by Jae
Once he pressed replay, the monitor showed an explosion that created a giant fireball and threw an unsuspecting woman through the air.
Nausea swept over her. She swallowed hard. It didn’t look as if she had a snowball’s chance in hell of surviving.
“Good job,” Ben said and patted her on the back. “Go get changed.”
Crash didn’t need to be told twice. She rushed toward the wardrobe trailer as fast as she could without running.
Jill watched as Crash turned away from the monitor and quickly crossed the cobblestones of the set. Her face was pale beneath the traces of transparent goop that was clinging to her skin despite her attempts to wipe it off.
Crash looked as if she was about to pass her without comment, but then she stopped and said, “Hi, Jill. You okay?”
“Me?” Jill pointed at her own chest. “You are the one who was just thrown through a wall by an explosion.” The mere mention of the stunt made her shiver.
“Yeah, you. You were frowning.”
“Because—” Jill bit her lip. She admitted to herself that she had been worried about Crash, but if she told her that, she’d make her think she was interested in her. Oh, and you aren’t? Lie to her all you want, but be honest with yourself. Deep down, she knew that she’d never been half as worried about any other stunt person, no matter what daredevil thing they did. “I’m fine, really. But you don’t look so good. You didn’t get hurt, did you?”
“Nah. Just tired. Late night.”
“I see.” Images of things that might have kept Crash up flashed before Jill’s mind’s eye, most of them involving hot, sweaty sex. She quickly shook them off. Since she no longer had the energy for marathon sex, she had no right to want to be the woman Crash spent her nights with.
“I need to get over to wardrobe,” Crash said. “See you later.”
Jill watched her walk away. Was it just her imagination, or was there something going on with Crash—something more than just being tired? She wasn’t normally so abrupt and uncommunicative.
None of your business. You’re not her girlfriend. Jill wanted to shrug it off, but her gut feeling wouldn’t let her. Crash had looked really pale. What if she had hurt herself and was just too proud to admit it?
She’d pick up tomorrow’s call sheet from the production office and check up on Crash in wardrobe on her way back. If Crash was fine, she’d drive home and try to put her out of her mind once and for all.
When she climbed the three steps to the wardrobe trailer ten minutes later, a weird sound made her pause.
There it was again—a gagging sound. It came from somewhere behind the trailer.
As fast as she could, Jill hurried down the steps and around.
Crash stood bent over, both palms planted on the trailer, bracing herself as she retched and vomited.
Without thinking twice, Jill rushed over. “Crash! Are you okay?” She groaned as soon as she’d said it. The prize for the stupidest question in history goes to Jill Corrigan. Does that sound like she’s okay?
Still heaving, Crash held up a hand to indicate she couldn’t speak.
Gently, Jill touched a hand to Crash’s back. God, she was trembling, and the T-shirt she now wore felt damp. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
Crash shook her head. She dry-heaved once more and then finally straightened and turned.
Jill pulled an unused tissue from her pocket and held herself back before she could wipe Crash’s face. “Here.” She pressed it into her hands.
“Thanks,” Crash mumbled, her voice rough, either from vomiting or because she was embarrassed.
“What happened?” Jill asked again when Crash was done.
“Nothing. That stunt was just…pretty taxing.”
Most of the stunts Jill had seen her perform so far had seemed taxing to her. But in the three weeks since shooting had begun, she had seen Crash do dangerous things that she would have never attempted even for a million bucks. Crash had never batted an eye, and she had certainly never lost her lunch over a stunt. “There’s more to it than that, isn’t there?”
Crash inhaled through her nose and let the breath escape through her mouth. “Yeah. But I don’t want to talk about it.” After a second, she added more softly, “Especially not here.”
Jill looked around and nodded. They had that in common—they both didn’t want to show any weakness at work. “Okay. Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“I can drive myself.”
“Now who’s stubborn?” Jill nudged her. “I let you help with my buttons. Now it’s your turn to be the damsel in distress.”
Crash made a face but then had to laugh. “All right. Show me to your carriage, gallant knight.”
Jill hooked her arm through Crash’s and set them off in the direction of the parking lot. It felt wonderful to be the one to take care of Crash, instead of being the one receiving help. For a moment, she felt guilty for enjoying Crash’s plight, but then she mentally shrugged and focused on getting Crash home.
The more distance they brought between them and the set, the more Crash’s stomach settled—and the sillier she started to feel. I can’t believe I did that. Barfing my guts out after a gag, like a damn newbie.
She mentally shook her head at herself and peeked over at Jill, who was focused on the dense LA traffic. Crash hadn’t wanted anyone—especially not Jill—to see her like that. Hiding behind the wardrobe trailer to throw up… Not the kind of impression I wanted to make.
Then she immediately rebuked herself. They weren’t dating, so there was no need to impress her. But she couldn’t help it. She wanted Jill to think of her as strong and capable, not as someone who buckled under pressure.
Suppressing a sigh, she glanced over at her again. Was this how Jill felt when she had to accept help?
“…right?” Jill said.
“Huh?”
“Do I make a right here?” Jill asked.
