All I'll Ever Need by J.P. Bowie

Author:J.P. Bowie [Bowie, J.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Erotic Romance Fiction
Publisher: Totally Entwined Group Ltd
Published: 2015-04-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Three days later

Alex closed his phone and sighed. Okay, that made three times today he’d called Edward with no response. He’d left messages yesterday and the day before, and—nothing. He was worried, frustrated too because he didn’t have either of Edward’s roommates’ phone numbers. He didn’t even know their last names so couldn’t do a directory search. Could it be that Edward was deliberately ignoring his calls? It was a possibility, of course, yet he’d have sworn that Edward was as interested in prolonging their friendship as he was.

So what was going on? He glanced at his watch. Ten o’clock—there was a good chance Blanca might be at his house. Worth a try. He speed-dialed his cleaning lady’s number. Even if she wasn’t there right then, she might have been in the past couple of days. He never could remember her schedule anyway.

“Si?” Blanca answered on the third ring.

“Oh, hi, Blanca, it’s Alex.”

“Seňor Alex. Como esta?

“Muy bien, gracias, Blanca. Are you over at my place right now?”

“Si, you want me to do something especial?”

“No, I have a friend staying there… Edward. Have you seen him?”

“No, but someone has been here,” she replied in her careful English. “There is a cell phone on the countertop. He must have left it behind.”

That explains why he hasn’t returned my calls, but why hasn’t he been back for it? “Has the bed been slept in?”

“Not unless he left it exactamente like I make it. No, I would say it has not been slept in.”

Damn, now I’m worried. “Okay, thanks, Blanca.”

“What should I do about the phone?”

“Just leave it there. He has a key, so in case he comes looking for it…”

“Si, I’ll leave it.”

After they’d hung up Alex considered calling the local hospital in West Hollywood or the police precinct, but just then he was distracted by a knocking and Lena’s voice calling, “Alex, are you there?”

Groaning, he hurried to the door and opened it. Lena was, as she had been off and on since he’d arrived, in tears. She brushed by him and threw herself onto the nearby couch.

“I can’t do this movie, Alex, I just can’t,” she sobbed, clutching her cream-colored silk robe about her. “That son of a bitch Harrison is making my life a misery.”

No, you’re making all our lives a misery. His expression did not reflect his weary thought. Being around Lena for the past seventy-two hours had been a nightmare. Working with her must be total hell. He’d seen the looks of anguish and frustration on her co-actors’ faces. As for Will Harrison, the director—he’d appeared to be either suicidal or homicidal—Alex wasn’t sure which—the last time he’d seen him storming off the set.

“He’s making me do the same scene over and over until I’m ready to scream.”

“He’s a perfectionist.” Alex sat beside her on the couch. “Will just wants to make sure you give your very best.”

“I’ve given him all I can, Alex. I called Jeff and told him I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“But the studio will sue, Lena.

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