Filthy Secret

Story 3

Josephine Rossi needed a break. Not in the sleep-late, spa-weekend, glass-or-two-of-wine kind of way-although as a single mom, she’d take any of those and run like an Olympic athlete going for gold. No, Jo needed a big break. The kind that made careers. The

kind she’d once gotten, then lost spectacularly. The kind she needed now if she was going to have any hope of living her dream of becoming a full-time actress.

After all, as her agent had delicately pointed out, thirty-two-year-old single moms with limited experience weren’t exactly a casting producer’s first choice for breakthrough roles in new TV series. Not even when those roles spoke to said single mom/actresses deeply, or when they were staring down their very last shot at getting on the silver screen.

Jo’s stomach butterflies at the reality check. Ugh, what was she even doing, coming to Remington for this audition? She was never going to get this role-for God’s sake, Teresa Park was directing the show. Park might not be the most famous director in the business, but her work was well-respected and well-known. Jo had been reading about this new show for months and salivating over the lead role for just as long. But so had probably dozens of other actresses. Younger actresses, prettier actresses, actresses with more experience. Jo hadn’t held any major acting gigs since she’d found out she was pregnant with her daughter, Mikayla, nearly six years ago (despite what her agent said, those half dozen commercials and two jobs as a sitcom extra so didn’t count).

Jo clattered to a halt mid-step on the chilly city sidewalk, her heart beating a panicked rhythm behind her travel-rumpled sweater. What was she thinking? Yes, Mikayla was in good hands with her father-Derek might’ve been a shitful partner, but he was a great dad, not even hesitating to care for Mikayla while Jo came to Remington-but this was crazy. Seriously, she needed to turn around right now and go back to Savannah. She could probably get a late flight home tonight if she hustled. She’d have to make up a whopper excuse to escape her agent’s wrath-Genevieve had pulled some pretty serious strings to get Jo an audition, she knew. But even if Jo dazzled the casting director with her talent and nailed every single syllable of the audition, there was probably someone younger/skinnier/curvier/taller/shorter/whatever-er than her who they’d want more. She’d been nuts on toast to think she had even a sliver of a chance of getting this part.

“Jo-Jo!” The familiar voice, so loaded with happiness that Jo’s heart lurched in her rib cage, froze her further to her spot on the pavement.

She turned on the heels of her favorite (read: practical) riding boots and pasted a smile over her face as she greeted her older sister, whom she’d been on her way to meet for dinner. “Frankie, hey. You didn’t have to come outside to greet me.” Damn it. Now Jo would have to wiggle her way out of this face-to-face.

“Oh, yes I did,” Frankie said, wrapping her arms around Jo in a tight hug. “Because I know that look on your face, and you are not ditching out on this audition, cucciola.”

Well, shit. Her sister could read her like a fifty-foot billboard. “Has anyone ever told you that you are a mammoth pain in the ass?” Jo asked, unable to do anything other than give in to her laugh.

Frankie matched her laugh in reply. “I’m a detective, sweetheart. Mammoth pain in the ass is pretty much my job description. Now, come on. Since you’re not going back to Savannah for another three weeks”-this, she punctuated with a lift of one dark brow-“let’s get you out of this cold and in front of a good, hot meal, okay? The Crooked Angel is the best bar and grill in the city. You’ll love it.”

Jo gave in to the warmth of her sister’s welcome, stowing away her unease over the audition for now. She was spending three weeks in Remington, taking some much-needed time to catch up with Frankie, her boyfriend Shawn, and Shawn’s daughter, Isla, as well as prepare for the audition itself, which was scheduled for two weeks from now. Landing the role might be a longshot, and her already fragile ego might take a shellacking in the process, but there was a silver lining, here.

Linking arms with Frankie, Jo listened to her sister chatter happily about her recent move-in with Shawn and Isla and her even more recent job with Remington’s Vice Unit as they made their way over the sidewalk and into the brightly lit bar and grill. Frankie’s road had been harder than most, and the joy on her face made Jo’s heart squeeze.

Whoa, that joy turned into something other-worldly as soon as Frankie got to a nearby table and caught sight of her boyfriend, Shawn.

“Hey,” Frankie said, smiling as she leaned in to give Shawn a quick kiss. “Look who I found. The soon-to-be-famous actress!”

“Hey, Jo,” Shawn said, standing up to hug her. “You made it.”

Jo lifted a brow at Frankie-who threw on her best what? expression- but kept her smile in place. For better or worse, she was here for this audition. She even had her very own place to relax and prepare for the audition, since Frankie still had the lease on her old apartment for another month. Jo might as well make the best of the trip, even if her sister was having some serious delusions of grandeur. “Yep. I sure did.”Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

“Well, it’s great to see you,” he said, and Frankie nodded, gesturing to the group seated around the table.

“These are the detectives from the Intelligence Unit. Addison Hale”- the petite blonde on Shawn’s other side lifted her bright pink Cosmo and smiled a greeting-“Matteo Garza and Liam Hollister”-the two men across from Shawn and Addison, one dark-haired and the other sporting a neatly trimmed auburn beard and a knit beanie, nodded a hello-“and that cutie pie at the end of the table is baby Elijah, and his mother, Isabella Walker.”

“It’s nice to meet all of you,” Jo said. She slid into the empty seat at the head of the table, situating herself between Shawn and Frankie. “No Isla tonight?” Jo had met the sweet three-year-old last month when the trio had visited Georgia, post-holidays.

“We came here right from work,” Shawn said, his eyes lighting up at the mention of his daughter. “So she’s still with our nanny, Annette. But she’s excited to see you this week.”