While We Were Dating Page 5

  He spent most of the day standing with Gene, the director, watching the footage and strategizing on what more they needed to get since they had all of the extras around. He knew that the most important thing for him on this shoot was to make the client happy, and the best way to keep any client happy was to stay within, or even under, budget. The budget for this campaign was huge, yes, but between Anna and an almost two-week filming schedule—and all of the people who would need to be on set every day of those two weeks—that would account for a whole lot of it.

  He ducked into a corner during a break to send Lisa an update and then checked his email. Shit. Another one from Dawn.

  To: Ben Stephens

  From: Dawn Stephens

  Re: Just checking in

  Lol no, absolutely not, this has nothing to do with our dad. To be honest, I’m not really that in touch with him either—I hear from him every so often, but he wasn’t that great of a dad to me. Just like to you, I assume from your email.

  I guess I partly got in touch because of that—I wanted to see if I had more family around somewhere, since he wasn’t so good at that part. It’s mostly just been me and my mom, and I’ve always sort of wondered what it would be like to have siblings, so when I saw that there was one out there, I just wanted . . . I don’t know, to get to know you. But if that’s not what you want, it’s totally cool.

  Dawn

  Shit. He reread his email to her from the night before, and it hadn’t been particularly friendly. He didn’t have to be a dick to this woman, no matter how he felt about his dad.

  He hit reply and typed in a flurry with his thumbs.

  To: Dawn Stephens

  From: Ben Stephens

  Re: Just checking in

  Hey—Sorry about my email, I didn’t mean to sound like I was accusing you of something. It’s just that I haven’t talked to my dad in a long time, and it was a lot to get your email. If we do have the same dad, I’m sure you can understand that.

  Anyway, sorry if I sounded like a jerk. Tell me more about yourself. What kind of work do you do with kids?

  Ben

  There. That was better. He didn’t know if she was actually related to him, but at least now he didn’t feel like a dick.

  Oh God, he had therapy tomorrow. He really didn’t want to tell his therapist about this—she would want to know if it brought up stuff about his dad, blah blah, and they’d had enough of those conversations. At least, he knew he had.

  He’d worry about that later.

  As he sat in the bar that night waiting for his brother, Ben swiped through pictures on a dating app. Not her, not her, or her . . . yeah, nope to her, too.

  “Finding any new victims?” Theo asked as he slid onto the stool next to Ben.

  Ben dropped his phone into his pocket and turned to his brother.

  “I prefer to think of them as the lucky ones, not victims, thank you very much.”

  Theo rolled his eyes and waved to the bartender.

  “Why aren’t you out with one of the ‘lucky ones’ tonight? To what do I owe this pleasure?”

  Ben ignored that question.

  “Why did I have a missed call from Mom today?” he asked. “It’s Tuesday; she never calls on Tuesdays.”

  Theo sighed.

  “She can’t just call her son on a Tuesday?” he said, in a perfect imitation of their mom. Ben laughed and pushed Theo’s drink in front of him.

  “Ahh, so you talked to her.”

  Theo nodded.

  “Carrie’s having a baby. It’s still supposed to be a secret, which is why Carrie hasn’t told the family group text yet, but of course, Aunt Cynthia told Mom, who called to tell us.”

  Ben took a sip of his drink.

  “This is going to be another one of those secrets that the whole family knows but we have to pretend we don’t, right? At least Carrie will probably tell us for real via text, so it’ll be easier to pretend we haven’t known this for months.”

  “Exactly. Hey, how is that work thing going you can’t tell me about? You said that thing that you had to do went well—any updates?”

  He’d reread the NDA, and it was all about the phone itself. He didn’t give a fuck about the phone; he just wanted to tell his brother about Anna, and he was in the clear.

  “Okay, I’m going to tell you part of it, but you can’t tell anyone. Obviously, you’re going to tell Maddie, but she really can’t tell anyone.”

  Theo looked suspicious.

  “I promise. This had better be good.”

  Ben couldn’t keep himself from rubbing his hands together.

  “Oh, it is. Okay, so . . . that day I called you, it was to pitch an ad campaign starring Anna Gardiner. I can’t tell you what that is about, but we got it. And I’m the lead exec on it. We started shooting yesterday.”

  Theo’s mouth dropped open.

  “Are you serious? Holy shit, Ben. That’s incredible, congratulations! And you’re the lead on it?”

  He still couldn’t really believe it, either.

  “Yeah—I killed it at the pitch, and so the client wanted me to be in charge.”

  Theo clapped him on the back.

  “See? I knew it. I told you you’d kick ass.” He stood up and inspected the bottles behind the bar before he waved at the bartender. “Can we get some of that Booker’s, please? One for each of us, neat. Thanks so much.”

  Good alcohol was one of the ways his brother showed love. Also bossy advice, detailed spreadsheets, and alphabetizing things. Very occasionally, blowing off work, but that was only for a true crisis.

  “Thanks, man,” Ben said, when the bartender set the bourbon in front of them.

  “So does this mean that you’ve met her? Anna Gardiner, I mean? What’s she like?”

  Ben grinned as he took his first sip. Holy shit. He wasn’t going to ask how much this cost.

