She flitted to the door, happy to go. For once in her life, she had a way to follow her dreams. Movie sets were a great place to talk about designs too, so she’d reach for two dreams in one trip.
Or she’d go down inflames and drink a lot of wine.
She wouldn’t think about that now. Nothing stood in her way. She wasn’t the maid anymore. She honestly had nothing to lose. She could be… free. And this was a start. She opened the door as Jennifer said, “I… I really screwed up my life, but it will be fun to help fix yours. It will be like therapy.”
Ashley would accept a makeover, but there was absolutelyzero way she’d let Jennifer really interfere in her love life. She waved as she headed out and said, “Okay, I’ll see if I can make you acafe cubanoout here in Hollywood.”
“Now that would make you the best assistant ever,” Jennifer called out.
Maybe she was wrong, but LA or Hollywood didn’t seem to have thecafesitasin the gas stations with perfectly made coffee. But now that shewas here to stay for a while, she’d find out for herself.
Chapter 2
Matthew Morgan paced his small box of a dressing room.
Today he started filming with Jennifer Gonzales.
His brothers and sisters all wanted to send their lawyers after her, but her agent had negotiated this movie deal well. No lawyers. No Morgan family visits.
For the duration of the movie, no Morgan or Morgan lackeys on set.
Matthew’s phone hadn’tstopped ringing for updates and check-ins though.
He answered now and listened to his agent, his nerves rising. The Roy Lichtenstein original pop art on the wall usually relaxed him but not now.
No windows made the space insufferable. He preferred the heat of Miami and the palm trees. Hollywood had the trees and nice weather, but it lacked the humidity that made his skin soft. Brightwhite lights did nothing for calming ambiance.
“Matthew, if you want this role, then find a normal-looking girl and get yourself photographed with her as your date.” Andy’s words rolled in his head like thunder on the bay. “It’s what the people want.”
Where would he find a normal woman? They didn’t attend Morgan benefits with wealthy socialites, nor did they walk the halls of moviesets.
Matthew leaned against the wall and studied the yellow-haired woman in the piece of art he’d hung. Everyone was an illusion and nothing was real except for what was presented. “I don’t even know where to meet someone like that.”
Andy continued like he hadn’t heard Matt at all, “She can’t look like an actress or model.”
Matt crossed his arms and ignored the pang in hisheart that whisperedcigaretteas he asked, “Why am I not being judged on my acting talent?”
“With all the scandals surrounding the industry lately, it’s better if we make you more clean-cut, walking the straight and narrow,” Andy explained. “You’ll have a better shot at getting the starring role for the series.”
The series was about a guy who gets a new woman in every movie, notexactly monogamous. He braced his shoulders. Yes, he wanted an Oscar but he wanted to get it with a role that people would remember for the next fifty years, and make Matt Morgan the equivalent of a modern day Cary Grant. He pushed off the wall to pace the room. “I want that series.”
“You know what you have to do,” Andy reminded him and they both hung up.
Matthew mentally recalledevery woman’s face he’d ever met.
None of them were exactly “girl next door” in personality and the ones that were sweet were usually already married.
Other men had clearly snatched up the good ones fast while he’d been focused on his career.
He headed into the breakroom and his nose detected the distinct coffee smell that he hadn’t had once in LA.
This was a one-hundredpercent Miami flavor and his mouth watered. He walked over to the pretty woman with nice brown eyes that seemed familiar and leaned over her shoulder, ignoring the premade pot of normal coffee. “Are you makingcafecita?”
She trembled like he’d startled her. The metal pot shook in her hands until she put it down. She turned toward him, but looked at his chin rather than in his eyes. “Si…yes.”
She seemed very new, and lacking the jaded quality of a regular stage hand. Whoever she was he’d guess she didn’t normally work on set. He placed his hands in his pockets and asked, “Can I have one?”
Her eyes widened and she met his gaze. The idea that he knew this pretty woman whopped him over the head. “Yes. Of course.”
