The Love Script, page 20
Lamont leaned back, pulling her to his side.
“Have you been praying about this, Lamont Booker?”
More like pleading with God to make a way out of no way. Did that count? “I have.”
“And?”
“Other than telling you, I have no idea what to do.”
“I can join my prayers with yours.”
“Thanks.” However, that didn’t help Lamont with the looming deadline. Cannon Industries wanted his answer soon. “How do you feel about everything?” he asked.
“You tell me first.”
He cupped her cheeks. “I don’t want to go six months without seeing you, especially since our relationship is so new. Spending so much time apart when all I want to do is see your pretty face every day makes saying yes difficult.”
She bit her lip. “Do you understand the position this puts me in, though? If I say don’t go and you don’t, will you regret that decision? Will I set some unknown precedent where you turn down roles because we don’t want to be apart? Will you . . . will you resent me?”
He sighed and leaned his forehead against hers. “I couldn’t. Not if we both feel like this is the wrong move for our relationship. It’s both of us now. Not just me.”
She stared into his eyes. “I get that. Truly. But I can’t be the one to make this decision. Not when our relationship is fresh and considering the reasons we started dating to begin with.”
“But that’s not how it is now.”
“Still . . .” she whispered.
He wanted to argue, but if she thought him pushing the issue would create resentment—on either side—then he’d go back to prayer.
“Do you have any other movie roles pending?” she asked.
“No, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be one waiting around the corner. If I say no to this one, it’s not like it’ll ruin all future opportunities.”
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and his mom shuffled into the kitchen area, a book in hand.
“Hi, Ms. Rosie.” Nevaeh stood and hugged his mom.
“Rosie, remember? How are you?”
She shrugged a shoulder.
“You two okay?” Mom arched her thin brows, gaze darting from Nevaeh’s to his.
Lamont placed his elbows on his knees. “We’re having differences of opinion. Though it’s nothing we can’t work through, right?”
Nevaeh sat back down next to him. “Right.”
“What’s going on, if I may ask?” His mom sat in the chair, setting her book on the end table.
“I got a movie offer, but filming will be out of the country for the first six months, and their morality clause means Nevaeh can’t visit. If they offered her a job on set, we would see each other but couldn’t date.”
“That’s ridiculous.” Ms. Rosie shook her head. “Have you prayed?”
“I have. Nevaeh said she’d join me.”
“Well, I will too. Maybe her taking the job is better than nothing.”
True, even if he didn’t like the answer.
“When do you have to give them an answer?” Mom asked.
“Friday.”
“I say if Nevaeh wants the job, then that’s your answer.”
He froze. Had he asked her if she wanted it? He turned toward her. “Do you want the stylist position?”
She swallowed. “Is it guaranteed I’d get the job?”
“No, they just agreed to look at your portfolio.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know. I don’t want any favoritism.” She sighed. “Let me think about it.”
“Okay. We’ll sleep on it and talk about it tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Mom interjected. “And a reminder for me to get my beauty rest. Good night, you two.”
“Night, Mom.”
“Sleep well, Rosie.”
They tabled the talk of contracts and turned on the movie. Lamont wrapped his arms around Nevaeh and found himself praying that somehow, someway, she could go with him on location.
Twenty-Seven
My nerves strummed as I took the seat in front of Monica’s desk. Tammy hadn’t given me any warm fuzzies whenever I asked for updates on the situation. But maybe she was exaggerating. Please, Lord, let her be exaggerating.
“Thanks for coming in to chat with me.”
“Sure.” What choice did I have? If I wanted to get back to work, I had to come here.
“As you know, we’ve been assessing the situation since you took a vacation.”
Unpaid vacay. “And have you come to a conclusion?” I asked. My tone was without censure and more filled with curiosity.
“That unless we make a declaration that you no longer work here, our operations will continue to be disrupted.”
My stomach sank, and my hope fizzled. “So that’s it?”
“I’m sorry, Nevaeh. You do good work, but like I told you before, this is my business, and I promise my clients a certain atmosphere. Your relationship disrupts that.”
Yeah, well, dating Lamont had disrupted a lot of things in my life. I hadn’t been able to find another apartment since I told Nora I was moving out. I hadn’t found another salon job—one lady laughed when I asked her if I could work there. Another offered me the job but told me I’d basically be the salon mascot. Thanks, but no thanks.
While Lamont’s life was looking rosier and rosier, the shine had worn off on my end. There was nothing glamorous about being a celebrity in Hollywood, and I couldn’t even claim that status. What did you call someone famous because they’d been on TV—and they weren’t an actor? Pretty sure reality TV star was it, and no one cared about them in the grand scheme of things. I mean, in general, not personally. I wished those people nothing but goodness and a calm life.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I stood and left. No reason to stick around.
I double-checked there was nothing personal left in my locker, then got in the car and sat there.
My phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Nevaeh. It’s your mom.”
“Yep. Caller ID said so.”
She huffed. “I wanted to invite you and Lamont over for dinner one day this week. Is that possible?”
I bit my lip. “He has a premiere coming up, so I’m not sure how busy his week is.”
