"Mason!"
I heard one of the producers of the show calling my name, and the security guard released me. I shook his hand before he embraced me in a hug, and I knew the moment he let me go that I'd be able to easily slip in to see Sarah.
"How's that product of mine working for you?" I asked.
"Oh, it's going really well. Gives me a piece of mind about my daughter driving around now," he said.
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. What about your wife's pesky phone problem?" I asked.
"Not a problem anymore, especially since we can load that software onto a computer. We're actually on time to places now. That shit hasn't happened in years."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it," I said, smiling. "Listen, is Sarah around?"
"She just went back for her lunch break. Is everything all right?"
"Well, I heard she wasn't feeling well, and I wanted to stop by. Is there anything I can get for her?" I asked.
"She's a coffee nut. Come on, I'll walk you to the stand. I'm sure there are people who want to shake your hand anyway," he said.
We walked over to the indoor coffee kiosk, and I got Sarah a cup of coffee and a sandwich. The easiest way to get on someone's good side when you're rich is to give them a sample of your product. Mac, the producer I was talking to, had been complaining about his wife always losing her cell phone, so I surprised him by shipping out my latest product update to him. That got me on his good side, which got me through the doors of this studio.
Which got me closer to Sarah.
Carrying her coffee and a sandwich, we wove our way to her dressing room. Mac knocked on her door, and when she whipped it open, I could see the shock on her face. Relief flooded my body when I saw she was okay, but I could tell she was immensely tired.
"Mac?" she asked. "What's going on?"
"Had I known you weren't feeling well, we could've found a stand-in for the interview today, Sarah."
Her eyes flickered over to mine and held my stare for quite a while before she cleared her throat.
"I'm just a bit tired. Nothing Angie's makeup magic can't fix," she said.
"Well, a surprise guest wanted to get you something to eat and drink so he could check up on you. Mason, I'll leave you to it."
"Thank you so much, Mac. You've been so very helpful," I said.
"Yeah, a bit too helpful," I heard Sarah murmur.
Mac walked off, and I stood there, holding her coffee out for her. She took it before she grabbed for the sandwich, but I held it above my head and grinned.
"Let me in so we can talk."
"Fine. I don't have it in me to argue today anyway," she said.
She stepped aside, and I handed her the sandwich. I walked into her dressing room, and I could already tell she had the room darkened for a reason. I heard the door shut behind us before she sighed, and as I turned around to take her in, I saw her pinching the bridge of her nose.
"So, I wasn't going crazy. You're not feeling well," I said.
"What the fuck are you doing here, you pompous windbag?" she asked.
"Pompous windbag. That's a new one," I said. "I didn't know if you'd gotten home safe last night. I wanted to come by and make sure you were all right."
"How the fuck did you waltz in here? Again."
"Well, when we had our little show, I heard Mac complaining about his wife's pesky cell phone problem. I shipped him a free sample of our latest updated product."
"Of course you did," she said, sighing.
"It's amazing what little gestures like that will get you," I said, grinning.
"Fuck off," she said.
"The headache that bad?"
"Could you stop fucking yelling, please?"
I watched as she tossed the sandwich onto the coffee table. She walked over to the corner and popped open the top of a medicine bottle, and I watched her swallow some pills with her coffee. She sighed with relief, taking another giant gulp of the warm substance as I watched her shoulders visibly relax.
"You know what would help with that restricted blood flow-"
"You're not giving me an orgasm in my fucking dressing room," she said.
"Actually, I was going to suggest some pressure points you could press," I said, smirking.
"I hate you," she said.
"Not a chance. Could we please sit down and talk?"
"Only if you whisper."
I saw her sit down in the lone chair, trying to put distance between us. I sat on the couch and crossed my leg over my knee, simply studying her as she tried to nurse the migraine that seemed to be getting worse.
"I'm glad I caught you on your lunch break. Means we've got a while."
"You've got until I kick you out," she said.
"Fair enough. Look, this barrier you've thrown up between us. I don't understand it."
"You mean the no you keep ignoring every time it flies from my lips?"
"Oh, but you jumped onto my lap last night," I said.
That statement rendered her silent.
"We have something here. I'm not looking to pull you into another relationship. I'm just looking to get to know you better. Have a bit of fun while we're around one another. I'm not trying to flaunt anything in front of the cameras for my benefit or anything like that."
"Then what is it that you want?" she asked. "Because you're Mason Baker. You don't ever do anything unless there's something in it for you."
"Besides your presence and your body?" I asked.
"I'm serious," she said, sighing.
"I want to know why I can't shake you," I said.
"What?"
"I can't shake you. I admit I'm a playboy. And fucking proud of it. Women throw themselves at my feet, and I reward them for their loyalty."
"Fucking hell, do you hear yourself?" she asked.
"But I can't shake you. I couldn't after the first date, I couldn't after the second, and I couldn't after that lunch. I certainly couldn't after last night, so here I am. I want to get to know you so I can figure out why I can't shake you. Why I can't stop thinking about you. Why I smell you everywhere I go?"
I looked over at her and the look on her face was nothing short of bewilderment. I knew I sounded like an absolute idiot, but I had no more tricks up my sleeve. Nothing but the truth I was trying to uncover. I figured if telling her the truth didn't get me anywhere, then I'd have no choice.
No choice but to leave.
But before she could answer, there was a rushing knock that resounded at the door.
"Sarah, we have an issue. If Angie came in and prepped you, would you be ready to interview in thirty minutes?" Mac asked.
"Are you serious?" she said, groaning. "Yes. Send Angie in. I'll get ready."
"Thanks."
"Can this talk wait until after the interview?" she asked. "Some of us actually have jobs we have to work."
"I own my damn company," I said, "I can come and go as I please."
"I wish you'd do the latter part of that statement when it comes to me," she said.
"No, you don't."
She shot me a look as another woman came in. She threw on the light, and I heard Sarah groan, her coffee almost tumbling out of her hands. She was in no condition to go on-set, but even I knew when my influence wouldn't help anything.
"We'll get you another pill, and we'll keep the makeup basic and neutral today," the woman said.
I watched Sarah sit down in a chair as I reached over and tossed the pill bottle to the woman who'd just come in.
"Why is this interview happening during my lunch break?" she asked.
"Because people feel entitled, and they don't care who they step on in order to get what they want," the woman said.
"Sounds familiar," Sarah said.
"He need to be removed?" the woman asked.
Sarah looked back at me as I simply crossed my legs again and hooked my gaze with hers.
"Nope. Apparently, we have to talk after I do this early taping of the show today," Sarah said.
"Well, let me know if that changes," the woman said. "I could haul him out myself."
Even as I chuckled, there was something in the pit of my gut that told me the woman was serious. So, I sat there quietly and watched Sarah get ready for her show, suddenly mesmerized by her process. I caught her gaze in the mirror and I winked, which caused her to roll her eyes just as the makeup woman was trying to do her mascara.
"Are you seriously looking to lose an eye today, Sarah?" she asked.
"Would it make this migraine better?" Sarah asked.
"There. Done. Now, it's time for you to go cater to someone else," the woman said.
"Oh, wonderful," Sarah said, breathlessly.
My eyes raked down her body as she walked out of her dressing room. I sat patiently until the show was over, and as she made her way back into the room, I could tell she wasn't feeling any better. Her head was hanging low and her hand was massaging the back of her neck, and in that very moment, all I wanted to do was make her feel better.