by Virna DePaul
After a while, she began repeating her same points, and Lyle did nothing to stop her, so I found myself tuning out and becoming far more interested in the super-composed way Gwen held herself. She still refused to look at me even though she had to feel my eyes locked on her.
Clearly, I had gotten under her skin.
It was only a matter of time before I got into her head too.
I couldn’t help wondering, half wistfully and half nervously, as I watched the way she rolled the tip of her pencil in her mouth: If I wanted her there, how long would it take me to get in her bed?
Chapter Four
Gwen
“You can do this,” I assured myself for the third time, firmly rooted in the back of my father’s Lexus again on the way back to Sun Studio. After leaving yesterday, I’d practically stumbled into my house, mustering just enough energy to strip off my clothes before collapsing in bed, where I’d pulled the covers over my head and hidden until Vi had pulled me out for dinner. God, it had been a long day. And to make it worse, I’d come off as a total bitch to almost everyone, all because I feared the entire show was going to be a huge disaster and somehow, my father was going to find a way to blame me.
People had no idea what it took to keep Fluidity Films going for over thirty years. They had no idea how much my father had sacrificed, the hard work and dedication he’d put in, the stress and endless hours he’d devoted. It didn’t seem fair that after all that, the company was floundering and now the one director who could save it had carte-blanche to hire no-name actors and action heroes who had no business being in as critical a show as Straightlaced.
I had nothing against Shane or Tyler or Garrick as people.
Well, maybe Garrick, just a little. But that was mostly because he had a reputation as a major partier slash manwhore, and the guy seemed to get off on antagonizing me. Really, could I blame him? It wasn’t like we’d met under the best of terms. The truth was, I found him very attractive, and had only said the opposite because I’d been surprised to hear he was my leading man. I’d seen a couple of his movies and developed a little crush on him. After what had happened with Randall, I’d immediately panicked at the idea of having strong chemistry with my co-star again.
Then there was Erica Ellis, all cool and professional. The last thing I wanted was to look like an air-headed fan girl or give away how intimidating it was to be working with a bestselling author. But after the way I’d acted yesterday, Erica probably thought I was a bitch too.
Ugh, this project was quickly devolving into a disaster.
“Miss Gwen?” In the rearview mirror, Thomas appraised me with acute concern.
“I’m fine, thank you,” I said. Any confession of weakness or uncertainty would make it back to my father in record time. Donning an assertive smile, I collected my things and opened the door. “I’ll see you back here at three. Thank you.”
“Yes, miss. Have a pleasant day.”
“You too, Thomas.”
For the second time this week, I stood on the sidewalk staring at the green and white building where I grew up most of my life. If I put in enough time of my own, I might be producer here one day. But only if I kept things together. And did my part to get Fluidity Films back on the right track. Thomas drove away, and I muttered to myself once again, “You can do this.” Mustering my courage, and determination, I straightened my jacket and marched inside.
“Good morning, Miss Vickers,” Norm, the front door security guard, and Bettina, the secretary chimed in near-unison.
“Good morning,” I replied as I turned the corner at the first hallway and strolled into the meeting room.
Garrick was already there, looking completely nonchalant and ready at the same time. How did he manage to do that? I knew I looked presentable in a pretty pencil skirt and blouse with the top button artfully undone, but I still felt tense, while he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed after having lots and lots of sex.
Erica, as amazing as she was, wore what looked like a potato sack with a belt. The girl was a brilliant author, but my God, someone get this woman on What Not To Wear. Maybe if she didn’t completely hate me, I could give her some pointers. Maybe we could even hang out together. I was going to be in New Mexico for quite a long time without Vi as my support system. It would be nice to have a female friend while I was there.
Everyone took their seats, mine the farthest from Garrick, then Lyle began… “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Today, I’d like us to do a read-through of the script. Let’s go as far as we can in four hours. Tomorrow we’ll pick up where we leave off. After that, it’s T-minus three days until we head to Albuquerque to begin filming.”