“Well, what about you? Could you come?”
Not like I had clients booked. Even though Ms. Rosie—Rosie—had agreed to ask her friends, my clientele hadn’t shot through the roof. Yes, I had more personal clients, but not enough to secure rent in Studio City. Regardless . . .
“Sure, Mom.”
“Great. You busy tonight?”
“No.” I glanced at the dashboard clock. “I could head on over now.”
“Really? Great, then you can help me cook.”
“What’s on the menu?”
“Lasagna.”
Yum. “See you soon.”
My thoughts flitted from one thing to the other as I headed to Inglewood. Since Monica fired me, and I didn’t have another salon job in the works, maybe moving back home would be best. I could ask my mom while there, though I couldn’t stand the idea that she could gloat or give me the awful I told you so.
Lord, I can’t help but think that all of this is my fault. I told a lie to the entire world. Surely there are consequences. Though I hadn’t ever thought that losing my job would be one of them. While I thought the lie would be helpful in the beginning, my world falling into ruins made me second-guess.
Wouldn’t coming clean be worse? Because now we are dating, so how would it help?
This line of thinking made my head hurt and my heart weary. I sighed and stopped in front of my parents’ house. I texted my mom to let me in, then pulled underneath the carport in the back.
I knocked on the back door leading to the kitchen. Mom opened it, apron over her clothes. She eyed my clothing. “You’ll need an apron.”
I shrugged. “I’m not a messy cook.”
She smirked but said nothing. We worked silently for the first fifteen minutes before I broke.
“Mom, could I move back in?” I kept my eyes forward as I stirred the sauce in the pot.
“What’s going on?”
“Nora wanted to blackmail me into allowing her to talk to the press about my dating life. Since I objected, she said I couldn’t live with her anymore.”
“You can’t find another roommate or a place on your own?”
“Not since Monica fired me for bringing too much unwanted attention to the salon. People have been coming in on a daily basis hoping to take a picture of me.”
Mom placed a hand on my arm. “Are you serious?”
I nodded, stunned by the look of concern on her face.
“Nevaeh, are you okay? Are you sure you want to be dating someone like Lamont Booker?”
“I thought you liked him.” I set the wooden spoon down and faced her.
“Of course. He’s nice, has good manners, and you two seemed to really enjoy each other’s company. That doesn’t mean you have to go run off with the man. His life will always be in the spotlight. Not to mention they’ll look for any dirt they can and smear it on the newsstand.”
That I already knew.
“Can you live like that? Can you handle the pictures, the comments, the invasion of privacy?”
“I don’t know,” I murmured.
“That’s something you need to think about. If you can’t handle this kind of life, you should break up with him before your heart is too involved.”
How was I supposed to know how much was “too involved”? Was it too involved if I looked forward to every message, every phone call, every visit? Was it too involved if I had a picture of me and him from our whale-watching adventure as my phone wallpaper? Or was it too involved that I lied for a man to protect his reputation?
“As for the other issue, of course you can move in. Now might be the perfect time to think of a career change. I’m sure there are schools hiring, what with the shortage and everything.”
Yeah, but I didn’t want to work in the classroom. Never had. Boosting other people’s self-esteem was my calling, not ushering in the next generation—not that there was anything wrong with that.
“Thank you for letting me stay.”
“You know your room is always waiting for you.”
Good thing she had a habit of keeping the whole house clean and clutter-free. I didn’t have to worry about my room being a shrine to my youth. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Mm-hmm. Just let me know when you want to move in. I’ll make sure your dad hires some movers or gets some of the professors to pitch in.”
“I don’t have a lot of stuff. I’m sure Lamont can help.” Or he’d definitely hire someone if I let him.
Of course, I didn’t want him paying for something again. Since I’d entered this relationship, I’d felt so inadequate. Being just a hair stylist—an almost starving one at that—while he was Mr. Hollywood. I was an average woman rocking an average-size wardrobe, and he was Mr. SMA with muscles that made my mouth dry out. I was a sometimes churchgoer, and he never missed a service unless he was filming.
We were unequally yoked.
Maybe he should take the job with Cannon Industries. Give us time apart to figure out what exactly we were doing. Before I could change my mind, I pulled out my cell and texted Lamont a message to take the job. Then I added a second line, letting him know I was at my mom’s house and would talk to him later.
Was it the coward’s way out? Yes, but I didn’t care.
“Nevaeh, don’t forget to check on the sauce.”
I blinked. “Right. Sorry.”
I’d check my messages later, once I was back in my own room away from my mom’s potentially prying eyes. Hopefully Lamont wouldn’t be upset but thankful he had another job lined up.
Twenty-Eight
Lamont stared at the text from Nevaeh, trying to wrap his mind around her words. He read her text once again.
Nevaeh
I think you should take the job. I’m at my mom’s, but we can talk more later.
The irony of her text and the drafted email before him had him shaking his head. As his eyes drifted from his cell, he focused on the email before him.
