Playing a Little

by Breanna Hayse

  “This is different. You are forcing Camille to do something that she knows nothing about.”

  “I am forcing nothing, and neither is Arthur. Every time Camille lands a new role, she is faced with the same conflict. She has to learn about who and what she is representing and rarely do these characters complement the real person inside of her. This role, however, is all about who she is inside. But, nonetheless, you are right. She is an adult and this is her decision. But know that I am serious when I say I will not have her come into this unless she is certain. This lifestyle is important to me and the benefits are tremendous. I honestly think it will help her become who she is supposed to be.”

  “I will think about it. I still need to see the script.” Stan held his hand out.

  “About that, Stan…” Arthur began, handing over the sealed folder.

  Stan opened the seal and began to leaf through the pages. His only response was a raised brow.

  Chapter Three

  Camille glared angrily at Stan, holding the ‘script’ in her hand. “Are you kidding me? It’s blank! You knew this all along, you jerk. Did you and Arthur have a good laugh over your dinner with this? He told me that the script would be altered after the coaching period, not actually be written!”

  “Now, now, hot shot, watch that little temper,” Stan chuckled, taking a gulp of coffee. “Haven’t I always taken care of you? Got you great roles… made sure your greedy mother didn’t touch your money? I’ve never led you in the wrong direction, nor do I intend to. This has the potential to make you big, baby, and I intend to go all the way with you until one of us retires.”

  “Don’t you get it? I’m not an improv artist! Improv of any form is the most uncomfortable and awkward thing for me to do in general, and you want to add to my discomfort by putting me alone, and in the middle of nowhere, with Erik Renault? He’s almost twice my age, and…”

  “And the best in improvisation you can find. I think this opportunity will provide the type of acting lessons like you’ve never had before. Crenshaw is willing to dish out a fortune to make this piece and he wants you. Don’t blow this chance, Cam. You may not get another like it. Not the way…”

  “… I look. Yeah, I get it. I’m fucking ugly,” Camille said bitterly.

  “I wasn’t going to say that. I was going to say you might not get another chance like this because Crenshaw says this is his last formal film. Listen, I talked with Erik and he thinks…”

  “So that arrogant prick was there too? I will not have anyone deciding my future for me anymore, Stan! Not you, not Crenshaw, and certainly not Erik Renault!”

  “Why are you so angry?”

  “Because this is my life that the three of you are discussing.” Tears threatened to spill. “I am an adult now and should be allowed to have some input.”

  “You do. Ultimately, this is up to you. If I feel I need to veto it…”

  “That’s my point, Stan. While I respect your input and opinion regarding my career choices, I am nineteen and an adult. I need to be allowed to decide things for myself.”

  “Have I ever done anything for you not to trust me?”

  “No, but we also both know that this is about money as well. You have the chance to make a shit load of dough off this production.”

  “I am not denying that. To be honest, I am still a bit weary of the concept of a docu-film. The only thing that comforts me is knowing that Crenshaw has never produced crap and even his more controversial pieces have resulted in positive outcomes. He is also the only producer I know who will completely back his staff, financially and legally. You can’t ask for better protection.”

  “You are forgetting that Renault is his foster son. He would protect him before me, and this… subject matter has the possibility of becoming sexual. I don’t do sex.”

  “I let them know that very firmly. Everything would be consensual. Cam, I really think it’s worth considering. From what Erik said, this training might help you grow.”

  “I don’t need to be trained, Stan! I am a human being, not a dog.”

  “I know listening to his nasty comments for the past eleven years was hard for you. Erik thinks that he can help undo some of the damage that little bastard and others like him caused.”

  “I don’t get why you are so supportive of him. They must have offered you a hell of a lot of money to get me to agree.”

  “Why don’t you go to bed and think on it? We’re supposed to be meeting both of them in the morning.”

  “I’m not tired. I’m going for a walk,” Camille growled, grabbing her coat and storming from the room.

