Breaking Character

by Lee Winter

  Elizabeth stared at the lack of Hunter hashtag. She re-read the words, turning them over, puzzled. Then the reason hit her.

  Oh. Oh hell.

  To Summer, the photo hadn’t been about politics or a clever way to thwart Lenton’s games. She’d made the hashtag suggestion in case Elizabeth had been worried, to protect her. But Summer never said she cared herself about any gossip from the photo. Besides, for Summer, today had been a date. A way for Elizabeth to see who Summer was and to share in what she loved most—architecture, photography, LA, food.

  And what had Elizabeth done? Turned it into a publicity stunt. And even though Summer had suggested the tag, it didn’t mean she agreed with it. That much was now clear.

  She dropped the phone to the side table and stared up at the night skies. What does that woman see in me?

  Her phone rang. She braced herself when she saw the name on her screen. “Hello, Delvine.”

  “Hashtag Hunter? Oh, and lovely photo, Bess.” Delvine sounded amused at least.

  “Oh, that.” She sighed, hoping she sounded bored. “Lenton threatened me, so I’m firing a few shots across his bow.”

  “Which threat is it this time?”

  “Spreading the word that I hate Summer and am jealous of her and we’re enemies on set.”

  “I see. Who took the photo?”

  “A waitress. Are you too annoyed?” Life was always much easier when she was in Delvine’s good graces.

  “No, darling. I wish you’d cleared it with me first, but what’s done is done. Rachel will probably have conniptions yet again but leave her to me. Tell you what, though, next time get the waitress in the photo. Looks less date-like. And, Bess, did you actually take a close look at the photo?”

  Her stomach sank. “No. Why?”

  Delvine’s laugh was soft. “Oh honey, you’ve got it bad. Night.”

  The call ended.

  Elizabeth quickly pulled the photo back up and zoomed in. What was Delvine talking about? There was nothing really out of the ordinar… Oh. Oh.

  There was such a softness in her gaze as she looked at Summer. Real affection. Far, far too much of it. Nervously, she slid her eyes over to Summer’s face—blue eyes sparkling with laughter, smile curled, and gaze fixed on Elizabeth in quite possibly the sweetest look anyone had ever given her.

  Only the most cynical hack would call this a publicity stunt. And Elizabeth might as well have just put a sign on her head saying, Thornton has the hots for her co-star.

  Or maybe that look said she wanted to love Summer…for a long, long time.

  Would that be so bad?

  The thought stopped her cold. Well. That went a long way to answering the question about whether she was over Grace.

  For the past eighteen months, long before she’d met Summer, she’d been mentally edging away from Grace, painfully aware that giving everything of herself to someone who didn’t return her feelings wasn’t healthy. Only when Grace had kissed her had Elizabeth realized how effective her emotional distancing had been. The revelation had felt like a bullet whizzing around her head: I don’t love Grace.

  Not just that. Even Elizabeth’s attraction for her had shriveled up. Seeing a soul’s ugliness was like being doused in cold water. Grace’s impact on her couldn’t be dismissed so easily, though. The woman had shaped who Elizabeth was. She’d never forget her. She couldn’t. But…was it time? Could she file Grace away as an influential figure from her past, and simply turn the page?

  Am I ready to move on?

  Her gaze fell to the photo again. She was leaning into Summer, eyeing her with so much affection. The answer was right there. She’d been blind not to see what her manager had realized with a single glance.

  I already have.

  Her phone rang again, and she answered, stabbing the green button, barely looking at the screen. “Delvine, I really don’t think…”

  “Bess?”

  She paused. “Summer?”

  “Yeah.” The voice was small and soft.

  There was silence for a long beat, but Elizabeth waited, brows drawing together.

  “Bess, I’m sorry I got a bit weird at the end of our…day out. I wasn’t fair on you. I should have explained what I was doing when I invited you.”

  “No, I should have figured it out. It’s been awhile. Sorry I was slow.”

  “Please, don’t take any blame. It’s on me. I think…I just wanted to see how you fit into my world. If you could, you know?”

