Filthy Secret

Jo looked at the clock and contemplated throwing up. Her audition was in two hours. Yes, she’d spent two solid weeks preparing, and yes, the more she’d dug into the role, the more she’d felt absolutely positive that it was everything she could possibly want. The perfect

opportunity to do the one thing she’d always dreamed of, for real this time. The last chance she’d have to land a role that could make her career, and maybe her life, truly limitless.All content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Annnnd welcome back to wanting to throw up.

Jo’s cell phone pinged with an incoming text message, snagging her from her stress-filled thoughts, and she tapped the screen to life.

I know I’m not supposed to wish you luck, but that’s okay. You don’t need it. You’re ready. You’re perfect for the part, and you’re going to nail this audition.

Sawyer attached a photo of him and the whole Crooked Angel staff giving a thumbs-up from behind the bar, and okay, she had to laugh. This audition was a big deal (fine. It was huge. Gargantuan. Supermassive), but Sawyer was right. She was ready. She’d done every single thing possible to prepare for the audition. This last week in particular, she’d thrown herself into the lines on an even deeper level than she’d thought herself capable of, allowing herself to shed her doubts and just live in the moment. She felt at home with the role, like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

Like she felt when she was with Sawyer.

Setting the thought aside, Jo scooped in a deep breath. She had to focus on the here-and-now, which meant this audition was the only thing she could allow into her brain. This part was made for her, and she was made for it in return. She was going to pour everything into this audition, and she was going to get the part.

Which meant she had to start acting like it.

Living her life meant going all-in, and she’d held back for far too long.

Turning her attention back to the phone in her hand, Jo scrolled through her contacts, letting her nervous energy bolster her instead of holding her back.

Derek answered on the second ring. “Hey, Jo. Mikayla’s at school.” “I know,” she said.

“Oh.” His voice pitched in confusion. “Is everything okay?”

Taking a deep breath, Jo said, “Everything is better than it’s been in a long time, actually. But you and I need to talk.”

FOUR HOURS LATER, Jo’s mood had gone through a fucking woodchipper. But at least she was at a bar. Who cared that it was two o’clock in the afternoon?

After an audition like that, she deserved copious amounts of liquor.

“Hey!” Sawyer said, and ugh, not even his ridiculously sexy smile could get her to her happy place. “How did it go, Ms. Soon to be Famous Actress?”

“More like Ms. Close but No Cigar Actress,” Jo mumbled, plopping down on a bar stool. The Crooked Angel was nearly empty, with only a handful of patrons enjoying the lull between the lunch rush and the dinner crowd. “Can I get a glass of wine, please? The biggest one you’ve got would be great.”

Sawyer’s blond brows lifted in surprise, but smartly, he didn’t say anything about the early hour. “I’m sure the audition wasn’t that bad.”

“Actually, it wasn’t,” Jo said, and welcome to the most shitastic part of the whole thing.

“Okay, you’ve lost me.” Sawyer served up a blessedly heavy pour of merlot. “If it wasn’t bad, shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

“It was worse than bad. It was close. I had a real shot at the role, and I blew it.”

Throwing her pride out the window, Jo recounted the audition, starting with the bundle of nerves that had made her stumble through not one, but two takes before she’d shaken them off and asked-slash-begged Teresa Park and the other executives for a third try-which, of course, she’d nailed.

“They let me go through the entire scene, which might have been amazing if it had been my first take. But it wasn’t. Then they gave me the kiss of death and said they’d ‘be in touch.’ They didn’t even have the courtesy to cut me loose right there on the spot.” Tears pricked at her eyes, borne more of frustration than sadness. “Damn it! I should have known better than to let myself think I had a real chance at this.”

“Jo.” Sawyer crossed to her side of the bar, reaching out to pull her close. “You do have a real chance at this. So, you stumbled. You wouldn’t be human if you weren’t nervous. And you just said that them letting you go through the entire scene is a good thing.”

Her heart caught in her throat, making her voice waver. “It’s a good thing if it happens the first time! I stumbled twice, Sawyer. I gave it everything I had and I still came up short. I’m going to go back to Savannah a failure.”

“Hey. Not getting this part doesn’t make you a failure.” His eyes flashed with the seriousness of his claim, but Jo sighed.

“I know you think so, and that’s really sweet. But the truth is, I’m not so sure I had any business putting myself out there like that in the first place.” For God’s sake, she was a single mom who taught middle school drama classes for a living. Had she really been deluded enough to think she’d get this part?

“I don’t think so. I know so,” Sawyer said, a muscle in his jaw going tight. “You’re incredible no matter what.”

“Sawyer-”

“Jo, listen. I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I don’t want to keep it from you anymore. I know it seems impulsive, but…I want us to be together. Part or no part.”

Jo’s heart tripped in her chest, and she gripped the bar in an effort to steady herself.