“I’m excited to be back in New Mexico,” Erica said. “I wrote the book while enrolled at UNM. It’s pretty specific as far as the setting. All real places down to the color of the street signs and the bars I mention.”
Shane opened his copy of the book, browsing through the table of contents. “Are the people real, too?”
“Some of them are based on real people, yes, but that’s how it usually is in novels.” She laughed politely. “No real names are used.”
I supposed that was half the fun of writing—getting back people who’d done you wrong by casting them in your book as jerks or conniving bitches. Maybe one day I would write a book and name my Randall character Scandall. Or Lamedall.
“So, this disclaimer on the front page,” Shane said, picking up her book and flipping to the first page, “about relations to people living or dead being completely coincidental...”
“Is bullshit.” Erica smiled then cocked her head to one side, as if asking, Any other questions?
Tyler actually looked up from his phone for a nanosecond to crack a smile.
“Anyway…” Lyle coughed explosively and smoothed down his thin hair. “We open with a scene where Lacey is in her room, unpacking her last box after moving into her house.”
Garrick lifted his hand. “She bought a house?”
“She’s renting,” Erica clarified. “Dirt cheap to do so out there.”
“As a freshman?” Garrick asked again, narrowing his eyes.
“Yep.” Erica leveled off her script with a sharp smack against the tabletop. “The dorms get pretty loud, and she can’t afford to get sucked into that scene. She’s convinced that living in the dorms would mess up her studies and trash her dreams of becoming a veterinarian. Besides, her house is well within walking distance, and she enjoys the exercise.”
“Girl should have amazing legs then.” For the first time that day, Garrick looked at me. Then he pushed back a bit from the table and craned his neck aside to glimpse around the table. “Are your legs amazing, Gwen?”
I flushed and scooted closer to the table, tucking my legs farther underneath me, away from his prying eyes. But darn if I didn’t wonder if he liked what he saw, even if my legs were currently hidden by my tailored black slacks.
“Let’s begin.” Lyle opened his copy of the script, scribbled and re-scribbled over so much that I could hardly tell the difference between his text and the computer’s. “Lacey is in her room studying, dressed for bed. The time is nine p.m. and she’s quizzing herself on the last of her vocabulary. We can skip to the part where she hears music coming from the house next to hers. Page three.”
Everybody flipped to the right page.
“She gets out of bed, throws on some clothes and shoes, and marches over to their garage, which is opened a few inches for fresh air. She knocks. Payton opens the side door, revealing Mitch and Benny seated in their practice room behind him. Gwen, if you would…”
“Hi,” I said, reading Lacey’s first line.
“Well, hello to you,” Garrick purred in his lewdest voice.
“I moved in next door a few weeks ago. My name’s Lacey.”
Erica raised her finger. “The next few lines are said back-to-back with no beats in between until Lacey speaks again. These three boys have practically grown up together and know e
ach other’s patterns of conversation inside and out. Feel free to put personality into it.”
PAYTON: “Aw.” Garrick, as Payton, pouted. “What happened to the old stoner dude?”
MITCH: “Yeah, we loved the old stoner dude.”
With just that one line, my worries about Shane’s ability to handle his part waned slightly. He actually didn’t sound that bad.
PAYTON: “He was an awesome dude.”
When he spoke, Tyler sounded wistful.
BENNY: “That dude gave us free weed.”
PAYTON: “Dude.”
MITCH: “Dude.”
BENNY: “Duuuude.”
Tyler added just the right amount of drawl and lazy nod to his words.
Erica laughed and clapped her hands.
LACEY: “As I was saying. I’m your new neighbor.”
PAYTON: “I’m guessing there’s no chance of us bumming hits off you then?”
I donned a sour smile.
LACEY: “Not a single one, duuude.”
PAYTON: “Well, I’m Payton.”
LACEY: “Nice to meet you. I think...”
PAYTON: “This is Mitch.”
Lyle nodded. “Good. Now as you all know from reading the book, Mitch is bi-sexual. Erica?”
