In Your Dreams Bobby Anderson Read Online Free Page A

sweetie, you know, and I know, that you’re not going to kill anyone.”
    “Not true, Julie. I am going to kill som eone…”
    “Cut!”
    “This light is making me sweat like a pig!” Bobby was nervous. Had the scene gone well? Hard to tell by looking at Neil. He had a permanent scowl on his face that he probably even slept with. Who’s opinion could he ask?
    “Stay still . I’ll wipe that off for you.
    Was that Clarissa? Hmm, it felt good to get fussed over. Sometimes he loathed it , but today it felt fine. “So, what’d you think?”
    Was he seriously asking his makeup artist what she thought of his acting? How desperate was he? And where the hell was Patrick? This was the last scene in the movie; why wasn’t anyone there for him? He’d heard about this. It was called paranoia. But even the beach girl wasn’t thinking about him. Maybe she’d lost interest. Maybe. “Damn it!”
    “Sorry, did I do something?” Clarissa looked upset. She was young, twenty-one perhaps, not an old hand at dealing with movie stars. “I said you did great today. Did I say something wrong?” She held a makeup brush in one hand, a bottle of beige cream in the other, a trembling pout on her neon pink lips.
    “Sorry. It’s nothing to do with you. Can I get up now?” He rose before she could answer and headed towards the exit.
    “Be back in one hour, Bobby, ” the director’s assistant yelled out to him. Barney, or Barley, or Brady. Too many goddamn names to remember in this business .
     
    Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh. The waves lapped the beach. It’s you , Bobby thought, and there she was, walking towards him. The stresses of Devil Take You ebbed away with each retreating wave, and Bobby knew that this was definitely not stress related. This was just pure magic.
    This time he didn’t wait ―who knew when the dream would end? He wasn’t about to waste time throwing stones, even though he had an incredible urge to do so…
    “What’s your name? His voice broke through the sunrays and soft breeze. “What’s your name?” he asked again. His need to know so strong.
    She looked at him, puzzled. She kept walking up to him, as she always did, but never before had he seen the frown.
    “What is your name?” he asked a third time.
    Now she stood right in front of him. He reached out and took her hand in his. It felt soft and smooth and oddly cold in this heat.
    “What’s your name? ” he whispered, looking into her flashing green eyes, admiring her soft lips. He couldn’t keep his eyes from roaming her face. Freckles spread out from her delicate nose all the way to her rosy cheekbones. She was gorgeous.
    She opened her mouth , but no words came out. She still looked confused. She closed her mouth and opened it again, “D―don’t you know my name?”
    Now it was Bobby’s turn to look confused. He was about to say something when he saw that the words on her T-shirt weren’t fuzzy anymore. As clear as day they spelt “Susan”.
    “Susan. Your name is Susan. ”
    The girl smiled with relief, “Yes! That’s my name.” She seemed so happy about it, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
    Bobby was thrilled . He’d discovered her name and her voice, which was young and clear and plain beautiful, like the rest of her. He couldn’t place her accent though; New York perhaps, but definitely American, like him.
    “ You’re Bobby,” she said. “Bobby Anderson.”
    “Yes, that’s me. What’s your last name?” Bobby looked at her T-shirt again to see if it would give him the answer, but all it said now was “tired”.
    Bright lights.
    Faces looking down at him from above.
    Bri ght lights again.
    A woman smiling.
    A man frowning.
    “Mr. Anderson?”
    “Yes.” Ooh, what pain.
    “You fell, Mr. Anderson. ”
    “What?”
    “On the floor.”
    “Oh Christ, Bobby. ”
    “Patrick?”
    “Mr. Anderson has to rest.”
    “Five minutes. Just give me five minutes.”
    “Five minutes and I’m sending the