Wicked Heart (Starcrossed #3)(2)
“No.”
“Or that every sexual fantasy you’ve had in the past six years has revolved around Liam?”
I glare at him.
He holds up his hands. “Fine. My lips are zipped. But if you latch on to him in rehearsals and hump his thigh, I expect to be absolved of all responsibility.”
“If I get close enough to him to do any humping, you will have failed as my platonic life partner. Just remember that.”
“God, woman,” he says with a frustrated sigh. “Keeping you in line really is a full-time job.”
Even when my anxiety levels are higher than James Franco’s, I love that Josh can still make me smile. This is why he’s been my bestie since our sophomore year in high school. Predictably, we met in drama club. He was one of the few straight boys there, and even though we both loved theater, we weren’t great at the onstage stuff. After our less-than-stellar acting “debuts,” in which we played what no doubt came across as the world’s most awkward lovers, we decided to tread the less glorious path of backstage crew. It turns out my talent for organization and general bossiness is a plus in theater, and it wasn’t long before I became the school’s youngest-ever stage manager.
For some reason, Josh was content to play Robin to my backstage Batman, and we’ve been a dynamic duo ever since. People are always confused that we’re friends and not lovers, but that’s just the way it is with us. Besties ’til the end.
“Okay, team,” Marco says when we’re all seated. “That was the final movie in the Rageheart series, starring Liam Quinn and Angel Bell, our soon-to-be leading couple for my fabulous reimagining of Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew”
I love Marco’s concept to update Shakespeare’s classic comedy. His work is clever and current, and I’ve been a fan since I worked on his most recent Broadway hit. The play just happened to also star my brother, Ethan, and his gorgeous now-fiancée, Cassie Taylor. After we’d been open for a few months, Marco poached me to run this project. Of course, at the time I had no idea it would star the “Lord of My Underpants,” Liam Quinn. If I’d had that little nugget of information, I would have run in the other direction. Working with a man who lights up my libido like the Vegas strip isn’t my idea of a good time.
“Now,” Marco says, “unless you’ve been living under a rock for the past few years, you’ll know that Liam and Angel are Hollywood’s current golden couple. They dated for a couple of years, then got engaged, and judging from their regular public displays of affection, they’re revoltingly in love.”
I remember the day I found out they were dating. I’d never felt so stupid in my entire life. Or so heartbroken. I thought we had something special, but those photos were proof that even men as spectacular as Liam Quinn can be fickle bastards.
Marco points to the folders in front of us. “Those dossiers will familiarize you with our stars. They contain their official résumés, as well as quirky facts, likes, and dislikes.”
As if I need any of that. I’ve been cyber-stalking Liam for years. Not my proudest achievement.
“At the back of the dossier,” Marco says, “is a copy of Liam’s and Angel’s production riders.” A production rider is a list of things companies are requested to provide to keep stars happy. The can range from the simple to the ridiculous.
“Please keep in mind that these aren’t regular theater actors,” Marco continues. “They’re movie stars, so they’re used to having all of their outrageous demands met. Let’s try not to disappoint.”
I sneak a peek at Angel’s list.
Jesus, really?
It would seem Miss Bell’s happiness depends on her dressing room being completely white—white carpet, furniture, drapes, and flowers. Her food and beverage requirements are straight out of the little-known best seller—Gourmet Crap That Will Send You Broke.
I flick over to Liam’s rider. It lists only four things
Free weights
Wi-Fi
Chocolate chip cookies
Milk
I smile. I remember his fondness for cookies and milk. He used to taste delicious after eating them. Cookies and cream is still my favorite flavor.
Josh frowns. “Are we really providing everything in Angel’s rider? I wouldn’t even know where to look for a ‘Columbia Daylily.’ ”
Marco laughs. “Of course not. With our budget, we can barely afford bottled water, let alone a private chef or personal trainer.”
Our producer, Ava, clears her throat. “I’m currently in negotiations with Anthony Kent, Liam and Angel’s agent, and intend on vetoing the more ridiculous demands. Anthony needs to manage his clients’ expectations about the difference between working in theater and film. Movie stars have no idea about how humble theater budgets are. I fear Angel and Liam are in for a rude awakening.”
“Liam’s done theater before,” I say before thinking.
Ava raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Uh . . . yes. It’s right there on his résumé. Six years ago. Romeo and Juliet. Tribeca Shakespeare Festival.”
Marco narrows his eyes. “Wasn’t that the same production you and your brother were involved with? It was your first professional show, yes? You were only nineteen.”