Crash looked up and realized they were approaching Franklin Avenue. “Yes. Sorry.” She gave Jill directions to the quiet, tree-lined street where she lived. “You can stop here.” She pointed to her two-story apartment complex. “That’s me.”
Jill shut off the engine and craned her neck. “Nice.”
“Yeah. It’s just a ten-minute walk from Griffith Park, so I can go hiking without having to worry about parking.”
They sat in silence for a moment.
“Do you want to come up for a coffee or something?” Crash asked after a while.
Jill turned her head toward her and gave her a chiding look. “Really? That’s the best line you’ve got? No wonder you’re single.”
Crash laughed. “Not that kind of something. I really meant just a cup of coffee between friends. Or don’t you do friendships either?” If circumstances were different, friendship wouldn’t be what she wanted—at least not all she wanted—but with the way things were, it might be for the best.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jill nodded. “I do—as long as it’s not the lesbian kind.”
“The lesbian kind?” Crash chuckled. “What do you mean?”
“Lesbians often seem to think that friendship is some kind of foreplay. If they agree to be friends, it’s always with the unspoken addition of ‘until we’ll be more.’”
“I know what you mean.” But hoping for that kind of friendship with Jill was madness. Her last girlfriend had cheated on her because Crash hadn’t been there for her twenty-four/seven. If she hadn’t been ready for that sort of commitment with Kyleigh, she certainly wasn’t ready for any kind of relationship with Jill. “So let’s agree to be the non-lesbian type of friends.”
Jill started the car and followed Crash’s directions to her spot in the underground garage of her apartment building. “Lots of milk, no sugar,” she said when she shut off the engine.
“Um, excuse me?”
“That’s the way I like my coffee.” With an impish grin, Jill released her seat belt and got out of the car.
Chuckling, Crash climbed out too. She already felt much better than she had half an hour before. Amazing what the right kind of company could do.
While Jill followed Crash up to the second floor of the apartment building, she debated the wisdom of that decision. Oh, come on. Staying away from relationships was one thing, but she didn’t want to become a hermit in the process. Since the diagnosis, she’d been so busy rearranging her life that she hadn’t made new friends other than Lauren. She liked Crash’s kind, easygoing nature and her sense of humor. Why wouldn’t she want to have her in her life, at least as a friend?
It’s not like I’ll throw her down on the nearest horizontal surface and have my way with her as soon as the door closes behind us.
Promptly, images of just that scenario flashed through her mind. Growling under her breath, she shoved them away. She could do this—just be Crash’s friend. So what if she found her attractive? When she had first met Grace, she’d been attracted to her too, but over time, that had faded. While she wasn’t blind to Grace’s beauty, she no longer felt anything but friendship for her. All she had to do was wait until the same happened with Crash.
And ignore the way her ass looked in that pair of jeans.
She directed her gaze elsewhere as Crash unlocked the door to the third apartment on the right.
“Come on in,” Crash said and led her into a studio apartment.
To the right was a tiny kitchen with dirty dishes piled up in the sink, and to the left, a couple of weights, a skipping rope, and a towel lay on a yoga mat.
With a hint of a blush on her cheeks, Crash picked up the towel. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
“You should have seen my house before I hired a housekeeper.”
Crash let out a low whistle. “You’ve got a housekeeper? Wow. Acting must pay better than I thought.”
“I wish. Susana, my housekeeper, only comes in for an hour or two every day, and she’s very affordable. She’d work for free if I let her. She kind of adopted me.”
“That’s good.” Crash walked into the kitchenette and asked over her shoulder, “So, lots of milk, no sugar, right?”
“Right.”
While Crash made coffee, Jill stepped farther into the studio apartment to look at the framed photos on the bookshelf. They showed Crash with an older couple that was probably her parents and five men that had to be her brothers. Leaned against another frame was a strip of photos taken in a booth at an arcade or an amusement park. Crash, one of her brothers, and two kids that were probably her nieces and nephews had all squeezed into the booth and were making silly faces at each other. In each picture, everyone was smiling broadly, their arms around each other. What a difference to the stiff, staged Christmas photos on her own bookshelf. Jill sighed and turned away from the photos.
This is nice, Crash thought as she popped another cookie into her mouth and chewed contentedly. She hadn’t had a close female friend since Sabrina, her mentor, had betrayed her by sleeping with Kyleigh.
Granted, thinking of Jill as just a friend wasn’t easy, especially not with the way Jill kept licking cookie crumbs and chocolate off her hands.
The chirping of her cell phone announced a new text message, finally making Crash look away from Jill. She put down her coffee mug and reached for her phone on the coffee table. When she pulled her hand back, her arm brushed Jill’s side.
Warmth flowed through the rest of her body. She settled back on her part of the couch and glanced at her phone.
It was a message from TJ. Want to come over and watch the game with me and the boys?
What game? God, she was really out of the loop. She hadn’t spent much time with her best friend since shooting had started. Sorry, she typed back. I’ve got company.
Oooh. I knew it! That’s why I haven’t seen you in ages! TJ’s reply was followed by a string of smiley faces, hearts, and virtual kisses.
She rolled her eyes. TJ could be such a girl sometimes.
