The Hottest Deal

by Paige, Violet

  I walked to the reading room, ready to start the second half of the readings for the afternoon. The door opened and Emmy was sitting at the table, two glasses of water in front of her. I shook my head. There was no arguing, she was giving the best performance of her life.

  * * *

  The air was cool against my chest. One of the crewmembers spritzed me with water along my back. I felt the droplets collect against my spine. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stay propped up like this. Yesterday I had lifted more than I had in six months, and my shoulders were killing me. Tom had been relentless about keeping me in shape. Not to mention the grueling lecture on my summer beer consumption. It seemed as if he enjoyed teaching me a lesson.

  I had been on the set for two weeks, and it still didn’t feel natural. I was resistant to Jared’s character.

  “Is this really necessary?” I was already tired of everyone pawing at me. Someone else was adjusting the sheet around my waist, draping it just below my hipbone. I felt more exposed.

  “Oh, Scott, why are you making such a fuss? I’m the one they are going to see topless.” Em giggled underneath me, her blond hair splayed along red satin pillows.

  “Glad you think it’s all funny.” I waited while my hair was ruffled.

  “I can do that, honey.” Emmy spoke to the woman messing with my hair, dismissing her on the spot. She reached up and let her fingers tousle through it. “You look good with this sexed up look. But I would have oiled you some, not just watered you down.”

  “Em, this is getting crazy.” We had been in this position for at least fifteen minutes, waiting to start the first sex scene of the movie. We had already been through all of the office scenes. It was time to hit the bedroom.

  “Why? Because we’re in bed with fifty people watching?” She smiled slyly. “Just pretend it’s us in Cabo.” She squirmed underneath me. I inhaled sharply as I felt her leg brush against mine. “You do remember Cabo, don’t you?”

  I hung my head. “Of course I remember that weekend.” I quickly brought my eyes back to hers. I was determined not to check out her perfectly perky breasts.

  “Then why can’t you act like it’s that weekend? You and me—a few margaritas. I don’t think we ever left the room, did we? There was no reason to leave.” I was worried her leg had started to move more intentionally.

  “You know why we can’t go there.” I tried to roll to the side. But if I did, I would take the sheet and everyone would see just how naked Emmy was. The gentleman in me couldn’t do that to her.

  Her eyes raked over my chest. “You don’t think we’re already back there?”

  “This is work.” I huffed. “It’s different.”

  “I don’t think you and I can ever be different,” she whispered.

  Before I could argue about why Cabo was in the past, the lights around us dimmed and a boom mic lowered over our heads.

  “Action!” Art Hampton called. “Wait! Where are the handcuffs? I don’t see them or the vibrator on the nightstand. Come on, people. The first scene in the bedroom and you forget the props?”

  As usual, Art was fuming at his crew. If nothing else, the director was a perfectionist.

  In an instant, an array of sex toys was deposited next to us. I tried to look at them as if they were my usual props like a gun or a high-tech spy watch, not something that was intended to make my co-star writhe in pleasure.

  “Now, action!”

  I tried to clear my head. This was not Emmy under him. It was Evangeline and I was Jared. I stared into her eyes and started my lines. Only this time Em was moaning. Her chest was heaving. She wrapped her leg around my waist.

  By the time the scene wrapped, I was exhausted. I didn’t want to admit it was from fighting back physical sensations that kept surfacing. A crew woman brought white terry cloth robes so Emmy and I could make it back to our trailers completely covered. It was enough that everyone had just seen me handcuff her and lick every part of her body.

  I slumped on the couch in my trailer. That was just the beginning, scene one. What had I done by agreeing to this movie? I opened a bottle of water and chugged it.

  My phone rang on the table and I picked it up.

  “Hey, darlin’.”

  “Hey, you. How’s it going? I can’t believe I caught you.” Avery sounded happy. “I never get you on the phone in the middle of the day.”

