The 4:45 a.m. alarm chimed on Chloe’s cell.
Lying in bed, still more asleep than awake, she blindly reached out for her phone on the bedside table. After a couple tries, she found it, hit Snooze and clutched it to her chest. But it couldn’t be morning already. She’d just fallen asleep.
Yesterday, after she’d helped out by washing dishes and pots for the breakfast and lunch service, two of the bussers had called in sick, leaving the restaurant seriously shorthanded for dinner. Understanding the consequences of that for the waitstaff firsthand, and seeing their downcast expressions as they anticipated the rough night ahead, her conscience wouldn’t just let her order a meal to go and walk out. She’d stayed and pitched in as a busser clearing tables.
Afterward, she’d come back to her room, just after ten at night, with barely enough energy to brush her teeth and throw on an oversized sleep shirt before collapsing in bed. She’d even skipped her usual face cleansing routine, not that beauty mattered anymore. She’d said goodbye to her manicure after scrubbing the first dirty pot, given up on maintaining her makeup once the steam from the dishwasher had melted it off. And forget about flat ironing her hair when she got up in five minutes—make that ten—her curls were going into a ponytail. She’d agreed to help out in the kitchen again.
Chloe moved to put the phone back on the table but lifting her arm took too much effort. Her muscles ached from head to toe. What was that saying? Sacrifice for the sake of art... And it was already starting to pay off.
Yesterday, helping the restaurant through a jam had not only increased her standing with the kitchen and waitstaff, but the lodging staff, too. A few had gone out of their way to introduce themselves to her in the staff break room, and on her way back to her guest room last night, the front desk clerk had slipped her one of the special VIP welcome packages reserved for guests in the cottages. She’d definitely put the contents—a moisturizing bath bomb, a bottle of wine and a small box of chocolates, all from local merchants in the area—to good use when she returned to her room that afternoon or whenever she finished for the day.
If she played her cards right, she could get the staff to talk about the true inner workings of the place. Yesterday, she’d overheard snippets of a conversation between Philippa and the housekeeping supervisor about Zurie, Tristan and ownership in the stable. Something about him finally getting his share of Tillbridge back? She’d wanted to ask some of the staff about it, but it was too soon for anyone to feel comfortable giving her the tell-all on the Tillbridges, yet.
Adding the business dynamics to the tension she’d sensed earlier between Tristan and Zurie would bring even more to the character she was developing for her audition. And honestly, she was curious about Tristan. Was he always scowling and serious?
The Drake song she’d programmed for Lena’s number chimed on her cell. Lena, who was just as anxious as she was about her winning a part in Holland’s film, was probably checking in for an update on her progress.
Chloe answered. “Don’t you sleep?”
“I will, after I talk to my favorite client. How are things with you?”
“Fine.” Chloe rested the back of her hand over her closed eyes. “But I’d love to be in your shoes right now. Just going to bed sounds amazing. I could use some more sleep.”
“You’ve only been there a day. Is Zurie’s schedule that intense?”
“She isn’t here. She was called away to teach at some university.”
“Called away?” Lena’s voice rose an octave, and what sounded like sheets rustled in the background. Knowing her, she’d gotten out of bed. “If she’s not there, who’s showing you around?”
“No one, but I’ve been busy. I helped out in the restaurant yesterday, and I’ll probably be there for most of today.”
“What? Why are you working in the restaurant?”
“Because they’re shorthanded.”
“I don’t care what they are. I’m calling Zurie to straighten this out.”
Chloe quickly sat up. “No. Don’t. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. You’re not trying out for a role as a cook or a waitress. If they’re that shorthanded in the restaurant, they need to hire people.”
“They are.”
“It sounds like you’re being used.”
Used. From Lena’s point of view that was an ugly four-letter word. As a former child star, who’d been screwed over financially by her manager and her parents, Lena was tenacious when it came to protecting her clients. If she didn’t pull Lena back now, Lena would move straight into fix-it mode.
“Relax, Lena. I’m not being taken advantage of. I volunteered.”
“You what?” Lena’s tone rose even higher than before.
Ugh! This was almost impossible to explain without an adequate dose of caffeine. “I know this is not what you had in mind for me when you set this up with Zurie, but I came here to really learn about life at a stable so I can genuinely act the part during my audition. The best way for me to learn the inner workings of this place is digging in and sweating through the day-to-day, not rolling over the surface.” Wait. She did not just quote Tristan. She really did need a hit of caffeine if something he said was her go-to for a passable explanation.
Lena released a long breath and paused. “Fine. I’ll hold off on calling Zurie, for now, but don’t forget. This is an important audition for you. You’re one of Holland’s top picks, but the competition is fierce. Everyone and their mother is sniffing around this opportunity, but the one way you can set yourself apart is by impressing her with your knowledge of horse stables, so step it up on the sweating through the day-to-day part but with the horses.”
“I will.”
“You say that now, but I’m afraid without a nudge your little phobia might get in the way of your progress.”
“It’s not a phobia...exactly. More like a teeny discomfort around horses.” That might possibly cause her to panic, freeze up or hyperventilate until she passed out from lack of oxygen whenever she was around them.
The doubt she’d managed yesterday started creeping back in. No. You’re consciously grabbing hold of the future. Remember?
“I can’t believe Zurie just left you like that and didn’t assign someone to take her place,” Lena said. “Is there someone else at the stable who can show you the ropes?
Tristan. She could tattle on him, but as much fun as it would be to sic Lena on Tristan, that phone call would only nose-dive her current chilly relationship with him to an Arctic level freeze.
And worse, letting someone else fight her battles would just support his theory that she couldn’t handle being there. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to help her out, but maybe she didn’t really need him. The staff members she’d met so far were friendly. If she asked around, someone might be willing to assist her in learning what she needed to know. Especially if she continued to make herself useful.
“Lena, really, I have the situation under control.”
“Are you sure? You can’t afford any distractions, because if you bomb during this audition—”
“I know. You don’t have to say it.” Bad news in Hollywood, like showing up unprepared for a major audition with a prominent director, traveled fast. If that happened, she could kiss her chances of ever being in a Holland Ainsley film, or Holland helping her with her future ambitions, goodbye.