by N. K. Smith
“All right, people,” Lenny yells as he claps his hands, “we’re going to try it again!”
Even though the camera is focused on Nathan, I’m in the foreground of the frame. Only my body will be shown in this particular shot, so while I dance, I keep my eyes on the guy and watch him watching me. Does he like what he sees? How could he not? I’m a star, and he’s a gaffer. Of course he likes what he sees.
We finally get a take Lenny approves of, so we break for lunch. Food has already been set up outside on the lot. Most days, I sit with some of the producers, Elsie, or Nathan, but today I find the guy with the broad shoulders and dimples. He’s a little bit away from everyone else, and I’m not sure if that means he’s a bit of a loner or if he’s just hungry and got his food first. Whatever the case, I hope that no one else chooses to sit by us.
“Hey.”
He looks up as I sit down. He has the most soulful brown eyes I’ve ever seen. His chewing slows until finally he swallows the mouthful and gives me a “Hey” back.
“So you’re a gaffer?” It’s a stupid question, but I can’t think of anything else to open with. I’m not skilled at this sort of thing, and it seems I lack the ability, even with my newfound confidence, to just tell him I would like to explore his body with my mouth. And even if I had the ability to be so blunt, I’m not sure I’d start off like that anyway.
“I prefer lighting technician, but yes, gaffer is what my role is traditionally called.” He looks down at his food and shakes his head. When he looks back up at me, that blush appears again. “Sorry, I should have just said yes.”
“No, no.” For the first time in a long time, I feel a genuine smile push my cheeks up. “I like knowing your preferred title. It’s better than gaffer. It’s professional.”
Silence descends between us so much so that I can hear everyone else having conversations around us. He nods to my food. “They don’t give you real food to eat?”
A dig on my vegan food. Although I usually hate that sort of thing because I get it a lot, it’s good in this instance because it gives me something to work with. I already know what to say to that remark and won’t look stupid trying to formulate something on the fly.
“What? You think my veggie chik’n nuggets aren’t real?” He’s not looking at me, so I give him a little tap with my toe under the table. When our eyes lock, I smile and say in my haughtiest tone, “I’ll keep the vegan politics out of it, but I’m quite satisfied with my food options.”
“I just thought maybe . . .” He trails off and looks away again. Just a ghost of a smile curves his lips. I get the impression he’s holding something back.
“What?” I ask, but he shakes his head. “What?” I chuckle a little this time. This is getting easier, and maybe I’m not so unskilled after all. “What do you want to say?”
“Nothing, seriously, I can’t say it to you.” His voice is soft and shakes a bit, like he’s nervous.
“Why not?”
At that, he looks up at me. “Because you’re Adra Willows, and I’m a fucking gaffer.” He averts his eyes again, this time studying his fried chicken like it’s a work of art. “Sorry for swearing.”
I reach across the small table and place my hand over his. “Hey, lighting technician, remember? Not a fucking gaffer.”
He brings his eyes back up, but not before I see them stop for a second on my breasts. I know my nipples are standing out in relief under the tight, stretched blue fabric of my T-shirt, so I straighten my back and make my breasts jut out more.
“You’re cute,” I say. “What’s your name?” It feels little strange coming on to someone like this, but if I’ve learned anything from my experience with Danny at all, it’s that men want confident women. Liliana always used to say, fake it until you make it, and that’s perfect advice right now. It might not be natural, but the more I practice being confident, the better I’ll be at it.
“Trent.”
“That’s sexy.” I lick my lips then scrape my tongue with my teeth as I pull it back in. I know Trent already wants me. His blush and nervousness are easy to understand, but I want him to know that I want him too. Again, I push my tongue out, just to the edge of my mouth and wait for him to focus on it, then I pull it back in.
“So what were you going say, Trent?” I fiddle with the V-neck of my T-shirt with two fingers. It does what I hoped by drawing his eyes back down to my chest. “I’d love to know.”