  “And did I?” Elizabeth held her breath, then wondered why she had.

  “Yeah. You really did. I love how you got my architecture thing. How you tried a burger and didn’t sneer at my diner. I loved all of it… I just…really wanted it to be a date.”

  “I know.” Elizabeth ran a hand through her hair. “I understand.”

  “That’s all I had to say. Okay?”

  “Summer? I think…I wanted it to be a date too.” Her heart picked up pace at the admission.

  “Oh.” A pause. “Oh? Oh!”

  Elizabeth smiled at Summer’s audible excitement. “Yes.”

  “But…what about Grace?”

  “Grace is…dead and buried now. It feels right. Finally.”

  “Not literally I hope?” There was a smile in Summer’s voice. “I mean, I really like you and all, but I’m not sure I want to serve fifteen-to-twenty for being an accessory after the fact.”

  “You really like me?” Pleasure colored her voice.

  “A whole lot. God, I tried not to. You were so focused on Grace. And it was complicated. But I couldn’t help it. I’d love to date you. Be with you. All of it. Everything.”

  “Oh, Summer. I wish you were here right now.”

  “Me too.” Summer let out a ragged breath. “I could…come back?”

  “I-I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Right.” She sounded deflated.

  “I have a rule. Never with a co-star. Maybe it’s a silly, arbitrary code I had drilled into me about keeping things professional. But I can see the sense in it.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  Elizabeth exhaled. “But they’re writing Hunt out soon, as you know. After that…”

  “After that?” Hope laced Summer’s voice.

  “I’d love to date you. If you’re agreeable.”

  There was silence.

  “Summer?”

  “Sorry. Can’t you hear me smiling? I’m smiling so loud I can’t hear myself think.”

  “That’s a yes then?” Elizabeth’s own smile threatened to swamp her.

  “It’s a big, fat, whopping yes.”

  There was more silence.

  “You’re still smiling, aren’t you?” Elizabeth guessed.

  “Big time.”

  She laughed. “Good night, Summer.”

  Chapter 24

  As the days slipped into weeks, and Hunt’s time on Hope drew to an end, Elizabeth’s scenes increased. Midnight finishes weren’t uncommon; she was starting to forget what daylight felt like. Texts, calls, and emails went unanswered. She hadn’t spoken to her friends in weeks.

  This is temporary, she reminded herself. Soon, she’d be free. She was itching to be alone with Summer. But not now, when she could barely keep her eyes open.

  Anticipation regularly edged their scenes together, the rising sexual tension increasingly palpable. If only people knew that the hungry way Chief Hunt regarded her medical resident didn’t require a great deal of acting. Elizabeth found herself longing to touch, a craving that was curiously satisfying. It fed her anticipation, which only made her think of what would happen soon.

  Summer, as Carter, responded the way she always did. Clever, subtle deliveries of dialog, laden with desire, paired with longing looks. The line between character and actress was blurring. It was all abo
ut the dance, the flirtation, the seduction. Okay, technically their characters were post-seduction now, since their attraction had been consummated two episodes ago in a drawn-out kiss and a tasteful fade-to-black.

  What a kiss that had been. Her whole body had quivered from it.

  After the director had called “Cut”, Summer had given her a pained, pent-up look and hissed in her ear, “You know this waiting thing is your idea. I expect you to make it up to me fully, later.”

  “You have no idea what I want to do to you,” she’d murmured back.

  That thought had curled her toes. Summer’s cheeks had been red for an hour.

  It was no secret Hunt was leaving Choosing Hope. The only question was how they’d handle her character’s exit. Hunter fans were begging for Carter to ride off into the sunset with her. Mendez’s fans hoped he’d push his scheming ex off a cliff.

  The day her character’s final script landed, Elizabeth read it immediately. She couldn’t wait for this to be over. No more insane hours. No more five o’clock starts, or enduring the shallow gossip of Jon, waving his weaponized lipstick pencils. No more abusive fans on the street. It’d be over soon.