  “Yeah, we just wrapped up a scene, and I’m taking a break. Maybe a nap.” I looked at the couch, knowing my legs would dangle over the end but not caring.

  “I have some news.”

  “What’s going on?” Her calls were my favorite part of the day. They didn’t happen nearly enough. Some days I was lucky if we answered texts within an hour of each other.

  “Reagan’s going out on the road for a spontaneous mini-tour. We just finished five more songs, so she thought I should take some time off.”

  “Really? That’s great.” I was off the couch, suddenly feeling energized.

  “Yeah, so can I come out there? I don’t think I can go another day, Scott.”

  Her words pierced my chest. “Of course you can. I’ll call Bud right now and have him get the jet ready, and you can be out here tonight. Does that work?”

  “Yes. I’m already packed.”

  I chuckled. She had already predicted my reaction. “I don’t know how long I’ll be on set tonight, but I’ll make sure you can get into my suite.” The schedule on this movie was never reliable. Some nights we were working until after midnight.

  “Ok, don’t worry about me. I’m so excited that I doubt I’ll be able to sleep. I’ll stay up as long as it takes.”

  “Sounds good, darlin’. I’ll text you when I get everything set up.”

  “I can’t believe I get to wake up with you in the morning.” It came out as a sigh, and I couldn’t think of a more beautiful sound.

  “Me too, baby. All right, let me go so I can get you out here. My breaks don’t last forever.”

  “Right. See you tonight.”

  “Bye.”

  I hung up and started making the calls that would bring Avery to me. I had waited two weeks for this.

  Ten

  Avery

  Since I had met Scott, this was the longest amount of time we had gone without seeing each other. Over the past two weeks, I had spent my time at the studio with Reagan either writing music or listening to her lay tracks for the next album.

  A few afternoons when Reagan had to leave early for press commitments, I had even tried to find the secret fishing hole. But I always seemed to walk in the wrong direction. The ranch wasn’t the same without Scott. Everything felt quieter and empty without him filling in the space.

  I watched the Texas fields scroll past as the jet climbed higher toward California.

  As soon as I heard Reagan was taking time off, I was ready to drive one of Scott’s cars west. But there was no way he would be ok with that. Maybe one day we could take a road trip together and get lost like he did over the summer, stopping at tourist stands and taking pictures in front of the Grand Canyon or the Space Needle.

  The white clouds surrounded my view, and I settled into my seat. In two hours, I would land in L.A. That’s the only thing that mattered. I closed my eyes and found sleep while the engines hummed and the plane rose higher.

  When the jet landed, there was a private car waiting for me on the tarmac. L.A. was better equipped to handle secretive passengers than the Austin airport.

  It didn’t take long to arrive at the hotel. I had always heard awful stories about L.A. traffic, but it didn’t seem to be a problem.

  For my first time in the land of glitz and glitter, I didn’t care about any of the hot spots. All I wanted was to see Scott. Hear his voice. Look into his eyes. Feel him pressed against me.

  “Can we get you anything else while you wait, ma’am?” The hotel valet stood in the doorway of the suite.

  “No, I’m fine, but thank you.”

  He made a slig
ht bow from the waist and backed into the hall with the valet cart.

  I surveyed the set of rooms that formed the suite. I walked to the closet and grabbed one of Scott’s T-shirts, pressing it against my face. There was that clean soapy scent I had missed. I inhaled again before returning the shirt to its hanger.

  It was almost seven. I hoped he was on his way home. I sent him a quick text.

  Waiting for you.

  There was no response. I tossed my phone on the couch and picked up the remote. I flipped through the channels until I saw Scott and Emmy’s faces appear on the Gossip Channel. The anchors were talking about Love & Bondage, and the rumors that Scott and Emmy had rekindled their romance.

  I cringed when I heard the woman call them “Scemmy.” Was that a thing? There was a reason I never read gossip magazines or paid attention to tabloid headlines. None of this was true.

