Tangled Hearts (Evermore 4 Book Box Set)

by ANDREA SMITH

  “Okay, so here’s your line,” Dan says, handing me a piece of paper. “Memorize it, and give me five to round up Seth.”

  I look down at the paper. Is he kidding me? It’s only seven words. There is no memorizing to it. But the words. Fuck…the words.

  Kiss me like you mean it, Austin.

  Dear God.

  I’m numb, but I’m furiously praying to the Lord above to not let it show. Seth and I are standing not more than two feet apart, waiting for our cue, I guess. The whole television set jargon is beyond me.

  I can feel his gaze on me as we wait. It’s penetrating and so far, I’ve not been able to return it. I busy myself with smoothing out my dress, checking the underside of my shoe, anything so I don’t have to look into his eyes. If I look into his eyes, I’m a goner.

  “So, looks like you’ve really gone a bit blonder since graduation, huh?”

  Fuck. He remembers…that night.

  I feel myself flush under his unrelenting gaze. I raise my eyes to his because he’s not going to intimidate me with his good looks and his fame, I’ve decided. Nothing’s changed. Everything’s changed.

  “You remember?” I ask quietly, so the set crew who are busy adjusting the lighting around us aren’t privy to what we’re saying.

  His eyes study me as if he’s placed me under his own microscope to dissect. “What, your hair? Or that night in the rose garden?” I see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. And it irritates me just a little.

  I shrug as if I’m unaffected by his closeness and his words. “We were pretty wasted. I barely remembered it the next day.”

  He cocks an eyebrow and his mouth forms a thin line as if that offends him. “I was sober. I remember everything,” he murmurs, an angry edge to his voice.

  Before I have a chance to respond, Tiffany’s voice rings out loudly, “Standby on the set!”

  Seth turns from me and takes his starting position for the scene I’ve practiced a few times, with Daniel, sans the kiss of course, before Seth arrived on the set. I turn my back to Seth and find my mark. I’m supposed to turn and take three steps forward once Daniel says what he’s supposed to say as the A.D.

  Tiffany’s voice. “Standby to roll tape!”

  A male voice calls out “Speed.”

  Daniel moves in front of the floor camera with his chalk slate and pauses until Tiffany calls, “Standby Camera One on slate.”

  Daniel clicks the top down on the slate, and announces, “Take one, four cameras, common mark. Action!”

  I take my steps, clasping my hands in front of me as Tiffany instructed earlier. Seth, as Austin, walks through the doorway, and immediately a look of astonishment crosses his face. “Cassidy,” he breathes, stepping to his mark, which is right in front of mine, “you came back. I’ve been looking all over town for you, baby. Don’t ever run out on me like that again, do you understand?”

  His radiant blue eyes are gazing into mine as if he really means the words he’s speaking to me, Neely, not Cassidy. And his hands reach for mine. As he takes them into his, I feel his fingers gently caressing mine, and he’s doing it as Seth, not as Austin Benedict. My brown eyes are locked with his blue ones, and I’m feeling the current that flows between us with our connection. I nod like I was told to do so that he can continue with his next line.

  “Don’t you know how much you mean to me, Cass? Don’t ever let someone try to tear us apart like that again. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a need to kiss you.”

  I swallow. “Kiss me like you mean it, Austin,” I say with surprising sincerity.

  He moves closer, his face lowers to mine and my breath hitches as my eyes instinctively close and I tilt my face upward.

  “Cut!” Tiffany calls out.

  What the fuck?

  Seth drops my hands and my eyes flutter open just in time to see the smirk on his face. “Anxious for the next part, Neely?” he asks. I have the urge to slap his smug face, but I don’t. I have only myself to blame for my naiveté and stupidity. This is Seth performing. Nothing more. It’s that…what did Blake say he used…oh, yeah. The Stella Adler technique. Probably the same technique he used the night Seth fucked me for the first time. I’m a fool.

