The Berkeley Method

by JS Taylor

  Mmmm. Another cute guy.

  I shake myself out of the thought. James Berkeley seems to have put me permanently on heat.

  “This is Will,” explains Callum. “He’s my security guard, of sorts,” he adds with a little wink at Will.

  “Will, this is Isabella Green. She’s the leading lady.”

  “Good to meet you, Isabella,” says Will. His deep voice rolls like treacle. I find myself wondering what his age is. With his braided hair, he doesn’t look older than thirty, but next to Callum’s impish high spirits, he seems older.

  “Nice to meet you too,” I say, shaking his hand. “So, you’re Callum’s security?”

  There seems to be a lot of security around here.

  “I’m his everything,” corrects Will. “I’m his security, his PA, his bodyguard, his personal trainer, his nurse-maid and his sometimes delivery driver.”

  Callum cocks his head and raises his eyebrows, acknowledging the truth of this.

  “And I’m one of the few people who doesn’t take his crap,” adds Will. “Unlike most of the kiss-asses in LA.”

  I turn to Callum, not sure whether to be shocked by this. But he’s obviously heard the statement many times before.

  “It’s true,” murmurs Callum, taking my elbow and steering me in the opposite direction to where I’d been headed. “Drug problems in the past, you see, makes a man very vulnerable to a bad crowd. Will protects me from the wrong kind of entourage. He makes sure I can’t be got at by people who’d tempt me astray.”

  “I knock them on their ass,” confirms Will.

  I stifle a laugh, allowing myself to be led. Callum and Will are like a double-act. I decide it’s going to be fun hanging out with them.

  By the time we reach the restaurant, I’m completely at ease with Callum’s super-charm and Will’s wisecracks. Must be something about movie stars and their staff, I think. They’re nothing if not charismatic.

  Seeing the restaurant, however, throws me in a loop all over again. It’s not so much an eatery as a complex. As we enter the glass-fronted building, I see it contains an airy coffee shop, a bar and the restaurant where we’re headed.

  Inside the restaurant is a buffet stocked with a huge selection of salads, fruit and cold meats.

  I’m starved, I realise, surveying the delicious looking food.

  “Would you rather the buffet, or should we order a la carte?” asks Callum.

  “The buffet,” I decide, looking to check whether Will agrees. He nods.

  “Good choice,” says Callum. “We’re both very hungry, and Will’s incredible physique requires high levels of protein at regular intervals.” He winks at me.

  Will makes no expression to suggest he acknowledges the joke.

  Callum nods at a large selection of fresh baked breads. “We’d better load up on bread before The Ennis gets here.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. Callum approaches the buffet and hands me and Will and plate.

  “Haven’t you heard?” asks Callum. He makes a comedic distressed face, and I find myself smiling again. Everything he does is so cute, so calculated to amuse. James is right. No wonder everyone likes Callum.

  “Surely,” says Callum, lowering his voice to a dramatic whisper, “you’ve heard of the Natalie Ennis carb police?”

  “No,” I say, helping myself to some fresh green salad. “I haven’t.”

  “But, of course,” says Callum, slapping his forehead, “this is your first movie. Well, it’s lucky I’m here to warn you before She arrives. Natalie insists that no carbs are available in her presence.”

  “What?” I let my eyes drift over the rest of the buffet.

  “No bread, no pasta, no rice, no potatoes,” says Callum, ticking them off his fingers.

  He leans forward to add a few more bread rolls to the mountain of bread on his plate. Will gives him a disapproving glare, and Callum guiltily returns a few back to the buffet.

  “But… Surely that doesn’t mean that everyone else can’t eat those foods?” I ask, unable to comprehend how Natalie could insist on this.

  Is that what James meant by diva demands? It sounds so selfish.

  Callum nods gravely.

  “When is she due to arrive?” I ask.

  “Today,” says Callum, “but she’ll be late. She always is. We’ll be lucky to see her a few hours before the first take.”

