Alys sat taller in her seat as I filled her in. The furrow between her brows from whatever she’d been staring at for the last hour finally cleared too.
“That’s perfect,” she said. “What rate did they quote?”
“£125. I know it’s too high. They said they might offer some kind of a deal.”
While I spoke, Alys pulled out a calculator and started tapping away.
“Not necessarily too high if they could come down to say £95 and supply a VAT receipt. We work without VAT anyway.” Alys focused on the calculator, her smile slowly widening as the numbers came together. “What do you think, Heather? We could avoid catering overtime and have this place provide breakfast for all waves of the crew.”
Heather glanced at the calculator, her glasses slipping down her nose. “Sounds good if they can actually do it.”
“Do you want to call them back and see if that deal will work for them?” Alys asked, her grin becoming infectious.
There was a thrill here I’d never experienced. I’d solved what appeared to be an impossible problem, and they were all actually happy about it. In all of my other jobs, someone would have been displeased that I’d found a solution. Someone always wanted you to fail so they could take your place. This felt different. Solve one problem and the entire team wins. It gets crossed off a collective list.
Yes, the hours were crazy. From what I’d seen and Alys’s comments, it didn’t change from production to production. Yet here I felt more fulfilled in three hours than I’d ever had at another job or as Shaun’s assistant.
What if this was it, the sense of direction I’d been looking for? I could go back to Scotland in six months and work on drama in Glasgow. Studying Alys, I couldn’t help but wonder if she felt like this at the end of every job. If she did, I understood why she’d deal with the hours and the stress. It was addictive.
Chapter Ten
“Do you want a coffee, Mona?” Shaun asked the next day.
The director had called time while they reset for the next scene. It was a crowded day on set and a huge contrast to the silence of the one before. I couldn’t get my bearings with this production. One day I’d see the same faces, and the next there would be fifty new ones and a trailer full of SAs.
Today was one of the full ones. I’d found a place out of the way to watch the action while keeping on top of Shaun’s emails. Prior to starting my job, I never had any idea the type of shit actors like him received daily. Only ten percent of it was viable communication. The rest was nothing but pages and pages of one girl or another offering herself up to him. Some of them included pictures. I’d almost thrown the tablet across the set when I’d first opened one of those images. Now it was like a game. Who could shock Mona into smashing a light? If I went down the production route, I’d be saved these visual scars at least.
My eyes flicked to the line of SAs crowding the craft table. Coffee sounded great, but fighting my way through that didn’t appeal to me.
“I’ll grab you one from your trailer,” I said, hopping down from my flight case.
I pushed past the crowd of girls waiting to fawn over Shaun. The smug bastard had joked that I’d give myself eyestrain if I kept rolling my eyes at them. I couldn’t help it. If they’d be less obvious, maybe I’d be able to resist.
I’d escaped through the studio doors when a hand landed on my shoulder, spinning me around. Off balance, I fell face first into a muscular chest. Shaun’s hand landed on my hip, steading me and stealing my breath.
“If you wanted a hug, you could have asked.” Shaun laughed, stepping away.
He isn’t serious. Is he?
He chuckled as I studied him, seemingly unaffected by the brief touch. His smile wasn’t right, though. There was something strained about it.
“I didn’t mean go fetch me coffee, Mona.”
Huh?
My eyes fixated on his mouth. The moisture on his lips and the way he kept dragging it between his teeth… I shook my head, struggling to clear the fog.
It seemed one touch from him and my common sense vanished.
With a finger beneath my chin, he tilted my head back until I met his amused gaze. It roamed my face, latching onto my lips and leaning forward. If I didn’t know better, I’d think there was interest in those green pools.
“How do I get a repeat of this? I think I could get used to you speechless.”
I shook my head, his words freeing me. I made a face at him, using attitude to pour cold water over the flames his big hands had fanned.
“You can let go of me now.”
“Are you sure?” He smirked. “You still feel a bit unstable to me.”
His fingers flexed against my hip, but with a reluctant nod, he released me. I put as much distance between us as would be considered normal – meaning, I scuttled six feet away and watched him through narrowed eyes. I could still feel his hands on me, sending electric waves across my skin.
I almost wished prickly Shaun would make a reappearance. I could protect myself from that version of him. This one was too much to handle.
“So, coffee?” Shaun asked, barely covering the quiver of amusement in his voice.
“Coffee. Yes, I think that would be a good idea.” I turned on my heel and marched towards the line of trailers.
“Mona?” Shaun called after me, his confusion audible.
“We’re ready for you, Mr Martin,” Leanne, the crowd second AD, called out to him.
With my back ramrod straight, I forced myself to walk away without a backwards glance, my neck itching like someone was watching me. Wondering whether it was him, I picked up my pace, power walking to the trailer before my restraint crumbled. I’d have coffee waiting for his next break. And in the meantime, I’d find my bloody cool and put out the fire he’d lit.
“Thank you,” Shaun said thirty minutes later as I handed him a tall mug of mocha. I froze, scanning his face as mild shock plastered mine. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What?”
