Or maybe I want it to end right now.
“I’m not your cleaner.”
“I’m aware, but they aren’t due until Monday.” Shaun’s expression was unreadable, fixed in a masterful display of arrogant boredom as if he hadn’t dropped an image-altering bomb upstairs. “So, you’re all I’ve got. Audrey and her crew will be here in twenty minutes.”
If there was one thing I seriously hated, it was time limits, and in the same vein, deadlines. The people who set them always underestimated how long a task would take, which always resulted in my panicking as the clock ticked down. Something similar occurred at Shaun’s. I cleaned his living room for my sanity, not because he told me. Maybe I should have refused and left, but then he’d just call Sherry, and she’d already taken enough of a chance on me. I really didn’t want to give her a reason to question that, even if I was pretty sure my contract didn’t list cleaning as part of my duties.
I greeted the reporter’s crew, made drinks and backed out of the way until it was all done. How an interview could roll on longer than an hour was beyond me. By the time I shut the door on Audrey Harper and her camera crew, it was after 2PM. At least an hour had been lost to her blatant attempts to flirt with Shaun, and another hour on questions Shaun refused to answer. Next time he booked one of these interviews, I’d be in control and it wouldn’t happen on a Sunday during my day off.
I escaped his flat without further comments or demands. At least I’d get some of my day to myself.
Monday - 2200
HotShot: Bring PT ses fwd tomoz.
Mona: Done
HotShot: Good. Think calendar is wrong. Fix it.
Mona: Tomorrow. Anything else? Or can I go back to sleep?
HotShot: Not rn.
Mona: What the hell does that mean?
Tuesday - 1730
HotShot: Cancel 2nite IV. Sumthing’s come up.
Mona: Do you want to rearrange?
HotShot: No.
Mona: Done.
Wednesday - 2300
HotShot: Need U 2 pic up new shoes tomoz. Ask 4 Ceci @ Frasers.
Mona: Okay, I’m putting you in an English recovery group. These texts are getting ridiculous.
HotShot: Get me lunch frm Lola’s.
Mona: Fine.
Thursday - 1900
HotShot: WTF is this?
HotShot: [Photo attachment]
Mona: Tofu?
HotShot: Wat is it doing on my plate?
Mona: It was on your meal plan.
HotShot: No it’s not.
Mona: [Photo attachment] See the highlighted section. Satay and peanut braised tofu with rice.
HotShot: I didn’t approve that!
Mona: Talk to your PT.
Chapter Seven
“That for me?” Shaun asked, tipping his head towards the coffee cup in my hand. For the first time in a week, a calm smile graced his lips, and my words and common sense ran away. No wonder the world had fallen in love with him. He was too much to handle when he focused that smile on you.
He didn’t wait for a reply. He plucked the cup from my hands and walked away.
Shaking the fog from my mind, I chased after him. Telling him I didn’t drink milk either had been my biggest mistake. Keeping a cup of coffee to myself was near enough impossible now.
Trotting alongside, I swiped my fingers across the tablet and brought up his schedule.
“You’ve got one more scene to film today, and then you’ve got a meeting with the producers at Harry’s. If the day keeps running behind, I’ll have your car waiting.”
He grunted but kept his eyes forward as he stalked through the sets with a singular focus.
Shaun pushed open a solid fire door, revealing stacks and stacks of equipment boxes. He wandered over to a short flight case and lifted himself onto it.
“What?” he asked, his tone defensive. My confusion must have shown.
“You have a perfectly nice trailer. Why are you in here?”
“No one thinks to look for me here.”
His tone was subdued, and my guard eased.
“What is this place?” I placed the tablet down and lifted myself onto the flight case, grateful for my Pilates habit.
Shaun glanced around. “It’s an equipment store. They put all the empty crates for the kit that doesn’t get moved around that much in here.” Despite the helpful explanation, there wasn’t much life in his voice.
“Have you always been like this?”
“Like what?” Shaun asked.
“I’ve known you for two weeks. Even I can see that you hate your job.”