  “Hey! It’s five below! Damn it, girl, get back inside! You are going to catch your death of cold out there.”

  Camille ignored him as she stomped angrily away. A snarl crossed her face as she kicked a layer of snow off her sneakers. Stupid move, taking off like this, she thought, but Stan’s attitude pisses me off like nothing else. I am nothing more than a paycheck to him and we both know it! I can’t believe that he actually expects me to train for a role, alone with the lecherous Erik Renault, for three months and really not even know what the damn film would entail! What kind of madness is this anyway? Spontaneous? Oh, I will give them spontaneous!

  Fuming, Camille shuffled along in the dark, kicking up snow and cursing beneath her breath. Her anger was so intense that she did not pay attention to the cold, nor did she bother to watch where she was stepping. Startled by a bright set of headlights that appeared suddenly in front of her, she stepped back and tumbled into the partially frozen fish pond that harbored Arthur’s prized koi.

  “Fuck!” she yelled, scrambling to get to her feet and slipping on the slimy bottom as the broken ice slushed around her. “Of course I would fall into a damn pond with a heater. Oh no, it couldn’t be frozen solid like everything else in this God-forsaken place. Shit!” She felt a large hand clasp around her arm, yanking her roughly out of the water.

  “What is your problem, you stupid girl?” a low voice demanded, shaking her. “What the hell are you doing outside walking alone at this time of night? And in this weather! Where the hell is your coat? Sneakers? Holy shit.”

  “I could ask you the exact same questions, mister. Let go of me and do not ever call me stupid again,” Camille snapped.

  “See that?” He jerked her to look at the driveway. “It’s called a car. I was parking it when I saw you in the headlights. Let’s get you inside and dried off. Unbelievable,” he muttered, pulling her with him. “Sometimes I wonder about kids nowadays. None of you has any sense.”

  “I am not a child. Let go of my arm!” Camille ordered as the man yanked her toward Arthur’s main house, unbothered by her resistance. Ignoring her demands, the man tightened the grip on her wrist and led her inside where he further grumbled about her clothing, which simply consisted of nothing but jeans, a thin long-sleeved shirt, and a light hooded jacket. Her bright red hair hung limply over her face, hiding her eyes.

  A look of recognition passed across his face. He smiled sardonically. “Camille LeCroix… figures. Still finding trouble to land in, huh?”

  Camille’s eyes narrowed. He had changed over the years. Matured and, if possible, become more handsome. “Hello to you too, Erik. It’s been a long time. You’ve aged. A shit load.”

  Erik laughed heartily. “Still the smart ass. Let’s get you toweled off and warmed up a bit. By the way, I’m not the only one who’s aged. What are you, twelve now?”

  “Very funny. I’m nineteen and you know it.” Camille resisted smiling back at him, accepting a towel from the maid and drying herself off with it. She followed Erik into the study and immediately huddled in front of the fire to warm herself.

  “Yeah, I know. Here, drink this…” He poured her a small glass of brandy from the carafe. “I am going to get you something dry to change into. I will be right back.”

  “I don’t need…” Camille began, trying not to shiver in her wet clothing. She never had a chance to finish her sen
tence before he was gone.

  “Here you go. I know they will be huge on you, but at least they are dry. Go hit a hot shower and get changed. Ahh, no arguments.”

  Camille glared as he shoved her into the small adjoining bathroom and closed the door behind him. His instructions made sense, but still, she found it difficult to feel grateful. Especially with his bossy, know-it-all attitude.

  The hot, steaming water over her chilled body eased her tension. She wished she could stay under the delightful cascade all night, and maybe avoid any further interaction with the incredibly sexy (but way too arrogant) man who waited for her in the other room. With a discontented sigh, Camille turned the water off and reached for a thick, fluffy towel to dry herself with. It smelled warm and masculine, and she imagined herself falling asleep while inhaling the fragrance of the linens. Shaking her head from her tired stupor, she slipped the flannel pajama bottoms up over her hips, frowning as they fell back to the floor. After bunching up the front and making a knot of the material using her ponytail elastic, she pulled on the sweatshirt, once again inhaling his scent and losing her wits momentarily as she enjoyed its seductive pleasantness. She regained her sensibilities and smoothed it down over her hips and past her thighs. Grunting, she pulled on the socks… all the way to her kneecaps. She looked pathetic, but at least she was warm and dry. She emerged fifteen minutes later, finger-combing her wet hair.

