Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 108974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108974 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 545(@200wpm)___ 436(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
She put her mom on speaker. If she didn’t get moving, she would miss the good light because her mother could talk forever.
An impatient huff came over the line. “Why? I thought you were going to read them on the plane.”
She’d meant to but then she’d started a book and the hours had flown by, and when she’d gotten here she’d realized she simply needed a break. Not that she could tell her mom that. There were no breaks in her mother’s world. “I got caught up replying to some emails. You know what a time suck that can be.”
She felt only a little guilty about lying. If she didn’t, she would get a long lecture on how she should never stop hustling. She grabbed the backpack and Duke hopped out of the truck, eager to get going.
“Yes, I do, but I need an answer on those scripts or they’ll send them to someone else,” her mother insisted. “We need to lock down projects for next year or it will look like no one wants to hire you. I don’t want anyone to think that the big directors are waiting to see how you pull off this project. It could set you back months.”
That didn’t sound so bad. Would it be wrong to take a couple of months off? She’d been working almost nonstop since the age of five. A couple of months to enjoy the fruits of her labor didn’t seem like a crime. But again, she was trying to avoid the hustle lecture that would inevitably lead to some story of how her mom had to work twenty-two-plus hours a day while wearing hot designer clothes and six-inch heels right before walking a runway for some dastardly designer. “I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.”
She could read the scripts tonight. After she got in some sketching time.
“I think you should consider the romantic comedy. They’re talking about casting Stephen.” Her mom’s voice had gone low, coaxing. Like the idea of working with Stephen would change everything.
Stephen Cane was a dear friend. She’d worked with him many times, but the love connection her mom had always hoped for had never panned out. “I’ll think about it. If the script’s good, I’ll say yes.”
“It’s adequate, and that’s all that matters. You know it’s likely to change five times before you actually film the damn thing. The important part is that they want you for the lead, and working with Stephen would make a good story.”
Her mother was very concerned with a good story, and not the kind that was in a script. She wanted the press to pay more attention to her daughter. She wanted Brynn to be this generation’s Julia Roberts or Reese Witherspoon. America’s new sweetheart. She wanted the next decade to be about banking as much money, power, and influence as possible.
She wanted to ensure her daughters would never, ever find themselves in the position she’d been in after their dad died.
“Mom, it’s not happening between me and Stephen, but I promise I’ll pick between these two projects.” Her mom had been forced to go from pampered trophy wife to drowning in debt with two children and no husband. They’d gone from living in a mansion to homeless almost overnight, and her mother had hauled them out of poverty, and for that Brynn would always respect her.
“Honey, you know you don’t have to actually care about him,” her mom said, voice softening. “Just give the press something to write about. If you don’t, they’ll start questioning why you’re not dating.”
Harry had been right. The trail was easy to find. Someone had cleared a walkway through the trees and brush. She could hear the sound of water gurgling nearby and for a moment she was in the shade, the trees above forming a canopy. “I’m not dating because I have no time to date. I’ve gone from project to project for years.”
“Another reason to have someone like Stephen around,” her mom replied. “He’s attractive, talented, and he already escorts you to the red-carpet events. All you need to do is have a meal with him every now and then and those lesbian rumors will be gone.”
She rolled her eyes. “I told you I don’t care about those. I have lesbian friends. They’re awesome. If someone wants to confuse my sexuality, they should go for it. I don’t owe anyone an explanation.” A thought hit. “Hey, by your reckoning, I could fake date one of them.”
A low growl came over the line. “You’re impossible, Brynn. Pick a project. I’ll see you soon.”
The line went blissfully dead, and Brynn slid her phone into her back pocket.
She hadn’t seen any evidence of a sheriff being out here.
She hoped he wasn’t fishing.
Correction. She hoped he or she wasn’t fishing. It was awfully sexist of her to think whoever had driven that SUV could only be a dude. It could totally be a woman.