“I don’t hate my job,” he scoffed.
I snorted. It wasn’t ladylike, but who cared? He was such a liar.
“I don’t!” His tone hardened and my eyes flew back to his face. “And while we’re having this heart-to-heart, let’s get something straight: You’re my assistant. Not my friend. Not my therapist. Chew me out in front of the crew, but stay out of my personal life.”
Stupid, Mona. As if you could actually help the idiotic man.
He didn’t deserve my help, anyway.
“Fine.” I jumped down from the box. “They want you back on set.”
Shaun’s feet landed on the concrete with a hard slap before I could take more than a couple steps.
“Oh, and I don’t need you at the producer’s meeting. I don’t need you showing me up in front of them.” With that he stalked out of the room without so much as a second look.
I stared after him, my brows furrowed with confusion. What the hell had I done to provoke that? “Nothing” was the answer, and dwelling on it wouldn’t get me through the day.
The crew had made up time and flew through Shaun’s remaining scene. The car was waiting and the producers had called to confirm the meeting at Harry’s. When they wrapped him, I handed over his phone and nodded goodbye with a relieved smile. I was dead on my feet and liable to fall asleep on the dirty studio floor if I didn’t find my way home soon.
I was on my way to my car when my phone rang. I frowned as the number of Shaun’s driver lit the screen. Why is Tom calling me? If Shaun needs something, he’ll text me.
“Hi Mona, do you have an ETA on Shaun?”
“He should be with you already. He left half an hour ago.”
Tom groaned. “I’ve been out front for the last hour and I haven’t seen him.”
The top of my head prickled as I listened. I’d watched Shaun collect his phone and wave goodbye with that nice smile that had made me think all was well.
And then he’d snuck away.
I blamed the smile. It was far too good at turning me inside out. It addled my suspicious brain. I should have walked him to the damn car.
I promised Tom I’d find him and hung up.
Maybe I wasn’t cut out for this job. Clearly I was already complacent. Add another five and a half months of reduced sleep and… I didn’t want to consider how disastrous that would be. Staying ahead of him took work.
Throwing caution to the wind, I walked back on set and found Brian. One look at my face and he held up his hands.
“Has anyone seen Shaun?” Brian shouted before I could open my mouth. His Welsh voice projected and echoed through the open space.
Everyone froze, all eyes flying to us. I must have worn a murderous expression because some of the younger members of the team backed away. Others laughed. When no one answered, Brian put a call out over the radio.
Almost instantly, I had my answer.
Face darkening, I stormed out of the studio and down the hall. I tried not to call myself an idiot for not immediately checking. Even so, I should have fucking known.
I found Shaun laid out on the dusty floor of the equipment store. Shaun stared up at the ceiling. A bottle of whisky sat open by his side. His face was wet, and as I watched, another tear fell. Some of my anger cooled at the sight of his sadness.
He was so lost in his own head he didn’t hear me approach. When I stood over hi
m, his eyes widened in alarm. He swiped at his face and sat up, knocking the bottle over. He righted it with a fumbling hand.
I hated myself for feeling so much as a pang of sympathy for the ungrateful sod.
“I thought you would have gone home by now,” he grumbled, the gutted look of a man who’d had his heart ripped out replaced with the scowl I knew too well.
I kneeled down, mindful not to touch the floor with my bare knees. A sundress was a stupid idea. “Tom called me before I got in my car.”
He nodded, his eyes fixed on my face, assessing me, waiting.
“Did you agree to this show because you thought it would distract you?”
His shoulders slumped and he lay back down. “What did I say about getting personal?” he grumbled as his face hardened.
I kept going. “I looked you up after I accepted the job. Wanted to know what I was getting myself into.”
He grunted but otherwise remained silent.
“It’s been a year since Lily left and you went off the deep end. Considering how much you cost the last production, I was surprised you got this job.”
“Yeah, well, don’t let anyone convince you that studio execs are smart.” Bitterness dripped from his voice.
“You could have said no.”
