Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29279 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 146(@200wpm)___ 117(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Your movie comes out when?” Randy asks. Obviously, he didn’t hear, nor does he care.
“I don’t know,” I say after a pause, taking a long sip. “I just act. You know I don’t handle that stuff.”
“Don’t play dumb,” he sighs. “You absolutely know when Take Me Down comes out.”
Grumbling, I answer, “Next summer, if everything goes right.”
“Yes, exactly. And for everything to go right, you need to be a part of it. And what do we do the whole year leading up to a new movie? You’ve been in this business for twenty years, my friend. I know you know the answer …”
I take another swallow of cold beer. Yeah, that hits the spot.
“Whatevs, Randy. I’m exhausted.”
He guffaws on the other end.
“How can you be exhausted? Filming ended a month ago. You should be re-charged by now.”
I sit down heavily on one of the bar stools next to the kitchen island.
“No, not just from filming. I’m exhausted in general. This lifestyle is too much for me, and I need a break.”
“Oh, you poor wealthy celebrity, I feel for you, truly,” Randy says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Hey, I’d switch places with you any time bud,” I answer lightly. “How would you like being stalked non-stop? I’ll trade that crazy chick who went swimming in my pool wearing nothing but her birthday suit for your life any day.”
“Look, I know recently the media has been a little rough…”
“Rough?” I interrupt. “Rough would be a tremor. This has been a fucking earthquake. I’m so goddamn sick of it! Ever since Christine and I broke up, it’s been, ‘Poor Tom’ this, and ‘Poor Tom’ that, not to mention ‘Tom Masters, forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.’”
Randy chuckles. “That one’s my favorite.”
“Seriously, I’ve had enough. I’m taking a vacation, Rand my man. You can either deal with it or you can quit,” I offer. “There are a ton of other agents lining up at my door.”
“You are so annoying,” he says shortly before hanging up the phone.
I laugh and tuck my cell back into my pocket because I know Randy will never leave me. My manager blusters a lot but he’s a good guy, and really, he has my best interests at heart. Sure, when I make money, he makes money, but that’s called interests that align. There’s nothing nefarious about it, especially since we both end up rich after everything is said and done.
Getting up from the island, I saunter out onto the veranda. This beautiful island was the first big purchase I made for myself when my movies started to hit it big. I know, I’m lucky. Most people are fortunate if they can afford a summer home whereas I have an entire island to myself. But it’s worth it because as an A-list movie star, I need my privacy. I’d be swarmed if I got a second home in some vacation community like everyone else.
I planned to come to St. Brigid a lot when I bought it, but I’ve only managed to make it once or twice over the past five years. It’s gorgeous though. The palms sway in the wind, and I’m all alone. Birds coo softly, and I plan on staying for as long as I can this time.
Tonight, the moon is hanging low over the ocean, and I decide to go for a stroll along the shore. Peace and quiet abound, and I make my way down the spiral staircase to the beach, the sand soft under my feet. Staring out over the water, I see the shining backs of dolphins as they frolic in the water. I count myself fortunate to see dolphins because they’re a token of good luck. My personal charm I suppose.
But then, ahead of me in the shadows of some of the palm trees, my eyes spy a distant, dark lump. Groaning internally, I pray it isn’t a dolphin that’s beached itself. Oh shit! The animals don’t beach themselves very often, but it happens on occasion. My steps quickening, I jog over to it but then stop short. This is no dolphin. In fact, this is no aquatic animal whatsoever because it’s a human. My heart sputters in my chest, and I begin to curse internally. What the fuck is a person doing here?
Going down on my knees, I see that the human is actually a woman. She’s curvy and gorgeous, even if she’s out cold.
“Jesus,” I mutter.
She must have been snorkeling on the main island and got caught up in a current. I lean down over her nose and mouth and check to see if she’s still breathing. Fortunately, there’s a warm trickle of air, and I sigh with relief. Thank god.
Standing up, I holler for help. My crew should be nearby. They don’t stay on the island, but they do stop by once a month to drop off supplies. I saw their dinghy on the walk over, so at least Peter should be on the island somewhere. Sure enough, Peter ambles up, rangy and sun-beaten with leathery skin.