  “Sit here in front of the fire. So, little girl, would you care to explain what you were doing taking a midnight ice bath?” Erik asked, beckoning to the maid to take Camille’s clothes and put them in the drier.

  She did not bother to comment on the way he addressed her. She positively swam in his clothes and knew she looked like a four-year-old playing dress-up. “I was pissed at my agent for getting me into this spot. I’m so tired of being nothing but a money machine for the man. He told me you tried to sell him the storyline. Damn it, Erik, have you even bothered to look at the script?”

  “Yeah… I just found out there is no script yet. Supposedly, it will be written as we go through the coaching period, depending on your responses. Not Arthur’s usual way of doing things, but it really did not surprise me that much. He tends to be a bit unconventional.”

  “You sound somewhat annoyed, too,” Camille observed, sipping the brandy. “This feels like a setup for failure, if you ask me. He conned me into considering the lunacy of his idea by flashing a huge paycheck in front of my eyes. A check big enough to free me to do anything I want to in the future. Problem is, I am not that easily convinced. I’m sorry, but the whole thing sounds awfully creepy. I don’t get this age-play thing, and I certainly am not comfortable being alone with you for an extended period. I don’t even know you.”

  “A setup is a good way to describe what the conniving old bastard did. He dangled the role of my dreams in front of me! When I argued, he used guilt to hoodwink me into this. I am not much happier than you are about it, but work is work. If you decide to do this, we will find a way that is comfortable for both of us. Don’t forget, I don’t know you very well either.”

  “He guilted you, huh? Well, I apologize for that. How stupid of me to have thought you would have taken the part for any other reason,” Camille snarled, eyes blazing angrily as she stood up and stomped out of the room.

  Chapter Four

  Erik wrinkled his brow, confused. What had come over her? He turned to the sound of tsking behind him, watching as Arthur lumbered into the study and dropped down across from him in the large chair.

  “What took you so long to get here? Did you pick up a pretty waitress after dinner?”

  “Hello to you too, Arty,” Erik said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “I had to go back to the hotel and get the rest of my stuff after you informed me that I would be staying here during my visit. What’s the tsking for? I hate that, you know.”

  “What did you do to piss off your costar? I just saw her running into the living room. She looked like she was wearing your clothes.”

  “The little dummy fell into your fish pond. And I did not do anything. I swear, that girl’s got a serious bug up her ass. What the hell are you grinning at?”

  “You. Always on the defense. What happened and why is she over here? When I dropped off Stan, she was nice and cozy at the cottage, waiting to meet with us tomorrow. Were you just too excited to meet her?”

  “You are not at all funny. I told you that the stupid kid was wandering around in the snow and fell into your idiotic pond. She was soaking wet and I brought her inside. Will you get that asinine smile off your face? You are annoying the hell out of me. More than usual.”

  “Calm down, boy. You are so easy to get a rise out of, even after all these years. You really need to work on your sense of humor. So what else happened that made her stomp off in a snit?”

  Erik sighed, telling him in detail. His brows drew to a scowl as Arthur started to laugh loudly. “For such a smart kid, you sure can be an asshole. You insulted the poor thing and are too dumb to know it.”

  “I did not! I didn’t say anything…”

  “Except that you not only called her stupid, but informed her that you were being forced to play opposite her in a dream role that you want no part of. I don’t have a contract signed by her yet, so don’t blow this. Her agent is already peeved about me sticking her with you as it is, particularly since I shared my brilliant idea to write the screenplay after you two begin the training. I am hoping that my reputation of being a bit eccentric will be to my advantage.”