“If something has come up, I can go,” Jill said next to her.
“Not necessary,” Crash said quickly. She wasn’t ready to give up Jill’s company yet. “Just a message from a friend who invited me to watch the game.” She dashed off a reply to TJ—Not that kind of company. Talk to you later—and then put the phone away.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go?”
“Very sure.” Crash gave a rueful smile. “To tell you the truth, I’m not even sure what game he’s talking about.”
“Baseball. The Dodgers. Hello?” Jill waved her hand up and down in front of Crash’s face. “What kind of lesbian are you?”
“One who’s busy having coffee with you.” She took the cookie bowl from Jill, trying to ignore the tingling that went through her at the brush of their hands.
Jill peeked into the depths of her coffee mug, then over at Crash. “Can I ask you about the stunt you did today?”
Instantly, her stomachache was back. While she had talked with TJ about the mechanics of the failed fire stunt many times, she had never spoken about the emotions involved. But after Jill had driven her home and been there for her, she couldn’t just shut her out, so she nodded reluctantly.
“You didn’t hurt yourself when you were thrown through that wall, did you?” Jill asked.
Crash shook her head. “The wall wasn’t the problem. It’s the fire I didn’t like.” That, of course, was the understatement of the century.
“Yeah. I heard some of the other stunt performers say that fire stunts are some of the most dangerous gags around.”
“That’s true. If you work with fire, there’s no trick involved, no illusion of danger. The fire and the danger are real.”
Jill swirled the coffee in her mug as if it were wine and studied it, deep in thought.
Did she sense that there was more to Crash’s dislike of fire stunts?
“Have you ever gotten hurt doing a stunt?” Jill finally asked.
Crash rubbed her neck, only realizing what she was doing when she touched the burn scar. Quickly, she snatched her hand away. “I don’t like talking about stunts that went wrong. If I allow my thoughts to linger on the dangers of my job for too long, I won’t be able to do what I do for a living anymore. Once I’ve analyzed the situation and found out what the problem was, I need to move on.”
“So you did get hurt,” Jill said.
Boy, she was like a terrier with a bone, not letting it go. “Nothing major. I’ve been lucky so far.”
“Why do I get the feeling that your definition of ‘nothing major’ differs from mine?”
“I mostly just got bruises and cuts, really. Some were deep enough to require stitches, but I haven’t had any broken bones or injuries that put me in the hospital for long.”
Jill turned on the couch so she was facing Crash more fully. “Mostly just cuts and bruises? You did get hurt in a stunt involving fire, didn’t you?”
Crash hugged her knees to her chest and put her chin on top. “Yes,” she whispered.
Jill slid closer and touched Crash’s leg.
It was just a fleeting touch, which didn’t last for more than a moment, but it warmed Crash’s entire body.
“You don’t need to talk about it if you don’t want to. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s okay,” Crash said. She clutched her shins more tightly. One of her hands crept up and touched the scar on her neck.
Instead of pressuring her into telling her more, Jill just watched her.
“The year before last, I had a string of bad luck. First, I hurt my leg during a motorcycle stunt and was out of work for months. When my leg finally healed, I took the first job that was offered to me, even though it was a low-budget action movie with a stunt coordin
ator that didn’t have the best reputation.” She lifted her head and rubbed her knees with both hands. “I should have known better, but I was eager to work again, so I said yes. They didn’t have the budget to do more than a take or two for most stunt scenes, and practice was kept to a minimum too. Everything went okay the first few days, but then…”
Jill slid onto the edge of the couch, her eyes wide. “What happened?”
“I was scheduled to do a full-body burn. The director had very specific ideas how he wanted the scene to look. He wanted the shot done during sunset. The crew setting up for the stunt ran a little behind, and we were quickly losing the light. We were in a hurry, and that’s never good when you’re doing a stunt.”
Jill nodded. “Yeah. I realized you and Ben and the rest of the stunt crew always put a lot of time into preparing each stunt.”
“I wish they’d done that on the set of Point of Impact too.” Crash sighed. “They lathered the fire gel onto my skin and clothing, but the problem is that it only protects you while it’s wet, and it dries within five minutes, so that upped the time pressure. The wind picked up just as they were about to set me on fire.” Her jaw muscles were hard as stone as she ground her teeth. “We should have put it off, but we didn’t.”
Jill hardly seemed to breathe as Crash continued.
“The fire was supposed to be mainly on my front, where most of the fire gel went, but with the wind it crept upward immediately and snaked around to the back of my neck.” She pulled down the neck of her T-shirt in the back, giving Jill a glimpse of the raised, uneven scar, which had started to itch as soon as she’d started talking about the damn fire stunt. “By the time they put me out, I had this little souvenir.” She tried to sound casual, but the expression on Jill’s face revealed that she saw through her quite easily.
“God, Crash.” She slid over on the couch. For a moment, she looked as if she was about to touch the scar on Crash’s neck, but then she put her hand on Crash’s shoulder instead and rubbed gently. “No wonder having to do a fire stunt made you throw up.”
Crash groaned. “Don’t remind me. That wasn’t one of my finest moments. If Ben had seen that…”
