Nacho Figueras Presents (14 page)

Kat laughed. “Sorry. I'm totally going to tell her. Look at those diamonds. You can afford it.”

K
at woke up the next morning with a pounding headache, a bone-dry mouth, and no idea where she was. She cracked her eyes open and moaned at the bright Florida sun streaming through the window. She felt around with her hands and realized that she was on a futon on someone's bedroom floor. She raised her head, fought back a wave of nausea, and looked around. Blue ribbons. Framed photos of a big chestnut stallion. A whole wall full of rosettes and medals for dressage. A black velvet helmet hanging on a hook against the door.

Ah. It was Camelia's room, and—Kat looked around carefully for signs of other inhabitants and felt a rush of relief—it seemed she was alone.

She slowly sat up in bed, trying to calm the churning in her stomach, and groped in her purse for her phone.

Five missed messages—all from Sebastian.

She didn't know how to feel about this. Part of her was happy to see that he had been in touch at all, but part of her was worried about what he had to say.

The last thing she remembered from the night before was watching Pilar dance with Lord Henderson and that they were surprisingly sexy together, which made her think of Sebastian, which made her order another shot of tequila.

She groaned. Huge mistake.

She dialed her voice mail and nervously held the phone up to her ear.

“Katarina, call me. It's Seb.”

That was it. No more messages after that. Just hang-ups.

She shook her head. She was in no state to call him right now. She had to have some water first, and some coffee, and brush her teeth, and find her clothes, and Camelia. Probably not in that order.

She found her dress, but decided against putting the crumpled satin gown back on, instead rooting through Camelia's closet, wishing her friend were about a foot taller and at least two sizes up. Finally she found a T-shirt dress that she imagined came to Camelia's knees, but barely covered the necessary parts on her, and decided it would have to do. She checked the mirror, attempted to rub some of the smeared mascara from under her eyes, and bundled her insanely wild hair up into a quick bun.

“Cam?” she called as she opened the bedroom door and wandered into the living room.

There was a gasp and a scramble on the floor and Kat suddenly realized she had walked in on Camelia and a man—was that Mark Stone?—in the middle of something she truly did not want to see.

“Agh!” She quickly turned her back to them. “You guys!”

There were giggles and the sounds of people putting on their clothes very quickly.

“Okay, okay, you're safe,” said Camelia. “It's all covered up now.”

Kat turned around slowly. “I think I've been traumatized for life,” she muttered.

Camelia snorted. “You've seen worse.”

Kat rolled her eyes and smiled. “Hi, Mark. Fancy meeting you here.”

Mark smiled back sheepishly. “It's Kat, right?”

“You guys know each other?” Camelia looked at them both, wide-eyed.

“Met at a polo thing,” said Mark. “Listen”—he quickly leaned over and kissed Camelia on the cheek—“I'm going to get out of your hair now and leave you ladies alone, but”—he grinned—“thank you for an amazing evening, and I hope you meant it when you said that I could take you out later tonight.”

Camelia smiled and blushed. “Sure. Sure. Of course.”

“Okay, great. See you at seven, then.”

They silently watched him exit. As soon as the front door shut, Camelia turned to Kat with a huge smile on her face. “Oh my God. I can't believe you knew him! What are the chances? What polo thing?”

Kat blinked. “The charity—Camelia, you know who that is, don't you?”

“Sure. He's the guy I decided to sleep with last night. I mean, I know that his name is Mark. Mark…something. I can't remember.”

“Mark Stone.”

“Okay. Right. Mark Stone.”

“He played at the charity dinner.”

Camelia shook her head. “I just came at the end to help put the ponies away. I didn't meet any of the players.”

“Mark Stone, the CEO and creator of TechInc.”

Camelia's mouth fell open. “Wait. What? He said he did stuff with computers but I thought he, like, worked at a Genius Bar!”

Kat laughed. “Um, try one of the richest men in the world?”

Camelia sat down heavily on the couch. “Holy shit.” She looked over at Kat and shook her head. “I guess he did have a pretty nice car for an Apple store dude.” She laughed. “He was really good in bed, Kat. I mean, like
really
good.”

Kat sat down next to her and giggled. “Well, I guess you found your sponsor, at least.”

Sebastian was sitting on the front porch of Kat's cottage when Camelia's car pulled up and Kat got out of the passenger side.

“Oh! Hiya, boss!” Camelia yelped out the window at Sebastian. She dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “See ya, Katy Ann. No way am I getting in the middle of this.” She threw a bright smile at Sebastian, and her voice rose again. “Gotta go!”

“Camelia!” exclaimed Kat as her friend squealed her tires and took off around the corner.

She turned back to Seb, an embarrassed look on her face. He took in her too-tight and too-short dress, bare feet, wildly messy hair, and the paper bag that carried all her stuff. He smiled. “Rough night?”