“You said thank you.”
He shrugged. “Thought I should make some new habits.”
Because of me? Surely not.
An irrational slither of guilt hit me. It was tiny. Why did he have to be nice when I was thinking about my next move?
He settled in beside me, forcing me to shuffle over on my flight case. He took a sip and let out a contented sigh.
“Okay, so you’re right. The coffee in my trailer is better than that stuff.” He gestured towards the craft table hidden behind a crowd of SAs.
I stared at the crowd, my eyes widening in horror. There were more of them. It wasn’t my imagination. They’d bred! Where were they going to put them all? The set wasn’t that big.
“Earth to Mona.” Shaun snapped his fingers in front of my eyes.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
“Depends. If I don’t repeat it, do I get a free pass?”
I studied him. “A free pass from what?”
“You know that benefit dinner Sherry signed me up for?”
I nodded, my stomach cramping. The benefit dinner for refugees that was a month away and had sold out, tripling in capacity purely because it had been widely reported that he’d be in attendance.
“I need you to get me out of it.” He said it like it was nothing more important than a trip to the cinema. Thousands of pounds’ worth of donations, and it meant nothing to him.
“Why?” I tried to swallow the disbelief. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but dammit, I was. I thought I’d glimpsed the real Shaun, the one who took his assistant out for smoothies because he felt guilty for making her life difficult.
“I don’t feel up to it.”
The disappointment crashing into me was unwelcome. So, he’d lulled me into thinking he’d turned over a new leaf. Why should I care that he’d been lying? And yet, the pressure in my head said I did care. In fact, I cared so much I was angry.
With a tight nod, I hot-footed it to the bathroom trailer before I l
ost my temper. He’d been nice to me for five minutes, and suddenly, I didn’t want to tear him apart in front of the crew. I’d gone soft.
What was that all about?
It wasn’t until I tried to slam the restroom trailer door that I realised he’d followed me. I’d been so focused on escaping his bullshit that I hadn’t heard him.
Muttering to myself, I gave up trying to shut the door. I turned on the sink’s cold water and splashed myself. I hoped it might give me a moment to breathe.
It didn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Concern trickled from his words.
I whirled around to face him and his eyes widened. Water dripping from my face didn’t help reinforce my take-no-shit armour.
“Why are you here?”
“Pretty sure I asked first.” He shut the door and flipped the lock.
“You followed me into the women’s toilets. How is that normal behaviour, Shaun?”
He crossed his arms and settled in with an arrogant smile. His expectation that I’d roll over and do whatever he said was written clearly across his face. My blood boiling, I pulled my shoulders back and channelled the old, unaffected Mona.
Sod feeling guilty. He didn’t deserve my bloody loyalty. And what difference would it make, anyway? It wasn’t like I had a job with him after Mystery Lines finished.
Forcing a hard smile to my lips, I shut down his ridiculous expectations. “I’m not cancelling the charity dinner. You’re going to put on your best tux. You’re going to smile and take pictures with all the women who bought tickets to be near you.” In the flow, I jabbed my finger into his chest, staring up at him with disgust. “For one fucking night, you’re going to pretend that you’re a decent human being who actually cares that people are dying while you swan around with your self-centred attitude.” I sucked in a breath, fighting for air in the stale space.
His fingers wrapped around the one I’d pressed into him. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held firm.
I frowned at his hand. “Let go of me.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” I tugged at my hand until it hurt. “Let me go.”
“Would you stop and listen to me?” he asked, exasperated. “I didn’t think, okay? You’re right. It would be a shitty thing to skip, but you’ve seen the schedule, Mona. That week is going to be hell. I told Sherry not to book PR during filming, but she ignored me. I can’t win either way, so cancel and I’ll deal with the fallout.”
“No.”
“What do you mean ‘no’?” He threw my words back at me with a scowl. His face darkened, and I remembered I was locked in a trailer with him.
“It’s good enough for you to keep touching me, but I can’t throw it back at you?”
I gave a pointed look at the fist holding my hand to his chest. He released me so fast you’d think I’d burned him.
“It’s not the charity’s fault you don’t have control of your agent. It’s not their fault that you can’t keep an assistant longer than a day – present company excluded – but I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s not the refugees’ fault that you’re going to have a long day and be tired.”
“Do you want my work to suffer, is that it?”
I laughed in his face at that. He wore such a serious expression. He actually believed that his performance suffering was worse than ditching the event.
“Enlighten me, Mona. Why is that funny?”
“You get up extra early to batter your body with physical exertion and then you roll yourself into make-up every single morning for them to cover the dark circles under your eyes.”
“And?” He crossed his arms in a pitiful display of defiance.
“You don’t sleep, Shaun. In just over two weeks, I’ve learnt how to recognise when your energy is dropping and I’m there with caffeine or food.”
Some of that annoying certainty drained from his face.
“If your performance was going to suffer from exhaustion, the entire production would be behind schedule. They’d be playing catch-up trying to get one good scene from you.”
“What’s your point?”