Dear Mr. Cannon,
I wanted to thank you and Mr. Schneider for the opportunity to work with you. Unfortunately, the duration on set conflicts with my current priorities. I pray you find the right man for the film and hope you have much success.
Sincerely, Lamont Booker
He’d already cc’d Bryan on the email and had been prepared to send it when the notification from Nevaeh popped up on his phone. He ran a hand down his face. Now what, Lord?
This morning, Lamont had that feeling he should pass on the offer. He wanted Nevaeh to know, without a doubt, how important she was to him. Their beginning, the half-truths, they had started eating at him. He could tell she wasn’t all-in on their relationship. He couldn’t help but feel that being in a fake-relationship-that-wasn’t-but-felt-so was actually the problem. If he said no to this job, would that put them on equal footing? Was Nevaeh’s text sent out of fear that he’d resent her?
He sighed. Maybe that was all it was. Since he believed saying no was the right thing to do, Lamont hit send.
Now that he’d actually sent the email turning the role down, he felt . . . relieved. As much as he thought this movie could be an Oscar-winning film, he didn’t think the benefit of doing the movie outweighed solidifying his relationship. Lamont wanted the opportunity to continue to build on their relationship and being apart for six months didn’t seem the way to go about it.
Since Nevaeh didn’t want to be the one to influence his decision regarding his career, he’d make this choice with a clear conscience. And whenever she wasn’t with her mom, hopefully he could explain his reasoning behind saying no.
Lord, please don’t let her be too upset. I’d rather she be happy I’ll be here for six months versus upset I essentially ignored her yes to take it.
He rose to his feet. It was time to get out of his head. Maybe a workout would help. His phone chimed again, and he halted his movements, but it was Tuck, not Nevaeh.
Tuck
I’m going to be in Del Mar in a couple of weeks. Any chance we can meet up?
Lamont
I’ll make it happen. What dates?
Tuck
Last weekend of the month.
Chris
I don’t get an invite?
Tuck
Of course you do, hence the reason I’m mentioning it in the group text and not a direct message to Booker.
Chris
Bet. I’ll check my calendar. I’m pretty sure I’m free.
Tuck
The animals can spare you. Plus, that’s why you work with a team.
Lamont
I’m free.
Tuck
See you then.
Lamont
If you can pull yourself from the tracks.
Tuck
😝
Lamont walked out of his bedroom and frowned at the sight of the closed door leading to his mother’s room. She shouldn’t be asleep so close to dinner. He knocked, but no response reached his ears. After a few more seconds, he let himself in, taking care to keep quiet in case her afternoon nap had lingered.
“Mom?” He scanned her bed, looking for the outline of her body beneath the covers. Sure enough, she still rested, shades drawn.
She moaned, and the covers shifted.
Lamont rushed forward. “Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor?”
“I’m just tired,” she mumbled, turning her face into her pillow.
He carefully laid the back of his hand against her forehead. She wasn’t feverish. But the last time she had problems with fatigue, cancer had been the ultimate cause. He wanted to wake her up and march her into the doctor’s office. On the other hand, if she truly was just tired, he’d hate to disturb her rest.
God, please let it be nothing. Please let her just be tired.
Had she overextended herself this morning? Lamont vaguely recalled her leaving to meet friends, but he didn’t monitor her activity beyond her health. He blew out a breath, rubbed the top of his head, and walked out of her room. Whenever she decided to rise, he’d base his next actions on how she looked. Hopefully nothing was wrong. Until then, he’d try his best not to borrow trouble.
That’s not your job.
Lamont gulped. That’s twice he’d felt that niggling sensation. Once, he could chalk up to a fluke. But twice?
I’m listening, Lord.
The doorbell pealed, and he winced. Okay, so he’d have to talk to God later. Hopefully the sound of the bell wouldn’t wake his mom. He hurried down the stairs before whoever was at the door could ring again.
Bryan rushed in. “What kind of email was that?”
Lamont let the door close, then detoured to the kitchen to get himself a drink of water. Too bad he didn’t have anything stronger in the house; his agent looked bent on an argument.
“Hello to you too,” Lamont countered.
Bryan shook his head. “Forget the niceties. You told CI you’d pass on the deal.”
“I did.” He took a long drink of water, then set the glass down. “There will be other opportunities.” Hadn’t he said that to Nevaeh? He might as well believe it.
“This one was perfect for you.” Bryan threw his hands in the air. “You wouldn’t have to worry about any objectionable content. Your brand would go through the roof with this movie. I don’t understand you.”
“I told you I wasn’t comfortable being away from Nevaeh for that long.”
“Don’t make me lose my breakfast.” Bryan’s head dropped, and he placed his hands on his hips. “Please tell me that’s not the real reason you said no.”
“It is.” He stood tall, refusing to let Bryan guilt him over his decision.
“Lamont . . .”
“Bryan.” He moved to the sofa. Only his agent frowned, arms folding before he sat across from Lamont.
“Are you trying to turn your trajectory downward? Because if you are, it’s working.”
Lamont snorted. “You just emailed me this morning and told me I had another endorsement offer. If they keep rolling in, then so will the roles.”
