Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(41)

Sebastien wanted to shout, Fuck preproduction . . . I’m not ready.

JD continued on serenely. “They were going to spend the next few months getting ready, but something’s come up and if we want to move forward, we have to do it now. They’re starting rehearsals in two weeks and filming will follow that.”

“What the f*ck, JD? We weren’t supposed to start filming until next year!” A sweaty fist of panic wrapped around Sebastien’s throat, not that he was willing to acknowledge it as such. It had been only three weeks since he’d agreed to take the part and while he’d already pretty much memorized his lines, he still wasn’t sure if he was ready to get in front of a camera again.

And he still had to face Marin, get things good between them.

His throat felt dry and for the first time in several days, he found himself looking at the cabinet next to the refrigerator. It was no longer empty. He’d rearranged all the stuff in it just so it wouldn’t be empty. Now all the vitamin shit and protein powder mixes he drank daily were in there, along with a few other things that were all to remind him that he was getting back on track—getting his body healthy—getting his brain healthy.

But he wasn’t craving some power fruit smoothie shit deal.

He wanted a drink. He wanted some scotch, or just some good ol’ Jack Daniels.

“Sebastien.”

JD’s voice was mild, a steadying influence as if he knew exactly what was going on in Sebastien’s mind.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He shoved the heel of his hand against his eye and turned to stare outside, focused on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. You don’t need a drink, man. You want it. You don’t need it. Breathe . . . breathe . . .

“Look, Sebastien, this is how it is. The director is on board, your costar is on board. The crew is taking care of everything else that needs to be done to get ready on time. So, the question is . . . will you be ready?”

He swiped a hand down his face and tried to ignore the fact that he was sweating. “Sure, man. You know me. Once I commit, I’m committed. Besides, it's not like half of Hollywood is knocking my door down these days.”

“That’s your fault, kid,” JD said pragmatically.

“Suck my dick, man,” Sebastien muttered. He started to pace, deliberately keeping his eyes on his shoes so he wouldn’t be tempted to look back at that damn cabinet. He felt more nervous now than he had in ages—maybe in forever. “Look . . . I’ll . . . Fine. I’m on board.”

He sucked in a breath and told himself to look on the bright side. Marin couldn’t keep ignoring him now, right? Right. “I’ll get in touch with Marin soon so we can start working on—”

“That’s not going to happen right away. She’s out of touch for a few days still. You might be able to reach out to her this weekend.” His manager paused. “But don’t worry—you got this, Seb. The two of you are combustible on the screen.”

JD hung up before Sebastien had a chance to say anything—or demand anything. Like . . . What the hell do you mean she’s “out of touch”? You’re talking to her!

He almost called JD back.

Almost called Marin.

But he didn’t.

He was too on edge and he knew it.

Carefully, he hung up the phone, and then retreated to the couch, playing the conversation over in his head.

“Combustible,” he muttered.

Yeah, he could probably agree with that.

***

Marin sighed, the soup settling gently in her empty belly.

It had been almost a week since the meeting-turned-phone-conference-turned . . . whatever. She was finally getting a handle on things, although really, it would help if JD and Sojo weren’t calling every day.

And one of them did call almost every day. If one of them forgot, then the other filled in. She was about ready to unplug her phone just for some peace, but with time winding down, she knew better.

Soon, they’d start rehearsals and after that, they’d hit the ground running.

She couldn’t believe they just wanted to go ahead.

After what she’d told them.

But whatever.

She took another small spoonful of soup, and then looked at the pills next to her bowl. Once she had enough food in her belly, she’d take them, but she was nowhere near ready for that yet. They made her sick enough as it was.

Silence wrapped around her house, so all-consuming she could hear the clock down the hall as the minutes ticked by. Normally, silence didn’t bother her. She’d been an only child growing up and had always been used to entertaining herself, but lately silence, emptiness, the very aloneness of her life was getting to her.

When a bell chimed, alerting her to a visitor seeking entrance at the gates of her home, she eyed the pills in her hand. “I’d like to use this as an excuse to not take you,” she said sourly.

But she didn’t. Popping the pills back, she washed them down with ginger ale and moved to the console for the security system set up beside her phone. It featured a small screen, showing her the face of her visitor.

Dash seemed to sense her staring at his image and he flashed her a wide grin. “You might as well open up, gorgeous. I let you break our last two dates, but sooner or later, you have to come out of your cave. We start work in just over a week.”

She stuck her tongue out at the monitor. One press of the button had her talking to him. “I’m not in a cave, thank you. This is a very nice house and I’m enjoying some R&R before I put my nose to the grindstone again.”