by Juniper Hart
“I’ve never had an actor not know the difference between ‘disarray’ and ‘dysentery’!”
Audrey grunted, not wanting to talk so poorly about her co-star anymore, especially when she could see that Alex felt badly enough about it as it was. Instead of answering Mike, she abruptly turned and walked away, leaving him grumbling to himself.
“He’s mad,” Alex commented observantly.
“He’s Mike,” Audrey said, joining his side. “He’s always mad about something. Be honored he focussed his misery on you over all the other things he loves to gripe about. You’re like the star of the day.” She tossed him a warm smile and shook her straight, strawberry blonde hair so that it shone in a shimmering waterfall.
“I’m just overtired,” Alex mumbled by way of explanation, but Audrey held up her hand again, silently telling him not to waste his apologies on her.
“You don’t need to tell me about how hard this is,” she promised. “I’ve been where you are, remember? Even Mike has been where you are, even if he doesn’t remember through all that bile brewing in his brain.”
“Yeah, but now you’re the most sought-after actress in Hollywood.”
“Because I worked my butt off for years to get here,” she insisted. “You’ll get there, too.”
Alex gave her a wary smile which reeked of disbelief. Not that she blamed him. He didn’t have the drive for this business. Someone in his hometown had probably told him he had movie star good looks, and here he was. He was lucky, though—at least he’d had doors opened for him. Most guys like him just faded away into nothingness. Then again, there was still a good chance that Alex would follow that same path.
“It’s hard to believe you’re so nice,” he muttered. “When people ask me what it’s like to work with you, they think I’m lying when I say you’re awesome.”
Audrey laughed. “I assure you, I have my days.” She had more than her days. Most of the time, she thought she was a neurotic shrew. Still, she was glad Alex didn’t think so.
“Not around me!” her co-star protested. “You’re always amazing to me.” There were almost stars in his eyes.
“Are you two done flirting?” Mike barked. “You know all of this costs money, right?” The director waved his hands around, and Audrey rolled her eyes with so much melodrama, she was shocked they didn’t fall out of her head.
“Does it?” she replied sarcastically. “I wouldn’t have known that if you weren’t talking about it every two seconds. Hey, Alex, did you know this all costs money? Peter? Josie? Did you guys know this costs money?”
The crew snickered, and Audrey turned her eyes back to Alex to give him a half-smile.
“You ready, Brandon?” she asked, and he nodded. “Come and tell Stacey how much you love her dysentery.” Alex blushed. Mike snorted.
“After you, Stacey,” he mumbled, extending his arm for her to pass.
They turned back to the scene, but as Audrey moved, her eyes rested on her assistant lurking in the background, her brown eyes wide with worry. A stab of unease touched her heart when Carrie met her gaze.
Oh, not now, she thought.
“Hang on a second,” she told the others.
“AUDREY!” Mike yelled. “Come on!” She ignored him and rushed toward her assistant.
“What’s wrong?” Audrey asked Carrie, but the smaller girl shook her head.
“It’s nothing,” Carrie said. It was obvious that she was lying. “Do your scene before Mike has a coronary.”
“He’s apt to have one regardless. I’m here now, so tell me.”
“It’s really nothing important,” Carrie said nervously, darting her eyes downward. “Go back to your scene, Audrey. Honestly.”
Audrey gritted her teeth, but before she could argue, Mike’s voice boomed out again.
“You two are going to be the death of me today!” he howled. “Can we get back to this scene?”
“We’ll talk after we’re done shooting,” Audrey told Carrie. She nodded but didn’t meet Audrey’s eyes.
“Sure,” Carrie mumbled, stepping back. That, however, did not give Audrey the boost of confidence she needed.
What is going on with her? Is it—?
“That’s it!” Mike roared. “I give up! I should have been a butcher like my mother wanted! You divas are too much!”
“Us divas? You need to untwist your panties,” Audrey snapped. “I’m coming.”
