Throb (Life on Stage 1) - Page 3

Frank’s been our head of security as far back as I can remember. He was also a standard in my father’s poker foursome, along with the CEO of a rival movie production company and one of the lighting grips. Every other Friday night, I could always find them in the empty studio hangar with a card table and a few cases of beer. Walking into that room, no one would ever know that two of the players were rich, powerful, Hollywood execs and the other two were average guys on their payroll.

“Cooper! Where you been hiding, kid?” Frank stands, shakes my hand, and slaps me on the back.

“Busy. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“A while? Last time you were down here Grip hadn’t even retired yet.”

“Grip retired?”

“Going on two years now.”

Two years? The thought scares me. I would’ve guessed the last time I was here was more like three months ago. “Damn. I can’t believe it’s really been that long. You still have your Friday night games going?”

Frank pats his chest, hand over his heart. “As long as my ticker keeps going, that game will be around.”

“Grip still playing even though he’s retired?”

“Winter months. Summers, his wife drags his ass to Arizona. Their daughter lives out there now, got two grandkids too.”

“Still rotating Dad’s chair?”

“Yes, sir. No one man can fill that chair. Hey, why don’t you join us tonight? We were going to ask Ted over in finance to play, but that guy always takes my money.”

“Are you saying I won’t take your money?”

Frank laughs. “You got your father’s good looks, you didn’t get his poker playing abilities, kid.”

“Might have to take you up on it, just to kick your old ass, Frank.”

“You do that.” He smiles, the creases on the sides of his eyes deepening. “Eight o’clock?”

“Why not. Hey, do you know where Miles is? I thought he was shooting a promo here today.”

“He’s shooting on location, down at a beach in Malibu.”

Figures—any chance Miles gets to throw a girl in a skimpy bikini. “All right. Well, I’ll be back later to take your money, old man.”

“You keep telling yourself that, kid.”

It’s eight on the nose when I return to the studio lot, looking forward to sitting in on one of my father’s favorite pastimes. Frank’s setting up the card table and Ben is packing a cooler with Heineken.

“What? You think you’re rich or something? Heineken? What happened to Budweiser?” I call out, walking toward Ben with a case of Bud in tow.

“Only your old man drank that shit.” Ben Seidman, the founder and CEO of Diamond Entertainment, clasps my hand as he takes the case. Diamond Entertainment is the second largest movie studio in Hollywood—second to Montgomery Productions, of course. Ben also happens to be one of my father’s oldest friends and my godfather.

“He drank it because it’s good. Not like that imported shit you’re packing in there.”

For a few minutes the three of us catch up and reminisce about some of the old card games. I’m glad I came tonight. A night with these guys is just what I need. Good memories, cold beer, no talk about the looming union strike aging me prematurely.

I crack a Bud and clink the bottle with Ben’s before taking a sip. Budweiser tastes like crap. I’d much rather be drinking the Heineken that Ben’s drinking—or a Stella from my fridge at home—but I’11never admit it to him. Some things are just part of tradition. “Where’s Grip?”

“Couldn’t make it tonight, wife’s sister had cataract surgery, so he took her up to Seattle to see her or some shit.”

“Ted filling in?”

“Nope.” Frank grins.

“Who’s playing the fourth?”

“Her.” Frank motions to the other side of the room, where a woman is carrying a case of beer. A case of damn Stellas.

“Hey, Frank.” The woman smiles and I almost drop my beer. And it’s not just because she’s drop-dead gorgeous. I can’t believe Frank’s letting a woman play.

“Really?” I say incredulously.

Frank smiles knowingly. “Really.”

“Never thought I’d see the day.” I shake my head.

“What?” The beautiful woman directs her question at me.

“You’re a woman.” I smile, shrugging my shoulders.

“I am?” Eyes wide, feigning surprise, she looks down and playfully pats her body. “Oh my god. I am.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“So a girl can play?” She’s petite, maybe only 5’4, the top of her head barely reaching my chest, but she squares her shoulders and dares me to respond. Oddly, I feel a little twitch in my pants when she challenges me.

“I don’t know, can you?” I decide to stop backpedaling and go on the offense, wanting to see her push back more.

“I can. Can you?” She arches one brow. Damn, it’s sexy. Another twitch.

“Guess you’ll find out,” I tease.

“All right, you two,” Frank breaks in. “Kate, this is Cooper and Ben.” She shakes my hand; her skin is so smooth and soft. Long, blonde, wavy hair loosely frames her pretty face. Unlike most women around this place, it’s almost makeup-free. A hint of pink color and gloss on her lips picks up the lights above. The way it reflects and shimmers has me staring at her full lips a bit too long. It’s an effort to drag my eyes away.

Tags: Vi Keeland Life on Stage Romance
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