by Scott, Inara
He scowled at the script. He had a lot of work in front of him, and since he’d told the actors they had a six a.m. call, he had to finish it tonight.
The ringing of the phone startled him out of his reverie. The caller ID showed it was his sister, Maria.
“Shouldn’t you be studying?” he said in greeting. Maria was in a nursing program and complained at every opportunity about how difficult her classes were.
“Not anymore. I decided to quit.”
Ryker sighed, setting down the script. “No you didn’t. You decided to quit last week. And the week before that. You can’t decide it again.”
“This time I mean it.”
He heard the sound of a child crying in the background. “What’s going on? Is Fifi sick?”
Though at twenty Maria seemed little more than a child herself, she had a one-year-old daughter to juggle along with nursing school. The father had disappeared at the first word that there would be a baby. Fiercely independent, Maria was raising Felicity on her own.
“No. She’s just grumpy. Doesn’t want to go to sleep. I don’t know if she’s teething or what, but I’ve been trying to study for the past hour, and I can’t get anything done because she keeps waking up.”
The wobble in her voice told him she was close to tears. “You aren’t going to quit,” he said gently. “You’ve put in too much time and effort to let it all slip away. You’re just tired and frustrated. Tell you what, I’ll come by and distract Fifi while you study. Just find me a beer, will you?”
“You’re busy. I can’t let you come all this way just because of me.”
He let the smile show in his voice. “Maria, if you hadn’t wanted me to come over, you wouldn’t have called.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She sniffed. “But I feel terrible about it.”
“Don’t.” He cradled the phone on his shoulder as he picked up a jacket and walked over to the front door. “I was done for the night anyway.”
Chapter Five
“Alix Z? Are you Alix Z?”
The crowds of travelers in the busy Los Angeles airport streaming around her, Alix closed her eyes and briefly entertained the fantasy of saying no. As her plane had descended through the thick layer of yellowish-brown smog that covered the city, memories of her days making movies for Gunther came spilling back, leaving Alix with a familiar mix of longing and distaste. Even when she’d been living and working here, she’d never felt quite at home. The urge to run back to Oregon and Rex was overwhelming.
But then she remembered that she didn’t have enough money in her checking account to pay the change fee on her ticket. Leaving LA was not an option.
She steeled her shoulders and pasted an artificial smile on her face for the eager young man who had greeted her. “Yes.”
“Mr. Valentine sent me to pick you up. I’m Nick Peters. I hope you don’t mind me saying that I’m a big fan of your movies.” He extended his hand, and Alix shook it with a resigned sigh.
Nick Peters was tall, lean, and broad-shouldered, with frayed blue jeans riding low around his hips. A mop of curly hair covered his forehead, expertly cut to ensure it did not obscure his crystal blue eyes or square jaw. Alix studied him clinically, seeing in that perfect physique and artful appearance a mirror of a thousand other young men she’d met over the years. When she first moved to LA, she’d been flattered by the attention of boys like Nick. But after a few painful encounters, she’d learned not to trust their gleaming white smiles. They spent time with her because they thought she could give them something: a part, some money, connections. They had no interest in her.
As they left LAX, Alix eyed the familiar mix of palm trees, artificially green shrubs, and dead grass with a sigh. Nothing in LA seemed real, not even the plants.
Nick pulled onto the freeway, chattering at high speed about Salva’s Revenge, the latest Hollywood gossip, and his recommendations for the newest restaurants at which Alix simply had to be seen. The Bolvana studio was in Burbank, which could have made for an endless trip across the Valley, but luckily the freeways were all moving, and Nick seemed determined to get them there in record time. He ducked across lanes on the bumpy concrete road, alternatively moving at a slow crawl when traffic tightened and then accelerating to ninety when the traffic broke. By the time they arrived, Alix was exhausted. Six months since her last visit and she’d forgotten how much energy it took just to exist here, with the constant barrage of stimulation from the radio, the billboards, and the honking horns. She found herself longing for the silence of her beach retreat, even as her nervousness over what she was supposed to do grew.