There was nothing she could do but wait until after they were done for the day to speak with Carrie. Audrey had a sinking feeling in her stomach that she knew exactly what was troubling her assistant. And if it was what she thought, it was better that they didn’t discuss it when she was working. It would just serve as a distraction.
“Everything okay?” Alex asked when she resumed her position in the scene. Audrey nodded quickly at him.
“It will be,” she assured him before turning to Mike. “Well?”
“Well, what?” Mike retorted from where he had plopped back in his director’s chair.
“Are we doing this or what?” she demanded in disbelief. “Come on! This is costing money!”
It was well after midnight when shooting wrapped for the day, and Audrey was exhausted. She found every step almost insurmountable, like there were weights chained to her legs. It was a common feeling after a day of extreme shooting from dawn to late at night. The variety of locations and poses, the endless shifting and moving really wore her down. Her body sometimes felt broken in places she didn’t even know she had.
“Are you staying tonight?” Alex asked when they headed back to their trailers. They had an early scene in the morning, and it certainly made more sense than trekking back to Berlin, where they all held suites for their stay in Germany. They only had two more scenes to shoot in the middle of the Nuthetal-Beelitzer Sander Reserve before resuming their city shots.
“I guess I better,” Audrey replied, offering him a tight smile. “Doesn’t make sense to go and come back.” No matter how tempting a jacuzzi bath might be right now.
But work always came first. There would be plenty of time to relax after the movie was done. Until the next one. And there was always a next one. Audrey prided herself on keeping busy, because when she was working, she couldn’t fall into a pit of self-doubt or worry.
“It’s nice out here,” Alex commented. “I can see why all those old fairy tales take place in Germany. The forests are magical.”
“The Grimm brothers certainly captured their mystery,” Audrey agreed, but deep down, she didn’t find the forest as charming as her counterpart. To her, the shadows were menacing, the ancient trees, spooky. You’re acting like a baby. The whole world used to look like this once upon a time before mankind destroyed it. You wouldn’t have lasted two days as a pioneer.
She knew that was true from the time she had played a mail-order bride in a movie. That had been done in 2016, and she still found the setting unbearable. Maybe Audrey would have found Germany more entrancing if there weren’t other things weighing on her mind so heavily—dark things.
As if reading her mind, Carrie popped up unexpectedly in the blackness, causing both Audrey and Alex to reel back in shock.
“Jesus, Carrie!” Audrey growled. “We’re going to need to put a bell around your neck or something! You’re like a ninja!”
“Sorry,” the assistant said sheepishly. “I thought you saw me.”
“It’s impossible to see anything out here,” Alex countered, all eyes trained upward to the star-spangled night. The moon was barely a sliver, and Audrey found herself oddly drawn to it.
“Good night, Alex,” Audrey sighed, realizing that Carrie was casting her a furtive look, vying to capture her attention.
“Oh. Right, well, see you tomorrow,” he chuckled and moved away, leaving the women alone.
“He’s a little bit like a lost puppy, isn’t he?” Carrie commented. Audrey scowled slightly. She was tired of hearing Alex trashed for the day.
“Come inside,
” she said, ushering Carrie into the huge trailer. “It’s getting cold.”
Carrie followed, and inside, Audrey turned on every light she could find to illuminate the darkness she could feel falling over her. It didn’t matter how many bulbs were on—the tentacles of blackness were inside her, and no number of lamps would brighten that. She knew it had little to do with the actual night surrounding them and a lot to do with the expression on Carrie’s face when she sank onto one of the sofas near the door. On impulse, Audrey locked it, even though she knew there was no one around except the crew.
And I can trust the crew, she told herself. Right?
“Let me see it,” Audrey sighed, reaching toward her assistant for her tablet.
“We really should go to the police about this,” Carrie told her. “It’s getting terrifying.” Without a word, Audrey took the device from Carrie’s hands and read the latest in a string of disgusting emails which had bombarded her personal server for the past three months.