  “She’s great. Really great. Good at her job, not a diva—except when she needs to be—really good to work with.” He put his drink down. “And, can I just say—incredibly fucking hot.”

  Theo laughed.

  “That sounds right—she’s pretty gorgeous on-screen; I bet she’s amazing in person.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re flirting with her. Aren’t you?”

  Here came the bossy advice, right on schedule.

  “I am NOT flirting with her. Okay, fine, I am, but, like—I’m not hitting on her.”

  Ben could tell Theo was fighting back a smile.

  “You’re so predictable.”

  His brother had a point.

  “I know, but don’t worry—first of all, you know I don’t try shit with women I work with. But secondly, this is”—he lowered his voice—“Anna Fucking Gardiner. I’m not going to be that asshole who flies too close to the sun. Even though we did have a vibe going last night.”

  Theo’s eyes opened wide.

  “Last night? Did you go out with Anna Fucking Gardiner last night?”

  Ben picked up his drink.

  “I love that you actually think that, but no. I mean, yes, but not just me—everybody on set yesterday went out last night for a whole first-day-of-shooting happy-hour thing. I just happened to be sitting next to Anna. And”—he took another sip of bourbon—“yes, there was some mild flirting going on, on both sides, okay? But don’t worry, I’m not such a fool as to think it’s going to come to anything.”

  He let himself grin at his brother.

  “But it’s going to be damn fun while it lasts.”

  Theo clinked Ben’s glass with his.

  “I’ll toast to that.”

  It was only after Ben was on his way home that he realized he hadn’t told Theo about Dawn’s email. Eh, it would have ruined the night. Next time.

  * * *

  —

  Anna curled up at the edge of th
e couch in her hotel suite and poured herself a glass of sparkling water before she picked up the phone.

  “Anna! Where have you been?”

  Anna smiled and leaned back against the couch when she heard her best friend’s voice. Penny had been her rock the year before; their phone calls and video chats and text messages had kept her going when she’d wondered if she would ever feel okay again, if her career was over, if she should just give up.

  “Penny, I’m in San Francisco, you know that.”

  She could see the eye roll on her friend’s face like they were in the same room.

  “I know you’re in San Francisco, I mean, like, metaphorically where have you been. I texted and called last night, and nothing.”

  Anna laughed at the outrage in Penny’s voice.

  “I was doing that terrible thing—I was working.” She stopped and smiled to herself. “Well, fine, last night I wasn’t working, I was drinking beer with a very attractive man, but mostly I’ve just been working.”

  “Oooooooooh,” Penny said, and the excited tone in her voice made Anna grin. “You were ‘drinking beer,’ hmm? Is that what we’re calling it now? Tell me everything.”

  If only. She’d made a pledge to herself early in her career to never sleep with anyone she was working with. She’d seen how so many women got screwed over when they did that. But she had had a number of very intentional wrap-party flings.

  “No, that’s not what we’re calling it now. The whole crew went out for drinks after the first day of shooting. He’s very charming, but that’s the end of it—he’s working for the ad agency running this campaign, so I’m not going there.”

  Even though Ben seemed like he’d be a delightful person to break her long dry streak with . . . but no, she couldn’t.

  “Mmm, but you brought him up right away, though; it seems like you maybe want to go there.”

  Anna stopped to think about that.

  “Part of me does, but, P—I don’t know if I’m ready. I haven’t, since before everything last year. And I just don’t know if I can relax with another person like that yet. Or, I guess, trust another person.” She sighed. “I never used to worry about that.”

  “I know,” Penny said. “But also maybe you’re building it up in your mind as something that you have to stress about, since it’s been so long, and finding excuses not to do it?”

  Penny knew her too well.

  “Me? Build something up in my mind? Never. Fine, yes, but also that doesn’t make it feel any less true right now. I’ll get there eventually, don’t worry.” Anna took a sip of water and thought about Ben from the night before. “Okay, get this—he used to be a backup dancer. Years ago, I mean, but he still has that . . .” She paused, trying to think of the right words to describe it. “That way of moving, like he’s light and nimble and on high alert, all at once.”

  Penny was silent for a while, for so long that Anna looked at the phone to make sure they hadn’t been disconnected.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Penny finally said. “You’ve got a backup dancer on the string and you haven’t closed the deal yet? This is not the Anna Gardiner I know. Hell, it’s not even the Anna Rose I know.”

  Penny had a very good point there.

  “Oh, and—” She was just torturing herself now, but if she couldn’t tell Penny, who could she tell? “He does that thing where he listens to me really intently, and then asks me questions about what I’ve told him, and let me tell you, after dealing with men in Hollywood who only want to talk about themselves, that had me ready to throw my panties at him.”

  “I would love to see you throwing your panties across a San Francisco bar, what a sight to see,” Penny said. “You’d better throw them at this man at some point.”

  Anna sighed and pushed that fantasy away.

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Anyway, enough about me—how are you? How’s business?”

  Penny worked at a winery in Paso Robles. She and Anna had worked together at their first jobs after college and bonded over their terrible boss. That bond had lasted for more than ten years now, through many job and life changes.