  “A bit eccentric? Arthur, this whole scheme of yours is completely insane. What if it doesn’t work? What if…”

  “It fails? Then it fails. That is a risk I am willing to take. The question is, is it one that you are ready for? There is more than a movie at stake here.”

  “I am more worried about the kid. I don’t think she is cut out for this, Arthur. She’s obviously terrified of the whole deal and is trying to hide it with her false bravado.”

  “She needs to learn to trust. Stan shared some of her background with me and it is not very pretty. You will have your work cut out for you if she decides to go through with this.”

  “I don’t mind the work. It’s the attitude I despise. We should take some time to get to know each other in a public setting before we pursue this. That is, if she agrees.”

  “We will work it all out, son. I promise. Now, go hunt her down and explain yourself.”

  “I will not. It’s not my problem that she is oversensitive and thin-skinned, and I don’t explain myself to anyone. No!” Erik said stubbornly.

  “Fine. Break an old man’s heart. This could be my swansong… my last great piece before I leave this earth…”

  “Cut the shit, Arthur. You’re too damn ornery to die anytime soon.”

  “You never know… I’m old, fat, drink too much, and never rest. This old ticker could go at any time. It’s happened before…”

  “Damn it! Okay, I’ll find her. Just lay off.”

  “Do whatever you want, Erik. Don’t let me stop you. By the way, make sure Stan takes your side after you bring her back to the guest house, okay? Like I said, he seemed annoyed when I handed him a blank script and told him my thoughts. Just remember that he had enough influence over her to veto this, so we need his backing. It is time to put the Renault charm to work, my boy. Get me that contract.”

  Growling, Erik left the room knowing quite well that his old friend was laughing at his ability to guilt the younger man into cooperating, especially with the threat of another heart attack. Arthur barely survived the first one that occurred when Erik was only seventeen, and had used it to his advantage whenever he needed to convince his foster son to do his bidding.

  Erik’s eye rested on the spot where Camille sat huddled next to the larger fire in the living room, occasionally shivering under a warm blanket and holding a cup of freshly brewed tea. She looked so utterly miserable, and so very young!

  “Hey, I’m sorry if I said an
ything to hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to,” Erik forced out. His heart wrenched as she slowly looked up at him, her eyes red from crying. She looked pathetic, very vulnerable, and adorably cute dressed in his oversized clothing. He felt his chest tighten and sat down across from her, reaching for her hand. “I swear, Cam. It had nothing to do with you. I didn’t even know you were my leading lady until yesterday. Arthur connived me into accepting this role months ago. He never let on about his crazy plans.”

  “Yeah, right…”

  “I swear. Had he told me that you were being considered for the part, I would have jumped right on board. You’re an incredible actress and I feel honored to work with you.”

  “Let’s face it, Erik. If I looked like Marilyn Monroe or someone gorgeous like that, you would have…”

  “Refused. She’s a little too plain for my liking,” Erik grinned. “Plus, I like soft, sweet, and gentle. And I have a very soft spot for red hair and freckles. Particularly in an age-play scenario.”

  “Soft, sweet, and gentle? Then you certainly aren’t talking about me. I bite, remember?”

  “I will never forget. I had a bruise on my leg for days. I’m sure you remember a bit of a bruise as well?” he asked mischievously.

  Camille blushed, looking into her teacup. “Your reaction surprised me more than anything. But I admit that I deserved it. I just wanted the scene to appear to be real. I hadn’t expected it to take that turn.”

  “You avoided me like the plague for the rest of the shoot, too. But you were a little girl then. Now you’re an adult, but still haven’t grown out of your Pippi-tails.”

  “I hated that hairstyle. I will never wear pigtails or anything that even remotely resembles them again,” Camille shuddered. Erik raised an eyebrow, picturing how endearing she would look with that mass of copper hair done up in high ponytails, showing off the baby fat chubbiness that still remained in her cheeks.