Anton was next, which only took him a few minutes. "Always an easy customer," Anton told him.
"I know. I wonder why I'm paying you," he teased with a chuckle.
He would be next in front of the green screen and started forward, but Evie called him back. "Wait," Evie said, and reached for his shirt and started fiddling with his buttons.
"Darlin', we aren't alone."
"Real cute." She stood back and admired her handiwork. "Perfect."
He glanced at her handiwork and laughed. Guess she liked a little more skin, too. He headed for his spot in the limelight where Bryce told him to sit here, do this, hold your arms this way... He was already bored. He glanced at Evie. She was nursing a cup of coffee. He was complaining he was bored, but Evie had to be about ready to pull her hair out.
"Hold on for a moment," Bryce said and checked on his film or whatever photographers do when they shout, Hold on.
Bellamy leaned forward and crooked a finger at Evie, giving her a 'come hither' look.
She shook her head and at the same time Bryce's camera flashed.
"Jesus, a little warning," Bellamy said and stood to his full height.
"That was the first real photo we could use today. In the other shots, you posed as if you were made of cardboard."
"I'm not a fuckin' model, you know."
"Today you are," Bryce said and grinned wickedly. "Your fans want photos. I'm here to supply them with pictures of your pretty mug."
"Hardy, har, har," he said not liking the 'pretty' when describing his looks. "You mean ruggedly handsome."
"I think I had it right the first time," Bryce said and glanced at Evie standing to the side. "Pretend you're doing this for her."
"Show me your good side," Evie called to him with a gleam in her eye.
Bellamy turned around and slapped his ass. Bryce took a photo and Bellamy stood up straight with indignation.
Bryce shrugged. "Just doing my job."
"I need a cigarette," Bellamy grumbled and went in search for one.
Two hours later, they were finally done with the single headshots. He even had his photo taken on the bike. He personally hoped that one turned out to be something they'd used, but the photos still had to be developed and edited, and Sonya would have the last say on what photos stayed and what would be tossed.
After lunch, they would work on the band shots. "See you at two," Leon said as he headed for the door. Evie and Bellamy were on their own today for lunch.
He grabbed her hand and followed suit. "Freedom!" he bellowed in the lobby with his hands raised over his head. A few of the guests turned their way to stare.
"He's off his meds," she told an older couple who walked quickly past them, glancing over their shoulders as if they feared he'd chase after them.
He crossed his eyes and the woman sneered, making Evie giggle.
"Let's get a drink," he announced. He only had a few beers served to him today, no time to indulge when Bryce kept them hopping. He felt a headache coming on and his hands weren't steady.
"What about lunch?" Evie asked.
He shrugged. "I could do both." They sat at the bar and the bartender gave them a menu of the entrees served there. Wonder what the patrons would say if Evie gave her demonstration of how much she enjoyed her food, with those explicit descriptions of taste and texture? He was getting hard just thinking about it.
He sighed and knew it probably wasn't going to happen. She saved those moments for when they were alone. Come to think of it, he didn't want to share the experience with anyone else. He glanced at Evie, who turned out to be one complex woman. She was like a book that had twists and turns and a surprise ending to boot. He really liked that about her and he didn't want her to go home once her contract ended.
"What do you think of the shoot so far?" he asked. "Are you wishing that you stayed in the room?"
"No. I'm not bored at all, but you seem stressed and Bryce looks like he'd like to bop you on the head when you don't sit still," she added.
"I'd like to bop him one, too," he said, and then chugged the cold beer the bartender had brought him. It was all about the pleasure he gained once the alcohol hit his system, not the taste since the aromatic toasted malt this beer claimed to have was lost to him, but it was cold and that proved better than nothing. "Your brother is good at his job," he told her and meant it. "It's why we keep hiring him back. Wish I knew he had a sister way back when." He waved for the bartender. "Another one," he said and held up the empty mug. He slapped the bar with his palm. "And keep them coming until I say stop."
Evie's hand rested on his forearm. "Are you sure you want to indulge? You aren't done for the day."
He couldn't miss her worry for him, but he needed the buzz. It kept him steady, kept him from dwelling on things he had no control over, like Evie leaving him. "I'll be fine."
She pursed her lips. Apparently, she didn't believe him.
By the time they headed back to the ballroom, he was feeling good. The other guys were already back and waiting for him. He wasn't late. They were early according to his watch. "Let's get this done," he said and draped his arms around Maury and Leon's shoulders as he led them toward the green screen once more.
He supposed when the final product was complete, there would be a background added of a stage or of New York City or maybe even Los Angeles. He stood in the middle and the band took positions around him, and it all started again. He stood. He sat. He knelt down on his haunches. He smiled. He frowned. He gave Bryce the finger and the bastard took the photo.
After about the up-teenth shot, he lit up a much-needed cigarette. His jaw hurt from smiling. His head pounded too. He needed a pick-me-up, but he hadn't stashed anything on him. It was in his suitcase upstairs. He couldn't leave and he didn't think Evie would be willing to help him out. She was adorable and fun to be with, but a little too squeaky-clean when it came to partying.
