Something Like Want

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

Six months later

“I just got a call from Vincent Stevens, and—”

“Yes.” I cut Lou off, sitting up straighter and reaching for the remote so I could mute the TV. “Whatever he wants, yes.”

Lou chuckled, and the sound made me smile. “You don’t even know what it is, though.”

“I don’t care if he wants me to sit at his feet like a dog and hand him coffee,” I teased.

Vincent was one of the best directors I’d ever worked with. Kind of a hard-ass, but he had an inspiring work ethic and got s**t done. His vision was refreshing, and if he was asking for me, I knew I needed to be a part of it.

Two years ago, we’d worked on a miniseries for HBO together, and it had been one of the best experiences I’d ever had with a director. Whatever he wanted, I was on board.

“Can I at least tell you about the project?” Lou asked.

“Please do.”

Lou huffed at my overly conscientious tone and then told me about the independent film Vincent was proposing. Vincent would be directing and producing. The premise—about five close friends coming together to mourn the loss of one of their own, who may or may not be communicating with them as a ghost—sounded intriguing. And if Vincent was passionate enough about it to be taking it all on himself, it would be amazing.

“Again, I say yes. Tell him yes, Lou.”

“The money is s**t, Alex. Super low-budget.”

“I don’t care. I can make money elsewhere.”

“They’re shooting on location in the Pacific Northwest. In autumn. It’s gonna be f*****g miserable.”

I tried not to growl out my frustration. “So I’ll bring a coat and an umbrella. No big deal.”

There was overwhelming silence that stretched on a beat too long. Then “There’s a gay relationship. Alex, your character is involved with another man.”

I closed my eyes and counted to five before I answered. I didn’t make a big deal of my sexuality, but it was no secret I was bi and had dated both men and women over the past decade. “And? You know I don’t have a problem with that. I think there needs to be a f**k-ton more representation in films and media, and I’ve made my thoughts on it well known. I’m not seeing the problem here.”

“Spencer Johns is the problem.”

The name stopped me cold. For all that it had been six months since the incident at the Lounge, the anger and hurt were still very much living inside me. I’d been lucky Spencer hadn’t reported the incident to the police, so charges had not been pressed. But I’ll readily admit that I hadn’t been able to let it go—not internally, and not in public either—even after I told myself I’d take the consequences of my actions. After the punch hit the news, Spencer had been heard to say I was an asshole, and I’d been quoted on more than one occasion making disparaging remarks in regards to his talent and personality. I couldn’t let it go, and every few weeks something new would pop up, keeping our feud in the public eye.

But the chance to work with Vincent again? To make something amazing? I couldn’t pass that up. Vincent had a true eye for the potential of things, and he’d take something good and make it great. He’d done wonders for me: my star had definitely risen a few notches after that miniseries aired.

“We’re professionals, Lou. We can handle working together.” I kept my voice calm and even, despite not feeling it. Lou didn’t say anything, and I knew what his weighted silence meant. I blew out a breath and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I can handle it. I won’t cause any trouble—I’ll just do the job.”

“Even if your character and his are the ones romantically involved?”

I sucked in a breath. s**t. Could I work with him under those circumstances? Could I put aside my hate for the asshole long enough to shoot romantic scenes with him? My gut said no. I should walk away and forget the project existed.

But in the end, the chance to work with Vincent again won out. Well, that and the fact that I wasn’t going to let that prick keep me from a project I really wanted to work on. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Yes.” I was firm. “It won’t be a problem.”

Lou still didn’t speak, but I heard the tapping of fingers on a desk. Finally, he let out one of his huge, gusty sighs. “Fine. I’ll tell Vincent you’re in. I’ll get you the details and the script. Right now, I know they intend to start shooting in a couple of weeks. He’s got accommodations set up. You just need to show up. You’ll have to fly into Seattle and then hire a car service, or rent a vehicle to drive to Oak Harbor. I’ll get Mindy to make the arrangements.”

“Sounds great. Thanks, Lou.”

“Are you sure, Alex?” His tone was soft—something I didn’t hear from him often. Every once in a while, he reminded me he actually had a heart.

“Yeah. I want to sign onto this project, work with Vincent. I can handle it.”

“Fine,” he said, all business again. “Don’t forget, Linda from Inside in LA will be calling in about an hour for that piece she’s writing about you. Don’t mention anything about this yet. But you can use the ‘I’ve got an exciting project on the horizon’ line if you want.”

I rolled my eyes and gave a small laugh. “I know the drill, Lou. I’m no starry-eyed newbie.”

“Could have fooled me,” he grumbled. It was our common exchange, and I think he liked it as much as I did, but he followed up with another big sigh. “I’ll be in touch.”

I hung up and then sat back with a smile. I’d been “between projects” for the better part of two months now and was itching to get back to work. But more than that, I was thrilled at the prospect of working with Vincent again on something that sounded so awesome. It had been a long time since I’d signed onto a film that actually had me excited. And though I didn’t yet have the script, I was confident in its excellence. Vincent would accept nothing less.

The thing about working with people who demanded excellence was I could be completely sure of the level of quality without having all the details. That was a rare thing, and I didn’t take it for granted.