L.A. Spa

Chapter Four: Does She Know Who I Am?

Jordan Ryan's POV:

It was the same woman from the club. I had not realized until she handed her phone over; it was the same brick of a smartphone I had held a couple of nights ago.

What were the chances?

If she knew who I was, she did not let on. Calling me Mr. Williams anytime she talked to me.

She knew it was me, the man from the club at least. Her toned changed as soon as she saw me open the door. The only giveaway she may know that I was Jordan Ryan was that she asked if she was at Mr. William's house.

Williams was my off-screen name, something I used for legal reasons. Jordan Ryan was just a screen name. "A name to fit the face," my agent had said when I started auditioning for movies as a teenager. Two first names were tested out, and people liked it. After making the name change, I landed my first role on a family sitcom. For whatever reason, it worked.

Eight years later, I was one of the most prominent movie actors, from action-packed to sappy romance movies. I did it all. Romance movies were one of my favorite things to sign up for; they were easy and usually took less time to film than an action-packed movie. Too many retakes needed to be done, and they usually ran longer than the schedule ever said. A lot of green screen time. Romance movies we shot all over.

If my agent had his way, I would be signing up for another six-month-long filming shoot, but it would be here in Los Angelos. He will get extra points if he can lock it down for me. Home projects were the best.

I had just returned from filming overseas. Not that I didn't enjoy traveling and seeing different parts of the World, but it was nice to be home and try to enjoy the mansion I had been able to afford after many years of acting.

"You have a look on your face." Amanda, my assistant and lifesaver said, bringing in my high protein smoothie.

"Just thinking I may need another massage."

Amanda's face drops. "Delaney already called me and tried to do damage control over last night. She is willing to comp you for her next three massages."

I paused, sipping my smoothie to look up at her so she could explain. She does not, so I have to say, "explain."

"She called this morning to assure me that she will not miss her next appointment. And to apologize for the fill-in, she sent last night."

The most surprising part of last night was that I could fall asleep on the massage table. Not once had I felt relaxed enough with Delaney that I could fall asleep. I could tell from how my back felt and the knots that were misplaced that Emma had indeed massaged me even while I slept.

"Call her back; let her know I only want Emma moving forward."

Amanda winces again. "I do not know if that is doable."

Now this made me pause. Amanda was an ass-kicker, take no prisoner type of assistant. She never let it be known when a task was doable or not.

"Why not?" I asked.

"I don't know if Emma will take the job."

I nod my head. Maybe she did not know who she had massaged last night. Most massage therapists would be racing to massage me.

"Make it happen," I said, pointing my eyes at her. "Better yet, get me Emma's phone number, and I will call her myself personally."

Amanda does a good job of trying not to act surprised by this, but after all, she was not the one getting paid to act for a living. I was.

I now had a two-hour workout session with Jerome that had been long overdue since leaving. He would make me regret that I was back in the United States and not overseas filming. I was ready for it. I wanted to feel the pain the next day after the long strenuous workout. And if I didn't feel it, I would know I didn't go hard enough.