Her role on the film was clear, she reminded herself. She would stay for one month. She would provide her opinion and nothing more. She would ignore her silly, physical response to Ryker and focus on her work. And when her month was over, she would be back on a plane, one hundred thousand dollars richer.
Bolvana Studio was small in comparison with its neighbor, Warner Brothers, but still expansive, with eighteen sound stages on over seventy acres. Gunther had been working with Bolvana for years and had a comfortable bungalow on the lot with offices for his production company, which Alix had visited at Christmas. As they pulled to a stop outside the main gate, Nick held up a security tag for a guard who stood in a small white building at the edge of the enormous compound. With an impassive nod, the guard turned away, and a red-and-white arm rose to allow them entry.
“Did you want anything from the cafeteria? Water? Coffee?”
Alex shook her head. “What’s on the schedule today? I won’t be interrupting, will I?”
“They’re just rehearsing. Ryker wanted me to bring you by right away.” Nick stopped in front of a multistory, square building. It looked like an enormous warehouse with brown stucco walls and no windows. A small sign identified the building as “Studio Twelve.” A light hung over the doorway, along with a sign promising dire results if the door was opened when the light was red.
Nick led them inside. The studio held an open, unfinished space with cavernous ceilings crawling with wooden scaffolding, lights, and black electric cords. A three-sided living room set faced them, complete with an overstuffed couch, two large windows with lace curtains, and dark cherry coffee table. On the right-side wall was an entry door with a row of locks. A small army of empty canvas-backed chairs faced the set, one bearing the logo “Director.”
Lena Mandaval, lead actress in Salva’s Revenge, sat on one side of the sofa, shoulders back, jaw set. Jake Redburn, the actor who played Hank McAdams, the bulldog cop who was Salva’s nemesis, stood a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest, a frown cutting deep grooves into the sides of his mouth. A group of people clustered around the other side of the coffee table, including Ryker. He was intent, scratching notes on a thick tablet of white paper.
“Do it again,” Ryker ordered, looking up to glare at the actors.
“It’s not working,” Jake said. He was shorter than Ryker, with the lean, hard muscles of a wrestler and short, cropped hair. Defined biceps stood out from the edges of a worn cotton T-shirt. “I’m telling you, you can rework the scene a dozen times, but if Lena doesn’t warm up, it’s never going to work.”
“Oh sure, it’s all my fault.” Lena shook a mane of thick, black hair and turned her back more fully to him. “How typical. Blame someone else for your inability to get it up.”
“Maybe if I wasn’t kissing a doormat, I’d have a little more interest in my work,” Jake snapped.
“Enough!” Ryker held up his hands. “You’re acting like children. We’re going to do it one more time and then take a break. Now pretend you’re professionals and take it from the top.” He took a few steps back from the set and focused on each of them in turn, barking instructions. “Lena, you don’t want him thinking about what he saw earlier today. You’re desperate. Distracting him is your only hope. Jake, you’re fighting a losing battle and you know it, but your job is too important to you to give up easily.”
&n
bsp; Nick started to open his mouth, presumably to announce their presence, but Alix shushed him with a hand and slid into one of the canvas chairs. Nick shrugged and sat down beside her.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Lena said, turning to look at Jake. In the time it took her to rearrange her position on the sofa, her body changed completely, from defiant and angry to inviting, concerned. To the casual observer, her posture—leaning forward, hands clasped together—appeared designed to draw him closer. But Alix could see the tension in her mouth and the stiffness of her back.
Jake moved around the room, checking the window and locks on the door as he spoke. “I saw Rinaldo by the bank this afternoon. He’s looking for you. I’m staying here tonight.”
“They’ll find you,” she said. “And we’ll both be in trouble if they do.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.” He stopped in front of her, grabbing her by the hand and pulling her to her feet. “I can’t stop thinking about you, Salva.”
