“That sucks. Before you leave, we should meet. Nathan Barkley reached out to me. He wants you for Coldblooded. He’s already gotten CJ, Anderson, and Trish on board. He wrote the role for you. I also think now is a good time to seriously talk about a solo career.”
Trish Robinson was a phenomenal actress, but supposedly she was a diva and a royal pain in the ass. He had no desire to find out for himself if that was true. But CJ and Anderson were not only equally talented but also friends.
“How about tomorrow?”
“I’m busy all day. Wednesday afternoon, I’m free from three o’clock on.”
“I’ll see you at three.” With a bit of luck, Mom would go home tomorrow or Wednesday, and he could fly back to Maine Thursday morning.
Nineteen
“Whoever came up with the idea for this place must’ve been on drugs,” Aiden said from across the table.
If he didn’t know Anderson didn’t touch anything stronger than ibuprofen, he’d agree. He’d expected Covert to be similar to Sapphire, another nightclub co-owned by Anderson and his younger brother. The only similarities between the two were the clientele. Actually, Covert was unlike any nightclub he’d been to. Instead of the hottest dance music or this month’s Top 40 hits, the speakers pumped out 80s classics. The décor, however, looked more like a 1920s speakeasy. The combination shouldn’t work, yet somehow it did.
Sipping his drink, Matt scanned the room. While he knew a fair number of the people dancing to an old Whitney Houston song and enjoying drinks, he’d yet to see anyone he’d consider a friend.
“It’s probably hot right now because it’s so different,” he said.
“Maybe you and I should open a place and combine music from today with an interior from — the 50s.”
“Don’t see it working.”
“How about if it resembles a disco?” Aiden asked.
Matt shook his head. “It’s your crazy idea. You do what you want. I have no desire to own a nightclub.” He gestured toward Anderson, who was walking toward their table. “Pitch your idea to him. Maybe he’ll bite.”
“Hey, I thought you were in Maine,” Anderson said as he sat.
“I’m only here for a few days.”
Other people would’ve asked why he was in town. Not Anderson. Having spent almost twenty years in the spotlight, he valued his own privacy and respected that of others.
Anderson turned to Aiden. “What’s the idea you should pitch to me?”
“I suggested we open a club that resembles a 70s disco but plays the latest music.”
“Every club is playing the current stuff, but a disco theme might work. We could pair it with music from the 90s.” Anderson rested his forearms on the table and wrapped his hands around his drink, scanning the room as if imagining it.
“Yeah, I think that could work. If you’re free next week, let’s get together and flesh out the details. I’ll talk to Paul and see if he wants in.” He glanced across the table. “Are you in, Matt?”
“That’s a hard no.”
Shrugging, Anderson turned his attention back to Aiden. “Is there a day that works for you?”
“Monday afternoon?”
“Works for me,” Anderson replied. “So, has Ryan talked to you yet?”
“Briefly. I’m meeting with him on Wednesday.”
With CJ and Anderson in the film, it was guaranteed to be a success. Plus, with them around, filming would be a lot of fun. Still, he was reluctant to agree to anything right now.
“You can’t turn it down. Barkley wrote the role for you.”
“Ryan said the same thing. I need more details before¼ shit.”
The day was going downhill fast. First, he got his ass handed to him by his brother on the green; now his ex was here.