“Ugh,” Audrey muttered, reading the vile words in caps. “What a sicko.”
The words themselves weren’t offensive, but coupled with the three dozen messages she’d received in the past from the same untraceable address, it read as a death threat to her. The last ones she’d received had said, “I’m coming for you,” and “We’re going to be together.” This newest message simply read, “You can’t hide forever.”
“Audrey, we need to do something about this,” Carrie insisted when the redhead didn’t speak. “They’re coming more frequently.”
“I get hundreds of creepy emails and fan mail,” Audrey reminded her. “You’re getting worried about nothing.” Her voice radiated confidence she did not feel, because these emails were nothing like those sent by prepubescent boys. “Hell, the dick pics are way worse,” she continued, trying to wipe the stricken look from Carrie’s face. “And the political death threats? Those are always fun to read.”
“Are you trying to convince yourself or me?” Carrie demanded, the exasperation in her voice almost palpable. Audrey’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t need convincing,” she snapped. “I know there’s nothing to worry about. So what if this weirdo sends some bizarre notes?”
“He’s stalking you, Audrey.”
“He’s probably a thirteen-year-old living in his mom’s house,” Audrey corrected. “I’m hardly going to lose sleep over that. Kids like this want attention, and feeding into it only makes it worse.”
“A thirteen-year-old with an untraceable email address?” Carrie countered. “And ignoring it isn’t making it better—it’s getting worse.”
“Listen,” Audrey said in a reasonable tone. “If something had actually happened, I’d be concerned. Sticks and stones, Carrie.”
“I don’t want anything to happen!” Carrie cried. “Why do we have to wait—?”
“This conversation is over, Carrie. I’m going to bed. I have to be up before dawn at makeup and wardrobe so we can shoot that ridiculous swamp scene. I can’t wait.” Sarcasm oozed from Audrey’s tone.
Carrie’s mouth pursed into a line, but she knew Audrey well enough to know that it was pointless to argue with her boss when she had her mind made up.
“Fine,” Carrie said shortly, turning to leave. “Good night.”
Audrey watched her assistant amble out of the trailer and quickly locked the door behind her. Then she sank onto the very same sofa that Carrie had occupied to consider the latest email.
At first, Audrey had been as flippant about the messages as she claimed to be now. If there was one thing she’d learned about the public while being an actress, it was that there were a lot of freaks out in the world. When she had started out, her heart would race and she would freak out, but she quickly learned that she wasn’t alone, and soon she was swapping creepy messages with fellow actors. Sometimes they even learned they had the same jackass sending them messages. It had become comical, despite its darkness, but Audrey’s philosophy had always been, “If you don’t laugh, you cry.”
Usually, Carrie would simply save the nasty or lecherous mail in a separate folder and not mention it to Audrey, but it had become disturbing enough that the assistant brought it up. Audrey had a couple of bodyguards whom she used when she was filming publicly, but when she was home in LA, she resented the presence of strangers around her. It was bad enough that she had to employ Carrie, even though she’d developed a friendship with the mothering brunette. Ultimately, Audrey preferred her private time, and having outsiders around her made her uneasy. That was a Catch-22, though. If she was left alone, there was no one around to pull her out of the abyss of her own dark mind.
Eventually, however, Audrey knew she needed to do something to investigate the influx of these new emails. Instead of hiring a security team, she found a hacker. The man had come recommended by one of her former co-stars who had dealt with a similar problem. Her plan was simply to find out who was responsible for sending the borderline threatening messages and then figure out how to handle them. She had been certain it was no one special, but learning that the email server was being rerouted to not be traced had been alarming.
Since then, Carrie had been pushing for Audrey to beef up her security, though the actress wasn’t convinced.
Nothing has happened, she thought. She’s working herself up over nothing.
Yet as Audrey sat, her neck stiff with tension, she knew that she was just as concerned as Carrie. She couldn’t deny that someone was preying on her, even if they hadn’t made their move yet.