  Tiffany is now beside us. “Okay, so Camera 3 is going to roll in for a close-up, so make sure when Daniel says ‘Action’ you two give us some good stuff, okay? Your lips should already be together since the close-up will be right there. Seth, have your right hand tangled up in her hair so it shields her left cheekbone somewhat since she’s standing in for Julia.”

  “Got it,” he replies, stifling a yawn.

  Oh, do I bore you, Seth?

  “Great,” Tiffany replies, giving him a smile. She turns and heads back to her director chair yelling, “Standby to roll tape. Quiet on the set! Standby Camera 3, read the slate.”

  Daniel holds up the slate, clicks it and says, “Scene three, take two, move to close-up,” as I close my eyes and wait for the kiss.

  “Action!”

  Seth presses his lips to mine and I freeze. I don’t know why, but I freaking freeze. They feel foreign. They shouldn’t, but they do. I’ve felt other lips on mine since his, but none of them belonged to anyone that I loved, and yet, this feels so foreign and disconnected. My arms are at my side, and Seth continues to press his mouth to mine but there’s…nothing. Just some anger welling up inside that is coming from who knows where, but I recognize that it is indeed anger.

  “Cut!” Tiffany screeches, and she’s on the set in five seconds flat. “What is that?” she asks angrily, her hands on her hips and her eyes on me. “You look like a fucking mannequin, Neely.”

  I back up and give her a glare. “What exactly do you want, Tiffany?” I hiss, “Our lips are touching, right?”

  She sighs. “Look, Neely, your arms should be around his neck, like this, see? She grabs one of my arms and raises it up, wrapping it around his shoulder. “Now, can you do that with your other one?”

  I don’t care for her condescending tone one little bit. “You mean like this, Mama Tiff?” I ask, bringing out my Tennessee twang for her benefit.

  Now it’s her turn to glare at me, and it’s a wicked one. I knew she had it in her to be evil, and here it is.

  “Yeah, like that,” she snaps. “You’d think you two never made a baby together with your stiff-as-a-statue posture, Neely. Now let’s get this right on the next take. I’m not paying the crew overtime for one lousy scene.”

  She turns on her heel and leaves, but I barely notice because my mind has turned to thick fog with the words she just spouted. I’d run from this fucking set and out the door if I thought my legs would carry me. It’s all I can do to stand here now and breathe. How did she know?

  Seth clears his throat and spins me back around to face him. He’s every bit as stunned as I am, but not for the same reason. “What the fuck did she mean?” he growls at me with flashing eyes.

  “Nothing,” I mumble, hearing Tiffany barking her set commands again. “Let’s do this. I need to get out of here.”

  “No. We’re gonna talk before you leave this set, Neely,” he whispers hoarsely. “I mean it.”

  I nod, knowing that by agreeing, it will get this scene done and I can leave. I have no intention of sticking around and talking to Seth Drake.

  We blessedly get through the scene and I’m still so numb I can’t even recall what the kiss felt like when I get back to Tiffany’s trailer and start tearing the dress off, grabbing my own clothes to hurriedly change, and get the fuck out of this place.

  Someone bangs on the door of the trailer. And then I hear Seth’s voice. “Neely, it’s me. Let me in. I want to talk to you.”

  God no. I can’t, I just can’t.

  I remain silent because I know I locked the door behind me. I finish dressing listening to him pounding on the door of her trailer, but I don’t care. I know eventually he’ll have to go back to the set for the next scene, and I can wait him ou
t.

  Ten minutes later, after the pounding has stopped, I lift one of the slates on the window blind and gaze out. He’s gone. I breathe in a sigh of relief and grab my shoulder bag and head out. As I step around to the other side of the trailer, trying to locate a studio golf cart to give me a lift, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and I’m spun around roughly to face Seth.

  “You’re not leaving here until you tell me what the fuck Tiffany meant by that statement.”

  I pull away from him, but he’s not giving up. He grabs my arm, trying to pull me back, and I scream for him to let me be.

  “Talk to me, Neely,” he pleads, the anger now dissipating from him. “Please, talk to me. Tell me what she meant.”