  She turned the page to discover Hunt’s method of exit.

  Oh. Well. Elizabeth sighed. Of course that’s what they’d do.

  “Have you seen this?” The furious question and sound of her trailer door flinging open were almost simultaneous. Clearly someone was too agitated to knock.

  Summer was holding the script out in front of her between a finger and a thumb, as though it were diseased.

  “Ah, my savior,” Elizabeth drawled, setting her own script aside. “I take it you’ve just read about Hunt’s departure? And fierce Carter’s valiant efforts to save her?”

  Summer’s eyes flashed. “They’re killing her off.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can’t believe they’re still doing the dead gay trope. Did they learn nothing from The 100?”

  “Lenton wants to make certain he sees the back of me. I don’t think the gay fans entered his thoughts even once.”

  “Doubt it.” She tossed her script on the table and rammed her hands in her pockets. “I asked Autumn if we could fight it. She told me it’s not my show or my place. I know she’s right, but still.” Summer scowled. “Shit. Our fans are going to hate this.”

  Huh. Elizabeth looked up in surprise.

  “What?” Summer asked.

  “It’s so weird and new. Having fans who care about my character? I’m used to the pitchforks. To think I finally start liking Hunt again and this happens.”

  “Will you be okay to do it?”

  “I’ll just be lying there. You’re the one who’ll be doing all the traumatized acting.”

  “I guess.” Summer looked mutinous. “Why’d they have to do that?”

  “It’s the three Rs for network wins: revenge, ratings, and riled-up fans.” She rolled her eyes. “So, will you be okay?”

  “Yes.” Summer looked down.

  “Hey,” Elizabeth lifted her chin with a finger. “I’ll be right there. Just think of me.”

  “That’s the problem.” Her nervous gaze caught Elizabeth’s. “I will be.”

  Three days later, they were ready to shoot the death scene, and Summer had an infestation of nerves. The set was crammed—execs in suits, the whole writing team, and every staffer under the sun, all apparently pumped to see Choosing Hope dispatch TV’s most notorious villain.

  Ghouls.

  It didn’t help Summer’s mood that she’d barely slept in the past two days. Glancing around, she took in the gloomy front of the VA hospital where they shot Hope’s exteriors. The sun had just gone down.

  “This is ironic,” Elizabeth noted with a lazy smile as she approached. “This is where it all began for us.”

  “Yeah.” Summer rubbed her arms, encased in thin scrubs.

  “You’ll do fine. Hunt, on the other hand, not so much. The effects team meant business.” Elizabeth gestured to the fake head wound partially hidden by her hair.

  The injury wouldn’t be evident until Summer turned her body over. She shuddered. “No wonder I can’t save you.”

  “Indeed.” Elizabeth laughed softly and leaned in. “This really is full circle. Me covered in blood out here, you looking horrified about it.”

  “It’s not quite the same,” Summer muttered, feeling strangely empty. “For so many reasons.”

  Elizabeth didn’t answer that. “Come on, it’s almost time.”

  Shivering, Summer nodded, mentally reviewing the scene again. A car would crash into Elizabeth’s stunt double in a hit-and-run. Carter would find her badly injured lover by the side of the road. She’d check the neck for a pulse, roll her over, discover the head wound, start to unravel, then suck it up, become all business, and begin a futile series of chest pumps.

  Mendez fans would be thrilled. Until they found out their hero was behind the wheel. Christ.

  So much bad drama, so little time.

  “Action!”

  Joey Carter skidded to Chief Hunt’s side, fear filling her face. Dropping to her knees, she rolled the prone body over and gave a strangled cry. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared into Hunt’s slack features. “You won’t die!” She said it sternly, like an order.

  You won’t die.

  With trembling hands, she shifted matted, bloodied hair away from Hunt’s temple and took a look at her battered face. The effects team had done an incredible job—sickeningly so. For a second, it was as if Elizabeth was lying there, about to leave her.

  You won’t die.

