Chase lowered the camera and squinted at her. “Wait a second. Dumond. Is your dad the Dumond in DRT—Dumond Racing Team?”
“Yeah. He started the team in our garage.”
“Holy shit, Ava. DRT is my favorite NASCAR team. Darby Janeville had an amazing season last year with that second place showing in Darlington—”
Ava held up her hand. “No offense, but you might as well be speaking Chinese. I don’t follow NASCAR. Haven’t much cared for racing.”
“Ever?”
“Ever.”
Chase didn’t say anything, but obviously he wanted to.
“What?”
“How is it you know all about your mother’s position as CEO of Cooper Hotels, but you don’t have any interest in your father’s business? Especially since he built it from the ground up and he was around more during your growing-up years than your mom.”
That jarred her. She’d never thought of it that way. Her dad used to ask her to come to races. She always refused. When had he stopped asking?
Why hadn’t you noticed?
Chase’s deep voice startled her out of guilty thoughts. “So your brother chose the hotel business over the racing business?”
“Axel is involved with DRT, mostly from the Cooper Tires side. He attends all the events with Dad.” Again, it struck Ava, how much she’d cut herself off from her family in recent years since she’d “made it” as an actress. Was that why Axel acted so curt with her? Because she blew him off, he was mirroring her behavior?
When had she gotten so selfish? So stingy? Unwilling to share any of her free time with her family?
She knew Chase had taken a rash of crap about his emotional and physical distance from his family. She’d felt sorry for him, but come to find out, she’d been acting the same way.
“Ava?”
“Sorry. Spaced there for a second. I’m a lot like my mom in that I don’t do domestic things. My housekeeping service keeps my house tidy. They take my dirty things to the laundry once a week. Then clean clothes are miraculously returned to their proper places. I don’t have to do anything. So that makes me as useless as teats on a bull, doesn’t it?”
Chase smiled. “Nice barnyard reference, Hollywood.”
“If the horseshoe fits… Anyway. It’s embarrassing to admit I’m so helpless.”
“Shouldn’t be. You lead a different life than most folks. Doesn’t mean it’s wrong. You have what most people work so hard for. You shouldn’t apologize for it.”
How was it this man knew exactly what to say? Not in a suck-up way, but with total sincerity?
Such a sucker for this man, Ava. Write it on your forehead—s-u-c-k-e-r.
“Okay, back to the hard-hitting questions. What’s the most personal thing anyone gave you?”
“You go first this time, McKay.”
“A bronze my cousin Carter sculpted of me ridin’ the bull Chicken on a Chain that scored me a ninety-two point ride.”
That was a very personal gift, which caused Ava another pang of sadness when she thought about the loss of hers.
“What’s wrong? Your face changed.”
“The camera showed you that?”
“Ava. I don’t need to look through a viewfinder to see you’re upset.”
Damn intuitive man.
“The camera is off. Talk to me.”
“My grandfather commissioned a necklace for my sixteenth birthday. A tiny beautiful Swarovski crystal rose with a gold stem artfully twisted into an ‘A’. The one time I didn’t take it off before I jumped into the ocean? I lost it. I don’t know if the chain broke or what, but I was devastated because it happened about a month after he died.”
“Aw, sugar, I’m so sorry.”
Evidently Chase had enough taping. He returned the camera to the case and faced forward, wiggling to get comfortable.
“Before you nod off, tell me why we’re backtracking. You planned a route through Montana and now we’re back in Cornhusker territory.”
He rolled his eyes. “South Dakota is not Cornhusker territory. The reason I’m not goin’ to the event in Billings is because Ryan told me a former PBR bull rider who switched to the PRCA circuit will be competing. I don’t wanna run into him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I did.”
“When? Because I’d remember something like that.”
“You were pecking away on your computer, and I told you about it as soon as I got off the phone with Ryan. You said, and I quote, ‘Sounds like a good plan’ so don’t blame me that you tuned me out again.”
Before she could apologize, Chase said, “I’m whupped,” and wedged himself between the passenger door and the seat, pulling his hat down over his eyes.
Ava had just walked out of a truck-stop bathroom, when her phone rang. Her belly tightened at the caller ID: Marnie Driscoll. Her agent. “Hello?”
“Ava, dear, it’s Marnie. I’m so happy to hear your voice. That secretive assistant of yours wouldn’t tell me where you’ve been hiding yourself.”
Thanks, Hannah. “I’m taking a vacation at an undisclosed location. Why? What’s up?”
Marnie sighed. “Well, I’m afraid I have bad news. The movie shoot in Mexico has been postponed indefinitely.”
“What happened?”
“Something with illegal permits and the production company’s insurance carrier refusing to cover people and equipment in that part of Mexico due to previous issues. It’s all very complicated, and evidently Lynch is incensed enough to completely rewrite the screenplay with an entirely new location. With as slow as that writing process is for him, you could be in limbo on this project for at least a year.”
She slumped against the concrete wall. “Damn. I really looked forward to that role and working with Lynch.”
“I understand. But to be perfectly blunt, dear, I’m not terribly unhappy about it. I know everyone is vying to work with Lynch because he’s on his way up, but the pay was total crap. You’d signed on for slave wages, with less-than-decent living conditions in a dangerous part of Mexico for several months. And we both know the backend profit deal I negotiated for you wouldn’t amount to much without major distribution, which Lynch still lacks with his small production company.”
Marnie had lobbied hard for Ava not to take the part. But Marnie’s bottom line wasn’t Ava’s—Marnie looked solely at dollar signs. That trait made her a great agent, but caused friction on occasion. “So what now?”