“And let the world think I’m too hung up on a girl to work?” Shaun laughed, a surprisingly painful sound. “The press would have a field day with that one.”
If I’d proposed to my partner of twelve years and got dumped instead, I’d be torn up too. Not sure I’d have taken it out on the people around me and put my career at risk, though. I’d always thought the drama surrounding a celebrity breakup was exaggerated, blown out of proportion by the press and their love of clickbait headlines. Looking at Shaun, though, maybe there was some truth to it after all.
“Stop looking at me like that,” he growled, dragging me out of my head.
My eyes narrowed. I viciously squashed the pangs of sympathy gathering inside me. “You’re not doing a stellar job of proving them wrong.”
Maybe it wasn’t all about losing Lily Tyler. Maybe it was actually about losing super successful Lily Tyler. The pop princess and frontwoman of The Brightside, whose very existence netted Shaun all the publicity he’d ever needed to win awards and pull in audiences.
“I’m trying, alright?” He threw an arm over his eyes.
“You’re lying on a filthy floor with a half full bottle of whisky, hiding from your assistant and dodging a meeting with already cranky producers. You couldn’t even be bothered to go to your lockable and comfortable trailer.” My eyes hovered over his pity party for one. A mixture of disgust and disappointment dripped from my words “This is what you call trying?”
When my ex and I had finally broken up, I celebrated. Had the worst hangover of my life, but I embraced my new singlehood with relish. Shaun’s prickly bear, woe-is-me routine was a grating contrast. Who was the actor here?
Shaun groaned and focused that brilliant green gaze on me. It wasn’t fair. Someone so handsome shouldn’t have the power to cut you in half with a look. He was disarming. But this time, I wouldn’t let my guard down.
“What would you have me do, Ms Perfect?” His hard eyes drilled into me, daring me to contradict him. “I’m here. I didn’t want to be, but this is what I get for letting friends decide what’s best for me.”
Maybe this had been a bad idea. Nobody had prepared me for this man. My armour wasn’t thick enough to withstand six months of barbs. The thought of telling Sherry she’d been wrong to trust my sister’s judgement made my stomach hurt, but Isla would understand. Once she knew the kind of man she’d pitted me against, she’d beg me to move home.
“Well?” he drawled, staring at me in challenge. “Finn, Jackson and Nathan think they know it all too, but the three of them are on the other side of the world while I’m stuck here with you.”
All I had to do was get him to the meeting. After that, I could call Sherry and tell her it wasn’t going to work. I could bare my soul for imminent freedom.
Sighing, I leaned my squatted weight against a flight case and prepared myself to open a painful compartment.
“When I dumped my ex, he and all of our friends expected me to fall to pieces. My sister knew better, but to them, failing at a relationship after four years of effort was supposed to devastate me.” I swallowed, the memory of my ex’s parting smile front and centre. It had been full of pity. He hated the fact I beat him to the punch, but he still thought that splitting up would finally break me, that he’d win. “And it did, but I’m not a girl who buries herself in a duvet and takes my heartache out on everyone around me.”
I forced myself to meet Shaun’s gaze. At some point, he’d sat up. He leaned towards me, avidly hanging off my words. He was such an enigma.
“Instead, I carried on as normal. I was polite to him when I saw him but avoided him whenever I could. I hung out with my family, had fun, partied with my sister, talked so loud no one had a hope in hell of shutting me up. I held onto the me he’d tried to snuff out, and I made sure the world at large knew that losing one man hadn’t changed a thing.”
“And it worked?” Shaun asked, his voice hoarse.
“He was pissed.” I grinned. “I pretended I was fine and happy until I believed it. Once it became a truth for me, it didn’t matter if anyone doubted my smile.”
He wiped his hands over his dusty jeans, his eyes focused on the movement. Silence held us in its grip, and my thighs started to burn. If he didn’t get a move on soon, I’d be walking like I’d done a thousand squats.
“Losing Lily was a pretty big blow for me,” he whispered. He peeked at me from beneath his lashes, assessing my reaction but braced to share all the same.