  “Don’t die,” Summer whispered, forgetting her line. It wasn’t a demand at all this time, but a pathetic, gasped plea. “Oh my God, please, no don’t die.” Her voice did a little wobble as Summer tried to ground herself and remember what was next.

  Chest compressions. She knew this. Okay. Closing one flattened hand over the other, Summer placed them on Elizabeth’s chest as she’d been instructed, and began. She magnified her elbow movements to make it look as though she were pressing harder than she was. She’d practiced for ages on a dummy, then on Elizabeth’s body double, under the medical supervisor’s scrutiny.

  “Don’t die,” she said under her breath with each compression. After counting ten compressions, Summer leaned forward and placed her lips on Elizabeth’s, puffing out her cheeks to simulate blowing into her mouth. The warmth under those blue-tinged lips was so reassuring that she felt ridiculous for her initial, fearful reaction.

  Damn, she’d probably already screwed up the scene by being too emotional. A tear in the corner of Elizabeth’s eye slowly leaked down her cheek. That did it. Summer’s heart clenched, and without even thinking, she leaned in and whispered, “Damn it, don’t die! You won’t. I love you. You can’t leave me.”

  “Cut!”

  Oh shit.

  Summer had no idea where that had come from. Or rather, she had a disturbingly good idea. And it was the exact opposite of what the script called for.

  Chaos reigned.

  The crew broke into applause. Ravitz, Hugo, and Lenton fell into a furious discussion about whether to keep the ad-lib, shooting dark looks her way.

  Elizabeth sat up, her gaze darting between the argument and Summer.

  Sitting back on her heels, Summer groaned.

  “This could take a while,” Elizabeth noted. “I don’t think adorable Joey’s supposed to be in love with a villain.”

  Well, Joey might not be, but…shit, shit, shit. “Yeah. Sorry, they’ll probably make us do it over. But screw that walking-the-line thing they’ve been writing for us. Of course Joey loves her girlfriend.” Oh sure, that’s why you said it.

  Elizabeth regarded her with interest. “Well, perhaps they’ll keep it. The crew’s ovation will give them pause. Either way, I gather you did
brilliantly. Although, my eyes were closed so I’m not a reliable witness. You did sound appropriately lovesick though.” She smiled.

  Embarrassment flooded Summer. Not only had she been unprofessional, apparently she’d sounded lovesick.

  This fucking job, though! Seriously—it was insane the anguish she had to put herself through some days. She clambered to her feet. “Look, while everyone argues how badly I messed up, I’m just gonna take a quick break.”

  Without waiting for an answer, Summer darted toward the trailers, just as Ravitz’s bellowed “Take ten, people” reverberated after her.

  Worry burned through Elizabeth’s chest as she watched Summer run. They’d all forgotten lines or ad-libbed every now and then. It happened. Except Summer looked deeply troubled. After a few minutes, she shot a look at Finola and indicated where she was heading. Her assistant frowned and pointed to the fake wound on her head.

  Elizabeth nodded, appreciative of her thoughtfulness, and hid the unsightly scar with her hair. No point freaking Summer out more.

  She found Summer sitting on her trailer steps, arms around her legs, looking miserable.

  At Elizabeth’s approach, she gave a sheepish grin. “I forgot my PIN code to unlock the door. All these months, I never forgot it once, but today? No clue.”

  Tilting her head toward her own trailer, Elizabeth said, “Let’s use mine, okay?”

  Without a word, Summer stood, brushed off her scrubs, and followed.

  Once they stepped inside and closed the door, Elizabeth gestured her to a seat. “Drink?”

  “No thanks.” Summer sank to the couch.

  “Hey?” Elizabeth waited until Summer met her eye. “We’re alone. Be honest: Are you okay?”

  Summer’s head fell into her hands. “God…it’s…I know it’s only acting. But still. Hunt and you do have a couple of things in common. It was hard.”

  “My cheekbones, right? I hear we have that in common,” Elizabeth joked.

  “And the beautiful hair,” Summer said, with a tiny smile. “And gorgeous gray eyes.”