Beyond the Stars

by Stacy Wise

  I worry my bottom lip between my teeth. “Yeah. Just clumsy, I guess.”

  He slides his hand from my arm and turns to the waiting PA. “Hey, Ben.”

  “Yo. Let’s move. Steven’s complaining that we’re already behind schedule today.” We fall in step with Ben as he hustles us toward the stage.

  “Stay as long as you like,” Jack says as we walk through the door. “Ben will show you where to go.”

  “Thanks. Good luck.”

  Jack nods and heads off.

  Ben turns to me and says, “I’ll walk you to the back, where you can see. It’s cool to hang there, but no talking.”

  With quiet steps, we move to the area they have set up for the scene. Jack and Nichole’s stand-ins mark the spots the real versions will soon fill. I pull my phone from my pocket and set it to vibrate. Ben speaks into his walkie-talkie. “Copy that,” he says importantly before turning to me. “I’m out of here. Have fun.”

  “Thanks,” I say, but he’s already gone. Moments later, Jack and Nichole appear on set, creating a flurry of activity.

  A makeup artist dabs Nichole’s face. Steven Lowi talks to Jack. Two men wearing headsets converse off to the side. One of the grips repositions a lighting fixture. Finally, everyone but Jack and Nichole scurries to the perimeter. Someone shouts, “Quiet on the set.”

  Another voice replies, “Quiet.”

  Steven says, “Camera,” in an authoritative voice. I can’t deny feeling a rush of excitement. I haven’t seen any of the filming yet.

  Another voice calls back, “Rolling!”

  The guy holding the clapperboard says, “Scene Nineteen B, take one.” He snaps the clapperboard and quickly steps away from the camera.

  Steven yells, “Action!”

  I hold my breath, not wanting to make a sound. Jack and Nichole shine under the bright lighting. Nichole is wearing a red cocktail dress, her lips painted the same red. She looks stunning.

  Watching them film is so intimate compared to what we see on the big screen. It feels like I’m watching something real. Even though Jack’s hair is different, his eyes are the same. I recognize the look of admiration in them when they land on Nichole. Maybe he has a secret crush on her. I remember the scene they’re doing. His character had a work meeting, and her character is just getting home from an event at her art gallery. They’re in the kitchen, and he’s angry she went out dressed that way. He tells her she looks too sexy. She teases, telling him he hasn’t seen sexy yet.

  Oh my God. I don’t remember this happening in the version of the script I read. She unzips her dress and lets it fall to the floor, revealing a strapless black corset and lacy black panties. I want to turn away, but I can’t. My eyes are glued to the scene in front of me. He puts his hands on her bulging breasts and kisses her, pressing her into the kitchen counter. Bile rises in my stomach. I reach for something to steady myself, but find nothing. I let out small breaths. A PA near me glares.

  When Steven yells, “Cut!” I race through the black partitions and push my way through the heavy stage door. It closes slowly behind me. I breathe in the fresh air, but it doesn’t stop the tears. I run for the parking structure. What the fuck was I thinking? I can’t fall for an actor. I can’t. I won’t. I promise I won’t. I only wish my brain could fire a synapse to my heart, like a Taser hitting a target, and stun it into submission. I visualize it happening, and imagine hating Jack. When it doesn’t work, I curl up in the driver’s seat of my car and cry.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I pull into Jack’s driveway the next morning and immediately wish I would’ve called in sick. He’s right there, doing broad jumps as Shawn watches. My eyes burn into him. I wish I could back him up into the kitchen counter and kiss him the way Nichole did yesterday. No! I snap my eyes from him and turn toward Shawn.

  He waves, and I head over to him. “Hey. Good morning.”

  “Hey, Jessica,” he says. “There’s that pretty smile that always brightens my day.”

  I study his face, taking in his soulful brown eyes and easy grin. A thought strikes me. Jack must’ve asked me to watch that specific scene because he figured out I’m into him. That was his way of showing me he’s not interested. He has A-listers to choose from—top levels—so why would he want me?

  Shawn steps closer. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” He grins, bumping my arm with his. “What’s that look about?”