I’d been his lackey for two weeks, dealt with every single jibe. This was only the second time he’d looked at me with that uncertain edge. It was confusing the first time and I still didn’t know what to do with it. I schooled my features, forced the discomfort to the back of my mind and settled in.
“Not in the way the media seems to think. I owe her for my career, but her impact on my work fizzled out years ago. I’ve proven myself. I don’t need a woman, even her, to get me jobs.” He swallowed, his subdued gaze fixing on the shelving unit opposite us. “My dad wasn’t a pleasant person to be around. He didn’t believe I’d amount to anything, especially not in something as soft as acting.” His sharp gaze caught mine before skittering away. “His words, not mine. Sorry, I don’t really talk about this anymore.”
“I get it. Family’s hard sometimes. You don’t need to tell me.”
He shook his head, rubbing his eyes. “Lily was the only person who understood, who believed in me. Or at least that’s how it felt. So, I didn’t just lose a girlfriend. I lost my best friend and my crutch.”
“So as a result, you drink yourself stupid and self-destruct your career?”
His eyes narrowed as he considered my blatant disbelief. “Come on, then. Seeing as you understand me so fucking well, what would you do?”
I ignored the harsh bite in his tone. “Weren’t you listening, Hotshot?” I wasn’t sure if I was teasing him or baiting him. The whole situation unsettled me. I didn’t know what to do with a wounded Shaun. At least when I thought he was nothing but an asshole, I could resist him. “I’d prove them all wrong and win something bigger and better.”
The arrogance fell from Shaun’s features, leaving me with a clear view of his insecurities.
“What if I can’t do it?” he asked, his voice quiet and hesitant.
“You’re an actor. Act.”
Shaun wore a bewildered but thoughtful expression, and something inside me caught fire. I’d done something good for a guy who’d given me nothing but a hard time. I should have felt ill for helping him. Instead, something about the softening lines around his eyes filled me with warmth.
Certainty emboldened me. I stood and held out my hand to him.
“Come on. You can start sh
owing the world the new you by showing the producers you mean business.”
Shaun stared at my hand, his lips pursed. I wiggled my fingers, silently taunting him. He grabbed hold and climbed to his feet, putting no weight on me – a good thing too. I’m fairly certain he’d have pulled me over if I’d truly had to support him.
He slung his arm over my shoulder and together we walked off set. I escorted him to the meeting and sat myself down at a table nearby to make sure he didn’t make a run for it.
But one heart-to-heart between us did not equal trust. He was still on my shit list. The fact he hadn’t scoffed at me or belittled my story and had shared some of his with me helped a little – although not enough to stop me quitting. He could flutter those green eyes at me all he liked. But once this meeting ended, I was done.
Chapter Eight
I tried to quit. I said the words. Multiple times, in fact.
Unfortunately, Sherry had selective hearing when it came to the word “no.” Instead of quitting, I somehow ended the call with a pay rise and tickets to a BAFTA award show. I’m not sure it was a good trade-off – my sanity for money and chumming with a bunch of celebs. I didn’t like the celeb I had. Why the hell would I want to hang out with more?
That argument also fell on deaf ears. So, I still have a job. Sigh.
I might have stumbled into the one job I couldn’t quit. Wouldn’t that be a nightmare?
If there was one thing I didn’t need after the last two weeks, it was Shaun Martin trying to take my door down at 6AM on my day off. It wasn’t a particularly nice door, cracked and peeling and in desperate need of a clean. At least my flatmates got to experience an early wake-up call for once. Maybe they’d learn to use the day for something productive, like dishes or – god forbid – finding a job.
Back to the six-foot-three chiselled masterpiece in running gear glaring at me in my tiny galley kitchen. The moment he’d barged his way into the flat without so much as a “Hello, how are you at this awful hour?”, I made a beeline for the kitchen and coffee. If I was being forced to stand upright at this hour, I needed caffeine immediately.
Between Takes Page 5
