Free Secrets by Danielle Steel Page B

yourself in the bathroom and read it.
    I'll read it, I'll read it. Believe me, you don't have to beg.
    Good. And call me after you see him.
    You got it. He hung up with a boyish grin, and looked pleased with himself as Adam smiled.
    Something new?
    That was my agent.
    I figured.
    He didn't even dare tell his friend about the Wechsler series they were casting. He didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his chance. Hell, maybe one of the guys at the bar would overhear and want to try out for it too, and he didn't want to lose the part. He felt as though he were walking on air for the next six hours, and he wasn't even tired when he got home at eleven that night. There was a moment of dread as he opened the door, fearing that Sandy might be in bad shape, and would cause a scene. He just wanted to be left alone to read the script Harry had left in the mailbox for him. It was there, just as he'd promised it would be. And the cottage was empty when Bill walked in, except for Bernie, the Saint Bernard, waiting for him and the scraps he had brought home from Mike's. He let him out in the garden, put the scraps in his bowl, and helped himself to a beer from the fridge before sitting down with the script. He was still worried about Sandy, but it was a relief not to find her at home. He just didn't want to have to deal with her problems. Not tonight. He wanted to read the script, and prepare for his meeting with Mel Wechsler the next day.
    It was one o'clock when he finished the script, and his heart was racing he was so excited. It was the best part he'd ever read, and it was tailor made for him. He knew he could do a hell of a job, if he could just convince Wechsler of that. He couldn't sleep when he got to bed. He just lay there thinking of the script, and the kind of series it would be. Just thinking about it made him want it so badly he could taste it. It was four o'clock when he rolled over in bed, still half awake, and he thought he heard a noise outside, and figured it was Sandy. But it wasn't. It was probably a raccoon, foraging for something to eat in the garbage cans. Sandy never came home that night, and he was half relieved and half worried about her as he shaved the next morning. Life was a hell of a lot simpler without her, but that was sad too. He remembered what they had once shared, and thought of what it could have been like, if they had ever had a chance at a real marriage. He wondered if they ever had, or if the relationship had been doomed from the beginning. He hadn't wanted to believe it then. He still remembered their honeymoon at the Mauna Kea in Hawaii, and how sweet she had been to him. She was always sweet to him, but that wasn't enough anymore. It didn't compensate for the agony she caused him, worrying about her day and night. But he couldn't afford to think about that now, neither the good times, nor the bad. He had to concentrate his whole being on his meeting with Mel Wechsler. That was all he could think of now.
    He waited for the bus, thinking of the script again, and the trip to Wechsler's offices in Burbank didn't seem long at all. He was so excited he could barely breathe as he walked onto the lot, and gave the guard his name. He was expected and they told him which building to go to. He walked across the lot, and into a building, down a long hall, and into an anteroom with four secretaries in it and a wall of books and paintings. He gave the nearest secretary his name, and was told to take a seat, and he suddenly wondered why he had come. He would never get the part. It was just too big a break. And he probably wasn't ready for it.
    Mr. Warwick. They announced his name just as he was deciding that he should probably never have come, and he stood up, feeling like a small boy waiting to go into the principal's office, but his fears began to dissolve as he was ushered into Mel Wechsler's inner sanctum. He reached across his desk with an outstretched hand and a warm smile, his brilliant blue eyes