"Can you make it last?” Naomi finally asks.

I’m gut-punched. I have to fight hard to control my breathing. Her one question holds all my dreams, wants, and needs.

ZAHN

“Do me a favor.”

Four words to f--k up my already f--ked up world. Although I’m dealing with enough shit, my dumb ass agrees. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I would be standing face-to-face with her: the Naomi Henson.

Oh, the countless times I whacked off to her growing up. I should be on a cattle drive, yet here I am, training her to ride horses for a role. I don’t doubt my friend asked for this "favor" knowing damn well I wouldn’t pass up the chance of possibly teaching Naomi how to ride a beast of my own. It’s Austin’s way of forcing me to stick around, to deal with people that are more like lingering shit on the bottom of my boots.

Yeah, it’s time I dealt with these f--kers of the past…and hopefully, I’ll get a sweet piece of Naomi as my reward.

NAOMI

Washed up.

Has-been.

Past her prime.

All the phrases that have been used to describe me and my acting career. I guess you can add reformed crackhead and whore to the list, too. No one is to blame. Well, many are, but complaining won’t change the nature of the beast that says that a man in this industry can work 'til he’s wheeled out with wrinkles and a shady past.

However, a female actress, no matter how great her talent, has a limited shelf life. The doors her age doesn’t close, her mistakes being played out in a constant loop will. I faced the hard facts that it’s a man’s world in Hollywood a long time ago. Being 42 years young is a death sentence in the industry.

Yet here I am. Completely gobsmacked at the offer of the role of the century. We’re talking leading lady, Oscar-worthy. Then fast-forward to...

“Can you make it last?”

What the hell am I saying? I’m here to train for my comeback role, not for whiskey and a roll in the hay. Now this good-looking, tall, 48-year-old joker that seems to say all the right lines from the raunchiest Native American romance novels is f--king me up.

Zahn Ewing needs to get a clue. I’m just faking it in hopes that I make it again. If he knew, I mean really knew my history, my secret, he would understand why I pop pills just to be able to look at myself in the mirror. He would understand why I, of all people, don’t deserve a second chance at anything…and I damn sure don’t deserve the likes of him.