  “Miss Ennis is a piece of work,” supplies Will, not one to pull his punches. “And unfortunately, once she’s been contracted, most studios bow to her demands rather than lose her.”

  I add a bread roll to my plate.

  “At least it will keep us all in shape, I guess,” I say, trying to see the positive.

  “Some of us don’t need any help,” says Will, stacking lean chicken onto his plate. He adds the smallest dab of coleslaw to a pile of greens and meat. “And I don’t appreciate being dictated to because some little starlet can’t mind her willpower.”

  I can hardly disagree with him. I can’t really imagine a situation where one person dictates what everyone else ate. I thought some of the kids I went to drama school with were self-obsessed. But this is another level.

  “We’re all hoping the fabulous James Berkeley will keep her in line,” confesses Callum. “But you never know with Natalie.”

  I’m not sure how I feel about James keeping another woman in line, so I stay silent.

  We wander back to the table with loaded plates.

  “So,” says Callum as we return to a large wooden canteen-style table. “Tell us about you and James Berkeley.”

  I nearly choke on a mouthful of salad.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, well,” says Callum, “just the little matter of him being smitten with you.”

  Smitten with me? Has he told everyone about us?

  James told me we’d have to keep our relationship secret.

  “He thinks you’re the most exciting debut actress he’s ever met,” clarifies Callum, taking a forkful of rice salad and chewing. “I’ve never seen him so fired up about directing a lead.”

  He says this last part with a little sideways glance at me, as if he understands more than he’s letting on. His eye twitches just fractionally, like he’s winking.

  “And he warned me off you,” he adds.

  He did?

  I feel myself turning deep crimson.

  “He did?” I manage.

  “Oh yes. Ten years ago, you would have been just my type,” says Callum. “But you’re quite safe now. I’m a happily married man.”

  “You’re married? You kept it out of the magazines.” I’m so disconcerted, I blurt out the first thing which pops into my head.

  “Very happily married,” confirms Callum, taking another bite of food. “To an executive producer. Like Will, she’s another person who won’t take any of my crap. In fact, she wouldn’t consider dating me for two years on the grounds that she had a real job.”

  He looks delighted with this and bites off a hunk of bread. “I’m a very lucky man,” he concludes.

  I love Callum, I decide. I love him. He’s like a super-huggable teddy bear.

  “That’s great,” I say with a grin. “From what I hear, Hollywood could use a few more happy marriages.”

  “Undoubtedly so.”

  “Are you married?” I ask Will.

  “Yes ma’am. I am married to the most beautiful woman in LA.” Will delivers the announcement in his usual stern tone, but I detect real feeling behind it.

  “Will is a huge softy at heart,” says Callum. “Last Valentine’s Day, he proposed to his girlfriend in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon. Then they flew back to Vegas, where all their family and friends were waiting, and got married on the spot. Can you imagine anything more romantic?”

  Callum has a dreamy expression, and his dark eyebrows have lifted poetically.

  “I guess not.” I smile, giving Will a little sideways glance. I’m liking him more by the minute.

&nbs
p; Callum looks away from us suddenly, and throws up his hands in welcome.

  “Camilla! Darling! You’ve been gone over an hour. I’ve been heartbroken!”

  Callum stands with his arms outstretched, and on the other side of the restaurant, I see a smiling girl approach our table.

  She’s willowy, blonde, and almost ethereal looking, like a fairy. I judge her to be younger than me, and she’s dressed in teenage clothes – a long T-shirt dress teamed with battered black DM boots.

  She approaches the table, beaming at all of us, and throws herself into Callum’s outstretched arms.

  “Callum!” she squeaks, kissing him on both cheeks. “Hello, Will.” She extracts herself and leans over to give him the same warm greeting.

  “Oh!” She leans with her hands flat on the table to stare deep into my face. “And you must be Isabella. I’ve heard so much about you!”

  She gives a little enthusiastic hop and comes right around the table to throw her arms around me.

  “Hi,” I say shyly, caught off guard by the warmth of her greeting.

