“No. I need to go. I’ve been in bed too long. My muscles are going to atropy.”
“Atrophy.”
“Whatever, you knew what I meant.”
“And I think it takes a little longer than a weekend for that to happen. I’ll text her and let her know you’re on your way.”
“Gee thanks, you’re the best, Mandy,” Dru said sarcastically, knowing full well how much she hated that nickname. Amanda let the insult slide off her back because she knew what came next. Dru pulled her soft purple blanket up to the bottom of her chin. “Tell the whole truth. Do I look that bad?”
“You look beautiful,” Amanda replied, and it was the truth. Dru’s stunning natural beauty was the thing that landed her on three successful television dramas back-to-back, a nearly unfathomable feat for a young Black actress in Hollywood, even if she was light skinned with green eyes. Currently she played an intergalactic vampire queen on the showAndromeda. Her character, Kalexa, was known throughout more than one universe for her stunning gaze and luscious lips. This morning, however, Her Majesty looked a little rough. Whatever bug had knocked her on her ass had done a number on her. Her edges could use a little control and her lips were dry, but most people would kill to look like Dru Anastasia even with a few bags under their eyes.
“I’d brush my teeth and throw in some lip gloss before I posted any selfies, but you’re still a ten.”
“Thanks. Please get out of my room.”
“Sure.”
Amanda grabbed the pile of dirty clothes off the floor and carried them down to the laundry room before she went to hop on her morning call with Kaidence. Sam’s laugh popped into her head as she made her way down to the other end of the apartment. She smiled to herself, thinking about the way he’d kissed her, the way he’d felt on top of her.
Today it didn’t matter how nasty Dru was or how many absurd tasks Kaidence threw her way. For one night, she’d gotten to bethat girl,not just a D-list actress’s lowly assistant. The night she’d spent with Sam Pleasant might carry her to the end of the year. Or at least until the Teen Choice Awards.
Chapter 2
Sam Pleasant couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken up with a smile on his face. Today his mood before he even opened his eyes could only be described as good as fuck. He could still hear the sound of her laugh over the thumping music, feel her soft skin as his fingers trailed down her wrist. He stretched with a sigh, then rolled over to see if he could interest his new lady friend in some room service and possibly round two before they both started their day.
But of course she was gone. What did he expect from a post-award-show one-night hookup? Not that there was anything wrong with the one and done, but he’d had such a good time with her—even before they’d made it back to the hotel—he’d already made up his mind that he wanted to see her again.
Disappointment flooded through him as he looked at the empty side of the bed, now cold like he hadn’t spent the night with one of the most beautiful girls he’d ever laid eyes on. He glanced around the room, hoping to spot a note or something, but all he saw was his Gucci suit placed over the hotel room chair. He smiled again, knowing full well who had set it there. He had vivid memories of dropping it on the floor piece by piece as he and Cha-Cha made their way to the bed.
He’d called her Cha-Cha in his head all night. But now he wished he’d gotten her real name. And her number. It didn’t have to be athing, but . . . he didn’t want it to be over just yet.
Apparently, she didn’t feel the same way. Sam tried to shake off the rejection as he stood and made his way to the bathroom. He found his boxer briefs under the cover at the foot of the bed, then checked his phone. It flooded with texts and calls. He let out a deep breath and scrubbed a hand over his face as he scrolled to the text messages from his assistant, Walls.
I’m up. You have a key?
Walls responded right away.
Yup got a key. I’ll be right over.
I have your clothes and shit.
Bet. Thanks.
He switched back over to his text inbox. Looking over the congratulations and well wishes from friends and colleagues and castmates and a few unknown numbers, he still couldn’t fucking believe it. He was now Oscar-winning actor Samuel Pleasant. He couldn’t put the way he felt into words. He had another two years before he saw his thirtieth birthday, but he’d been working toward that golden statue his whole life.
When his agent had brought the script forThe Sky Beneath Our Feetto him, Sam had had his doubts. The story of the first recorded slave revolt needed to be told. It was a part of America’s history, his history, but like many other young Black actors, Sam was torn about telling another painful story of the Black experience. The part they wanted him for wasn’t the lead, and the true event had also involved white indentured servants. Sam hadn’t been sure if this was the right move for him.
He’d talked to his family about it, and had several long conversations with his older brothers Jesse and Zach, but the opinions that mattered to him the most were his father’s and his grandmother’s. His father had left their family business, Big Rock Ranch, in the capable hands of Sam’s brothers to pursue his own acting career. His grandmother was the one and only, the incomparable Miss Leona Lovell. His grandma had nearly hit that EGOT before Sam was born and if anyone was equipped to give him career advice, it was her. They’d talked about the pros and cons, the timing, the money, and in the end he knewThe Sky Beneathwas the type of film that would generate some awards season buzz if not some actual nominations.
Either way, once he’d signed on the dotted line, he’d poured himself into the role of Josiah. He’d mentally prepared himself for how draining the work would be, trying to fully comprehend the horrors of chattel slavery and how hard this country tried to forget it. After they’d wrapped he’d gone back to Big Rock for months, just to get his mind right again. He’d never been more grateful for how hard his grandparents had worked to give their family everything, including a lucrative business that gave Sam the financial freedom to chase his passion.
The reviews were mixed. There were things audiences and critics loved, but the main criticism was that it was just another white savior film. The box office numbers were good, but the nominations were even better. Acting, directing, and cinematography from every nominating body in the industry. Walking down the red carpet into the Dolby Theatre with his grandmother and his cousin Corie by his side had been more than memorable. Walking out of the theater with the golden statue? No way, man. No way that had been real. He still couldn’t believe it. During the presser he thought he’d done a pretty good job of answering all the questions thoroughly and thoughtfully, but in the back of his mind he was still in disbelief. As the night had gone on and they’d moved from photo op to photo op and then on to the after-parties, he’d started to feel off. He’d won. He’d gotten exactly what he wanted, and yet . . .
Maybe the weight of his accomplishments hadn’t sunk in yet. He was sure sometime soon, maybe later in the week, he’d finally understand that he’d knocked one hell of an item off his bucket list. For now though, it didn’t feel the way he’d expected. When he’d rehearsed his acceptance speech, he’d thought sheer joy would be the main emotion to take over, but that hadn’t happened at all. From the moment he’d heard his name fill the theater he’d been dealing with a low-grade panic attack. He hadn’t had a chance to consider what the hell that was all about before he’d been whisked off to perform the rest of his duties as an award winner.
The pressure on his chest had lifted a little when he and Walls had ended up back in the limo. Walls had been determined to make him celebrate his win. Sam couldn’t fight his infectiously boisterous demeanor. He’d snapped himself out of the strange haze that had come over him and focused on the night of partying before him. He hadn’t realized he’d been going through the motions until he’d spottedherdancing, laughing, and smiling with her friends. Sam wasn’t into that hotep shit, but there had been something about that girl’s energy. In a room full of people trying to get close to him and the other winners, the other important names, it had been clear that she’d just come to have a good time.
When Sam had seen her again at Kata and Rina’s after-party, he’d known he had to say something. He hadn’t been sure what the fuck he was gonna say when he’d crossed the room, but as soon as he opened his mouth, she’d solved that problem for him. Cha-Cha hadn’t wanted to talk. She’d just wanted to dance. So they’d danced until it became clear that whatever had been happening between them needed to continue somewhere else. He’d seen the doubt in her eyes when he’d suggested she join him back at his hotel, but just as quickly the hesitation vanished and she’d taken over the plan as they made their way toward the exit: He should leave first and then she’d follow. Man, he’d been glad when she’d actually shown up instead of leaving him standing in the hotel hallway looking like a fool.