  “I don’t know what she meant. You ask her if you’re so damn curious. I don’t intend to speak to her again.” I was about to turn from him again, when his arms encircled my waist and he pulled me up against his hard chest. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing, Seth?” I snap angrily.

  “I’m kissing you the way you like to be kissed, Neely,” he rasps, and then his lips crash against mine. “I’ll kiss the truth from you, I swear it!”

  And for a moment, I have no desire to try and escape from his embrace, because finally, it feels familiar again. I slowly melt against him, and my lips respond to his in an intimate and passionate way.

  I can hear the buzz of activity from nearby, but when several clicks from a camera sound just a few feet from us, we both pull back to see who’s encroaching on our private moment. The moment our faces are both turned in the direction of the camera, there is another click and then the man dressed as a craft services employee, jumps on his golf cart and drives away.

  “Fuck,” Seth growls, “Jerry Montego.”

  I turn to him, “Who is Jerry Montego?”

  “Paparazzi…fucking paparazzi.”

  Chapter 4

  Back to Present Day

  I shook the memory of that day and what followed from my mind, at least for the time being. It was never really gone. It came and went, and probably would continue to do so for a long time to come. I had spoken only once since then to Tiffany Blume. I’d driven to my father’s home and waited for her outside in my car.

  My father had been in San Francisco on business that week. Tiffany hadn’t rolled into the drive until after seven. She saw me before pulling into the garage. I had waited until she came out front again to exit my car.

  “Why didn’t you go on inside? You have a key, Neely. And whose car is that?” she asked, eyeing my 1988 Toyota with some disdain. But as usual, she didn’t wait for an answer. “You know, I thought maybe you would have stuck around the set for awhile and watch the rest of the taping. I wanted to talk to you to tell—”

  “Shut it,” I said loudly, causing her eyes to widen with surprise. “I want to know why, Tiffany. Why did you set me up the way you did? What…what purpose could that possibly have served you, huh?”

  She had remained composed. A smug look crossed over her face. “I didn’t set you up, little girl. I was trying to do you a favor.”

  “A favor? A favor?” I asked incredulously, “How was that doing me a favor?”

  “Don’t you think Seth had a right to know?” She was fishing and I knew it. I remained silent, but my glare was toxic.

  “You know, Neely, despite what you may think, I am not a stupid person. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that you were pregnant what with the E.P.T. kit you left wrapped up in a brown paper bag, along with the test stick showing the positive results in the trash can in your bathroom. Not to mention that stomach bug you claimed you had last August before you moved out on your own.”

  My arms were now crossed in front of me, and I narrowed my eyes before I spoke. “Since when do you empty the trash cans around here, Tiffany?”

  She scoffed at the question. “Don’t be a fool. I don’t empty the trash, but I sure as hell had instructions to the staff to go through yours, my dear. What with your mother’s problems with booze, and the way you acted so withdrawn and those god awful things you painted on your wall…well, it was disturbing. I only wanted to make sure you weren’t on drugs or something.”

  I hadn’t believed what I was hearing from the bitch. As if she cared about anything other than getting what she wanted from whomever she wanted at the moment. She hadn’t done any of it out of concern for me. “I’m really taken with your concern, Tiffany,” I had replied, “but I don’t believe a fucking word coming out of your mouth. What makes you think that test was even mine? Or if it was, that Seth had any part in it?”

  She flipped her long blonde hair back over her shoulder and smirked. “Because, Malibu might as well be Mayberry with how fast things get around. Let’s see,” she continued, tapping her cheek with an index finger, “something about you getting drunk at a party and doing Seth in a rose garden. Am I close? You just better be thankful I didn’t clue your daddy in on your shenanigans. What’d you do? Get an abortion? Probably was best seeing how Seth has moved on to Julia—somebody who really is more suited to his lifestyle. Nothing against you—”

  She never finished that thought because right about then was when the palm of my hand had landed with full force against her cheek with a loud smack.

  It had caused her to go reeling backwards into the grass where she landed square on her ass.