It didn’t work. “What?”

“I’m crazy about you.” He leaned toward her, a soft smile shaping his lips. “More than crazy about you, actually. I know we live in separate cities, and that we’ve only known each other for two weeks, but we can figure all that stuff out.”

“Figure all that stuff out,” she echoed, her pulse whooshing faster, making her dizzy, and all the dread from her audition, from the day-God, from all of this, spilled right out. “You’re talking about my life. Your life. We can’t just play those things by ear.”

Sawyer took a step back, brows bent. “I didn’t say I thought it would be easy. But I want this. I want you, no matter what.”

For a single split second, Jo wanted to say yes. She wanted to let herself fall for him, to drift off to sleep beside him at night and wake up, safe and cared for and wrapped tightly in his arms. She wanted to take the chance

that they’d make it work-the distance, the impulsiveness, her daughter- even though she hadn’t gotten this role.

But then reality crashed in, swift and sharp, and Jo shook her head.

She was walking, talking proof of how much a person could lose by taking risks that big. She’d been burned six years ago. Hell, she’d been burned a few hours ago. Caution had never let her down, and it had damn sure never broken her heart.

She had to play it safe and walk away before she fell for him any harder. “We wanted each other in the moment, Sawyer. This was fun while it lasted, but”-she forced herself to look right into his melty brown stare even though she saw nothing but hurt there-“it’s time for me to go back to

Savannah, where I belong.”

“Jo, please,” he said. “Let’s just talk about this, okay?”

“I’m sorry,” Jo whispered. “But the only thing left to say is goodbye.” She turned and walked away before her breaking heart could stop her.

Jo pulled the last sweater from her dresser and shoved it into her suitcase just in time for a knock to sound off on the door to her borrowed apartment. She considered not answering it-she hadn’t buzzed anyone up, and she sure as hell wasn’t expecting anyone-

but then the knock grew more insistent, making her approach the door with caution.

“Jo, it’s me. I know you’re in there because I heard your footsteps.

Open up.”

Sighing, Jo released the chain and flipped the deadbolt to open the door. Of course Frankie still had an extra key to let herself into the main entrance. Jo should’ve known she’d show up here eventually.

“You don’t have to be a cop every second of every day, you know,” she groused, standing back to let Frankie in.

“It’s not my fault you fell for that,” her sister said, arching a brow. “I’m good, but unless you’re stomping toward the door or you’re carrying a linebacker on your shoulders, I can’t really hear your footsteps. Anyway, it’s justified. You weren’t answering your phone. How else am I supposed to find out what the hell is going on?”

Sadness stretched out in Jo’s chest, but she soldiered past it. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

Grabbing Jo’s hand, Frankie led her over to the couch, and Jo knew from experience that fighting her was useless. “Well, let’s see,” Frankie said. “I went by the Crooked Angel to celebrate your audition, but when I got there, you were suspiciously absent and Sawyer was in a mood that can only be described as abominable. When I asked him what was going on, he told me to ask you. But since you didn’t answer your phone…damn it, Jo, please don’t make me put on my interrogation voice, because-no offense

-you look like shit and I’m worried about you. So, can you please help me out, here? What the hell happened?”

Jo meant to stand her ground. She meant to stay tough like always and just say things hadn’t worked out with the audition or Sawyer or anything else, no big deal.

But instead, she started to cry, and fuck it. Frankie wasn’t going to let her off the hook now.

“I, um. I think I really screwed things up,” she said.

“Okay.” Frankie lifted a finger. “Give me a sec. I’ve got you covered, babe.”

Working quickly, she grabbed a box of tissues and made two cups of tea, snagging the half-full bag of chocolate chunk cookies from Jo’s cupboard before coming back to the couch and listening to the whole story. Jo skirted around the details of Sawyer’s past out of respect for his privacy, but everything else came pouring out. Their dinner date. The feelings she’d been too scared to admit to. The way she’d believed-truly believed, in her heart and soul-that she’d get this part and move to Remington for the filming and finally have all the things she’d wanted six years ago. How it had all come crashing down in the span of a few hours. By the time Jo finally got through the recount of her horrible audition and the ensuing non- versation with Sawyer, her tea was cold and her heart still ached as if she’d been kicked.

“Oh, sweetie.” Frankie reached out to squeeze Jo’s forearm. “I’m so sorry the audition didn’t go the way you wanted it to. I know you really wanted the part.”

“I should’ve known better,” Jo whispered. “The part, this thing with Sawyer. If I’d played it safe and just stayed in Savannah where I belong, none of this would have happened.”

“Do you really believe that?” Frankie asked, and Jo looked at her in confusion.

“Well, yeah. If I hadn’t come to Remington for the audition, then-”

“Not that part,” Frankie said, shaking her head. “Do you really believe that you belong in Savannah, teaching middle school and watching Netflix alone on Friday nights?”