Chapter 8
The only good thing about leaving the club early was that the next day I didn’t have a hangover. Unfortunately, neither did Lydia, so the experience taught her very little. Jane, on the other hand, was sick as a dog.
Charles had texted me during the night that she was going to sleep at his apartment. Jane didn’t want me to worry about her, so she was having him text me. She was sick, and he didn’t want to bother Lydia or me. He was going to make sure she was taken care of.
I had texted him back that I was happy to come up and get her, but he told me she was already settled and finally asleep. I wasn’t about to interrupt their time together, even if Jane was sleeping through it.
I loved that he was so protective of her. They were a cute couple, and I knew he made Jane happy. The little bit of new love in the world made me smile. It was nice to know that there were still some good men out there, and even better to know that my best friend had found one of them.
I decided to go for a run through Central Park since it was my day off of work. Granted, it was much more of a “walk,” but with the sunshine and crisp fall air, I didn’t care. It felt good to be outside in the late autumn sunshine before winter arrived.
Besides, I needed something to do to keep my mind off of Mr. Darcy and our dance. All night, he was the only thing I dreamed about. And of course, we didn’t stick to just dancing. I woke up in a sweat, desire seeping out of every pore with absolutely nothing to quench the fire inside of me.
Damn that man.
So, now I was out walking trying to clear my head and figure out what it all meant. Did he no longer hate me? Was this just a way to get that shag? Where in the world did he learn to dance like that? Would it be weird to ask Charles to take us to the club again? How could I still smell his cologne in my dreams?
“Lizzie!” Lydia yelled, breaking into my thoughts. She waved from the edge of the park, and I made my way over to her.
“I thought you were still sleeping,” I said as I came to the sidewalk where she stood waiting for me.
“No, I had things to do,” she replied. “I’m so glad I found you. I have amazing news!”
“You were cast as the lead in a blockbuster movie?” I asked with a smile.
“As good as! I’d like you to meet my new agent,” Lydia announced. She turned to a handsome man standing beside her. “Elizabeth, I’d like you to meet George Wickham. He’s got contacts all over New York and LA.”
“Is that so?” I looked the man over, much more skeptical than my sister.
He was definitely attractive. He had Hollywood good looks with a strong jaw and broad shoulders. Soft blonde hair blew in the breeze, and his blue eyes sparkled in the sun. He wore a bright red jacket and stood with confidence.
“Please, call me Wickham. Everyone does,” he said, holding out his hand. I didn’t take it.
“And how much are your services costing my sister?” I asked
, crossing my arms. I smiled, but it wasn’t friendly.
“Not a dime,” he assured me. “I don’t make money unless she makes money. That’s how it’s supposed to work.”
He handed me a business card with his name on it. He’d passed my first test.
“Feel free to check me out. I’m part of the Actor’s Union. I’m the real deal,” he explained. He gave me a megawatt smile. “I’m not a big name in the industry yet, but I have contacts that get roles. I’m here to get your sister parts, not take her money.”
“The Actor’s Union, huh?” I looked the card over in my hands. This felt a little less scammy than the last few “talent agents” Lydia had found. All the actor scams asked for money up front, and not a single one of them was affiliated with the Actor’s Union. Lydia might have actually found a real agent.
“You’re good to be concerned for your sister,” he told me, brushing the blonde hair out of his face from the wind. “This industry is rough. There’s a lot of scams and people who pray on dreams of getting into acting.”
“We’ve met quite a few,” I replied. I wasn’t getting the same vibe from him that I usually did from her agents. I liked him and his friendly manner the more we spoke. “Many of the people we’ve talked to just want to take Lydia’s money. They disappear after empty promises of breakout roles and ad campaigns.”
“I am not one of those people,” Wickham assured me. “We’re going to start small. I already have a contract that will be perfect for Lydia.”
“What is it?” I asked. I couldn’t help but be skeptical.
“It’s how we met, actually,” Lydia replied, tired of no longer being in the conversation. “He found me at the gym. He says I have a perfect face for print.”
She grinned and did her best model face. I had to be honest, she was beautiful, but I wasn’t about to get my hopes up. At least her ridiculously expensive gym membership might have paid off. She went to the most expensive gym in town, hoping for exactly this outcome.
“I was looking for attractive, fit young women for this campaign when I saw your sister on the treadmill,” Wickham explained. “She’s perfect for their image. I’ve already sent in her head-shots, and I’m hearing good things.”