“Oh…so that whole thing was real? I didn’t dream it?”
He sighed, like he was put out with me. He shouldn’t be. I’d just let him listen to a hot girl have an orgasm. He should be thanking me. “It was real, and the offer is real. I can have papers in your inbox this afternoon. Unless you’ve changed your mind…if that’s the case, I suppose I will have to contact another musician on my list. Maybe one of your bandmates?”
I immediately bristled at the thought of another D-Bag stealing this opportunity from me as well; they’d already taken way too much from me. Words rippled through my mind—You are never going to play lead. Not tonight, maybe tomorrow. He is the talent. The frustrated phrases settled into the pit of my stomach, where they mixed with the knot of discontent that I always carried around with me. When the answer to Harold’s question bubbled out of my mouth, it was laced with power. “No, no way. I’m still in.”
Anna was giving me a questioning look, and I wondered what to tell her. If this series took off, and with me as the lead, it would definitely take off, I might have to part ways with the band one day, or at least scale down. She wouldn’t be happy about me taking a break from our “family.” But I wouldn’t be doing it for nothing, I’d be doing it to be a successful actor. It was a lateral move. No, it was a step up. I’d be the lead. For once, I’d be the star…like I should be.
Smiling, I told him, “I’m in one hundred and ten percent.”
“Excellent!” he exclaimed. He asked for my email address and I happily gave it: [email protected]. “The pilot starts filming next month. Can you get down to L.A.?”
Giving Anna sidelong glances, I sniffed and said, “Sure, not a problem.” How I was going to do that without everyone going ballistic, I had no idea.
When I disconnected the phone, Anna was staring at me with expectant eyes. I knew what her question was even before she asked it. “Who was that?”
Shrugging, I tried to play it off with vagueness. “Just this guy who wants me to do a little side gig with him. Nothing major.” Yet.
Her brows drew together as she turned onto her stomach. Nope. Vagueness wasn’t going to cut it this time. “What did you agree to, Griffin? I thought you said you wouldn’t do anything rash without talking to me first?”
Running my hand over her back, I shook my head. Oddly, my fingers were trembling. I wanted this to happen, I didn’t want her to tell me no. “I said yes because it’s nothing. Just a one-time acting thing.”
Sitting up on her elbow, her expression was precariously balanced somewhere between curious and furious, and I knew I had to be very careful about how I answered her next question. “Like a commercial?”
My heart started racing as I debated what to say to her. She’d just said we worked because we were honest, brutally honest, but if I told her the truth now, she’d never let me go to L.A. She’d tell me I was being foolish, then she’d drag the guys into the decision…she’d hold me back. And I really couldn’t handle the idea of Anna holding me back. I needed her support, even if she didn’t realize just what she was supporting.
Feeling my headache returning, along with a surge of nausea, I said, “Yeah, something like that. And…they’re filming it next month, so I’m going to have to fly to L.A. Just for a couple days though, I won’t be gone long.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Did I really just say that to her? Yes, I had. I’d just told a major-ass lie to my wife, one I couldn’t hide forever, and when she did find out the truth, she was going to fucking kill me. But I had no choice. She’d shoot down my plan if she knew all the details, and I was dying in the D-Bags’ shadow, I needed to break free. She’d see that once the show erupted. She’d support me then, I just knew it. I’d be totally honest with her…when the time was right.
Anna studied me a second longer, and I prayed my poker face stayed in place. Fuck, was I sweating? Just when I thought she was going to call bullshit, a huge smile broke her tepid expression. “Ah, babe, that’s great! A commercial was kind of something I’d been tossing around in my mind. It will let you stand out, but it won’t interfere with the band. It’s a win-win!” Leaning over, she gave me a heartfelt kiss. “See, I told you your talent would be recognized and appreciated soon.”
She leaned over to kiss me again, and I had to swallow the lump of shame in my throat; it was the first time the emotion had ever truly touched me, and I didn’t like it. At all. I probably shouldn’t have done that. But it was too late now…I’d already spun the web, and all I could do was follow it through. But fuck…on the other side of my deceit was the Promised Land—a TV show, where I was the star! Fuck, yes! This was going to be amazing.
The next few weeks were filled with endlessly meeting the guys and working on the new album. I kept quiet on my “side gig,” which was a really hard thing for me to do. It made me appreciate myself even more. I mean, if the guys understood the restraint I was using on a daily basis around them, they’d be seriously impressed.
Arnold, Harold, or whatever the hell his name was sent me the lengthy electronic contract right away. Since it all seemed legit to me, I signed it without reading it all the way through. Two weeks after I signed the contract, he shipped me the script for the pilot episode. Luckily, I intercepted the package before Anna saw it, and immediately hid the script away in my office. My lie to my wife would be completely exposed if she saw the thick manuscript I’d been sent—no commercial had that many lines—and if I slipped up now, my dream would never come true. To keep my hope alive, I had to keep Anna in the dark, so I only read through the script when I was alone.