30

Dylan dropped so many hints about wanting to be on the shooting set that Hal finally called him on it.

“Look, kid, I get it. That’s where the glamour is. But these things go by merit and seniority. You haven’t been around long enough to merit anything, and what does that say for your seniority? If I can get you on the set, I will, but don’t count on it. Meanwhile, I don’t want to hear about it. I got other things to do with my life.”

Dylan knocked off for lunch feeling discouraged. Nothing was going his way. He’d spent the whole morning running errands, never got near the set, and he had no idea what was really going on at Centurion Studios.

Hanging over his head was the fact that this might not be conducive to his health. Gino Patelli’s goons were apt to pull him in and squeeze him again, just for the pleasure of hearing his bones break.

Dylan wandered down to the cafeteria. Stacy was in line, holding a tray. She waved him over.

“You want me to cut the line?”

“It’s not cutting the line if we’re together. Grab a tray.”

Dylan grabbed a tray and got in line just in time to see Sandy come in and give him the evil eye.

Stacy and Dylan got their food and sat down while Sandy was still in line.

“You know that Sandy has a thing for you?”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, he’s not serious. He’s like a dog trying to catch a car. He wouldn’t know what to do with it if he did.”

“That’s cynical.”

“I don’t mean to be. Sandy’s nice, he’s just not my type.”

“You have a type?”

“Are you flirting with me?”

“Sandy’s a friend.”

Stacy made a face. “Oh, my God. Am I back in high school? Slip me a note during study hall?”

“No, nothing like that,” Dylan said. He stood up and waved Sandy over.

“What are you doing?” Stacy said.

“Well, I’m not sitting alone with you while my buddy has a fit,” Dylan said.

He started to sit down and his face froze.

There, not three tables away, was Billy Barnett.

Stacy frowned. “Hey, what’s with you?”

Sandy walked up with his tray.

“Hey, Sandy,” Dylan said. “Is that Billy Barnett?”

Sandy looked before sitting down next to Stacy. “Yeah, that’s him. I told you he’d show up.”

Waiting a beat, Dylan put on a curious expression and pulled out his cell phone, as if it had pinged. “Sorry, guys, I have to make a call, family stuff. Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

Dylan slipped out of the cafeteria, dialing Sylvester as he went. He had him on speed dial. He hoped to be able to delete his number soon.

“It’s Dylan.”

“What’s up?”

“Billy Barnett’s here.”

“Where?”

“At Centurion. He’s in the cafeteria having lunch.”

“Where are you?”

“In the hall. I slipped out to make the call.”

“Get back in there. Don’t let him out of your sight. If he makes a move to leave, you go with him. And let me know the minute he does. This is pay dirt. Don’t blow it.”