Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90598 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I stare at her, but she busies herself at her desk, ignoring my gaping mouth.
I don’t even know Spencer James. How could anyone think we were dating?
The picture of us is engrained in my mind. It does look very intimate, but it’s taken out of context.
What am I going to do now?
Chapter Four – Spencer
I drop the weights in my fully furnished home gym and sigh. This morning’s workout isn’t going well. I can’t get my mind off the beautiful woman I met in the park yesterday.
Leila.
Once again, I curse myself for not getting her number. That may have backfired eventually, considering she’s a fan, but I want to get to know her better. She seemed different from the usual people I run into. Not freaking out when she found out who I was is a pretty big green flag for me.
I switch over to the treadmill, hoping a good run will get my mind off Leila. I usually prefer to run outside, but after yesterday’s event with the paparazzi, I’d rather keep behind closed doors for a while. I’m currently filming a romantic comedy, and I need to keep my nose out of the tabloids to keep this job and ideally land something better afterward.
I start off slow with a steady walk and then up the speed until I’m jogging. It does nothing to distract me. Leila’s curly hair flashes behind my eyes. The tingling I felt when I touched her cheek to brush it from her face still lingers in my fingertips.
Of course, my Google search for a Leila in Los Angeles came up empty. Who would’ve thought there were thousands of people with that name in this area? I’d hoped something would come up, like a dog group or a new-in-town page that she’d commented on, but none of the hundreds of pictures I scrolled through looked like the woman I met yesterday.
I laugh to myself as I think about the “missed connections” pages of the past. Do people still post on sites like that? Do they still exist? Sounds like the plot of one of the TV movies I’ve been relegated to since my reputation got too big for the big screen.
This gym, paid for entirely from residuals from As We Grow, has a built-in entertainment system, complete with every music and movie streaming service known to man. I hit a few buttons on the treadmill while I run, and the room fills with heavy metal music, my favorite for working out.
The wall-to-ceiling glass windows shake with the heavy bass. The fast beat quickens my pace, and I up the speed on the treadmill to near a sprint.
My heart pounds in my chest, and my workout finally feels like it’s working. One of the many things my agent tells me to do is keep my body in shape; otherwise, I’ll never land an action movie again. The only one I ever did was a bust at the box office and may have contributed more to my current situation than some of the tabloids did.
After three songs at this quick pace, I start to slow down to cool off my heartrate. Just as I’m slowing to a walk, my phone rings. I turn off the music and answer it on speaker, still out of breath from the workout.
“Did I catch you at a bad time?” my agent says. “Sounds like you’ve just had a romp.”
“I’m working out. What’s up?”
Randy, who is old enough to be my father, has been my agent since we were both just starting out as fresh faces in Hollywood. My dad hired him when I landed an audition for As We Grow, and he has stuck with me since, even through the failed auditions and terrible movies.
“I just called to tell you that you ruined everything.”
I roll my eyes. This isn’t the first time Randy has said this same line to me, and it’s never as dramatic as he makes it out to be. “What did I do this time?”
“Remember that movie you really want to be a part of? The romantic comedy going to the big screens, not the Hallmark Channel?”
“Yeah, what about it?”
I’ve become somewhat of a leading man in these romcoms and enjoy them, but they’re all intended to lead to more regular comedies. I’d love to do an action/buddy cop movie one of these days, and I’m hoping showing my chops in this romcom will be the next step toward my goal.
“Well, you know I’m trying to do what’s best for your career, but you’re making it damn hard these days, Spencer.”
“Cut to the chase, Randy. I’m in the middle of a really good workout.” He doesn’t need to know that I was finishing up. I turn off the treadmill and wipe the sweat from my forehead, taking a swig of water.