“Yes,” Erica said. “But Mitch keeps that close to the vest, posing as a straight advocate for homosexual rights rather than a member of the community itself.”
Lyle gestured to Shane. “Shane, how would you describe your character?”
Shane looked like a deer caught in a fence for a moment, but answered slowly and clearly. “From what I’ve read? He puts on a brave face when a situation calls for it, but he still feels like a coward or a fake. He suffered from abuse as a child. He’s all smiles on the outside, but he’s hurting pretty bad inside.” Something resembling distress flickered across Shane’s face just then, though I was probably imagining it.
“Nailed it,” Erica said. “Each of your characters has some significant hurdles they’ll have to overcome throughout the show. We’ll focus more on Payton and Lacey in the first half of the season.” She looked at Garrick and me.
Lyle picked up where Erica left off. “The second season will focus on Mitch’s history of abuse and Ben’s drug and alcohol addiction.”
From the corner of my eye, I sensed movement. I looked up. Shane’s face looked blank. And even though he was still looking at his script, it looked like Tyler’s fists had tightened a bit when Erica mentioned Ben’s drug and alcohol addiction. That’s when I vaguely remembered hearing the word addiction connected to Tyler Tapia’s name. He didn’t look like a junkie, but outward appearances meant nothing in this business. Actors were called actors for a reason.
Diffusing the tension, Shane lifted his script an inch off the table. “The first book covers Lacey’s first year, right?” he asked, and everyone seemed to relax. “And the band’s rise to the top?”
“That’s right.” Erica sat back and swiveled in her chair. “If the show does well, I’m hoping they’ll renew the contract for the second season, which we’ll base on the second book.”
“Speaking of the band. I should probably warn all of you that I can’t sing a lick,” Garrick mumbled. “Friend of mine will be dubbing my singing parts.”
He glanced at me, as if expecting me to make a snotty comment. It made me frown. I couldn’t sing a lick either and even if I could, I hated to think that he or any of the others expected me to be so catty. Obviously, however, in voicing my concerns yesterday, I’d given them reason to think that. My shoulders drooped slightly but I straightened them. I’d made the mess. I’d have to clean it up.
“Yes, yes,” Lyle said. “We’ve got a great band connected to the show. Can’t wait to hear them. Now, moving on.”
We spent the next two hours reading through the season’s episodes with Erica dictating, explaining, and correcting anything mispronounced. I was hoping my tension with Garrick would dissolve after a good, bonding read-through, but in fact, it thickened. With every scene that was filled with wit and rancor between Lacey and Payton, the animosity between us escalated.
When the morning was finally over, Lyle called lunch. Thank God. “That wraps up Episode Three. You’re all free to break for lunch now. We have catering in the lobby. Meet back here in thirty. Or forty. Did I allot forty for lunch?” he asked Erica, but Erica had already scuttled from the room, and Lyle was left guessing what was on the agenda.
His voice trailed off, as we all filed out into the hall.
Garrick strolled by me, and I caught him by the arm, as Shane and Tyler ambled on ahead of us. “Hey,” I started uneasily without a clue as to what I was going to say. All I knew was that we couldn’t go on this way. It was bad mojo and would transfer to the screen.
“Hello.” He made a big show of checking behind him, as though I might be talking to someone else. “Are you lost? Is the apocalypse coming? Because I can’t come up with another reason why we’d be having a conversation.”
I sighed. “Can I talk to you? Do you have a moment?”
“Sure. I’ll pencil you in.” He patted himself down, checking all his pockets. “Damn, I’ve misplaced my day planner. How may I help you?”
I massaged my temples, wishing I had snatched the ibuprofen off my dresser on the way out this morning. “Please, spare me the sarcasm. This is difficult enough.”
“You’re not breaking up with me, are you?” he asked with insufferable sincerity despite the laughter in his eyes. “It’s because I’m not attractive, isn’t it?”
I wanted to smack him. “I swear, if I had duct tape...”
“Oo, kinky.”
