Faking For Him : A Billionaire Romance (69th St. Bad Boys Book 8) by Lynn Faye

Author:Lynn Faye [Faye, Lynn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lynn Faye
Published: 2017-11-16T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 6

Samantha

I was so excited I could hardly stand it. Barry had come home with the news that he’d found a part for me.

“What? Are you jerking me around again?”

“No, luv, I’m not, I swear. Got the word from one of my many, well-placed sources that they were looking for a clean-cut, innocent young girl. They mentioned seeing you at another reading and remembered your big green eyes. ‘Course, didn’t take me but a moment to realize they meant you, luv. You’ve got the fairest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Barry, seriously. If this turns out to be like the last one, you can forget about staying in the U.S. I’ll spread the word and you’ll be out on the next pontoon boat for the UK.”

“Luv, I swear,” he said, holding up his hand. “Here, take this. It’s the card of the gent looking for you. Seemed quite anxious to find you and I knew your break had finally come.”

I was giddy. “Barry, do you really think so? Geez, I never thought someone would be hunting me down. What kind of role is it?”

“Don’t know, exactly, luv. But I’m sure they think you’re perfect because it’s you they’ve been scouting for. Now, off with you. Go talk to that man and for Christ’s sake, this time wear something that belongs to you! I had a devil of a time with Lydia when she found you’d lifted her jacket.”

“You told me she lent it to me!”

“Yeah, well, she did, in a way. We all have to play nice together, don’t you see? Can’t make it if it’s every bloke for himself, you see?”

“Whatever. Barry, if this turns out to be legit, I’ll buy her a whole suit.”

“That would be good, my gal. Yes, Lydia is ripe for me and that would go a long way to my good if you get my drift.”

“I get your drift. Now, hush and let me call this man.”

* * *

For once in his miserable life, Barry hadn’t been lying. I called the Mr. James Johnson on the card he asked me to come down to a small theatre in Soho. He must have recognized me from another reading because when I walked in, he waved and I met him at a small table set up in front of the stage.

He shook my hand. “You’ve no idea how glad I am to find you,” he said enthusiastically, his pale white face perspiring. He was wearing a tan suit, wrinkled as if he’d stepped off a jungle trail. His voice was pinched, effeminate and high.

“Have we met before?” I didn’t recognize him, and he was the sort of person you’d remember.

“No, no, well, not directly. Doesn’t matter, but the role is yours if you can get through it.”

“I don’t understand. Why me?”

“The producer asked for you specifically. I guess he probably saw you at another audition.”

I nodded. “That’s possible. I go to so many. Where’s the script?”

“Right here.” He handed me a single sheet of paper. Dang, not many lines.

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