The eyebrows returned to their normal, inanimate state. Patricia studied Cindy for a moment, waiting for her to babble on. Cindy wouldn’t. The more excitement she showed, the less likely Knight Studios was to produce the movie.
“The only way this script will succeed is if we get a big name to play the lead.”
Cindy gripped the edge of her chair, not quite daring to hope that her dream would become reality. So many things had gone wrong since her father passed away—and she’d done her best to follow his advice, to make her own happiness. But there were days full of clouds and emotional tornados.
“My initial thought was Mark DuBois, but he’s moved on to that silly theater of his.”
Cindy nodded on the outside—on the inside, she shook her head vehemently. She’d seen two shows at the Magnolia Theater and loved them both. Mark’ssilly theaterhad become an Atlanta powerhouse for the arts. Their teen camps for the coming summer had filled months in advance—winning the attendance lottery was bigger than going to Disney World.
“However, Beau Mckay may be a suitable match.”
Yes!
Pairing Beau, with his sable brown hair and hazel eyes, with her action-packed script would makeEgypt’s Goldthe perfect date-night movie. The guy had a reputation with the ladies, but that only seemed to further his career.
Patricia clicked her nails against the desktop. “To be quite honest, we could make more money off another Drusilla movie, but I feel a sense of obligation to you, Cindy. I’m sending the script over today. If we haven’t heard back from Beau’s agent by twelve tomorrow, then I’ll be forced to pull the movie.”
Noon?! That was a ridiculous timeline. No one got back on a script in less than twenty-four hours. Cindy closed her eyes, knowing her ambition would be forever lost to time. She worked tirelessly to maintain Knight Studios’ reputation and often to undo the poor press Stepmother created with cutting remarks. Cindy worried her lip. History proved that the more she pushed for something, the harder Stepmother worked to block her. For whatever reason, Patricia saw Cindy as competition instead of a coworker, a partner, or even a stepdaughter. And, with her position as president of Knight Studios, there was little Cindy could do to change her decision. “Yes, Stepmother.” She opened her eyes and stood to go.
“I almost forgot.” Patricia twisted her chair and concentrated on her computer screen.
“Yes?”
“Natalie is having friends over tonight. Use the back stairs when you come home.”
Natalie’s friends included several former child stars who spent their time sipping lemon water and reliving the glory days. Drusilla’s body had stayed thin enough to pass for a seventeen-year-old on screen. Natalie, on the other end of the gene pool, developed curves that betrayed her age. She had dropped out of the acting scene and worked as a consultant for Knight Studios. While Cindy didn’t have anything against the group, she preferred to stay out of the way. “Of course.”
The walk back to her desk stretched before her like taffy on a hot summer’s day. Tomás poked his head over the divider, and she shook her head slowly. Her dream, lying in a neat stack of paper on Patricia’s desk, would expire in a poof at the stroke of twelve tomorrow.
“Tomás,” Patricia yelled. “I’m leaving.”
Tomás hurried through the open door, ready to tuck Patricia into the town car. When he passed by Cindy’s cubicle, he had a leather briefcase in one hand and her purse in the other. He swiggled his hips as he walked, mocking Patricia’s sashay.
Cindy snorted a laugh and hurriedly covered it with a cough. Tomás missed his calling in life; he should have been on stage, not behind it. By the time he came back from tucking Patricia into the town car, Cindy had pulled up the sequel toEgypt’s Goldon her computer and buried herself in the desert sands of time.
“I’m off to clean the throne.”
She ripped her eyes from the screen. This particular section was missing the “it” factor. and she wanted to hash out the rough spots before leaving. “Please tell me you’re not on bathroom duties now.” Over time, Patricia had downsized many of the employees; those that were left often worked in multiple capacities to keep the place functioning. This wouldn’t be the first time the cleaning company was put on hold to save money.
“I meant her office.” He plugged his nose. “Though I’m not sure which room would be worse.”
Cindy lifted her hands and shrugged. “Her perfume is cheap; she can use as much as she likes.”
Tomás waved his hand in front of his face as he entered the office. Apparently, Patricia had layered up before she left.
Cindy went back to her manuscript.
“Cindy? You’d better get in here.”
Her back curved. She hesitated before making her way into the cloud of roses and mango.Such an odd combination for perfume.Tomás held her script in his hands.
“She was supposed to send that to Beau’s agent tonight.” She yanked it away from him, angry at herself for believing even one word out of her stepmother’s mouth. The deadline was ridiculous, and Cindy had little hope the manuscript would ever see the light of day, but she had hoped, for just the briefest of moments, that Beau would read it. That maybe, just maybe, someone other than her would see the script’s potential.
Tomás patted her shoulder. “I’m sorry, peanut.”
A tiny spark of an idea began to form. A wicked and wonderful idea. “Don’t be.” Her shoulders squared and her chin lifted. She opened Patricia’s laptop.
“What are you doing?” Tomás hissed, as he darted to the door to act as lookout.