  I was about to change the channel when a picture of Scott with his arm around Emmy flashed on the screen. For a second, I couldn’t breathe. It was as if all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room. But I focused on the picture frozen on the screen and realized they were somewhere tropical. There were sailboats behind them. It wasn’t a recent picture. It must have been dug out of their relationship archives. The feeling returned to my chest, and I took a normal breath. I turned off the TV.

  Rumors. They were only rumors. I knew Scott was over Emmy. But for the first time since he started working on the movie, I felt tinges of jealousy. The rest of the world didn’t know it was Hollywood spin. They thought there was a chance the couple had been brought back together by the movie. It made my stomach ache.

  It made sense in theory when Scott had proposed the idea of letting the press be misguided. But now that I could see it for myself, I wasn’t sure I was equipped to handle it. I didn’t want to share the headlines with him, but maybe it was worse having Emmy in his spotlight.

  I texted again.

  I’m in your suite. Can’t wait to spend the night with you.

  Fifteen minutes passed and I still hadn’t received a response. I pulled out one of my lyric pads and unclasped my guitar from its case. One of the perks of flying on the jet was that I could bring as much as I wanted. My writing sessions with Reagan might be on vacation, but there were still lyrics in my head. I settled back on the couch, tucking my feet behind me.

  Suddenly, I missed my hammock and the little porch on the beach house. All summer I had wanted to escape it, branch out into the real world. Now I was in the center of it, and the only thing I could think of was salt breezes and the sounds of the boats in the harbor.

  You haunt me like the wind

  Taking me back to where I’ve already been

  You think I can’t be happy without you

  But I can stand out of the shadows too

  That was all I had. I strummed a few more bars and glanced at the floor-to-ceiling windows. Where was he? I watched the lights dim over the Hollywood hills, wondering when I was going to see him.

  * * *

  I felt lips brush against my cheek. Someone was in the suite.

  “Avery, wake up.” A firm hand nudged my shoulder.

  I stretched upright, locking eyes with Scott. “Hey, what time is it?” I must have fallen asleep waiting for him.

  “I’m sorry it’s so late, but I couldn’t get out of there. It’s midnight. 2 a.m. Texas time. You’re probably exhausted.” He sat next to me on the couch. “But I’m so glad you’re here, darlin’.”

  I nodded, pushing myself forward. Midnight? He hadn’t called or texted the entire time. I wrapped my arms around him, wanting to feel the strength of his arms and the warmth of his skin. But my nose was hit with a sharp wave of perfume.

  Quickly, he pulled my hands off his neck and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m going to go take a shower, but I’ll be right back.”

  I watched him walk toward the bathroom. All the feelings of joy and anticipation of seeing him again felt shadowed and dark. Something was off, and I didn’t like the way he smelled.

  I slipped off the couch and crept to the bathroom door. I pushed it open slowly. Scott was standing under the stream of water. His back was facing me. I stared and took a step forward. It was covered in red lines.

  “Scott, what happened to your back?”

  He jerked and turned around. “Oh, that’s nothing.”

  “Nothing?” I opened the glass door and reached out to touch his skin. I didn’t care that the water was soaking my shirt.

  His eyes held me steady. “Baby, it’s from the movie. It’s not a big deal.”

  “Are they from Emmy?” I remembered the scene in the book.

  “Not Emmy, Evangeline.” His head tilted to the side, and I thought he was trying to soften the impact of the physical evidence.

  “Same person. Did Evangeline put these on your back?”

  “Yes, but they don’t hurt. They’ll be gone by morning.”

  I turned from the shower and closed the door behind me.

  “Avery, wait—” but I didn’t stop. I hurried through the suite, looking for a place that would offer comfort. But it just looked like a fancy hotel suite, not home.

  “Avery, we should talk about this.” Scott appeared dripping wet, holding a towel around his waist.