"Can we do this without the cigarette hanging from your lips?" Bryce asked.
"I want to smoke." He took a long drag then let it out again through his mouth and nose.
"Come on, man," T.C., whined and waved his hand in front of his face as the smoke drifted his way. "We'd like this to be over sometime today."
"I'm finishing my smoke," Bellamy barked. Maybe he'd had one too many beers at lunch. Evie tried to cut him off, but he wouldn't let her. Funny thing, he knew he was being a dick-wad. He just didn't care. He caught sight of Evie, her lips a flat line of disapproval, and he didn't like it. "What, Evie?" His voice boomed and everyone who'd been talking turned his way, but it didn't stop him from lashing out again. "What?" he asked. "Can't a guy have a fuckin' cigarette?"
She arched her lovely eyebrows. "You can have two," she said in a calm tone, and yet he could see the fire in her eyes. "Heck, why don't you have the whole pack? We'll all wait for you." She waved her hand in front of her as she glanced at the band, her brother, and whomever else she included in her hand sweep.
He purposely took another drag, but then dropped the cigarette on the floor and ground it out with his boot. When he glanced up, Evie was heading out the doors. He swallowed back the lump in his throat as the doors closed behind her. Emotions raged inside of him in confusion. He didn't know if he should be upset or just plain pissed off that she'd walked out. He almost went after her.
"I wouldn't do it," Bryce advised as if he read his thoughts. Who knows? Maybe, he'd actually taken a step.
"Yeah, and why's that?"
"I know my sister. She's right pissed at you."
"She's pissed at me?" he asked in disbelief.
"Yes," his band mates nearly said in unison.
He tried to go over what had just happened. "I just wanted a smoke," he murmured, but he didn't light another one for the rest of the shoot.
He allowed Bryce to tell him where to stand, sit, whatever the fuck he wanted but all the time he was wondering why Evie had left. A regret-wrenching fear knotted in his belly at the thought he'd somehow gone too
far but didn't know what it was exactly he'd done. Shouldn't have cursed at her. Bellamy nodded. That could be the reason she stormed off.
By the time the shoot finished, he was anxious to be on his way. He told wardrobe he'd send down the outfit he had on later. He hurried to his room but realized Evie probably wouldn't be there and went straight to hers. He knocked on the door. For a moment, he thought she wouldn't answer, but she did. However, there was no greeting, no kiss, not even a hug – not that he expected it. Well, he sort of expected it.
She'd changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top. She might have been doing her yoga. He'd enjoyed the times he'd watched her practice. Stretches, twists, and bending at the waist to touch her toes...yeah, quite a vision to behold. He shook his head and tried to remain focused on the here and now.
She sat on the bed, with her legs stretched out in front of her and picked up the book from the nightstand. She read as if he weren't standing in her room, doing a good imitation of being a statue. Her mood proved chilly without her saying a word, and he could only imagine it would head toward frosty if he didn't say something. What should he say? He stood there with his hands in his pockets for so long, he was feeling a bit foolish. "Are we going to talk about this?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Talk about what?" she said and there was that tone. He didn't know what you called it, but it was a tone of voice no one wants to hear. It's I'm-so-pissed-I-want-to-rip-your-liver-out-and-feed-it-to-the-dogs, kind of tone. Only, it was being said in a polite way, like Doc Holiday polite. Will you kindly go to hell and please close the door on your way out. Yeah, he could see Doc saying such a thing. He had enjoyed the movie Tombstone. They'd rented the video the other day. "I'll be your huckleberry," he drawled.
"What?" Evie said and he realized he'd spoken out loud.
"Sorry." He teetered on his feet. "Are you going to be pissed off at me the rest of the night?"
She glanced up from her book. Those dark rimmed glasses made her appear like the book marm he'd nicknamed her for. "I don't know. It depends," she told him.
"On what?"
"If you need another smoke," her voice dripped with sarcasm.
"Okay. Uh…" More uncomfortable silence as he shifted his weight. "Should I order dinner in? It's nearly five."
She snapped her book closed and he flinched. "No," she said firmly. "I think you should leave." She repositioned the pillows behind her and reopened her book again.
"What did I do?" He shrugged his shoulders.
She closed her eyes as if she were having a difficult time controlling her temper, but then she opened them again and pinned him down with that look. Yep, she had that look down pat. "I know you're under stress, but being nasty to everyone around you is not acceptable. Just to let you know: People love drunks until they don't."
He blanched. Had he been that bad? Evie was pretty tolerant of him. He must have been worse than he remembered. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge, then decided to take a chance. He crawled over to sit next to her.
"I didn't know… I didn't mean to... Sometimes, I'm just an ass." He turned to find her watching him.
