When the car comes to a stop, I let myself out and wait for her to get out, but she doesn’t get out on my side. Nope, not Erin. She gets out on her own side and smiles at the driver holding the door open. When she looks at me, her smile falls and the glare returns. I figure she’s probably thinking about ways to kill me. In my sleep. And bury my dead ass in the snow not to be found until spring. I shake my head. “Stop scowling or else you are going to need Botox,” I tell her, and it isn’t my finest moment.
“It’s okay. I’ll send you the bill,” she says, and we walk onto the lot. They rented out a huge ass warehouse. Actually, it looks like there are five warehouses. I see the row of trailers on the side and head to find mine. I walk down the path, looking at the names on the door, and finally see mine. It’s bigger than the others, which doesn’t surprise me since I’m the star. I walk up the two little metal stairs and open the white tin door. I step into the main room, which is in the middle of the trailer. To one side is the bedroom and bathroom, and to the other side is a long white leather U-shaped couch around a wooden table. Throw pillows on the couch face the kitchenette with a sink and microwave. I put my phone on the table. “Welcome to your office,” I tell her, and she comes in and puts her bag down. “I have to go to makeup. Do you want to come with me and see where the food is and all that?” She doesn’t answer me, obviously still pissed, and just nods her head. I walk back out of the trailer and see that people are slowly beginning to arrive. We walk back to where we were dropped off toward the door into the warehouse. The sign on the door says set one, makeup & costume, Ivan’s office, and then craft service.
I open the door and walk in, and the lights are all on. The warehouse has four separate sections in each corner. Some of the crew nod at me and then their horny eyes look over at Erin. I’m just about to give her an “I fucking told you so” look when I hear my name being called.
“Carter Johnson.” I hear Ivan’s thick Russian accent as he walks toward us with headphones around his neck and a shit ton of papers in his hand. He’s wearing jeans and a beige sweater over a dress shirt with the collar sticking up.
“Ivan,” I say. Walking to him, I extend my hand to him. He takes it and then brings me in for a side hug.
“Are you ready?” he asks me, and I just nod my head. This movie is not action packed like my last one was. This is an emotional one about a man on the hunt for his missing daughter who was kidnapped by his ex-wife. I knew I wanted this part. It was time for the world to see that I could do more than jump out of planes. “Did you see the other stages?” he asks me, and I just shake my head.
“No, we just got here,” I say and then turn my head to Erin. “This is Erin. She works for Hillcrest.”
His smile grows even bigger. “Such a beauty,” he says. “Why aren’t you in the movies?” I’m about to groan and roll my eyes, but I don’t. I watch her smile and put out her hand.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she says all professional, ignoring the comment about how beautiful she is.
“I have to make sure stage five is set up,” he says. “I’ll see you on set at six,” he says and walks away. I didn’t even notice the quiet young girl by his side. I turn back and continue walking when I see the makeup corner. Four chairs in front of huge mirrors with lightbulbs all around them.
I see the same makeup girl who is on almost every movie set I’m on. She sits in her chair, her brown hair twisted up in a bun, while she eats a piece of fruit and scrolls on her phone. “Do you want me before I eat or after?” She looks up, and I see her brown eyes light up.
“There he is, Mr. Johnson.” She waves at me and then looks at Erin. “Don’t tell me you bit the bullet and got an assistant?” She moves her head to the side, smiling at Erin while I shake my head. “Holy shit, are you two dating?” She puts her head back and howls out a laugh. “You owe me five thousand dollars.”
“What?” I hear Erin beside me.
“I don’t owe you shit,” I tell her. “This is Erin. She works for Hillcrest and is in charge of making sure I stay a good boy.” She then looks at me. “She bet me five thousand dollars that I would fall in love one of these days.”
“It’ll happen, and then I’ll be rich,” she says with her hands in the air. “I’m Mandy.” She looks at Erin. “And I take it back. No way would someone that pretty date you.” I roll my eyes at her. “You may be hot-to-trot, Mr. Johnson, but your belt is full of holes.”
I shake my head. “I don’t even know what that means.” I pretend and then Erin leans in.
“She means your Johnson gets around,” she whispers, and I look back at her. This time, I’m the one glaring.
“Whatever,” I say. “I’m going to eat.”
“I’ll see you when you’re done,” she says and goes back to her phone.
“I like her,” Erin says from beside me as we walk toward the craft service. I finally notice the hanging signs. They have put up walls, and there are about ten white plastic tables with chairs. Three tables are against the three walls. One table has cutlery, one has the drinks, and then there is a table with the food. I walk up and see a tray of sliced tomatoes, a tray of bagels, and another tray of cookies. A basket of chips. They do have a fruit bowl with apples, oranges, and bananas, and then a full bowl of berries.
“What do you want to eat?’ I ask Erin over my shoulder.
“To be honest, I’m really not hungry, but I will take another coffee,” she says as she walks over to the drink station and then looks at me. “Do you want one also?” she asks me, and I nod my head, grabbing a chocolate chip cookie and eating it. “Here is your regular coffee,” she says to me.
“I have to head to makeup,” I tell her, and she just nods. “Are you going to keep me company or head back to the trailer?”