  I bite my lip, unsure. “Just noticing how handsome you are.”

  Shawn’s mouth bursts into a megawatt smile. “Hey, now. Keep talking like that and I’m going to have to ask you out.” He pauses, looking decidedly adorable. “What would you say?”

  Without hesitation, I answer. “I’d say yes.”

  He links his arms around my waist and touches his forehead to mine. “You made my day. How’s Thursday?” He pauses. “Screw that. How about tonight?”

  “Perfect.” Without meaning to, I steal a glance at Jack. He’s busy jumping across the driveway, making his muscles more breathtaking by the minute.

  Shawn glances over at him, too. “Oh, yeah. I’m supposed to be training our boy.” He calls over to Jack. “Dude. You’re done jumping. Come over here, and we’ll finish with some tire flips.”

  The words our boy ring in my head. That’s all he is—our boss, our employer, the man who pays our bills. I hate that I conjured up stupid romantic notions about him. Jack wipes a hand across his forehead as he crosses to us. Shawn slips behind me, placing his hands on my shoulders, rubbing them. Jack glances from him to me. “Can you take Leo for a walk? He’s feisty and needs to chill out. I also have a list in the house for you.”

  I nod, surprised by his all-business attitude. “Yeah, I’m happy to.” My voice is breezy, but my feelings thrash inside me, stirring up a storm that I fear I won’t be able to contain much longer. Shawn’s hands continue to knead my shoulders, but he may as well be massaging a statue. I try to relax into his tender touch, but I’m too aware of Jack standing there, dripping with sweat.

  “Great.” His jaw is tight. He moves past Shawn and begins flipping the giant tire across the driveway.

  I head toward the backyard to track down Leo, proud of myself for making a smart choice to go out with Shawn.

  I find Leo lazing on the patio. He doesn’t seem feisty, but maybe he settled down on his own. Anyway, it’ll be nice to take him on a walk. Now that I know to keep him away from dogs, walking him is fun. The weather has been cool the past few days, but today the sun is shining brightly. I get Leo harnessed, then head toward the door.

  Jack steps into the foyer, his face red from his workout. I don’t even notice that he looks really sexy. “Did you see the note I left you?” he asks.

  “Yeah. I saw it on the table. I’ll take care of everything.”

  “Thanks.” He stands there for a second, and I think he’s going to say something else, but he heads for the kitchen.

  I stare after him, wishing for an earthquake, or even an angry photographer—anything that would make him turn around and pull me into his arms again. I give Leo’s leash a tug with probably too much force and walk outside.

  The gardener is pruning one of the many bushes, making it look like it’s primed for a Sunset magazine photo shoot. Imelda washes the windows to a perfect streak-free shine. I wave to both of them, realizing the three of us have a hell of a lot more in common than Jack and me. I kick a pebble and watch as it bounce, bounce, bounces its way down the driveway. A little piece of my heart might’ve gone with it.

  Shawn leans back in his chair and grins over his bowl of shrimp. Our table sits on the outdoor deck overlooking the marina, where boats bob on their lines, creating tiny ripples in the dusky water. The cool night breeze catches my hair, and I shake it behind my ears. He puts a hand over mine. “I’m glad I asked you out. I’ve been wanting to.”

  “I’m glad you asked, too.” As I say the words, I know in my heart it’s right. While I walked Leo this morning, I had a good talk wit
h myself. I decided that Shawn is exactly what I need. It’s stupid to think about Jack. Nothing’s ever going to happen there. He’s dating Corinne Dahl and sexing up the screen with Nichole Antocci. I don’t fit in that mix. Plain and simple. Shawn and I have more in common. We work for stars. We don’t date them. And he’s nice and sweet and freaking hot. So really, it wasn’t a difficult conclusion at all.

  My eyes meet his, and I smile before taking a dainty bite of fiery shrimp. It’s the restaurant’s signature dish. I can’t stop mopping up the sauce with the soft hunks of French bread. “I’m certain this isn’t something you’d recommend to your clients,” I say, swirling another piece of bread in the sauce.