  “You are a spiteful bitch, Tiffany! You can tell my daddy whatever you want, cause I won’t be back. But remember this: I owe you one.” I watched as she struggled to get back up, and then I gave her one final smirk before I turned and got back into my car. I hadn’t been back there since.

  When my father had called me upon his return from San Francisco, raising hell with me for upsetting Tiffany, I told him that I preferred not to discuss it. He’d told me that I owed her an apology. When I’d refused, he hung up on me. A few days later, he’d called me back and apologized for hanging up. I told him that I understood he felt a loyalty towards his spouse, and that I wasn’t trying to put him in the middle of anything. He’d asked me if I’d consider coming back so that we all could sit down and talk.

  There was no way in hell that I was about to do that. I told him that maybe it would be best if Tiffany not be a part of the relationship between him and me. He wasn’t happy about my terms, but it was non-negotiable from my perspective. And though we talked on the phone occasionally or met for lunch now and then, our relationship had been fractured, and I was sure that’s exactly what Tiffany had hoped to accomplish.

  I needed to stop delaying making the call I knew it was time to make. I pressed the numbers and waited until I heard a man’s voice answer.

  “Mr. Montego, this is Neely Evans. Sorry I haven’t returned your calls before now. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  Chapter 5

  Three Months Later

  July 5, 1999

  I was crouching behind a shrub line next to the tennis courts of a huge estate on Mulholland Drive. Fourth of July weekend in lovely Malibu, California. My old stomping grounds. This was my first solo shoot, and I was determined I wasn’t going to fuck it up by not getting the pic, or worse yet, getting busted for criminal trespassing. Jerry was testing me and I sure as hell wasn’t going to blow it my first time out.

  There was a big party going on. Loud music. Lots of people. Lots of drinking. Lots of coke being snorted. The more wasted they all got, the easier it would be for me to get close enough to blend in and not outed for the party crasher I was.

  I unzipped the flap on my fanny pack and removed my ‘EOS Kiss III’ camera. This baby had only come out in April, but it was meant for what I do. Auto-focusing, thirty-five zone metering, and night lens photography. Plus it was compact. It only weighed three quarters of a pound with batteries.

  I’d had a close call while climbing over the fence on the other side of the tennis court, after I’d disabled the security camera nearby. I’d learned a trick for that from Jerry. There’s
actually a way to disable those bad boys without it sending a signal to the security panel inside. It involves a squirt gun, some vinegar, a tiny bit of baking powder and—no, never mind. I really shouldn’t be discussing tricks of the trade. I remembered Jerry had cautioned me against that from the start of my internship with him.

  Should I back up? Did you miss it? I had a new career as of May 1st of this year. That’s right.

  I was now a celebrity photographer.

  I am…paparazzi.

  Yeah, Malcolm had pitched a bit of a fit, but I promised him I could freelance for his agency whenever my schedule permitted. He’d finally come around, wishing me the best and ensuring me that I was with the best for the career I was entering. I promised him it wouldn’t be forever, because that was a promise I’d already made to myself.

  I couldn’t complain at all. The money, even during my internship, was pretty damn good. The solo money would be twice as much. Jerry loved it that I could process my own film as well. No worries that some PhotoMat® developer would scarf up the photo and make tracks to a tabloid before we got our pictures back, or worse yet, make duplicates and go to several tabloids.

  “Don’t think that hasn’t happened before,” Jerry had told me, thoroughly agitated. “Some people have no moral compass,” he finished, shaking his head in disgust.

  Jazzy and I had moved into a rental condo just off of Santa Monica Blvd. Yep, it was a real step or two up and we loved it, though it didn’t come cheap.

  Just then I heard some footsteps heading in my direction from the lawn. I peeked through the shrubs.

  Damn!

  Luck must be my middle name. It was my mark, and she wasn’t alone. Everyone knew Devon Donnelly, the star of Primrose Place. Another nighttime soap that had hit the big time over the last few years. She was a femme fatale that loved the spotlight, and what she loved more than that was her wealthy husband’s money and all that it afforded her.