  “Is this what happens every day? Is the movie really this physical?” I tried to make the words smooth, but I choked in between questions.

  He hung his head. “You read the book. You know the storyline.”

  My eyes stung. “But I thought there would be doubles or something. Body doubles, right? There are supposed to be other people doing those parts.” This couldn’t be how it happened. Where were the special effects? There should be some makeup artist painting lines on his back, not Emmy.

  “You won’t see that much of it once they do the editing. No frontal nudity for me, I promise.”

  “Was frontal nudity an option?” I felt naive.

  Scott led me to the bed and sat on the corner. “Darlin’, in this movie, everything is an option.”

  “Does that mean Emmy is naked? Are you with her naked?”

  “It’s not like that. There are fifty people around us at all times. It’s choreographed and technical. I swear, absolutely no improv. I can’t even turn my head without them telling me which direction to go.” He paused. “I thought you were ok with all of it. Didn’t you tell me it would be hot if I did the movie?”

  “I didn’t know what I was saying. I didn’t know it would be like this.” I pointed to the top of his shoulder where the pink lines started. My inexperience in how movies were made was plastered all over my forehead. Scott stared at me.

  “I wouldn’t have signed on if you had said no.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “But I can’t back out now. I have a contract. I have to finish it.”

  My eyes fell to the quilt. I couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know what to say. All I can think about right now is you and Emmy.”

  “Hey, hey. Come here.” He pulled me against his chest. I felt the water droplets against my cheek. Thank God, the perfume smell was gone. “There is no Emmy and me. I am making a movie with her, yes. But as soon as we wrap, it’s over. I won’t see her until premiere week. This will all be over.”

  I nodded, but I felt as if I was agreeing to something I didn’t truly believe.

  “You know it doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s acting. I’m only acting.”

  I tried to nod.

  “How about we get some sleep? It’s late and we’ve both had a long day.” He maneuvered around me to pull the covers back and adjust the pillows. “We can talk some more tomorrow. I don’t have to be on the set until noon. We can sleep in. Have a nice breakfast.”

  How was I supposed to fall asleep next to him now knowing the marks on his back were real, and his hands had been on someone else?

  It wasn’t the night of passion and heated abandon I had planned. But I curled up against Scott, his palm planted on my hip. Within minut
es his breathing was slow and rhythmic, but all I could think about was that he had just spent the day in bed with Emmy Harper.

  I clung to the hope that, in the morning, I would wake up and all of this would be a dream. It was part of some big misunderstanding caused by an acute case of jetlag. There was nothing ok with this situation. If it wasn’t a dream, I was going to have to figure out a way to deal with being in love with the man staring in the most talked about movie on the planet.

  And his ex.

  * * *

  Scott’s voice was muffled. He was in a serious discussion with someone. I threw back the covers and padded into the next room.

  “I can’t keep her cooped up in here.” His back was to me. I listened. “This is crazy. I should be able to go out. Can’t you do something about it, Scott?” Scott paused. “I know, I know, but it was a surprise to me too. I didn’t know she was flying out. And what the hell is this ‘Scemmy’ crap?”

  I felt a sour pit fire in my stomach. I turned from the conversation and rushed to the bathroom. This was all a mistake. I should have stayed in Austin and worked on my music, or flown home to see my parents. My mother was dying for me to visit.

  I splashed cold water on my face and brushed my teeth. There had to be a way to get out of L.A. When I finally emerged, Scott was standing in front of a room service cart pouring two cups of coffee.

  “How’d you sleep?” he asked.

  “Fine.” I didn’t like the awkwardness that was starting to spread between us any more than his diversion tactics.

  “I thought we’d order some room service. These omelets aren’t as good as Lenny’s, but I had them add extra bacon for you.” He winked and motioned for me to join him.

  I sat at the bistro table in front of the balcony, feeling stiff and guarded. How was he able to act like everything was normal? He was one half of “Scemmy.” That was not normal.