He swallows hard before his gaze returns to my face, but he doesn’t speak right away. The reddish tint of his face has faded. He uses one finger to point down at my food. “Well, I was just going say that if you ever find yourself craving real meat, I know somewhere you can get a porterhouse just the way you like it.”
Trent’s deep-voiced innuendo not only slices through my disgust at thinking about meat, but it initiates a tingle low in my belly. I suck in my lower lip and bite down as I think about what he might be working with in the meat department. “I may be no expert, but I know a porterhouse is a mouthful. Maybe someday I can show you exactly how I like it.”
Chapter 16
So this new thing with Trent is kind of awesome. I’m not in a hurry to put a label on it, but I have been thinking about it. Everyone loves nice, neat categories in which to place all complex things like relationships. It’s just difficult to figure out what we are. I mean on one hand I’m so turned on by his down-to-earth nature and his sexy body, but on the other, neither of us has made a move yet. Then, there’s the fact that he might be a little too down-to-earth. It’s a bit strange and awkward to be with someone who lives almost completely outside of the celebrity sphere. Yeah, he works with us on sets but going out and being photographed makes him uncomfortable, and of course, that makes me uncomfortable, too. I want him to be suave and sexy in the tabloid snapshots. Maybe he’ll ease into it.
We haven’t had sex yet, but I think we will soon. Our conversations are so full of innuendo we could write a script for an HBO show with all our unresolved sexual tension. But it’s okay. As ready as I am to have sex with someone less selfish than Danny, I think waiting might be good in this case. If nothing else, it will heighten the whole experience by increasing our as-of-yet unrealized desire to a fever pitch.
Tonight is only going to be our fourth date, but I plan on bringing him home.
***
The night has been a little uncomfortable because Trent has been somewhat reserved. I don’t know if this is how he is or if it’s just with me. Now that we’re back at my house where the lights are dim and there are no fans asking for autographs and no photographers jockeying to get the best angle for the shot, he seems better.
“So what do you want to do?”
He stops looking at the painting of the bird and twists around to answer. “I don’t know. What do Hollywood stars do with gaffers?”
I laugh but shake my head. “I don’t know. I don’t actually know any stars who are seeing lighting technicians.”
Trent points at me as the smile on his face grows in reaction to my use of his preferred title. A second later, he motions around the room with one finger. “I’ve seen this room before. You were interviewed by Ronnie Reynolds in this room, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, why?”
He shrugs and returns to looking at the wall décor. “I don’t know. It’s just a bit surreal to watch you on TV talking about your movies and stuff and then stand in the very room you gave the interview in.” Trent turns back to me but leaves his hand resting on the mantle of the fireplace. “I mean, this whole thing is surreal. Maybe not for you, but definitely for me. Guys like me are a dime a dozen, but you, you’re unique.”
“Way to paint yourself as a cliché, Trent.”
His nervous chuckle convinces me that he’s really struggling to find the right things to say. “So, you said you didn’t know any actresses who were seeing lighting technicians. Does that mean we’re seeing each other?”
“I’m looking at you right now,” I say, trying to
cute and clever.
“You know what I mean.”
I shrug and cross the room to him. He turns back to brass replica of the Eiffel Tower and I stare at his rugged and sexy profile for a moment. I like the little scar that runs perpendicular to the line of his jaw. One day I may ask him about it, but maybe that’s a question someone would ask of a guy you’re planning on having a real relationship with, and I’m not quite sure if that’s where this is headed.
He wants to define it, but I don’t know how to even think about defining it. Even though our first conversation had been all about sex, we haven’t done anything remotely like that. I’m not some kind of Hollywood player bouncing from man to man and wanting a relationship with no feelings, no responsibility, just casual fun. I mean, if that’s what he wanted, it’d be fine, I guess, but would it be so bad to be in a real relationship with a normal guy like Trent? He’s not an actor, and he seems to be giving me the upper hand in this thing we’ve got going now. Maybe if this does become a real relationship, I could keep that. It would be the opposite of what I had with Danny.