“I don’t know,” she says. Taking a sip of her coffee, she debates what she wants to do.
“I would prefer you stay with me,” I tell her the truth, and she looks at me, tilting her head. “It’s dark out there and a long walk back to my trailer, and I don’t know if anyone is outside to watch.”
“So it’s not that you want me to stay and keep you company?” She laughs. “But you want me to stay in case I get slaughtered and then you feel bad.”
I shrug. “Yeah, something like that.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes. We walk back to Mandy, and I get in the chair. It’s been two months since I’ve seen Mandy, so she fills me in on everything I’ve missed, and like usual, I just smile and nod. I add in a comment here and there, but in the end, she never asks me what I was doing. I just have to think it’s because she’s asked in the past and I’ve never told her.
“There,” she says. “Nothing else is going to help this mug.” She laughs, and I get up. We walk out and see that the sun is slowly coming up. We walk toward the trailer, and I see more and more people showing up. When we get back into the trailer, my wardrobe is there for the day.
“Jeans and a plaid shirt,” Erin says. Shrugging off her jacket, she sits at the table and grabs her bag. I grab the clothes and start undressing in front of her. “Hey,” she says loudly, “go change in the bathroom.”
“What’s the matter?” I hold up my hands. “Stop being such a prude.” And I want to take the words back as soon as they come out because from the hurt look on her face, the comment clearly bothers her.
“If a prude means being respectful, then yeah, I’m a prude,” she says, and if she wasn’t stuck here, I think she would actually get up and leave. “I don’t undress in front of you, so can you show me the same respect?”
“Yeah, well, no one really wants to see you naked, so I think we are safe with that.” And again, I’m wondering how much shit can spew out of my mouth in the same breath. It would seem that was the straw that broke the camel’s back. She gets up, and I’m about to go to her, but something stops me. She picks up her jacket and purse and then looks at me.
“You’re right. No one probably wants to see me naked,” she says while
she puts her jacket back on, “but I, for one, am not interested in seeing you naked, so stop fucking assuming every double-X chromosome is hard-wired to want to see your dick.” She grabs her bag and starts to walk out.
“Erin,” I say, but she doesn’t stop. She just continues to the door. “Come on.”
“No,” she says, turning around. “I’m not going to be your punching bag anymore. You want to lash out, then get one of your whores to do that to. Or do they only get the good side of Carter?” She opens the door and walks down the two steps, and I hear her heels click on the asphalt as she walks away. I put my stuff on and walk back out, grabbing my phone and texting Erin. I wait two seconds and finally look down and see she hasn’t answered me back, so I call her and it goes straight to voice mail. I walk back to the craft table, and she isn’t there. I walk over by Mandy and find her working on someone else. As I turn to walk away, I crash into the girl from before who was with Ivan.
“Sorry,” she says, listening through her headset. “They are ready for you on the set, Mr. Johnson.”
“Um, yeah, sure,” I tell her.
“I’m Jennifer,” she says. “I’m Ivan’s assistant.” I nod at her and turn to follow her. My eyes roam the room, but I don’t see her anywhere. Stepping out the side door, I get into a golf cart while Jennifer gets in behind the wheel. She drives us right past stage two and three, stopping at stage four. “We are going to be here most of the day,” she says, and I get out, going to the door, and send Erin another text.
Me: Can you please answer me?
I wait to see if the three bubbles come up, but they don’t. When I walk into stage four, I see that the warehouse has two sections. One is a living room and the other is the kitchen. “We are filming in the living room first,” Jennifer says, and I walk over to find Ivan sitting in the chair with his name on it, and next to him is the woman who has me all up in knots. The woman who is making me say shit I don’t mean and driving me crazy. The woman who is going to be the death of me.
Chapter Twelve
Erin
When he called me a prude, it got me in the heart. Fine, I wasn’t out there, and yeah, I didn’t just have sex to have sex. And yes, people did call me a prude because I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea of casual sex. So hearing it from him hit a nerve, a nerve that had me blinking away the tears stinging my eyes. Then he made the cheap shot about no one wanting to see me naked. Fine, I didn’t really have much to show. My hips were really not there, my booty was just starting to grow since I began doing squats, and yes, I only had a B cup.
I wasn’t going to fight back. I wasn’t going to say anything to him. Instead, I was going to get my jacket on and go back to the house. Except in my haste to get the fuck away from him, I realized I didn’t even have the address to the house. I took my phone out of my pocket and saw that it was way too early to call anyone back at the office for the address, and that is when I bumped into Ivan.
“There you are,” he says. “I just got a phone call from Ryan about the work you are going to do here.”
“Yes,” I say, not knowing how I’m going to break it to him that I’ll be quitting this job. I was going to wave the white flag and admit defeat. When my phone buzzes and I see it’s Carter trying to message me, I do what every other woman would do. I put him on “do not disturb.” Take that.
“Come, we have to talk,” he says and pulls me away. He takes me in the golf cart, and we make it to stage four, and I sit in the chair next to him. “This film is going to be his big break,” he says of Carter. “I’m going to push him to be his best. I’m going to push him until there is nothing left in him, and then when he gets up to accept his award, it’ll be mostly because of me.” He laughs, and I laugh with him. “The boy hasn’t had much luck in the past. Maybe it’s his time to have better luck.”