Kat blinked. “It was fine. What's up?”

She looked upset, he thought. She wouldn't meet his eyes. He suddenly wondered just what, exactly, she had been doing last night and with whom.

“Well,” he said, “I have some news. I met Liberty Smith last night.”

Kat's cheeks went red. “Oh?” she said.

He wondered why her voice sounded so cold. “Yes, and I gave her your script.”

“You what? Oh my God, Sebastian, how could you? You don't have the right to do that without asking.”

He blew out an exasperated breath. “Jesus, Kat, I thought I was doing you a favor.”

“You see,” said Kat, pacing the porch, “this is exactly what I was talking about before. This is a business, and there are certain ways things are done. There's a process. You can't just give a script to an A-list actress. You have to go through her people. You have to find out if she's even looking to take on anything. You can't harass her that way. She probably thinks we're total amateurs now.”

Sebastian felt a flash of annoyance. “I did not harass her, as you so nicely put it. I met her at a party. And she was very pleasant. And we talked for a very long time last night—”

Kat's face fell. “You did?”

“Yes, and she is looking for something exactly like this script. She's tired of doing romantic comedies. She wants a chance to take on something meaty—Oscar bait, she said.”

“She said that?”

“Yes, and so I pitched her your script.”

Kat wrinkled her nose. “You pitched it?”

“I pitched it. And she was very interested. So I gave her my copy.”

“Oh. Well…I guess it wasn't the most professional way to do things, but sometimes I suppose if the right opportunity comes up, you might take advantage of the moment. I'm not getting my hopes up, but I guess we'll see what she thinks, then.”

He looked at her. “I already know what she thinks. She stayed up all night reading it and called me this morning.”

“Wait, she called you? So—you didn't spend the night with her?”

He shook his head. “No, I didn't—we just…” He stopped himself. “The point is. She loved it. She loved the script. And she wants to play Victoria. And she's leaving for L.A. this afternoon, but she wants to meet with you today before she goes.” He looked at his watch. “In about thirty minutes at the Polo Club.”

K
at pushed at the heavy wooden doors of the club and felt a blast of air-conditioning as she rushed to the maître d'. “I'm meeting someone,” she said breathlessly, “but I'm a little late. Liberty Smith?”

The maître d' did an admirable job of keeping his face entirely impassive. “Very good, ma'am,” he said, “right this way.”

Kat followed him through the hushed room, barely taking in the luxurious surroundings and well-heeled people glancing up at her as she passed. She tugged at her sheath dress, wishing she'd had more time to figure out what to wear and definitely a little more time to shower and fix her hair and makeup. She'd done the best she could, but her head was still pounding, and she didn't think all the concealer in the world could do much for the bags under her eyes. She hoped she smelled okay, at least, and she barely stopped herself from taking a furtive whiff at one of her armpits.

“Kat Parker!” said a breathy voice that Kat felt she had heard a thousand times before, and then she was leaning down to accept a kiss on each cheek from the world-famous lips of Liberty Smith.

Kat sat down, her face ablaze, and looked over at Liberty, who was beaming at her. She was, Kat thought with a little pang of jealousy, even more beautiful in person than she was on-screen. If she had truly been up all night reading Kat's script, she certainly didn't show it. She was wearing a simple A-line dress the exact same color as her wide violet eyes. Her penny-bright hair was pulled back into a complicated braid, and though Kat could have sworn that she wasn't wearing a drop of makeup, her skin was perfect, and she looked a good ten to fifteen years younger than the actual forty-some years that Kat knew her to be.

“I'm so glad you could make it,” said Liberty. “I told Sebastian I was certain that you'd be busy. I mean, how could you possibly squeeze me in? But he said he would make it happen. Where is he anyway? Is he coming?”

Kat felt her stomach drop at the sound of Sebastian's name. She took a sip of water to cover up her feelings. “Oh, no, I don't think he realized you were expecting him,” she said. “I mean, I could call if you think—”

Liberty waved her off. “No, no. It's you I want to talk to.”

Kat nodded. “Thank you. I'm a huge fan, and I'm just so excited that you even read my script.”

The waiter approached, and before he could speak, Liberty turned her smile on him. “Can you give us the weensiest amount of time before we order? We just have to do some business first.”

He backed up, practically bowing, as he made his way back to the kitchen.

Liberty turned her attention back to Kat. “I loved your script,” she breathed. “I loved every word. I cried, like, five times, and I laughed out loud, and of course, I love polo, and I love horses, and I loved, loved,
loved
Victoria. What a role!” Her face grew cloudy. “But is it out to anyone else right now? Sebastian wasn't totally clear about that.”

