards my goal, which meant missing time with my baby sister. Once I’d signed with the show, she had been the first person I’d called, and we’d arranged to meet for brunch every Sunday. It was by far my favorite part of the week.

  “How was your first day back?” she asked.

  “Good, good. It’s good to see everyone, you know. Good to be back.”

  “Sounds like it’s … good.” She emphasized the last word, playfully mocking me.

  “How did it go with the celebrant?” It was still hard for me to believe that my twenty-three-year-old sister was going to be getting married in two months. Whereas I couldn’t remember my last long-term relationship. Or even my last short-term one.

  “It was wonderful. He’s given us homework to fill out, like questions on our favorite things about each other and stuff, so that he can start putting them in the ceremony. Matt’s already stressing about it. He’s probably going to have it finished by tonight.” Hearing how happy she was made it easier not to worry that she was rushing into this.

  “That’s great. Dad gave the green light then?” Our father didn’t hold too many traditional values, but he stood firm that the father of the bride paid for the wedding. It was sweet, but considering our parents didn’t have a lot of money to start with, both Sarah and I had tried to talk him out of it many times.

  Needless to say, we hadn’t managed it yet.

  Of course, that didn’t stop me from going behind his back and helping out. It had taken some convincing on my part, but I was earning enough from the show that my own expenses were taken care of, and even if they weren’t, I would have made it work so that Sarah could have the wedding she wanted.

  This year the cast was planning to ask for a pay raise, and my first act would be to repay Dad all the money he’d spent on the wedding. After all the years he and Mom had spent making sure Sarah and I had what we needed, I wanted to make sure they were able to retire comfortably.

  “Only after Mom threatened him,” she laughed.

  “Whatever works. Hey, so Mom mentioned the dishwasher broke last week. If they need any money, I can—”

  Sarah cut me off. “Jace, you know they won’t take it. Anyway, it’s fine. They already got one of Dad’s friends around to fix it. So don’t worry.”

  “Ok, ok,” I conceded.

  There was a solid beat of silence from her end. “So …”

  Uh oh. I knew exactly what came after that sound. There was only ever one reason Sarah said, “So …” like that. And it was right before she asked about my love life.

  “How is Katie? Or is it Felicity? I can hardly keep up these days.” And there it was.

  “Sarah …”

  “What?” She said with fake innocence, probably twirling a strand of her shoulder-length bob like she always did.

  “Don’t start, okay. We’ve talked about this. I’m not leading anyone on. In fact, I’m very honest about-”

  “Only wanting in their pants?”

  “That’s not how it is at all.”

  “That’s exactly how it is.”

  “Sarah.”

  “Okay, okay. Fine.” She sighed. “If you want to go whoring around Hollywood, who am I to stop you. Don’t even get me started on the fact you’ve slept with your co-star.”

  “I don’t need to get you started. I’ve heard all your thoughts on it before, and you’ll remember it started and ended over a year ago; we’re good friends now.”

  And a good thing, too. Liv was a nice girl and sexy enough that she’d landed hottest actress titles in most teen magazines. We dated for a short while when we first met on set, but despite her good looks and my respect for her as an actor, it had never worked out between us. And it had nothing to do with the five-year age gap.

  I work hard and I love what I do, but I’d never enjoyed talking about work all the time. If I was going to be in a relationship, I wanted someone who brought something different to the conversation. So that pretty much ruled out the cast, the crew, and most of the industry. And was exactly why I preferred one-night stands.

  The good thing in my line of work was that casual encounters were business as usual. No one working a full-time TV schedule could commit to anything else unless you managed to be one of the rare couples who could work and date. Too many egos, too many hours together, and depending on the show, too many conflicting emotions. And God forbid the audience didn’t like the pairing. The PR team loved the free promotion that came with dating rumors but hated established relationships in case it didn’t work out. So, relationships became the exception, not the rule.

  Luckily, once the show had taken off, I had no time for a proper relationship, so I’d never had to worry about what I would do if the right pers
on ever came along.

  Work was my priority right now, and that suited me just fine.

  “I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about my virtue,” I playfully replied.

  “Please. You haven’t had any virtue since you were caught with your tongue down Ashley Johnson’s throat in middle school. I just … worry, is all.”

  “What are you worried about?” Only my baby sister would feel the need to worry about me. Our family had a serious case of overprotectiveness. It didn’t bother me; I was as bad as the rest of them.

  “Jackson, don’t you want a girlfriend? In the last five years, I can’t remember you seeing anyone for longer than a weekend. Don’t you want what Matt and I have?”

  “A life sentence?” I joked.

  “Come on, be serious.”

  “Ok, maybe someday I might want to settle down.” Someday far, far off in the future. “But I’m happy with the life I have right now. You really don’t have to worry; I’m just enjoying myself, safely. Besides, the show keeps me so busy that I barely get a moment to myself, so even if I wanted something serious right now, which I don’t, it wouldn’t be fair to put someone else through that.”

  “I know, Jackson. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

  “I think that’s my job, sis.”

  “Well, you’re doing a terrible job,” she retorted, making me laugh. “Just … think about it, will you? I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you Sunday. Love you.”

  “You, too.”

  I ignored the creak of my spine as I flung myself onto the couch and toed off my shoes. Then I considered Sarah’s point. It was true I hadn’t dated anyone serious in a long time, but it wasn’t because I ultimately didn’t want to get serious with someone; I just couldn’t see it working right now.

  I was extremely busy with the show, especially now that filming was about to begin. Shooting was incredibly unpredictable. We mostly had nights and weekends to ourselves, but it depended on the script and the schedule. One disorganized day could have you filming into the next, and other times we would shoot three episodes back-to-back because a particular guest star was only available for those exact dates, and we needed to get as many scenes filmed with them as possible, meaning the rest of the episodes were filmed out of sequence or weeks later.