CHAPTER 40
DAWSON
“Want me to order dinner?” Brax asked.
Dawson didn’t have much of an appetite, but he’d told Vi to go ahead and eat, so he figured he should do the same. Brax would get the club to send food over in a cab the way he usually did.
“Is steak on the menu today?”
Brax picked up the phone. “Two tenderloins, one rare, one medium rare.” A pause. “Scalloped potatoes. Thanks, Wendy.” He turned back to Dawson. “Forty-five minutes, which gives me enough time to deal with the rest of these damned emails.”
What time would things quiet down at the beach house? Dawson wouldn’t be surprised if David hung around all evening to check everyone behaved, like some ratings-obsessed chaperone. The man might have been a creative genius, according to the mutterings on set, but he was also f*