She shook her head and sighed. "We all have bad days. We can all be jerks at times, but you should apologize to your band. It's not fair for you to make them walk on eggshells around you. I see it. Everyone sees it. They never know which Bellamy they're going to get." Her hand came toward his, but then she must have remembered she was still angry with him and her hand returned to her knee. "Remember, the play we just saw, Jekyll and Hyde? That's you. Your band mates or brothers as you've called them, they don't know if you'll walk in and be the guy they grew up with or the one who doesn't care what he does or says, even if it's hurtful." Her eyes searched his. "They love you, you know. If you hurt, they hurt. Talk to them, Bellamy."
He blinked, sobered a tad more than he was already. It was like she could see into his soul and knew his bad manners were only a shield. He did care, but he'd been doing this dance for so long it became easier and easier to shut people out, and it gave him full rein to be the perfect jerk, as she put it.
He scooted off the bed.
"Where are you going?" she asked in surprise.
"I have some apologizing to do."
"Bellamy?" He turned to look at her. "I'll be waiting for you," she said.
He didn't realize until now how glad he was to hear her say that. "I'll hurry."
Chapter Twenty
Back on Line
Bellamy headed down to the banquet room where they had the photo shoot, wondering if any of the guys were still there. He slipped into the room unnoticed as the crew was dismantling and packing their gear. By tonight, he knew everything would be cleared out.
He noticed Leon and Maury first, standing by each other, conversing. He started over to them, stepping over wires and avoiding some of the boxes piled in the way. Clark and T.C. joined the two a few seconds later.
"Can you believe that asshole?" Clark voiced. "What's he on now?" he asked and then went into a poor rendition of imitating his words from earlier and puffing on an invisible cigarette.
Bellamy ducked behind the makeup counter, so not to be seen. He felt like he'd been gut-punched and had the wind knocked out of him. Bent at the waist, he leaned on his knees and tried to catch his breath. He'd come down here to apologize and they were making fun of him. Granted he'd been a dick, he knew that, but he couldn't help but think Clark's routine of mocking him wasn't something new. What's he on now? he'd said, as if they'd discussed his drug habit on numerous occasions.
Clark really had some nerve. He'd been dubbed the Pothead King his senior year in high school, and he wore the crown proudly. Though, Bellamy couldn't recall the guy indulging as much now. Clark hadn't totally given up smoking pot, just didn't indulge as if it were a part of a staple diet. Still, the guy had no right to judge him. He didn't know the pain he suffered when he lost his father, and how he mentally beat himself up over it, over and over again, until sometimes he couldn't get out of bed. Sometimes, he longed for death because then all of it would finally end. As a reminder, the old familiar pain shimmered to life inside of him, leaving him breathless.
Get over it, he'd been told. Put it behind you. It wasn't your fault. How? He didn't know how. He rubbed his temples. The headache he'd had all afternoon felt worse. One of those sick headaches he'd experienced since the damn baseball bashed his skull. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He kept a few pills there, something his doctor prescribed for the pain. How had he forgotten about them? He could have taken these earlier. He downed them without water. He'd taken so many pills in the last few years it was easy.
"Give it a rest, Clark," he heard Leon say. "Maybe we've been pushing him too hard."
His good pal, Leon, always trying to make things right. Isn't that why he'd hired Evie? Had to say he was grateful he did now. She'd been a bright spot in his day, something to look forward to when they called it a night. She took the edge off the pain that tormented him, especially when he was alone and couldn't sleep. With her, there were some nights he found rest.
He should go back to the room, tell Evie he couldn't find the guys. He could make his apologies later. As he was about to make his escape, one of the crewmen came by and rolled the makeup unit away, not realizing Bellamy had been using it as a shield. Exposed, he glanced at the guys, hoping they wouldn't notice him, but luck had never been on his side. Maury glanced up, and their eyes met. He quickly slapped Clark on the chest, who at that moment was mimicking something else Bellamy had done that obviously pissed Clark off. Apparently, he was providing Clark with some good material.
"What?" Clark said and followed Maury's gaze. He had the decency to look somewhat embarrassed. "Oh, hey," he said and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Didn't know you were there." Clark cringed as he realized how that sounded.
Bellamy mentally brushed off the hurt he felt and reminded himself that if he hadn't been such a jerk, Clark wouldn
't have ideas for his standup comedy act. If they wanted him to be the carefree Bellamy that they knew in their youth, he could perform too, and probably a whole lot better than Clark. "Dude, if that was supposed to be me, you need some serious drama courses. An actor, you are not." He forced himself to grin.
Clark seemed to relax and chuckled. "You know I was only fooling around, right?"
Fooling around at his expense, but Bellamy waved him off. He glanced at each of his so-called friends in return. They'd been together for a long time, since they were kids – and memories clouded his head. He used to double date with Leon, the first time was when they took the Dawson twins to the Prom. Those girls were wild. The first time, he'd had sex was in the front seat of his pickup. It was clumsy and not all that comfortable. Leon had borrowed his mother's four-door sedan. Needless to say, things fared better for him.
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