  He grins. “All in moderation, right? I was hoping you’d like this place. It’s one of my favorites.”

  “Thanks for bringing me to one of your favorite spots.”

  “My pleasure,” he says, raising his beer mug and clinking it to mine. “Cheers to us. We should toast Jack, too. If it weren’t for him, I’d never have met you.”

  “Then we should also toast my aunt. She pretty much forced him to hire me.”

  He nods and takes a swig of beer. “That dude has a hard time trusting people. It took me a few months to have a conversation with him that included more than me counting out reps. He’s a tough nut to crack. It’s cool, though. I relate to him more than my clients who treat me like I exist only to serve them.”

  “Yeah. I can imagine. I’ve seen how some of Jack’s actor friends treat their assistants. It’s awful.”

  “I know it. Try telling them to do five more squats when they’re tired and hungover. It gets ugly. I’ve been called every name in the book and some that didn’t make the book. Had a dumbbell thrown at me once, too.” He pauses, eating his last piece of shrimp.

  “Please tell me you quit.”

  “I did. Funny thing is, my client broke a nail when she threw the weight and had the nerve to blame me.”

  “That’s almost funny. I guess in the scheme of things, working for Jack isn’t so bad.”

  He laughs, his eyes twinkling. “You don’t like working for our boy?”

  I consider his question. “I just meant Jack’s not like that actress.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Not at all. The guy lent me his truck when I moved. He’s good people.”

  “Ha. That never made it to the tabloids.”

  “The good stuff never does.”

  We reach his apartment, and he grabs my hand as I step out of his car. I didn’t want to drive to the restaurant in case I drank, so I used Uber. But now that I’m at Shawn’s apartment, I hope he’s not thinking I did it so I could stay all night with him.

  He lives in a modern loft-style Venice townhome. We walk inside, and I’m impressed with the funky modern art that covers the walls and the eclectic furniture. “This is great. Did you choose all the art yourself?”

  He chuckles. “I chose nothing. This belongs to a client who bought a place in New York. The idea was to lease it to me for a year, but we’re going on two years now, and she still has no plans to come back anytime soon. Works for me. I like the location. The place feels like home now.” He walks into the kitchen, pausing to turn on some music. “You want something to drink? A beer?”

  “Sure. I’ll take one,” I say, even though I’m still feeling the effects of the beer I had with dinner. I sit on the angular black leather sofa and wait for him. A song that’s somehow familiar floats from the speakers. I tilt my head, trying to place it. And then it hits me. It’s the song Jack played on his guitar after “One.” I want to run over and turn it off. I don’t need some stupid song reminding me of the man I can’t have. But then, I wonder—could it be a sign that Jack’s thinking of me, right at this very moment?

  Oh, God. Get over it, Jess.

  Shawn walks back to where I’m perched on the sofa and hands me a beer. His smile is sweet. His eyes are sincere. But I sit here, wishing he were someone else. I take a swig of my beer, telling myself to stop being mopey and enjoy the freaking moment. Maybe Meg was right. Maybe I’m pining over a top level and not paying attention to the guys who like me. Although, I think I’d have to call Shawn a top level. He may not make Bill Gates money, but he’s got everything else going for him.

  I set my beer on the table and turn to him. “So, thanks for taking me to dinner.”

  “Thanks for coming with me,” he says, running a hand along my cheek. He gently guides my face to his and kisses me. Just like that. I meet his lips softly, relishing the easy way we’re testing out our kisses.

  He slowly circles his tongue into my mouth. My pulse kicks up at the thrill of making out with him. He presses his body into mine, and his kisses become intense. His hand rests on my neck, and I toy with his shirt. He eases me back on the couch and tries to lie beside me, but there’s no room. He laughs. “The woman who lived here before obviously didn’t furnish her place with a six-foot-three guy in mind. Do you want to move this party to my bedroom?” he asks, his boyish grin flashing.

  A million thoughts collide in my head. Yes, it’ll be fun. Go for it. No! Hell, no. You’ll only lead him on. But I like him. Yes! No. “Can we stay out here for a while?”