  “Business is good right now, thank God. We’re still not out of the woods yet, but if we have a few more months like last month, I’ll be able to sleep through the night for the first time in well over a year.”

  Anna let out a deep breath. What a relief.

  “I thought you didn’t worry about all of that accounting stuff and just stuck to the wine,” she said, just to make her friend laugh. It worked.

  “Yeah, that’s me, just wandering around in a vineyard, tasting grapes, drinking wine in a backyard, and raking in the dough. Easy life, you know.”

  Now they both laughed. Anna knew how hard it had been for Penny. She’d fallen in love with the wine business a few years after they’d become friends, just when Anna was starting to find her way into acting. After about a year of thinking about it, she’d quit her job and gone to grad school at UC Davis to learn everything she could about wine, and then had become an assistant winemaker. Now she was one of a handful of female winemakers in California. And, as far as Anna knew, one of only a few Black women winemakers in the country. Penny loved her job, but small family-owned wineries like hers had a lot of ups and downs.

  Well. Family- and Anna-owned, now.

  “Don’t worry, I’m protecting your investment,” Penny said. Anna had bought into the winery the year before so they didn’t have to go out of business; partly to save her best friend’s job, but also to save a place that she loved. But Anna also loved having this secret from most of the world, and she especially loved that she got to share it with Penny.

  “I’m a silent partner, remember? I’m just there for the wine, and the advice on how to stock my wine cellar.”

  Penny laughed at her.

  “Oh please. You’re also here for being able to say ‘You know, when I was last at my winery,’ as you lean back in your expensive chair with a glass of port in your hand.”

  Anna liked the sound of that.

  “In that vision, I seem like some sort of James Bond villain—is that what I’m playing? I’ve always thought it would be way more fun to be the villain than to be one of his women.”

  Also, she wished she had a glass of port in her hand right now, instead of this sparkling water.

  “I was actually picturing you in a Nancy Meyers movie, hanging out in a gorgeous kitchen as you pull a bottle out of the rack by the back door and pour wine into two enormous goblets that a very handsome older man hands you, but a James Bond villain sounds great, too.” Anna could hear Penny take a sip of her wine. “You should wrangle yourself into a role like that after that Rebels thing comes out.”

  “Vigilantes, not Rebels,” Anna said.

  “Same difference,” Penny said.

  “But, ugh, speaking of Vigilantes—I still have no idea what my role is actually going to look like in the final cut of the movie. After all the fanfare about getting cast in it, how humiliating will it be if I get cut to a bit part? Oh God, I can only imagine what a nightmare the premiere will be if that happens.”

  She shuddered to think about it.

  “Well, this is an easy one,” Penny said. “You just won’t go to the premiere if that happens. You’ll have a prior engagement, preferably on a beach somewhere with me, drinking cocktails.”

  God, did that sound amazing.

  “That’s a perfect backup plan—you’re brilliant. The only problem is that sometimes—most of the time—no one bothers to tell you about these things in advance. They haven’t reached out to me about doing press for the movie, which makes me anxious. However, Simon texted me this morning that he had a ‘very good meeting’ with one of the directors. I don’t know what that means yet; it could mean nothing, we’ll see.”

  “Nah,” Penny said. “Simon never bullshits you. Oh,
also, what’s going on with that other role you told me about?”

  Anna got up and pulled a bottle of wine out of the mini bar. This wasn’t a conversation for sparkling water.

  “No news on that yet. From what Simon told me, the director really likes me, but the studio is leaning toward someone with a ‘bigger box-office draw.’ That’s probably code for a white actress, but I’m not giving up yet. I want to fight like hell to get this role, but I just don’t quite know how to do it. It’s frustrating, because I have a whole plan for what I want the rest of the year to be: this ad campaign will go great, Vigilantes will come out and I’ll be a hit in it, I’ll film the Varon movie, it’ll come out next year, and boom, back to the Oscars I’ll go.” And then she would finally be able to take a deep breath. “I don’t want the studio to fuck up my whole plan, Penny! I need to talk to Simon about this; maybe he’ll have a strategy to get me that role that I can’t think of.”

  Simon usually had a strategy she hadn’t thought of, actually.

  “I bet he will,” Penny said. “I have faith that between the two of you, you’ll manage to get you this role. And I have faith that between the two of us, we’ll manage to get you this man.”

  Anna rolled her eyes.

  “Number one, I thought we were done with that part of the conversation. Number two, let’s be clear, the issue isn’t whether I can get this man, but whether I should get this man, and the answer to that question is no.”

  Penny cackled, and Anna laughed, too.

  “See, this is what I like to hear! I rely on my famous big-city friend who snags men by the collar with a mere crook of a finger for all of my wish fulfillment. I’m just a small-town girl who sees the same boring men and annoying tourist types over and over again—even if I did find them attractive, they wouldn’t say the same about me, since I’m in wine-stained overalls most of the time.”

  Anna rolled her eyes. When she and Penny had first become friends, Anna had been a shy twenty-three-year-old who was scared of dating and convinced men had never found and would never find her attractive. Penny picked up both men and women with ease, and Anna had watched from the background with awe. Then she’d started taking notes.