I’m about to ask him what he means by that when I hear the booming voice. “Where have you been?” I see Carter with his hands on his hips, and I take in his outfit. He looks so rugged and not like the Hollywood prince that he is.
“I was here catching up with Ivan.” I smile at him like nothing happened, but he just glares at me.
“I’ve been calling and texting you,” he says between his clenched teeth.
“Did you?” I pick up my phone. “Nope, not me. Perhaps it was someone else?”
He looks at me, but he doesn’t have a chance to say anything because Ivan claps his hands. “Okay, children, it’s time to work.” He gets up and walks to the set where he talks to a couple of the crew.
“I called you,” he says, coming to me, standing in front of my chair. “Twice.” He holds up two fingers.
I lean back in the chair and shrug my shoulders. “No idea.”
“You sent me straight to voice mail,” he says, and I just smile.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t get a phone call or texts,” I tell him, and he holds out his hand.
“Let me see your phone.” I hold out the phone for him. He presses the middle button and then looks at me. “What’s your code?”
“Try the word asshole,” I say and then slap my hand to my head. “Fine, it’s my birthday.” I wait for him to ask me what it is.
“Can you put your code in?” he asks, and I do, and then he looks through the phone. He takes his phone out and calls my phone, and it’s obviously sent straight to voice mail because he then presses his name. “You blocked me?”
“Did I?” I act shocked as I take the phone away. “No.” I pretend to look at my phone “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I wonder how that happened?”
“Erin,” he says, his jaw tight.
“Carter!” Ivan yells. “Let’s get the show on the road.”
I look at him and smile. “Break a leg.” He glares at me, and I hold up my two hands. “Fingers crossed,” I say, crossing my two fingers together.
He comes a touch closer, resting his hands on the armrests of the chair. “I’m going to table this discussion for later.”
“I’m not talking to you because you’re a horse’s ass.” I lean in closer to him, hissing out ass. “Actually, I take that back. I don’t want to insult the horse.”
“Carter!” Ivan yells, and he just looks at me and walks away. I watch him walk over to him as they stand in the middle of a fake living room with a staircase in the back. If I wasn’t here seeing the entire surroundings, I would think it’s actually a house. There is a guy waiting on the side with a long mic and a huge box hanging from his neck. “Okay, places everyone.” Ivan walks back to his chair and sits in it. He puts on his headset, and someone wheels what looks like a television on it. “We can see them close up,” he says, informing me. A woman goes up to the set where Carter is now sitting on the couch.
Jennifer steps in front of the scene, and says, “Risking it All, scene twenty.”
I look around while people start to shout things.
“Picture’s up,” one person says, and someone else repeats it.
“Roll sound,” another says, and I hear someone shout, “Rolling!”
“Sound speeds!” the guy at the end shouts.
“Camera speeds,” comes from my left and then one from one right. “Slating and mark.”
Then Ivan shouts, “Action,” and I watch as the scene plays out. The knock on the door and his co-star coming in who, in the film, is his brother as they go over the fact that his wife kidnapped his daughter, and he can’t find her. It takes him five takes before Ivan has it just the way he wants it. “Cut and print.” Ivan tosses his headset on his seat and goes to talk to the two men, and they go over a couple of things. The three of them discuss something I can’t hear.
When they break, they each go their separate ways, but Carter comes right to me. “I’m off for about three hours. Do you want to get something to eat?” His voice is off and weird, and I just look at him.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I say, grabbing my bag and walking with him outside where he j
ust gets into a random golf cart. The sun shines bright in the sky. “Is this anyone’s?” I ask him, looking around to see if anyone is running after us as he leaves.
“No. It’s for anyone’s use. I park it with the others, and then someone else can take it,” he tells me, pulling up to stage one. We walk in and go to the craft service room and see that the food has been changed. This time, hot plates filled with eggs, potatoes, sausage, bacon, waffles, and pancakes are on the table. You name it, it’s there. He loads his plate, and I follow him, filling my plate. We walk out to his trailer, and I watch him go straight to the table. I put my plate in front of him and then shrug off my jacket.
“I need the address of the house.” I walk to his little fridge, hoping that it is stocked, and I’m happy it is. I grab a water bottle for myself and one for him also, but I put it in front of my plate.
“Why?” he asks between bites.
“So if I want to go back to the house, I have it,” I tell him, grabbing the plastic fork and digging into the scrambled eggs.
“You were going to leave me here and go back to the house?” he asks, grabbing a water bottle and opening it.
“You mean after you were an asshole earlier? Yes, I was going back to the house.”
“I’m sorry.” The two words I don’t think he’s ever said he just uttered to me.
“Really?” I answer, surprised. “What exactly are you sorry for?”
He looks at me. “I’m sorry for calling you a prude.”
“That wasn’t even the point,” I tell him, pointing at him with my fork. “The point was to respect my wishes and not undress in front of me. You might be okay with having your shlong all over the place, but not everyone wants to see it.”
Hollywood Prince Page 8
