by April Fire
I climbed out of the shower and grabbed some clean clothes from the dresser, peering back through the door and seeing, to my relief, that the girl was dressing quickly and quietly as though she didn’t want to alert me to the fact that she was leaving. Thank fuck. I didn’t want to have to deal with turning her out. It was always the worst part of dealing with groupies – they never seemed to know where the line was between “well, that was fun, but you should go” and “I secretly want you to stay and get in the way of my entire fucking day”. She was cute, though, a film student, from what I remembered from the night before. I tugged a shirt over my head as I watched her ass shimmying into a pair of black cotton panties. Maybe I could just…
My phone buzzed and I snatched it off the dresser so it wouldn’t alert her to my voyeurism. It was a message from my assistant, Damien, letting me know that the meeting started in twenty minutes and was a quarter-hour walk across town. I dressed hurriedly, waiting for the girl to start her walk of shame back to the dorms, and then dived out the door myself.
“Morning,” Damien greeted me, glancing after the girl who was scurrying off the lot before anyone got a chance to see her. “Good night?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I replied, plucking the coffee from his hands and taking a sip. He cocked an eyebrow.
“You sure you’re ready for this meeting?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m sure,” I promised him. “Come on, let’s get this done so I can go back to bed.”
If working in Hollywood had given me one thing, it was a stone-cold ability to work through even the worst of hangovers, and that wasn’t about to change just because I was all the way out in Devina.
There was a reason I’d chosen this place to shoot the movie. It was so far from everything I knew that it felt like a chance to restart, to establish myself outside the world that had put me where I was today. I had never in my life shot a movie there, and figured that now was as good as any to start. I loved this city, loved the way it seemed ripe with ideas and knowledge and people, and that was the perfect place to shake off all the Hollywood shit that was still following me around and actually get this movie done and dusted.
How long had it been since that script had first ended up in front of me? A year, two? I’d shopped it around to all the directors who I’d worked with before, even the assholes who’d insisted on treating me like shit to get the performance they wanted, but no-one was biting. Everyone liked it, but no-one loved it, and I just couldn’t figure out why. As far as I was concerned, it was about the best script in Hollywood that hadn’t been turned into a movie, and why nobody seemed to want to take it on was beyond me.
I still remember the moment it clicked, the moment I realized that I was going to have to be the one to do this – I was sitting in my apartment, Scotch in hand, right after ducking out of the premier of a new release of mine that I didn’t have a whole lot of faith in. I had that sinking feeling in my stomach, not that the movie would bomb or suck, but that I didn’t like what I had produced. I hated feeling that way and would have done anything to avoid it again – but I was at the beck and call of the directors who liked me, and all the roles they had for me seemed…samey. The bad boy with the heart of gold, the antihero who came through in the end.
They were fun for a while, but I wanted something new, wanted something that would make me sit up and take notice. I’d been cruising through that city on autopilot for a long time, and I needed something to snap me out of my coma. Something big, something different. Something like that script that was sitting untouched in my drawer in my desk.
What followed was a flurry of activity as half the world seemed to try and talk me out of it and half the world shoved me in the direction of my new idea. Before I knew it, we had a handful of investors on board who wanted some say over the direction of the movie, and I was getting in touch with the screenwriter for rewrites and running auditions and trying to figure out how in the hell I was going to make this shit work. I would have funded it all myself, but the studio was reluctant to throw their weight behind something that they knew only I was invested in so they insisted on having some other names in the ring. I was a little pissed at first, until my agent pointed out that I hadn’t exactly cultivated a brand known for my reliability. He wasn’t wrong.
“How long do we have before the meeting starts?” I asked, and Damien shot me a look. One of the reasons I’d kept him about so long was because he didn’t take any of my shit, and he never felt the need to protect me from my own fuck-ups.
“Fifteen minutes,” he replied. “And you’re going to need to walk faster.”
“I might fall to pieces if I do that,” I warned him with a wince as the sun appeared from behind one of the neighboring trailers and scorched my retinas once more.
“This movie might if you don’t,” he shot back, and I grinned. He was as invested in the success of this project as I was, and I could always rely on him to give me the kick up the ass I required to keep me on my toes.
We made our way across the lot, and as we did so, I spotted one of the sets being put together for shooting the next day. I felt a warm rush of excitement as I realized how close we were to actually doing this. After all this time, all this effort, all this money, and all that being told that I would never pull it off, here we were, on the eve, poised to actually make it happen. I knocked back a mouthful of my coffee and continued on my way to the investors meeting with a renewed resolve. I could do this. I could do anything.
Chapter Three
Dina
I yawned widely, and did my best to cover my gaping mouth as I made my way across the lot and towards the costume and make-up department. I was exhausted, and it was only the first day.
Then, it was always like this the first day of shooting. You had to get used to being back in the game, getting back into the groove of wildly irregular hours and working whenever the boss needed you. It had been about a month since my last project and I had grown accustomed to my ability to stay in bed all day and not bring down the wrath of my employers as a result. I needed a coffee, and I needed one now.
