Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(12)

He trapped a groan in his throat. “I’m standing right here, beautiful. Come get another.”

Again, the green in her eyes disappeared momentarily. “I think you know I’m going to make you work harder than that for it.”

“I’m counting on it.”

She squared her shoulders and faced the reception area. “Bye, Louis.”

“Bye, Roxy.”

He waited until he heard the front door of the office close before going back to work. No one laughed. Especially him, thanks to his new position as Mayor of Bonerville.





Chapter 5



ROXY STARED, DUMBFOUNDED, at the eighteen-year-old film student.

“You called me back here to reread for the role of Lassie? As in, the dog.”

“You were great in the first audition.” He consulted his clipboard, thick-rimmed glasses slipping down his nose. “So good, we thought you might be right for the title character.”

“Might be?” She must still be asleep and dreaming this whole scenario. Or she’d fallen into a bizzaro-world vortex on her walk from the train. A world where prepubescent children had more professional success than herself. If he didn’t look so earnest, she might have clotheslined him by now. “Ashton. Can I call you Ashton?” She pasted on her best smile when he nodded. “This is where I’m getting stuck. Lassie has no lines. He’s a f*cking dog.”

“He speaks with his eyes.”

“Okay.” Roxy laughed a little hysterically, yucky embarrassment finally breaching her inner wall. This was definitely the bottom. She really resented these kids for making her feel stupid, so she tried to deflect, even though her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “Let me ask you a question. What is written on that clipboard? Anything? Or is it just the note your mother sent in your lunchbox this morning?”

He flushed red, not that you could see much of his face, obscured as it was by a struggling beard. “We’re practically the same age. And anyway, Lassie is timeless.”

She crammed her fist against her mouth. “Oh my God. I can’t even tell if you’re making fun of me anymore. I’ve lost my grip on irony.”

“Me, too,” he whispered. “Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve never even seen Lassie.”

“You need to be deprogrammed.” She snatched her purse off the stage and turned in a circle, splitting a glance between two other student filmmakers dressed like beat poets. “You all do. Go home to your parents and start from scratch. Before you suffocate yourself in summer scarves.”

Ashton tapped her on the shoulder. “Does this mean you don’t want to be Lassie?”

“Yes, dipshit. Yes.”

His brow wrinkled. “Yes, like you do? Or yes, like you don’t?”

“Oh, God. Where is the closest bar?” Her question directed at no one echoed through the performance area as she stomped toward the exit. This morning, a typical Wednesday, had started out marginally decent. She’d woken up on her futon in Chelsea, greeted by the smell of bacon. Bacon. She’d practically floated on the aroma toward the kitchen, where she’d found an apron-wearing Honey making cheese grits. Without even asking, the smiling Southerner had heaped a pile of food onto a plate and slid it across the counter in her direction. Roxy had walked to this audition with a belly full of food and a positive outlook, something she hadn’t done in months.

They’d called her back to play a Border collie. It seemed humiliation was now part of her everyday agenda. In the two years since she’d dropped out of Rutgers University’s acting program to pursue an actual career instead of performing for a half-empty theater in Jersey, she’d never been brought as low as she had this morning. That was saying something, since she’d once read for a feminine itch cream commercial. Worse, tonight was her first and hopefully last foray into stripping. She’d been stopped by Abby on her way out the door this morning. Her new roommate had haltingly informed her she would be cashing the two-hundred-dollar check tomorrow. Roxy only had half that amount in the bank. No more singing telegram work had come her way since Louis’s appointment on Monday, and now she was left with few options. Strip or lose the apartment dreams were made of. Lose bacon. Lose cheese grits. Lose a kind of security she’d never really experienced.

So in a matter of eight hours, she would get naked in a room full of strangers. Her boss at Singaholix had assured her this particular bachelor party would be low key. The groom didn’t want strippers or a big deal made, but the best man and organizer had convinced him to allow a ten-minute show. Namely, her. Dressed as a cheerleader.

She was doing her best to keep a good mental attitude about it, even though part of her was scared. Being scared didn’t happen to her often, nor did it sit well, churning around in her stomach like a cake mixer. No, this would be a good experience, one she might be able to utilize for future roles. Hadn’t Marisa Tomei played a stripper? Jennifer Aniston, too? She could do this. Ten minutes of taking her clothes off couldn’t be worse than dressing like a dog and expressing doggie thoughts with her eyes. Those men would all just be faceless audience members to her. Nothing more.

A brief scenario in which her parents found out flashed in her head. It wouldn’t be the typical parental reaction. Horror, denial. No, they would probably be delighted. How the mighty have fallen. Her ambition to become an actress, become anything, had always been viewed as a negative by her parents. When they bothered to weigh in. They hadn’t said so in as many words, but she’d always thought her inability to be content . . . offended them somehow. As a result, she almost got the feeling they hoped she didn’t make it. Hoped she came crawling home, begging for her old room back and a job hookup at the local mall.