  “Yeah. I just want to kiss you.” And he does. It’s slow and soft and feels so good. My hands have a mind of their own as they travel along his muscular back. God, he’s so incredibly fit. I want to touch his skin. I snake my hand under his shirt and run the tips of my fingers across his stomach.

  Jack’s abs are better. Oh my God. Where the hell did that come from? Angry with myself, I kiss him hard, but all I see is Jack. It’s stupid and wrong. But I can’t stay here feeling like this. I need to be alone to figure stuff out.

  I place my hands on his chest and move my head to the side. “I think I need to go now.”

  He looks at me, confusion clouding his face. “Now?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry,” I say, avoiding his eyes. “I just need to go.”

  He eases off the sofa and runs a hand down his face. “Okay. All right. Can I take you home?”

  “No. You don’t have to do that. I can use Uber.”

  “Okay.” His hand lingers on my arm. “I really like spending time with you, Jessica, but I understand if you need to go.” He pauses. “Can you be honest with me about something? Is it that you want things to move slow, or that you’re not into this?”

  I shake my head. His questions feel like the glare of a cop’s flashlight shining in my face, demanding I tell the truth. And as stunned as I feel, I like that he’s confident enough to ask. I blow out a breath. “I don’t know. I like you a lot. More than a lot.” I look up, meeting his eyes. “But I met someone else around the same time I met you, and I’ve been thinking about him way too much. And it’s stupid, because he has a girlfriend. But I need to be sure I’m not leading you on.” I shake my head. “Maybe I just need a little time to get my head together.”

  He nods, a serious look in his eyes. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t jealous of the other guy. But I don’t want to be second best.”

  “You don’t deserve that,” I say in a whisper.

  He draws me into a hug and kisses the top of my head. “This really sucks. I’ve liked you since the day we met.” He pulls back to look at me. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

  I look at him through glassy eyes. “You’re an amazing guy.” I throw my arms around his waist and hug him tight before I turn to leave.

  I walk to the front door, marking my steps so I don’t appear unsure, or too eager. Once outside, I punch the information into the Uber app on my phone. My emotions are an out-of-control seesaw. I wish I felt better about leaving Shawn’s place. I wish I had a place of my own to go to. I wish Jack were here with me, tracing circles on my back. Dammit.

  I sit in the back of the car as the Uber driver rolls along Venice Boulevard. God, I hope Meg isn’t right. Maybe I am waiting for some elusive Prince Charming. A billboard catches my eye as we sit at the re
d light. Jack McAlister stares out at the city, larger than life. He’s wearing a blue suit and holding a giant bottle of Versace Signature cologne. I want to stand beneath the billboard and tell people who look at him that they don’t know him. They only know the guy in the picture. I know him. But it doesn’t matter. The light turns green, and we leave Jack and his billboard behind for the rest of the world to enjoy.

  Maybe it’s time to quit my job and move home. Jack’s giving me three days off for Thanksgiving, so I’m going to my parents’ house after work on Tuesday. Maybe I can talk to them about it. Maybe, maybe, maybe. If only I knew what to do.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Kolbi looks up from her phone, frustration written all over her face. It’s the Saturday afternoon before Thanksgiving, and she’s flying out tonight to see her family in Colorado. “Jess, I don’t know what to tell you. I thought it’d be cake to get you a place. I’m out of people to try, and everyone’s going to be away next week. I don’t know how much longer you can survive here.”

  She’s right. The girls have been great, but I’m starting to go crazy. I tried to sleep on the couch the first night. With girls watching TV late into the night, girls studying in the kitchen, and girls coming and going at all hours, it was impossible. I finally begged Kolbi to let me sleep on the floor of her room. It was quieter, but about one thousand times less comfortable, and the couch wasn’t the best bed in the first place.

  “Thanks for trying. There’s one more place I found online. Let’s hope it’s a go. I’m so sick of getting my hopes up about apartments for rent only to be disappointed. The last one I went to was described as ‘open and airy,’ but it was a freaking dungeon.” I sigh. “If I can’t find something soon, I’m moving home. Getting a place by myself around here is too expensive, and I can’t fathom moving way out to the valley.”