Craning my neck, I spotted a food truck sitting at the other side of the lot. I could smell the bitter, rich scent of the fresh-ground beans and my mouth was practically watering at the thought of a pastry of some kind. Something buttery and sugary and –
“Oh, shit, sorry,” I mumbled as I bumped into someone making their way across to the lot in the same direction I was headed.
“Don’t worry about it,” He replied, and my head snapped up. Holy shit. It was him. It was Will Derry.
“Hey, you’re Dina, right?” He remarked, furrowing his brow like he was trying to place me. “Where do I know you from?”
“Uh…” I struggled to find the words to get out anything that wasn’t complete nonsense. Here I was, standing in the presence of the guy I’d had a crush on for at least a decade, and I couldn’t find a word to say. Come the fuck on! I had no idea if I would ever get another chance to talk to him like this. One-on-one, just the two of us. I wanted to make a good impression. Needed to. He looked down at me patiently, glancing across at the coffee stand as though he was wondering when it would be polite for him to duck out and get his hit of caffeine.
“I’m the make-up artist?” I finally managed. “I…I worked on Palatial. That’s where you saw my…my, uh, work.”
“Oh, yeah!” He nodded, sounding enthusiastic. Now that I managed to relax, I could actually enjoy his presence for a hot second; I was used to seeing him on the back page of gossip rags, all dressed up and rakishly handsome in various tuxedos and perfectly-cut suits. But this morning, he was in jeans and a black t-shirt that showed off his perfectly lean body as though it’d had been made to be looked at. He was about a foot taller than me, with thick, messy hair and a smattering of dark stubble that told me that he’d just rolled out of bed and on to set, same as me.
I ran my fingers through my own hair, glad I had at least bothered with a full face this morning so I co
uld make a good impression. But I was wearing a slouchy sweater and my lucky jeans, and I wasn’t exactly dressed to meet the biggest star in the country.
“I loved your work on that,” he nodded, cocking his head to the side. I had won a handful of awards for Palatial, but I was still surprised that he had any idea who I actually was.
“Thanks,” I flushed, and he leaned up against a truck that was sitting just behind us.
“You were working with Thomas Krasinski on that shoot, right?” He leaned in conspiratorially, as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear what we were saying. I nodded.
“Tell me,” he cocked an eyebrow. “Was he as much as an asshole then as he was when I worked with him?”
I spluttered with laughter, glad I wasn’t going to have to pretend that working with that pretentious old ass had been anything but a nightmare.
“Yeah, he was a jack-off,” I agreed. “He treated the crew like shit the whole time. I’m surprised there wasn’t a revolution and everyone didn’t walk out on him.”
“Sounds like the guy I worked with,” he shook his head. “You know, I don’t know anyone who worked with him twice. He’s such a piece of shit.”
“I thought that, too,” I shrugged. “But then, I got nominated for awards working with him so…”
“You’d have been nominated if you were working on someone’s shitty high school film thesis,” he waved his hand, dismissing me as though I was being ridiculous. I scuffed my foot along the ground, flattered and surprised that he’d paid that much attention to my work.
“That’s sweet of you to say,” I mumbled.
“You know, when I was working with him, he wanted me to stay in character even when I was off-camera?” He leaned in again, and I stared up at him, mouth slightly open.
“Weren’t you playing a serial killer in that movie?”
“Yup,” he nodded, and then shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. “I wasn’t sure whether he wanted me to pick off the cast and crew to stay in character, but he’d have been first on the fucking list.”
I laughed. He was easier to talk to than I’d expected, funnier and more charming. But then, all actors – at least the good ones – had to have this way with words around them if they wanted to get anywhere.
“So, you already live in Devina, or…?”
“No, I moved a couple of days ago,” I admitted. “From Hollywood. Nice to be somewhere a little more…”
“Authentic?” He finished off for me as I groped for the word, and I nodded.
“I was hoping that someone here would be able to tell me the best places to drink in this town,” he grinned. “If there’s one thing you can say for LA, the nightlife is good.”
“I don’t know, I like the quiet life,” I replied, forgetting for a second who I was talking to. “Or at least, I do now.”
“Oh?” He leaned forward slightly, running his hand over his stubble. “Sounds like you’ve got a few interesting stories.”
“Maybe I’ll even tell them to you one day,” I shot back, and he grinned.
“Maybe when I’ve got some coffee in me,” he gestured to the cart. The guy behind the counter was staring at the two of us, trying his hardest to keep his cool and not doing a great job in the process.
“I’m fucking exhausted,” he yawned. “I’m used to just rolling up and doing what I need to and then heading home, you know?”
“I wouldn’t,” I teased, finding myself beginning to relax. “I actually have to stay all day, not like you acting types.”
“Well, if it’s any consolation, you get to watch me suffer through getting used to sixteen-hour days,” he sighed. “Good thing I don’t know anything about the nightlife here. At least I won’t know what I’m missing out on.”
“I’ll report back,” I suggested, and he ordered himself a drink, then turned to me.