2
Nigel snickered loudly, and Randi punched him in the arm, causing him to yelp in pain.
“Shut up,” she chided him. “It’s sweet! Just because you’d never think to say anything like that doesn’t mean it’s cheesy.”
Nigel rubbed his arm and snorted. “It’s cheesy. You know some lonely broad wrote it because you chicks eat it up in spades. Aren’t I right, Hudson?”
Hudson swept a stray strand of wheat-blond hair out of his eyes and looked up from where he was grilling burgers on the barbecue.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he replied, and he meant it. He hadn’t been listening to their squabbling. It wasn’t so much that he was used to the couple’s incessant bickering; it was more that he had something else on his mind.
“The movie, Where the Heart Follows. It’s good, isn’t it?” Randi asked, and Hudson cast her a blank look.
“No idea. Never seen it.”
“Man, you dodged a bullet on that one,” Nigel chortled. “This one dragged me into watching this in the theater. I’m not kidding, Hudson, I almost started smoking again. I’ve never seen so many lonely chicks sobbing in one place. She’s never allowed to pick a movie again.”
“It wasn’t that bad!” Randi squealed in protest, and Hudson shook his head in bemusement. It was stunning to him that anyone could get so annoyed over the difference of an opinion about a movie.
“What’s it about?” he asked, trying to keep the disinterest out of his tone. After all, he had invited the pair over to distract him. The least he could do was pretend to pay attention to what they were saying.
“It’s a rom-com,” Nigel interjected before his wife could launch into an elaborate plot. “Nothing that would interest you.”
“It’s good!” Randi insisted defiantly. “Really good!”
“Who’s in it?” Hudson asked, mostly to be polite.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Nigel groaned. “Don’t encourage her. She’s going to recap the entire awful plot.”
“Audrey Crane and Stephen Preston. She plays a widowed heiress, and he’s a doctor with the WHO.”
“Who?” Hudson asked, glancing at Nigel.
“No, WHO!” Randi cried. “WHO, the doctors.”
“Dr. Who?” The conversation was taking a weird turn, even for Hudson, who usually had no problem keeping up with Randi.
“Luv,” Nigel sighed, his British accent laced in exasperation. “It’s pronounced W-
H-O.”
Randi pouted and folded her arms over her chest, throwing her head back. “Whatever. You know what I meant.”
“I know what you meant, but clearly, Hudson didn’t. You have the most charming way of losing people when you speak.” Randi glowered at him, recognizing the backhanded compliment for what it was.
“Audrey Crane. I should check it out,” Hudson murmured, his mind on the move again as the pair started on another endless quibble. The echo of Landon Burke’s visit still reverberated through his mind, and as he stared at the duo seated at the cast iron patio set, his memory remained on the Lycan’s warning:
“You don’t need to make yourself known if you choose not to do so, but you must keep an eye on her.”
“I don’t know how you expect me to do that when she’s constantly traveling,” Hudson had replied. He was opposed to the task at hand as such, but he knew it was daunting, to say the least.
Being a pack leader for over two centuries had mellowed him a great deal more than some of his counterparts, though age tended to do that with any species. Hudson Fowler, for his part, had learned to expect the unexpected and roll with it accordingly. Perhaps it was why he functioned so well with a lot going on. He wasn’t the CEO of a telecom company by luck or privilege. Like every other career he had paved for himself, he had worked like mad to get where he was.
“How are those burgers coming?” Nigel asked, bringing Hudson back to the present, and he jumped slightly, noting how he was overcooking the meat.
“They’re ready,” he answered, pulling them from the grill before he could do more damage.
“We lost you there for a minute,” Nigel chuckled. Hudson smiled, forcing himself to focus on the couple again.
“I’m here,” he assured his friend. “Let’s eat.”
“He’s thinking about the movie,” Randi called gleefully, making Nigel roll his eyes. “I saw the way his eyes lit up when I told him about Audrey Crane. I think Hudson has a crush on her.”