“Oh,” said Kat, thinking fast, “well, my manager slipped it to just a few people, and I think there might be some interest, but—”

“Kat, listen.” Liberty leaned over and grabbed Kat's hand. The actress's skin was soft as velvet. Her nails were perfect. And she smelled like what Kat giddily imagined to be white lilies melted together with the most expensive marshmallows in the world. “I'm going to be frank with you. I want that part. I need that part. You know my last movie?
Dance While You Can.
Did you see it?”

Kat shook her head. “No, but—”

“Nobody did,” said Liberty, cutting her off. “And that's exactly the problem. Do you know how old I am?”

Forty-two
, Kat thought.

“Thirty-seven,” whispered Liberty. “I'm thirty-seven.”

Kat nodded and kept her face still.

“I'm thirty-seven, and I am fairly certain that my time doing romantic comedies is coming to an end. I mean, at least until I'm like Meryl Streep or Diane Keaton's age and then Nancy Meyers can hire me. But only if I stay relevant, you know? I have to find another version of my career. I can't keep playing the ingénue, I'm too old. But honestly?” She lowered her voice. “I'm not ready to play the fucking mother either. Did you know that Sally Field was only ten years older than Tom Hanks when she played his mother in
Forrest Gump
?”

Kat nodded. There wasn't a woman in Hollywood who didn't know that damning bit of information.

“I won't go there. I don't want to play Tom Hanks's mother. I'm not ready. So I've been looking for something different for my next project. I actually have an enormous amount of freedom in what I can do because David—you know David, right? My husband?—David is willing to finance up to fifty million.”

Kat's heart clenched. That was almost twice what she'd imagined her budget to be. She wanted this so bad, she could taste it.

“And
Twenty-five Roses
—oh my God, I love the title, by the way,
so
romantic—
Twenty-five Roses
is exactly what I'm looking for.”

“I want to direct it,” Kat blurted out. She bit her own tongue. God, no finesse whatsoever. What was wrong with her?

But Liberty just nodded. “Yes, that's what Sebastian told me. That you were attached no matter what. But I loved
Winter's Passing
, and I'm not stupid. I think I have a pretty clear idea of what went wrong with
Red Hawk
. I know you lost final cut. Which wouldn't happen this time. I'd make sure of that. Plus, I've never worked with a woman director before, and I know that's going to be just grand.”

Kat blinked. “I'm—I'm speechless, Liberty. I mean, do I have this straight? You're not only willing to star, but you're also willing to produce and finance as well?”

“Absolutely. I am certain that I was meant to play Victoria Del Campo. It's the part I've been waiting for my whole life.”

“I think you'd be great,” said Kat honestly. “I can totally see you in the role.”

“Oh wonderful!” Liberty smiled. “I'm so excited. I know we're going to love working together. Sebastian could not stop saying fabulous things about you. It was almost as if…” She trailed off and scrunched up her nose. “I mean, hell, I'll just ask. Are you two an item?”

Kat's face burned, but she shook her head. “No,” she said, and then she forced her voice to sound more definite. “Absolutely not.”

“Oh good,” said Liberty, “I'm so relieved. I mean, not like I'm interested or anything.” She laughed, waving her hands in the air. “Of course, Sebastian is just horrendously gorgeous and charming, but I just meant, it's always better to keep things professional, you understand my drift? We can't have the director sleeping with the producer.”

Kat knit her eyebrows. “I'm sorry? Producer?”

“Sebastian, of course. He told me about how he wanted to expand into producing, and I understand why you were hesitant, but look, we wouldn't be sitting here right now if he hadn't set this whole thing up, right? And isn't that exactly what a producer is meant to do?”

Kat bit her lip. “That's true, but—”

“No, no, I won't hear another word. I told him I'd talk you into it. It all makes sense. The story is about his grandmother, and he knows more about polo than practically anyone. He's charming, he's smart, he's got great connections, and”—she winked—“he'll be eye candy on the set. I'm afraid that I have to insist, Kat, my dear.”

Kat smiled nervously. Everything Liberty had said about Sebastian was true, but somehow she didn't love hearing her say it. She took a deep breath. “Okay. Fine. I guess I can live with that.”

Liberty stood up. “Good lord, look at the time. I've got to go. And we didn't even order yet! Listen, I'll have my people call yours right away and get the ball rolling. I'm so excited about this. I just know we're going to be best friends.” She gave Kat a huge hug. “I love you already.”

“I think I love you, too!” Kat gushed.

“Oh,” Liberty said as she started to stride away, “don't worry about the check. They'll put it on my tab. So just stay and order anything you like, okay, hon? Ciao!”

Kat sat for a moment, alone at the table. She felt somewhere between deliriously giddy and a panic attack.

She was getting her movie made.

She was getting another shot at directing.

She would have final cut.

She had a fifty-million dollar budget.

Liberty frigging Smith was her star.

And Sebastian, the man she was desperately in love with, and with whom she had just made damned sure she couldn't be involved with for the duration of the film, was going to be her producer.