Read Online Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy by Susan Hammond - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Susan Hammond
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specific sound for September Morning .”
“That movie was their big break.”
“Yeah. What the guy described was exactly their sound, so I sent him their CD the next day. He called Newell, mentioned my name. They got the job. Ended up with a recording contract. Their big song from the movie won Best Song; they mopped up at the Grammies. And you know the rest. My part was really not a big deal. I knew somebody who knew somebody. But they were grateful. When I called Newell about the wedding—on a long shot—they were going to be in Austin for a few weeks between studio recording and going back on tour next month.” He shrugged again. “They said yes.”
Ali tried to wrap her head around this story. Tried to picture what Ben’s life was like. He calls a big name band, and they not only take his call, they use their downtime to do him a favor. He casually calls Newell Tremont by his first name. Not name dropping but because they’re friends. Not exactly like life in the teachers’ lounge between fifth and sixth period.
Ben nudged her out of her thoughts, pointing to Bree who was motioning them onto the dance floor. He took her hand and spun her around and back into his arms.
“Show off.” His only response was a chuckle before he pulled her closer.
Forty-five minutes later, winded and thankful for a slower song, she breathed in slowly. “This must be different from the parties you’re used to.”
He leaned back to look at her when he answered with a question. “The real ones or the fake ones?”
“There are fake parties?”
“More fake ones than real ones.”
“And what’s the difference?”
“Real parties aren’t that different from this. Or maybe six or eight people having dinner together, cooking burgers, catching a no-name band, playing Trivia. Fake parties are where you go to see and be seen. Screenwriters are C-listers if we’re lucky—or broody or eccentric. Maybe you get to a B-list party if you’re presentable enough to be tapped as a plus one for some up-and-comer. It’s all for the cameras.”
“But it looks so glamourous.”
“Nah. Occasionally you get to meet someone you’ve admired. Even talk to them for a while, but it’s mostly tedious and generally boring. Not the most fun part of the job. But I’m not complaining about what I do. Besides, all jobs have boring parts. Doesn’t yours?”
She thought about it. “Rarely boring. Frustrating, aggravating sometimes. I’m not a big fan of paperwork.”
He spun her around again, catching her with her back to his front, wrapping their linked hands around her waist. His other hand, on her hip, moved to splay open on her stomach, pulling her back against him. “I’m having teacher fantasies. You at your desk in horn-rim glasses, grading papers.”
“I don’t wear glasses.”
He chuckled. “Don’t mess with my fantasy.”
Dipping his head, his lips barely touched the side of her neck, and she was breathing too fast again, but not from dancing. When he brushed a light kiss under her ear, she shivered. And swallowed. And tried not to squirm. As the song faded out, instead of letting her go, he pulled her tighter. She was so over her head here.
Looking over to their table, she noticed Bree and Josh sitting down. “I’d better go check in with Bree.”
He didn’t let her go, but whispered, “Or what? You’ll be like the Maid of Dishonor?”
Impossible not to smile. “ Bridesmaids , Chris O’Dowd as Nathan the cop. I love that movie.” His arm relaxed, but he didn’t release her hand as he led her to the table. She and Bree talked through a couple of songs before heading to the ladies’ room.
Walking back in, she saw Ben and Josh in what looked like a serious conversation. She couldn’t see Ben’s face, but Josh’s expression was thunderous. Only a couple of steps from the table she caught a few of Ben’s words, “…never hurt…respect.” His voice rose as he spat out three more words, “Leave it
“That movie was their big break.”
“Yeah. What the guy described was exactly their sound, so I sent him their CD the next day. He called Newell, mentioned my name. They got the job. Ended up with a recording contract. Their big song from the movie won Best Song; they mopped up at the Grammies. And you know the rest. My part was really not a big deal. I knew somebody who knew somebody. But they were grateful. When I called Newell about the wedding—on a long shot—they were going to be in Austin for a few weeks between studio recording and going back on tour next month.” He shrugged again. “They said yes.”
Ali tried to wrap her head around this story. Tried to picture what Ben’s life was like. He calls a big name band, and they not only take his call, they use their downtime to do him a favor. He casually calls Newell Tremont by his first name. Not name dropping but because they’re friends. Not exactly like life in the teachers’ lounge between fifth and sixth period.
Ben nudged her out of her thoughts, pointing to Bree who was motioning them onto the dance floor. He took her hand and spun her around and back into his arms.
“Show off.” His only response was a chuckle before he pulled her closer.
Forty-five minutes later, winded and thankful for a slower song, she breathed in slowly. “This must be different from the parties you’re used to.”
He leaned back to look at her when he answered with a question. “The real ones or the fake ones?”
“There are fake parties?”
“More fake ones than real ones.”
“And what’s the difference?”
“Real parties aren’t that different from this. Or maybe six or eight people having dinner together, cooking burgers, catching a no-name band, playing Trivia. Fake parties are where you go to see and be seen. Screenwriters are C-listers if we’re lucky—or broody or eccentric. Maybe you get to a B-list party if you’re presentable enough to be tapped as a plus one for some up-and-comer. It’s all for the cameras.”
“But it looks so glamourous.”
“Nah. Occasionally you get to meet someone you’ve admired. Even talk to them for a while, but it’s mostly tedious and generally boring. Not the most fun part of the job. But I’m not complaining about what I do. Besides, all jobs have boring parts. Doesn’t yours?”
She thought about it. “Rarely boring. Frustrating, aggravating sometimes. I’m not a big fan of paperwork.”
He spun her around again, catching her with her back to his front, wrapping their linked hands around her waist. His other hand, on her hip, moved to splay open on her stomach, pulling her back against him. “I’m having teacher fantasies. You at your desk in horn-rim glasses, grading papers.”
“I don’t wear glasses.”
He chuckled. “Don’t mess with my fantasy.”
Dipping his head, his lips barely touched the side of her neck, and she was breathing too fast again, but not from dancing. When he brushed a light kiss under her ear, she shivered. And swallowed. And tried not to squirm. As the song faded out, instead of letting her go, he pulled her tighter. She was so over her head here.
Looking over to their table, she noticed Bree and Josh sitting down. “I’d better go check in with Bree.”
He didn’t let her go, but whispered, “Or what? You’ll be like the Maid of Dishonor?”
Impossible not to smile. “ Bridesmaids , Chris O’Dowd as Nathan the cop. I love that movie.” His arm relaxed, but he didn’t release her hand as he led her to the table. She and Bree talked through a couple of songs before heading to the ladies’ room.
Walking back in, she saw Ben and Josh in what looked like a serious conversation. She couldn’t see Ben’s face, but Josh’s expression was thunderous. Only a couple of steps from the table she caught a few of Ben’s words, “…never hurt…respect.” His voice rose as he spat out three more words, “Leave it
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