  “Hi!” She slides in next to me on the bench. “Seriously, I am so excited to see you act. James hasn’t stopped talking about how great you are on camera.”

  “Um. Thanks,” I manage, not sure of how to respond. It’s news to me.

  Her accent is perfect, nice, young English lady, and I mentally try to place her. Another relative of James? The British aristocracy do like to keep things in the family. Her hair is shoulder-length natural blonde, darker and messy at the roots. But her skin is flawless and her features perfectly symmetrical. With her height and slight frame, she could easily be a fashion model, I decide.

  “Are you acting in the movie?” I add, trying to make up for her friendliness.

  “Oh. Yes!” she replies, “isn’t that amazing? I have to pinch myself. I’ve been bothering James since forever to let me act, and he’s finally letting me try out.”

  She stares at her fingernails, which are short with the chipped remains of dark polish.

  “It’s only a small part, of course,” she adds shyly. “Just a few lines. But it’s a start.”

  “Who do you play?” I ask, trying to remember the parts. From what I’ve read, there are only two female roles in the movie.

  “Oh, I just play a newsroom intern. A skivvy. Like in real-life,” she adds with a half-smile. “James had me doing every menial role on set before he’d even consider letting me act. I’ve worked the lights, cameras, scrubbed floors, everything.” She rolls her eyes.

  “How do you know James?” I ask, intrigued. She seems to talk about him with such familiarity.

  Her eyes boggle a little.

  “He hasn’t told you?” she breathes. “He’s in big trouble when I see him! I’m his cousin.”

  Another cousin. He’s certainly not short of family.

  “Well, kind of,” she adds. “I stayed in James’s family home for a time. My father had money troubles when I was little. Serious money troubles,” she adds, “and Lady Berkeley took me in.”

  Camilla says this as though living with a lord and lady was the most normal thing in the world.

  Lady Berkeley. I’d forgotten James’s family was landed wealth.

  “I like to see myself as more like an annoying little sister,” she adds, “although I didn’t see a great deal of James growing up.”

  Her eyes cloud a little, and once again I’m reminded of James’s dark past. It must have affected his family deeply. Still, he might have told me he had such a close female cousin who’d be appearing in the movie.

  I resolve to quiz Camilla for more details on James’s many stepmothers, when I get the chance.

  “So,” Camilla continues, her blue eyes animated. “Do we have any more gossip on who’s playing the leading man?” She’s looking at me as she says this.

  I turn to Callum in confusion.

  “Don’t we know that yet?” I ask.

  I think back to my casting notes. The lead male wasn’t listed, but I assumed everyone else would know by now.

  “No!” Camilla is flushed with excitement. “It’s a big mystery! We think it could be Shane Peters, or even Michael Bass.”

  These are both gorgeous, very famous men. I realise suddenly that I might have to kiss one of them. I am the leading lady after all.

  What would James Berkeley make of that?

  The thought brings a little smile to my mouth.

  “Do you have any ideas,” Camilla is pressing, “who it might be?”

  “Well, um. No,” I say honestly. “No idea.”

  “It has to be someone a little older,” Callum says. “Though not as ancient as me, of course. We were hoping you’d be able to tell us, Issy. Most leading ladies insist on knowing their male lead before they take a role.”

  “I guess I’m really new to all this,” I say apologetically, realising my naivety.

  “I’ve heard that Natalie Ennis is going mad trying to get the name of the lead,” continues Callum. “And she’s only the support. Her agent is very particular about who she appears with.”

  I shrug. “Well, I guess we’ll find out soon.”

  My phone beeps in my pocket, causing me to start.

  “Sorry,” I apologise, taking it out, “I’m still a little jumpy since the power cut.”

  Everyone looks blank.

  “You probably weren’t in the studio when it happened,” I explain to Will and Callum. “There was a short for a few minutes.”

  “That’s strange,” says Camilla. “Are you sure there was a power cut?”

