My phone vibrates in my pocket.
Jayden Cooper’s name lights up the screen.
Is he calling as my agent? Or my friend? Word clearly travels fast. At least he’s not one for ‘I-told-you-so’s’. He’s far too classy for that.
For years, he represented his rock star brother and a select few artists. When his brother retired, Jayden branched out to represent actors like me and Tom Hardy instead. Turns out, it’s a lot more lucrative and far less complicated. No world tours, groupies or artists going on weeklong benders.
Jayden’s one of the few genuine people in Hollywood. When we met at a red carpet event four years ago, we hit it off right away.
We’re both Irish. We have the same values, the same culture and the same sarcastic sense of humour.
Swiping right, I accept his call. ‘Jayden.’
‘How’s it going, Nate?’ His Dublin drawl is heavily tainted with an American twang, much like my own.
‘Grand.’ My sarcasm isn’t lost on either of us. I take a mouthful of alcohol, breathing through the burning sensation under my sternum.
‘I heard about Celeste and Spike.’ He tuts. ‘I hate to say it but—’
Okay, he’s not as classy as I thought.
‘Yeah, yeah. Whatever.’ I take another sip.
‘You don’t sound too cut up about it,’ Jayden probes tactfully.
‘I’m not. I’m more annoyed that this neighbourhood is going to transform into a fucking circus when it’s confirmed. I’m thinking about taking a vacation.’
‘A vacation?’ Surprise echoes across the line. ‘You haven’t taken a vacation in fifteen years.’
‘Exactly. Maybe it’s about time I did.’ My tone isn’t convincing either of us.
What do people even do on vacation?
I prefer to keep busy.
Productive.
Relaxing is a concept I’ve yet to grasp.
‘Well, I’m calling with another option. You’ve been offered a part.’ From the doubt weighing on his words, I gather it’s not a viable part.
‘What is it?’ I straighten my spine. Despite Jayden’s dubious tone, I’d take almost anything right now just to have a legitimate excuse to escape.
‘It’s not your usual movie genre…’ He clears his throat.
‘Go on.’ Celeste’s ‘one-trick pony’ jibe still stings.
A historical movie?
No. I’m too inked for that.
Some sort of erotica?
Might have worked for Jamie Dornan, but it’s not my cup of tea. My junk is staying firmly in my trunks. I don’t mind my torso, or even my ass, displayed on the big screen, but my dick is off limits. It’s a promise I made to Sally-Ann years ago and despite us splitting up, I always kept it. Some things are meant to be sacred.
‘There’s no way you’ll do it. I hate to say it, but you’re kind of predictable, in the most endearing way.’ Jayden chuckles, utterly unaware his remark is a little too close to Celeste’s.
‘Predictable?’ Is this what everyone thinks of me?