“They aren’t behind; they’re ahead. You’ve got no issues functioning on limited sleep.”
Silence followed my observation. Shaun stared at me with a frown, but an understanding light entered his eyes. He knew I was right.
“You’re going to the benefit. We’re not talking about it anymore.”
I stepped past the shell-shocked actor, unlocked the door, and clattered down the steps. As I did so, I took a deep breath and smiled. With the hot sun on my face and a new lightness in my chest, I felt so much better.
Aiden, the third AD, was wandering around outside with a lost look on his young face. When he spotted me, the tension slipped from his shoulders.
“Have you seen Shaun? We need him on set,” he said, rushing to catch up with my clipped pace.
“Try the ladies’ toilets.”
Chapter Eleven
“Hey Mona, wait up,” Shaun shouted as I headed across the car park the next evening.
I stopped mere feet from it and shut my eyes. Maybe I’d imagined my car. Maybe he wasn’t chasing me down for god knew what reason after wrap.
“Where are you going?” he asked, slightly breathless as he stopped at my side.
All around us cars pulled off. Everyone who could escape on wrap was. Production and the AD team would be here for at least another hour, finalising tomorrow’s plans and anything they could beyond this week.
“Where do you think I’m going after 7PM on a Thursday, Shaun?” I didn’t even bother to contain the bite of snark. Don’t ask me stupid questions after a painful day.
Nothing had gone right today. Shaun had arrived late to set through no fault of his own. Some dumbass reporter decided to run over on his telephone interview. That had set the entire schedule back, but Gary was determined to wrap on time and cover the same number of sides. He’d skimped on breaks, which had set the crew on edge and stressed a couple of cast members out to the point where they’d forgotten their lines entirely.
At this rate, I would miss the opening act and I’d been looking forward to doing something other than work all week.
“You’re not going home.”
I quirked a brow, focusing my ire on Shaun. “How do you know that, Sherlock?”
Had one of the ADs ratted me out? I was meeting Tilly, the wardrobe assistant, at Axel’s, a small rock music venue in town. One of Tilly’s favourite local bands was playing and she’d invited me. My first friend in Wales and an outing. I wanted to end the day on a good note, not with me glaring at my shifty-eyed boss.
He studied me, a pucker between his brows. “You’re dressed differently.”
I glanced down at my simple black Candlemakers t-shirt and blue skinny jeans. It was hardly a big change from my sundresses. I wore band shirts to work sometimes. They were super laid-back on set, and given the hours, the focus was more about comfort than style or impressing anyone.
“So where are you going? Can I come with you?” Shaun asked in a rush. I stared at him, bewildered.
Who is this?
“You want to go to a gig with me?” I asked slowly. Maybe I’d misunderstood.
“Yeah, let’s do that.”
He stepped around me to approach the passenger side of my old Ford Focus, wearing the easy grin of a man who got his way without even trying. My feet stuck to the concrete as I blinked at him.
What the hell have I done to deserve this?
“You know it’s a small venue, right?”
“Don’t care.”
“But it’s not your style.”
He shrugged. “Beats going home to an empty flat.”
A fist squeezed my heart at that. Still, I wracked my brain for a way out. I wanted a night off, not a night on crowd control.
“But people will recognise you.”
“I’ll deal with it.” His eyes dropped to the car. “Are you going to unlock
it or are we going to keep chatting while you miss the first act?”
Growling, I pressed the button and the locks popped. There was no way out. I mean, I could have tried harder, but that hopeful look gutted me. A million questions sat on the tip of my tongue.
Why didn’t he want to go home? Was it because of Lily? Did his flat remind him of her? Was he lonely?
I swallowed them all and drove.
The bar was packed. From the relief that crossed Tilly’s face when she met me outside, the opening act hadn’t long started. Or they could be nearly done. She wouldn’t care which it was, as long as she got up front for Lover’s Knot.
She’d frowned when she’d first spotted Shaun but said nothing, which was a relief. I did not feel like fielding twenty questions over this little outing. She tried to drag me into the crowd until we both noticed the uncomfortable look on Shaun’s face. I’d sent her to claim her spot and confined myself to watching from the side of the room.
A narrow stage took up the bulk of the front wall. Black walls and burgundy curtains provided the only decorations. A sound booth took up one side wall with a merch stand opposite. Pillars held up the second level, framing the bar at the back of the room and a row of cocktail tables and stools. The top level was closed off, keeping the crowd condensed and ramping up the atmosphere.
“You don’t like live music,” I shouted at Shaun, struggling to be heard over the thump of the drums.
His gaze dropped to mine, his expression oddly blank, like he was controlling his responses. I frowned at that.
“I like it well enough.”
“Liar. You’re all tense. Not a single inch of you enjoys this.” I nodded towards the mixed crowd. Their attention was avidly fixed on the stage and the band giving their all to this performance. “Every single one of them is smiling, nodding their heads or tapping their feet. They’re enjoying it. You are not.”
Shaun shrugged rather than responded, which was fair considering it took effort to be heard.
Between Takes Page 7