  “Well. Um, yeah,” I say. “As sure as I can be. The lights went out.” I shrug.

  Camilla frowns. “I didn’t see any power cut,” she says, “and the whole system is on a closed loop.” She pauses to roll her eyes again. “Did I mention that James made me learn everything about how the studio works?”

  I smile in response, but I’m only half listening. I’ve just noticed my phone display shows a message from James. I open it up.

  Come to your chalet. Now.

  I frown at the absence of kisses or general courtesy. Maybe it’s something to do with the power cut. I am pretty clumsy. Hopefully, I haven’t done something stupid and caused the short.

  “I gotta go,” I say, holding up the phone. “James just texted me.”

  I realise this is a stupid thing to say as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

  James said we needed to be discrete about seeing one another, and here I am waving around a text from him. I put the phone down quickly.

  Luckily, no one seems to think there is anything the least bit untoward about this.

  “You go ahead, leading lady,” says Callum with a smile. “He probably wants to discuss the first scenes to be shot with you.”

  “Don’t let him work you too hard,” frowns Camilla. “James can be a real slave driver.”

  I suppress a smile. Don’t I know it.

  “It was so good to meet you all,” I say as I stand. “I’m really looking forward to seeing you again.”

  I really mean it. I can see us having great fun working together.

  “I’ve just got off the LA flight, and I’m about ready to crash,” says Callum. “But maybe we should all meet tomorrow and practise some lines? Since we’re all here at such short notice.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. At least I’m not the only one anxious about the last minute schedule.

  “Ok, great. I’d love that,” I say with a smile.

  Rehearsing with Callum Reed!

  “Get my number from James,” suggests Callum. “Cam, you’ll be there too, right?”

  Camilla gives a little squeak of excitement. “Oh I’d love to. I mean, I don’t have much to rehearse. I only have three lines, and I know them so well, I talk them in my sleep.”

  She tilts her head to look at me. “But I can help. I mean, I can fetch coffee and things. It would be good practise for my real role,” she adds with a wry smile.

&n
bsp; “Great,” says Callum, “that’s sorted then. See you tomorrow, Issy.”

  “See you tomorrow.” I wave them all goodbye.

  As I head out of the restaurant, my thoughts return to what possible damage I might have done to the chalet. Camilla said there wasn’t a power cut elsewhere in the studio. I run through my last movements. I opened the make-up fridge in the bathroom. Maybe I did it wrong and broke something.

  The creepy laugh comes back to me, and I feel my stomach turn. What if I wasn’t imagining things after all?

  Only one way to find out, I think, heading for my chalet.

  Chapter 13

  I reach my chalet to find that, instead of James, there’s a note on the door.

  I yank it off and read.

  “Come inside and go up to the bedroom.”

  Oh. Nothing to do with the power cut then.

  I feel a little thrill shoot through me, remembering the objects in my bedside drawer.

  I use my fingerprints and key card to enter the chalet, and walk quietly up the staircase. My earlier anxiety has vanished. How silly to imagine that anyone could get inside here. The security’s so tight, I’m amazed that James can get in.

  The bedroom door is shut, and I push the door open and walk in.

  To my disappointment, James isn’t in the room waiting for me.

  Instead, there is a large bunch of beautiful violet-coloured roses.

  I give a little half smile. I haven’t told James that I know about his past. That he hasn’t given a woman red roses since the death of his mother.

  Violet roses. Hmmm.

  There’s a crisp envelope made of heavy paper next to the blooms. Reflexively, I pick the flowers up using both hands and inhale the delicate fragrance. Then I replace them on the bed and slide a card out of the envelope.

  “Violet. For enchantment. Because you have enchanted me.”

  I smile to myself. The next line causes a more mixed reaction.

  “Open the top drawer of your bedside cabinet,” it instructs, “and put on the pearl G-string.”

  I put the card back down on the bed and hesitate. The pearl G-string.

  When I picked it up earlier, it seemed as though it would be an uncomfortable thing to wear.