really done good, girl!”
Dahlia met her friend’s bright smile with one of her own. “We done good, girl! ’Cause I couldn’t have done any of it without you.”
* * *
Disconnecting the conference call, Dahlia took a quick moment to close her eyes and reflect. The limousine was stuck tire-deep in a line of midday traffic, crawling at a snail’s pace toward her afternoon appointment. Her day was just getting started and already she was wishing that it could be over. But a breather wasn’t going to propel her career skyward. Only hard work would make this year’s awards program seem like practice for what she hoped to accomplish in the next few years.
Making movies wasn’t easy, and Dahlia predicted that because of her sentimental connection to the project, making her next movie would prove to be the biggest challenge of her career. With most of the preproduction tasks already in the works, she still had a lengthy list of things that needed to be accomplished.
The script for her next project was all her, written the year she’d graduated from film school. She’d been fine-tuning it ever since, determined to create a work of sheer perfection if such a thing were possible. With her award-winning night, she wanted to ensure that the studios would be well on board, and she had her fingers crossed that her scheduled dinner with the executives would be their green light on the project.
If the studio approved, financing was a given. But Dahlia already had a plan B in place, just in case, knowing that in the film industry nothing was ever as easy as it seemed. And with a multimillion-dollar budget at risk, Dahlia was determined to make the film work. The director was a given, as well, because no one but Dahlia was going to control this film’s artistic and dramatic aspects.
Now they were casting, and confirmation had come that Golden Globe winner Zahara Ginolfi has signed on for the lead female role. Dahlia smiled, nodding her head ever so slightly. Once she found the perfect male lead, the rest would be easy as pie. The casting director already had a prospect in mind, a man Dahlia was scheduled to meet the following week.
Dahlia knew that finding the perfect locations, budgeting and signing on the production team and crew, in addition to a host of other chores, were already in the works and would fall into place when she needed them to. She had faith and a fire in the pit of her stomach to make it happen no matter what sacrifices she might have to make. And Dahlia was used to making sacrifices—the greatest forfeitures occurred in her personal life.
There was no time for a relationship with anyone who was anxious for her attention. So Dahlia refused to allow herself to get close to any man who might be a distraction or demanding of her time. And despite what people thought—the tabloids had dubbed her the “love ’em and leave ’em wildflower”—she didn’t have herself a DOC, no man that she kept around for convenience or otherwise. Folks didn’t even begin to have a clue about Dahlia’s love life. Because Dahlia had yet to find love, and when she did, she couldn’t imagine herself being so casual about it.
The driver pulled the car in front of Osteria Mozza Restaurant. Opening her eyes, Dahlia took a deep breath of air. Taking a quick glance into her compact mirror, she dabbed at her nose with the powder puff. With her game face on she headed inside, ready to talk a few thousand dimes out of a few thousand rocks.
Chapter 3
Guy took one last lap around the enclosed track. Dwight Brooks, his personal trainer, waited with a stopwatch at the finish line. Dwight had spent the past three hours putting him through his paces, and Guy was past ready to be done.
Guy came to an abrupt stop in front of his friend, bending forward at the waist, his palms pressed against his upper thighs as he fought to catch his breath. Dwight slapped him heartily on his back.
“Nice! That was one of your best times,” he said, jotting notes into a small notebook he’d pulled from his back pocket.
Guy nodded, inhaling deeply. He stood upright, his hands moving to the line of his hips. “Thanks, but it feels like you have me training for a marathon and not a movie.”
“Same difference,” Dwight answered with a shrug of his shoulders.
Guy chuckled. “I hear you,” he said as the two moved in the direction of the locker room.
“So, what time is your audition?” Dwight asked, eyeing the watch on his wrist.
“Soon. I have just enough time to shower and change.”
“This one’s big, huh?”
“Big enough,” Guy said as he unlocked the metal enclosure that housed his personal possessions. “I’m auditioning for Dahlia Morrow,” he pronounced, lifting his gym bag from inside the locker.
“Sweet!”
“Yes, I hear she is,” Guy said, a smirk pulling at his full lips.
Dwight laughed. “And I presume the part is, as well?”
Guy laughed with him. “It’s a great role, actually. I loved the script,” he said. “I’m thinking it’s destiny, too, because I was just telling my family that I wanted to meet her. Apparently, she and my sister-in-law are old friends. So, I’m thinking it’s fate in action that I mention her name and now I’m auditioning for her.”
“I’m sure it is,” Dwight agreed. He extended a closed hand in Guy’s direction, and the two men bumped fists. “I’ve got to run. Good luck with your audition,” he said. With a slight wink of his eye, he added, “And the woman. I will see you tomorrow, same time.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Guy responded as he headed in the direction of the showers. “But go easy on a brother next time.”
“Yeah, like that’s going to happen. I have a reputation to maintain, too, you know!”
Guy waved goodbye, chuckling heartily as he watched his friend exit the gym.
Stripping out of his sports clothes, Guy stepped into a warm shower, allowing the spray of water to cascade over his face and down his broad chest. As he lathered his deep caramel–complexioned skin with a spice-scented body wash, the thick suds painted his naked form with a luxurious froth. His muscles had finally begun to relax beneath the rise of the warm mist, and he savored the sensations, stretching the tightness out of each sinew.
He heaved a deep sigh. He had only been half kidding when he’d said that fate was directing his footsteps. His agent’s early morning call had come as a complete surprise. Both of them had been stunned that the casting agent for Dahlia Morrow’s next film had requested he meet with the lady herself without asking him for a screen test.
Despite his own A-list status in the industry and a long list of blockbuster movies under his belt, he was still occasionally made to jump through hoops for leading men roles in movies that he didn’t actively pursue or have a hand in producing. And despite the many leading men roles out there, the selection for black males was still a bit slim. But filmmakers like Dahlia Morrow were attempting to change the dynamics, and some sort of cosmic fate was bringing the two of them together.
Stepping out of the shower, he reached for an oversize white towel, swiping at the dampness against his skin. Thirty minutes later he was dressed and headed out to meet providence, hopeful that Dahlia Morrow, and kismet, were about to grace him with favor.
* * *
Although it had already been a very long day, Dahlia couldn’t help feeling like the rest of it was going to be well worth her efforts. But as she disconnected her cell phone, turning the ringer to vibrate, she couldn’t hide the frustration that painted her expression. Finding funding for her movie was proving to be the bane of her existence; the studios had been a huge disappointment to her. Despite its accolades and having grossed over fifty million dollars in box office receipts, Victory’s Daughter was still considered “underperforming” by industry standards, and that fact had potential investors for her next film all too ready to tell her no.
But the box office wasn’t