Читать книгу Passionate Premiere - Deborah Mello Fletcher - Страница 10

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 just as her hand reached for the knob.

“Yes?”

“I’m really proud of you, Dahlia. You 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.