He turns, and his cheeks redden a bit when he finds me studying him. “Hey.” His voice is soft and intimate.
I’d forgotten how great it feels to be in the company of someone new, especially when the possibility of something beautiful blossoming from this shy and hesitant courtship. I still haven’t answered his question, and it’s making him nervous. “Would it bother you if I did want to date you?”
Trent presses his lips together, but I can see a smile forming. Before I hear the answer to my question, I want him to know the truth of the situation. “I mean, dating me would probably be really tough. Beyond the whole not being able to go outside without being photographed thing, I’m kind of a messed up girl. You saw that interview, so you know I don’t come from the best—”
He stops my words by placing a gentle but firm hand against my cheek and drawing me toward his lips. Peter cups my cheek like that all the time, but he never makes a move to kiss me. I like that Trent does. The kiss is better than I could have imagined. It’s soft and giving and yet there is an air of impatience and need to it as well.
Just when I think the kiss is going to last forever he breaks away and takes a deep breath. I guess my new confident persona is paying off. Somehow I feel less self-conscious, like Trent is looking at the whole me and not just bits and pieces of me.
“So is that a no, it wouldn’t bother you if I wanted to date you or . . .”
He laughs, and it feels good to hear it, but what feels even better is when he kisses me again. Yeah, maybe dating a regular guy who has no problem going for what he wants is exactly what I need.
Chapter 17
Locker’s Confidential showed Liliana visiting an underprivileged kids who were in an acting troupe. She said some pretty awesome things. It made me believe that she’s in this business because she loves it instead of being in it because she loves the fame. I’m envious that people want her to go talk to their groups. She’s all over the Internet and magazines because of her speech. The photo op was fantastic. Everyone’s seen the pictures of her handing out clothes to these kids. Oh, yeah, not only is she inspiring the youth of LA to keep going, she’s giving them clothes, too.
But she’s not faking it. It’s a real thing she did, you know? Not just for the publicity. I know it’s real because Lili looks happy. Maybe I should have Elsie set something like that up for me.
I’m meeting Lili for brunch. Maybe I’ll ask her about it.
***
Even though I mean to ask her about the speech she gave to those kids, I don’t get the chance. Liliana launches in before I can ask.
“So,” Lili says after she takes a dainty bite of her egg white omelet, “who’s the guy?”
I raise my eyebrows. “Guy?”
She waves a hand in dismissal. “Don’t play dumb. You and the mystery hottie have been featured several times in the magazines and blogs. Who is he and how fantastic is he in bed?”
We’ve only had a handful of dates, eight or nine, maybe, and have only been physical for the last week, and even that’s just been some very nice kissing and light bodily exploration. “He’s a lighting technician.”
Liliana nods and gives me a sly grin. “Crew member. Nice. I bet he has excellent hands. You know, the kind of rough that feels great in sensitive places? I approve of this choice, Miss Willows. It must be nice to get away from needy man-boy performers.”
I pick at my toast and then shove the plate away. I don’t want to tell her too much. I certainly don’t want her to know that I haven’t had sex with him yet. She’ll make all kinds of judgments and probably call me a prude or say something like, aw, that’s cute or something else equally infuriating. “I don’t know. It’s . . . I mean, I’m not just sleeping with him.”
“Yes, I figured, which is why I asked who he was.”
“What I mean is, I’m not just sleeping with him, but I don’t know if I should go for full-on relationship, you know? Considering what happened with Danny. I mean, he’s fun, you know? Like really fun. When I’m with Trent—”
“So he does have a name.”
“Yeah, so when I’m with him, it’s so easy to think there might be something more there, but then when we’re not together and I think about it, I feel like I should just keep it light and casual.”
Lili rolls her eyes and takes another bite.
“What?” I ask.