She melted into his arms, triumph curling her lips, giving every sign of a women well satisfied. But to Alix’s mind, Lena’s eyes told a different story. The current between Jake and Lena was hot—hot enough to light the screen on fire, if channeled properly. But it was all negative energy, tension and fear.
Her fingers curled around his biceps like the talons of a hawk. “We shouldn’t,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.
“I don’t care.” Jake wrapped his arms around Lena’s narrow waist, dropping his head to kiss her. As their mouths meshed, she put her arms around his neck. The gesture looked forced. Stiff. They kissed, but there was no passion. A moment later, they broke apart.
Ryker tousled his hair, leaving the black waves uneven and rough. “That looked like crap. Let’s take a break. Anyone know what time it is?” He glanced around the room, lips curving when he noticed Alix for the first time.
Alix flinched, his gaze brushing roughly against her like the touch of his hand. His eyes were hard, inscrutable, the smile showing little in the way of emotion. Frustration, though, was evident in the tight set to his shoulders. She had the sudden desire to run. Ryker Valentine didn’t want to share the set with her. He didn’t believe in anything she did. And it would only make it worse if she had to tell him just how bad things really looked.
“Alix, welcome. Come on over.” He gestured toward the people gathered behind him and then to Lena and Jake. “Folks, this is Alix Z. Gunther thinks she’ll be able to get something romantic out of these two.”
Jake cocked his head. “Alix Z? As in, Through the Window? One Night Stand? That Alix Z?” A look of surprise crossed his face, but he was a decent enough actor to mask it almost immediately with a welcoming smile.
“The one and only,” she said, stepping forward reluctantly.
The look of surprise on the faces of Jake and a few others was not shocking. She’d seen it hundreds of times before. Everyone in LA seemed to think a woman who made sexy films should look like one of her actresses. They wanted to see a show poodle, and, like Ryker had said, she was a Labrador. Of course, it didn’t help that she was wearing a baggy T-shirt and a pair of old jeans she’d bought at a thrift store a few years before. That, and she wore her usual glasses today, not her sunglasses. They were square and heavy, with thick black frames that Gunther said made her look like an old man.
Jake extended his hand. “Jake Redburn. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Jake.” Alix returned his firm handshake. She liked him immediately. There was an openness to his smile that she didn’t expect from a million-dollar actor.
Jake looked at Ryker, laugh lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. “You didn’t tell us you were bringing in an expert.”
Ryker’s only reaction was to twist his lips into a deeper frown. “Considering the garbage you call acting these days, I need all the help I can get.”
“I’m Lena.” With another toss of her long hair, Lena rose from the sofa and positioned herself between Jake and Alix. Lena smiled, but the gesture did not touch her dark, doe-like eyes.
Alix shook her soft hand, wondering at the emotions swirling below the lines of tension in Lena’s beautiful features. Lena had a typical Hollywood body—thin and toned, each curve carefully sculpted—but her face was just old enough to have more character than the generic blonde starlets that filled Hollywood. There was wisdom in her deep brown eyes and a hint of pain. Alix had to admit that Ryker had cast the perfect Salva.
“I’m looking forward to working with you,” Alix said.
Lena’s eyes darted back to Jake, and her mouth tightened. “I’m not sure why. There isn’t a lot getting done around here.”
Jake gave Alix a look of apology. “Did Ryker warn you?”
“Warn me about what?”
“You’ve wandered onto the most dysfunctional set in Hollywood,” he said cheerfully. “We’re a mess.”
“It isn’t funny,” Lena snapped. “Why do you have to try to turn everything into a joke?”
“So I don’t kill you,” he replied calmly, though a muscle jumped in his cheek.
“Didn’t you say we were wrapping early today?” Lena asked Ryker. “I have some calls I need to make.”