“Listen,” I said, “before you say anything else, I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday. That was really rude of me, and I hadn’t even met you yet. I’m not in the habit of pre-judging people before I’ve met them. So…I’m sorry.”
He blinked, having the decency to look amazed. “Really?”
“Yes.” I wilted. “Sometimes, I come off too strong, too judgmental, when really, I’m just trying to make sure things go right. I’m under a lot of pressure lately, not to mention I’m way intimidated by you and Erica. I didn’t want Erica to think I was some stupid little fan girl. She’s published and unbelievably successful at twenty three, only one year older than me.”
“Wow. Yeah. You’re a real spinster. Better step it up before you’re in your grave.”
I smacked him in the arm, and admittedly, a thin smile came to my lips. In addition to being super hot, he really was equal parts adorable and aggravating. “Just listen. I didn’t mean what I said about you not being capable of taking on anything other than an action role. It was highly unprofessional, and I hope it won’t come between us on set.”
“Wow, I kind of like you better when you’re honest.” He grinned, and I swore for a second he looked like he had a juicy secret that he could barely stop himself from telling me. I immediately grew wary. He rocked back on his heels, his hands casually lodged in the front pockets of his stonewashed denims. “Apology accepted.”
“Really?” I scrutinized his every feature, waiting for him to cry psych. But he didn’t. “I didn’t expect it to be that easy.”
He gave me a noncommittal shrug. “Well, to be honest, it didn’t bother me that much.”
Stunned, I blinked. “It didn’t?”
“No.” He turned that barbed smile on me again. I’d just waltzed right into his trap. “On the contrary, it was kind of nice to meet a girl who didn’t want to jump my bones the first chance she got.”
A spark of unwanted jealousy ignited in my chest. “I take it you don’t meet many of those types of girls.”
“Almost never. That is, unless I search YouTube and stock up on slanderous comments and raucous hate mail. Those are mostly from guys, though, the jealous shmucks. The tabloids are typically pretty truthful and kind.”
Having had my close call with bad publicity thanks to Randall and taking into account the c
are I exercised to stay out of the paparazzi’s path, I only wished I could say the same. “Oh. Must be nice.” I cocked a brow. “I wonder what truth they’d report about how you got that black eye.”
Something uneasy—like guilt and anger and regret, all rolled into one—flickered over his face. “Well, with all those girls trying to jump my bones, there’s bound to be a jealous boyfriend lurking about.”
His tone was joking but he wasn’t as relaxed as he’d been. I could have pounced on his change in mood. Tried to pick at an obvious wound. But I didn’t want to. We’d already wasted enough time thanks to the way I’d insulted him yesterday and besides, God knew I had enough secrets of my own to want to go poking at others’. Plus, there was truth in his tone, too. Whatever had happened, he’d been deeply affected by it. “Sounds wonderful,” I said lightly.
He’d been watching me carefully, but at my joking response, Garrick’s expression cleared and his body relaxed slightly. “It’s actually horrible,” he countered with a theatrical scoff. “I can’t go anywhere or do anything without being recognized and half-mobbed. Not to mention all the gifts that come via UPS.”
I clucked my tongue at him. “Poor you, being so famous.” I rolled my eyes.
“Right? Life would be so much simpler if the world hated me the way I presumed you did.”
I sighed. Okay, fine. So maybe we weren’t calling a truce here. And if he was going to continue to dish it out… “Girls must be throwing themselves at your feet.”
“Women actually, especially the more experienced ones. Rawrr,” he said.
“Rough life, I’m sure,” I practically growled.
Garrick’s eyes danced with dare, as he leaned closer. “You’re regretting apologizing to me, aren’t you?”
“With every fiber of my being.” But not really. I was actually having to work hard to hold back a laugh. I was used to working with men who were cocky, and Garrick was certainly that. But he had such a charming, playful side to him, and he obviously had no problem poking fun at himself and the whole fame game thing. For a man as sinfully good looking—and yes, talented—as him, it was refreshing.
