his new sister-in-law.
The newly minted Phaedra Boudreaux smiled back. “So, what will you do when you do get back to California?” she asked, snuggling close to her new husband.
“I’ll be filming a commercial next week. I’m now the spokesman for the new Chanel for Men cologne.”
Having a lightbulb moment, Guy suddenly leaned forward in his seat. “Hey, by the way, Phaedra, I could really use some new head shots. Do you think you can hook me up?”
Mason rolled his eyes. “That means he wants a family discount!” he said as he hugged Phaedra tightly.
“No,” Guy protested. “That means I want it free.”
Phaedra, an award-winning professional photographer, laughed. “I think we could probably work something out.”
Guy winked. “I’d like that,” he said, laughing easily, his magnetic smile beaming brightly.
Mason shook his head. After a lengthy holiday abroad he was ready to be off a plane and back on land. He’d needed to resolve some unfinished business in Thailand, and the past week had been a test of his fortitude. He was thankful to finally be back in the United States and headed home.
After whirlwind visits to Asia and France, he and his family had stopped in London to refuel and again in New Orleans to drop off his sister Kamaya and her twin, Kendrick, at their parents’ home. Now they were headed to Dallas, Texas, to spend time with the Stallion family, Phaedra’s newfound kin, four brothers who shared her bloodline. Guy would be continuing on to Los Angeles by his lonesome. And Guy was anxious to get back.
“My money’s on Victory’s Daughter to win Best Picture,” Guy was saying. He and Phaedra were knee-deep in a conversation about movies.
“I absolutely loved Victory’s Daughter,” Phaedra exclaimed. “And it has to get an award for Best Cinematography. The imagery was spectacular!”
“Have you ever thought about doing films?” Guy asked, remembering that his new sister-in-law was renowned for her skills as a photojournalist.
Phaedra shook her head. “Not really. I love still photography. I can’t imagine myself doing anything else.”
“I understand that,” Guy said. “That’s how I feel about acting.”
“So, who else do you think will win tonight?” Mason interjected.
Guy paused for a minute. “I’m betting on Dahlia Morrow for Best Director, and Halle stole the show with her performance as Victory, so she’s my bet for Best Actress.”
“Do you know Dahlia?” Phaedra queried.
Guy shook his head. “No, but I’ve been looking for an opportunity to meet her. I would love to be in one of her films.”
Phaedra smiled. “Well, I’d love to introduce you two. Dahlia and I are sorority sisters. We’ve been good friends for years,” she noted casually.
Guy nodded excitedly, gesturing with two thumbs pointed skyward. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about, another hookup! I am truly loving you, sister-in-law.”
Chapter 2
Leslie Stanton met Dahlia at the front door of her office with a large caffe latte and the morning paper. The robust black woman was shaking her head as Dahlia crossed the room to her upholstered chair and took a seat.
“Pray tell, how did you manage to have two dates for the Oscars?”
Dahlia shrugged. “Congratulations to you, too,” she said, meeting the woman’s gaze.
Leslie laughed. “Congratulations! It was an Oscar landslide! You don’t see that every year.”
Dahlia laughed with her. “Next time we’re sweeping Visual Effects and Best Original Screenplay, too. Mark my words!” she said as she opened the paper to the front page and stared.
The headline read “Oscar’s Golden Girl” and featured three images: Dahlia standing alone page center, a shot of her and Drake Houston to the left and another of her and Owen Kestner to the right. The tabloids were having a field day thinking she had left Drake standing at the Academy door while she’d partied the night away with Owen. She shook her head as she took a sip of her morning drink.
“Did you sleep with him?” Leslie asked, dropping into the seat in front of the large desk.
“Him who?”
“Whichever man you left with,” Leslie said with a raised eyebrow.
“I left with Owen, but he went home with his good friend Charles,” Dahlia said, peering over the top of her coffee cup. “His very good friend,” she emphasized, hinting at the relationship that had already been gossiped about in hushed whispers.
Wide-eyed, Leslie shook her head and chuckled. “Hush yo’ mouth!”
“So did you sleep with the other one?” Leslie continued.
“I never sleep with any of them. That’s why I have such a problem when I want to get rid of them. Most men think if they can’t bed you on their timetable, then your virtue is something they suddenly need to conquer.”
Her friend laughed. “Since you mentioned it, Drake called for you,” she said. “Something about doing dinner this week if you’re available.”
“See!” Dahlia exclaimed. “They just won’t go away.”
Leslie laughed as she tossed a stack of folders onto Dahlia’s desk. “You have back-to-back appointments starting at eleven o’clock. First, there’s a conference call with the casting agency, then lunch with the Bresdan Arts Foundation to discuss financing and then the interview with Oprah and her people. From there you have a photo shoot for People magazine, an hour with your personal trainer and then dinner with the studio execs,” Leslie concluded as she tapped one last notation into Dahlia’s smartphone.
She passed the device to her friend. “Your alarms are all set on vibrate. Stay on schedule and you should be done for the day by nine but by latest ten o’clock tonight. And don’t forget to call your aunt Minnie and wish her a happy birthday.”
Dahlia chuckled softly. “See, when would I actually have time to sleep with a man if you didn’t put it on my schedule?”
“So, I need to schedule some quality alone time with Drake so you can get you some?”
“Uh, no!”
“Owen?”
“Uh, double no!”
Leslie laughed with her. “Well, we need to schedule something and soon because you can’t keep tossing these boys away like you do your shoes.”
“I never toss my shoes away. I love my shoes.”
“But you only wear them three, maybe four times. I can’t remember the last time a man lasted that long with you.”
“My shoes don’t get in my way. A man usually will.”
“Well, every woman needs herself a DOC,” Leslie said, her eyebrows lifted, her expression humorous. “We need to find you one, maybe even two.”
Dahlia looked momentarily confused. “What is a DOC?” she questioned, her own eyebrows raised in query.
Leslie laughed. “DOC...dick-on-command!” she said.
The two women giggled until tears were raining from their eyes.
Leslie gestured for her to get a move on it. “There is a car downstairs waiting for you. The driver has your itinerary and will be at your beck and call until he drops you at your front door tonight. Take the conference call on your way to the restaurant.”
Dahlia blew out a deep sigh as she headed in the direction of the door. Leslie called her name