“Fine.” Ryker sighed. He introduced her briefly to the row of people behind him. She nodded and waved at each, knowing she’d never remember their names. “Now, you can all go, except Amir.” He pointed to a dark-skinned lanky man with a goatee and row of hoops protruding from his eyebrow. “Alix, this is my assistant director, Amir Madani.” Amir grunted amiably at Alix. Ryker continued, “Amir, I need Gunther’s viewing room set up with those clips we talked about earlier today. And make sure Alix has a car and hotel information. Eight a.m. call, Jake and Lena.” He shook a threatening finger at the two of them. “I expect something much better tomorrow, understand?”
Lena started to reply, but evidently the thundercloud on Ryker’s face convinced her otherwise. She nodded and flounced off the set.
Jake shook his head. “Glad to have you here, Alix. Hope you don’t mind if I corner you sometime to ask about your films. I really am a fan.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Jake waved and headed out the door.
Alix swallowed as one by one, the rest of the group followed him out. Finally, she was alone with Ryker. She squared her shoulders. She was in a movie studio, for heaven’s sake. It wasn’t as if he was going to make a pass at her here. Especially not when she was wearing a gray T-shirt that was two sizes too big for her and jeans that ended somewhere around the ankle.
Ryker surveyed her, his attention lingering on her glasses. “I’m not sure which I liked better, the gigantic sunglasses or those monsters. Pilfer them from your grandfather’s closet, by any chance?”
“I have a very strong prescription,” she snapped. “I spend enough on the lenses; I don’t need to spend more on the frames.”
“Of course.”
She turned away from his probing stare and made a point of walking around the set. “So this is Salva’s apartment? Looks about right. Middle-class comfort, with a touch of desperation.”
“You read the script.”
“Of course. I liked it. But you didn’t tell me our leads were at each other’s throats. It doesn’t take an expert to see that.” She picked up a heavy glass ashtray and hefted it in one hand, feeling the weight. Later in the film, Salva would use it to knock out an aggressor. It was good to know Ryker was paying attention to details.
She stole a glance over her shoulder. He was intent, staring at her back as if he expected to find the answer to some mystery there.
With a tight shake of the head, he refocused on her face. “This is the worst I’ve seen them. They’ve been bickering from the start, but it’s getting uglier by the day. I thought they’d be able to get past it. I guess I was wrong.”
“Get past what?”
“Jake and Lena? You don’t know their history?”
She sat down on the sofa. “Nope. Should I?
” Thanks to Gunther, she was actually more up to date on Hollywood gossip than she wanted to be. But she had no intention of letting Ryker know that. Besides, it would be interesting to hear his version of the story.
Ryker barked a laugh. “I suppose I should have expected that. Jake and Lena were a serious item about ten years ago, when he was still a model and she had just made her first feature. The tabloids had them secretly married, or at least engaged. But then Jake got caught with a wardrobe girl from one of his modeling gigs. The break-up was nasty, to say the least.”
“And you cast them as lovers?” Alix raised a skeptical eyebrow. “That hardly seems wise.”
He brushed aside her words. “They’ve been in a couple of movies together since then and did fine. Besides, Lena’s perfect for the role—she’s at a crossroad in her career, right on the cusp of being recognized for her acting and not just her looks, and Salva’s at the same crossroad. She realizes in the film that she’s relied on her looks all her life, and that doesn’t work with this guy.”
“Hmm. You said they were in a couple of movies together. Were they romantic leads?”
Ryker paused, considering the question before he answered. “One was an ensemble piece. They were a couple, though to be honest, there wasn’t any serious onstage affection. In the other, they were both married but kept up a flirtation through the film. Their chemistry was exceptional. I didn’t think their past would be an issue.”
“I would call what we just witnessed an issue.”
He flopped down on the sofa next to her. He looked tired, the lines around his eyes more pronounced than the last time she’d seen him. He dropped his head on the back of the couch. “That’s putting it mildly.”