“Grow up, Adra. Not just sleeping with him but not sure if you want an actual relationship? You’re going to be a quarter of a century old soon, honey, and big girls and big boys don’t always have relationships.” Her use of air quotes annoys me. “Sometimes we just fuck and let it be what it is. Be honest with yourself. Either he’s boyfriend material or he’s not. Don’t make a big deal about it. He looks like eye candy, and it’s high time you had a boy toy. Who cares what anyone else thinks? Besides controversy not only sells magazines, but it makes you relevant.”
My stomach churns a little at her phrasing. I shift in my seat and turn my gaze from my callous friend to the photographers snapping pictures of us eating. I never mentioned caring about what anyone else thought or about my relationship—casual or something more—being controversial. “I don’t want to use him, you know? Just thinking about it makes me—”
“Oh, get over it. I swear, the best thing I’ve done in a long time was not commit to any man after Nick. I mean, boy toy, friends with benefits, sex buddies, whatever you want to call it, it makes for a happy existence. I don’t have to worry about my feelings or his feelings.”
“Still,” I say. I take a sip of my coffee, but the acid doesn’t do good things to my stomach, so I push the cup away as well. I’ve barely eaten anything. I’ve tried to stick to Roman’s diet, but I feel too anxious all the time to follow it. When my stomach feels like it’s churning, it’s hard to force myself to eat. “Thinking about a boy-toy makes me feel . . . lecherous.”
“Get. Over. It.” Lili’s voice is demanding, and she sounds annoyed. “Men all over the world are allowed to be lecherous. They go after females half their age, they cheat, they lie, and they’re not held accountable for any of it. We’re held to some ridiculous standard of chastity and virtue. So stupid. Men are seldom held accountable for living their lives in whatever way they want. And it’s not just relationships. Take weight for example. Men can gain twenty pounds and no one says boo to them. Me? I gain two pounds of water weight because I’m on my period, you better believe everyone’s up my ass for why I’ve lost control of my eating. Bullshit.” Liliana snaps her fingers to get my attention. When I oblige and meet her gaze, she says, “Fuck away, Adra. Fuck whomever you want, however you want, whenever you want, and don’t give a shit about how it looks.”
It takes me a moment, but finally, I respond to her advice. “I don’t care how it looks. I care how it’ll make him feel. How it’ll make me feel.”
She points her fork at me. “That’s your problem r
ight there. You still think other people’s feelings matter. If you don’t take this world by the cock, you’re going to be stuck chasing it around.”
I shake my head. “What does that even mean?”
“Decide what you want out of life. Then go out and get it. You’re so wishy-washy. You want to play boyfriend and girlfriend with this gaffer, go for it, but if you just want the simple, beautiful pleasure of sex without all the other stuff, just deal with it. Don’t make it into something it’s not. You control your feelings, Adra, and you don’t have feel any way you don’t want to.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I shouldn’t get involved with Trent for anything more than sex. It’s not like I’m anywhere near ready to look for anything long-term. But maybe I don’t feel like acknowledging that once again, Liliana Addison knows more than I do.
Chapter 18
So I’ve decided to just do whatever works with Trent. I don’t know why I overthink things anyway. He seems pretty happy to just spend time with me, so I’m just going to go with the flow. So far, the flow entails some very low-key dates and some incredible sex. I tried for a month to get him to make a first move, but he was hesitant, so one night while we were in Malibu, I took control and made the move on my own. He was responsive, to say the least. Maybe the fact that I am who I am makes him feel like the lesser partner in this relationship, but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t that way by design.
I’m looking forward to this film wrapping. Meg has sent me some fantastic scripts and not one of them has a nude scene. Elsie’s being a bit of a bitch about it all. She hates every script I show her, but just like I’m learning that I don’t have to be passive in romantic relationships, or whatever this is, I don’t have to let Elsie take control of my career. I sort of get what everyone’s been saying. I’ll always be loyal to her, but at the end of the day, she works for me, not the other way around.
