A New York Kind Of Love

Still, he checked his phone and silently hoped for a call from Kevin about his script.

There was a knock on the door. If it was Kitty returning to tell him another thing for the premiere weekend, he would lose his mind.

He checked the peephole, relaxed and opened the door with a smile. “What on earth are you doing here?”

Dante Wilson, the R & B star with a fan base as big as Irvin’s, grinned from the other side. “I’ve got time before my concert tour and decided to come early for your promotional weekend.”

Irvin shook his head and stepped back so his friend could walk in. “Why do you need to be here for my weekend?”

“Kitty thought it would be good to show off your high-profile connections as you become the highlight of this woman’s life,” Dante said. “Her words, not mine. Jacobe is coming up from Florida.”

“Brilliant. I haven’t seen Jacobe in weeks,” Irvin said.

Jacobe Jenkins was the starting center for the Jacksonville Gators. The twenty-eight-year-old had been drafted at the end of his freshman year of college, let the easy money and women go to his head and started his professional basketball career as a wild party boy. Irvin and Dante had met him about a year ago at a party and become mentors for the young man. He still partied, but he wasn’t getting into any foolish trouble anymore.

“But you didn’t have to come early.”

“It wasn’t just for you. I met this model who’s doing a show here this week.”

That made more sense to Irvin. “Can I get you a drink?”

“You know you can.” Dante shut the door behind him. “You drinking?”

Irvin shook his head. “I’ve had my one for the day.”

“Kitty didn’t push you to have two?”

Irvin laughed. “Kitty always tempts me to have two. But two leads to three and...”

He went to the bar to fix a whiskey for Dante and a cola for himself.

Dante crossed the living area to stare out over the skyline. The living definition of a pretty boy, he looked younger than his thirty-two years in designer jeans, white shirt and tie with a gray vest. Whereas Irvin was growing weary with the celebrity life, it was all Dante knew. He was the son of music legends, had grown up in front of the camera and enjoyed the fame that came with being a star.

“You should sell me this apartment,” Dante said when Irvin came over and handed him his drink.

“You shouldn’t get your hopes up,” Irvin said and took a sip of the cola.

“One day I’ll convince you.”

“I doubt it.”

Dante chuckled and lifted the glass. “Are you going to bring her here?”

“Who?”

“The winner of the contest.” Dante gave him a sly look. “Are you going to show her all that New York has to offer?”

“You know I don’t bring women back here. It’s the one place where I can escape, when Kitty’s not around, at least.” They both chuckled at that. “Besides, I doubt I’ll get a half hour alone with the woman. Kitty will have every appearance scheduled and I’ll just show up, do my charming smile, sign an autograph and then come back here to blessed silence.”

“Pity.”

“Not at all. This isn’t a sleazy way to shag some woman. I can go for a ride without going through this much trouble. It’s to raise money for the foundation.”

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t hurt to have a little fun out of it. Obviously if she entered, she’s interested in you.”

“I’m not taking advantage of a fan just to get my kicks. Besides, I have more important things to worry about than showing her a good time.”

As if summoned, his phone chimed again. He rushed across the room to where he’d left it on the bar. Disappointment stooped his shoulders as he read the email from Kitty, reminding him to check the itinerary. With a swear, he dropped the phone back onto the bar.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Dante asked.

“I’m waiting on a response about my screenplay.”

“You finally sent it off. Good for you. You know it’ll get picked up.”

“I don’t want it picked up because of who I am. I want it picked up because it’s a good story.”

“Who cares why it’s picked up as long as it is? You worked on it for over a year. Push your weight around in Hollywood and get it made.”

“That’s not the way.”

“It is the way. What’s the point of all this fame if we don’t put it to good use?” Dante spread his arms to encompass the spacious area.

“I’ll wait and hear before I make a decision about pushing my weight around.”

“Who did you send it to?”

“Kevin Lipinski.”

Dante cringed. “He’s the toughest producer out there. And he hates screenplays from superstars. Are you trying to kill your writing career before it starts?”

“If he says yes, then I’ll know it’s good. If he says no...he’ll at least give me a reason why he doesn’t like it.”

“And tear you to pieces in the meantime. There’s nothing that guy likes better than to put celebrities with inflated egos in their place.”

Which was exactly why Irvin had sent it to him. If he had any chance of getting behind the camera, this was the test. If Kevin liked his script, Irvin planned to barter and plead to direct it. He’d earned his money and his fame, repaid his mother the debt he owed before she passed away, and now he was ready to move behind the camera. He loved Hollywood, loved the satisfaction of bringing a story to life and the pride when it was done well. But he could experience all those things without being the half-naked guy on-screen. It was his one shot to keep the security he had now without many of the headaches.

“I don’t have an inflated ego to burst,” Irvin said.

“You say that now, but wait until his comments come back.”

Irvin drank his cola to swallow the sinking feeling that Dante might be right.

Chapter 3 (#ulink_2bf2a8cc-ad0f-56fa-bc97-b659d9ff00a5)

“I don’t have to go,” Faith said, twisting a pair of underwear in her hands.

Virginia Logan rolled her wheelchair across the threshold into Faith’s room. She shot Faith the same “are you crazy” look she’d given her when Faith was a girl and asked to stay out past her curfew. Except now the left side of her scowl drooped a little. It was still a vast improvement from the complete loss of motion and feeling Virginia had had on that side right after the stroke.