“What are you having?” he asked, and I noticed his eyes flickering up and down my body. I shifted my weight from one hip to the other, not sure how to stand to best show off my assets. I opened my mouth to reply to him, and then my eyes fell on a cluster of extras making their way past the stand. Two of them were peering over at me, and the rest were talking animatedly amongst themselves. I realized that I had already become a point of interest just by virtue of standing there, talking to Will. I tore my eyes away from the crowd who were observing us, and forced my attention back to Will.
“Uh, it’s cool,” I waved a hand. “I’ll get something later. I’m not sure I could stomach anything this early in the morning anyway.”
“You sure?” he asked, turning to the barista and brushing his arm against mine as he did so. “It’s just a coffee.”
“I’m good,” I waved over my shoulder as I turned to head down to the make-up department. Even though the little touch we’d shared had sent a line of shivers up my arm like someone had injected me with something, I knew I couldn’t stick around too much longer for fear of someone assuming that I had only picked up this job because we were hooking up or something. I had worked hard to get where I was that day and I wasn’t about to have it undermined by some movie star with a dazzling smile and just the right amount of sharpness to his jaw. No way. Not a chance.
Besides, I’d dated enough actors back in LA to know that hooking up with the stars never ended well. At first, it was kind of exciting to hook up with the talent, to see them in front of camera and then take them home at the end of the day, but it wasn’t worth the hassle. Either their egos were so big they had trouble fitting them through doors, or they were so wracked with insecurities that I spent most of the time that we were together convincing them that they really were talented and that they deserved to have the jobs they did. That left very little room for any of my own feelings on the matter, and eventually I swore off dating all actors as a matter of course. Not that I imagined Will would be interesting in dating, judging by what I’d heard about him over the years.
I shot a look over my shoulder as I stepped into the make-up trailer, and found that he had turned his head to look at me before I vanished from sight completely. I grinned to myself as I shut the door behind me. Yeah, it might have been nothing more than a pipe dream, but damn if it wasn’t a nice one. I just had to keep reminding myself that, no matter how strong my crush was on Will Derry, he was just like any other actor I’d worked with. Charming, but best kept firmly at arm’s length.
Chapter Four
Will
I didn’t have much time to think about the woman I bumped into at the coffee stand that morning until she wandered on to the set later in the day. Everything had gone so quickly that I’d barely had time to let my feet hit the ground, let alone figure out a game plan for getting such a tantalizing morsel into bed.
Her name was Dina, the same name as an actress I’d loved growing up when I was a kid. That was why the name had stuck in my head. Well, that, and the fact that I’d heard from someone who worked with her that not only was she insanely talented, but she was smoking hot to boot. Those names had a habit of hanging around the back of my mind whether I liked it or not.
She’d seemed surprised to realize that I actually knew her name and a little flustered at the start of the conversation, but she was smart and funny and I loved the way she brushed her dark bangs out of her eyes when she looked up at me. I just couldn’t figure out why she’d left in such a hurry. We seemed like we’d been getting on well, and then, boom, she backed off and fled to the make-up department before I had a chance to ask her out.
In a pause between filming, Dina darted on to the set with a make-up wipe and dabbed at the face of our lead actress, Martina. I found my attention drawn from the part of the script me and my co-director, Derrick, were going over.
“Are you sure we need it to go like that, though?” He pointed out, jabbing his finger against his copy of the script. It was covered in scribbles where we’d jotted down shooting notes, but all of them felt useless now that we were out in the middle of shooting. I was white-
knuckling it through the day, trying to keep focus and not to get overwhelmed by how much I was having to learn on the job.
“We could take it out, or push it back till later in the movie?” I suggested. “I don’t think it would affect the story that much. It’s just…”
I trailed off as I watched Dina bantering with Martina, dabbing at her face where a slick of mascara had formed. Martina laughed at something Dina said, and Dina stood there for a moment with her hands on her hips, facing away from me. I couldn’t help but look – she was right there, after all – and the way her ass looked in those fitted jeans, the little sliver of her stomach that showed when she stretched her arms above her head…fuck, what was it about this girl? She was just so god-damn tempting.
“Just?” Derrick prompted me, dragging me back to the conversation that we were in the middle of. I shook my head, dismissing the dirty thoughts that were distracting me from the task at hand.
“I think it’s an important scene for her development, that’s all,” I sighed. “Can’t we stick with it for now?”
“I’m going to have a smoke break,” he got to his feet and ran his hand through is hair. “I’ll catch you in five, right?”
“Sure,” I nodded, watching as he made his way out the door and into the watery sunlight beyond. I’d picked him to work with because I liked the short films he’d put together when he was in college and his first feature had done pretty well on the indie circuit, but he was having trouble getting a mainstream break. He was proving to be a sharper around the edges than I had been prepared for, but I knew that it was different for him. If this movie was a flop, I’d take the shit I got for it, pick myself up and carry on, whereas for him, this was a make-or-break situation. I couldn’t get mad at him for taking this so seriously.
I leaned back in the little director’s chair I’d insisted on getting for the shoot, and watched as everyone milled around, taking care of the little details that their jobs required them to care about. Well, I was pretty sure that was what they were doing – there was only one person I was paying attention to, and that was Dina.
