Everything About You

by Lisa J. Lickel

Shelly frowned toward his pointy nose next to his beloved camera. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

  He bit his lips, still filming.

  “I tried to give him some pointers about Lydia Danes, who’s coming on set tomorrow. Of course she was informed, fortunately before the news hit, about Seth’s departure. I didn’t talk to her, so I can only imagine her reaction to hearing she might be acting with a new name. I plan to meet her first, reassure her that he’ll be somebody by the time the promotion schedule gets under way. Production is tight enough that I’ll remind her we can’t afford to mess up anything else if she wants another award nomination. But getting her to be nice to Winston has to be her idea.

  “I only hope she doesn’t try to be too nice.”

  DAY FOUR

  Day Four - Exterior - Morning

  Danny rocked on the front porch, one bare foot on the rail, and watched the sun come up, rosy and glowing, not red and rude. He had plenty of time to do the morning milking the way these folks worked their day, but he didn’t push the matter. Dad’s friend, Glen, and Glen’s son, Trevor, helped, and if it made some money for them, Danny was okay with it. There wasn’t any other way to get away from chores. He couldn’t even remember the last day he took off. Probably Jen’s wedding three years ago.

  With both hands wrapped around a heavy blue mug, he lifted it to his mouth and drank more before it got too cold. Someone found the coffee roaster in Viroqua. At least a few businesses were profiting from this outfit.

  Day four. He’d overheard someone on the set calling it the next megastar search, like this week was a game show. Maybe it was—maybe this was all some joke and they were just using him until this Brad fella could get away from his other job. He took a last gulp, contemplating. He didn’t mind so much if they were fooling him as long as they paid him reasonably for his time, but Shelly seemed so wrapped up in it all, so determined to make him fit the role. Surely they weren’t deliberately setting her up too? She was a wonderful, passionate, and caring woman under that huff and puff. He knew he should stop thinking about her, wishing they’d met under other circumstances, bringing her water and those little cheese things she said she liked.

  These movie people seemed okay enough. Some fooling around, but not what he’d expected. Jen had reminded him last night when she called they weren’t doing the character filming yet. He was a little worried about trying to memorize pages of the script all at once until that one coach, the one working on his speaking, told him he didn’t have to do that. He should get familiar with the story, but only memorize the scene they were shooting. Someone would help him with the production schedule later.

  What was happening now was nothing like real filming, Jen said. Working on set was actually pretty boring, repeating a little thing over and over for a couple of hours, then sitting around until it was her turn again. He hadn’t realized they didn’t film a movie in order. It was disconcerting until Jen explained it was easier and more effective to film the scenes that take place in the same location at one time, and then do other scenes either inside or outside depending on the weather and time of day. The real pressure came at the end of the regular filming schedule and later during editing. “Expect to get called in again for retakes,” she’d said. “And when it comes out at Christmas—hopefully then, although they’re really cutting it close—you’ll be on publicity tours. Shelly said we were already lined up on the big shows.”

  This was the first time Jen had a big enough role to be included in promotion and she was excited. Danny would give anything to make sure she got her big chance. Then he’d step out of her way and get on with his dream. He hadn’t heard anything from Mr. Pettibone after that disastrous breakfast in town. Surely someone would let Danny know if he was definitely out of the film. Right?

  He finished the coffee and set the mug on the porch floorboards. Jen said there’d be filming in and around the house before they left. The McCormacks had a nice place, a house like one Danny hoped to have someday. If the fish farm went off well enough, he could sell most of the cows. He’d keep two, at least for a while. Mom had made butter all the time he and Jen were growing up. Dad kept up the tradition and even started making fresh cheese a few years back, when Danny was at college. Until Danny returned, Dad had been alone after Jen left.

  The morning was too beautiful to think about potential future loneliness.

  He put his hands behind his head and leaned back, making the rocker creak. It would be at least another hour and a half before anyone in the house would stir. How many people were staying here? All four bedrooms were being used, that much he figured. There were all those trailers out in the little pasture behind the barn. He heard an occasional rickety metal door slam, meaning some of them were obviously awake and on the move. Soon, the peace of the morning would be gone. He should grab a shower and get to the prayer group meeting. He’d pray for the safe travel of Lydia Danes, and that they’d get along well enough to work together. If he got the job. He liked the movie set, the script was good, sappy like the women wanted, and the movie people a lot nicer than he’d thought. And Shelly had been working so hard. He’d hate to disappoint her. Hopefully, he was worth all her attention. Would she consider a relationship with him? At least he’d know for certain if he asked. Better to try and fail than not try at all. This acting gig was working so far. If he didn’t crash and burn after all her efforts, maybe she would see him as more than a project.

  *

  Day Four - Interior - Morning

  Shelly planned to use the next ninety minutes with Winston on interview techniques. She’d spent a couple of hours drafting notes and responses to typical questions he could memorize and still come off natural with tweaking a word or two. If he didn’t clutch in front of a camera again. With an unlimited budget, what would she do? What would she have done for Tommy Lord back in that bad old day? Maybe gotten some impersonators. She only wanted the best for Winston—to look powerful, responsible, in control, yet a little vulnerable. Women ate that up. Now that Barbara Walters had retired, maybe she could fly in, give him some pointers? Chicago wasn’t that far away. Could they get Oprah—

  “I’m sorry I’m late, Boss.”

  All hunky six-foot-one dimpled dreamboat in white tee and jeans strode onto the mock interview set. He didn’t even blink at the lights this time, he simply blasted her with his shiny teeth and three hundred and fifty-watt cuteness. Wow. He hadn’t been bad at all the day before yesterday, but this morning…? Just, wow.

  “Something wrong?” Danny furrowed his brow and looked puppy-dog hurt. “They fire me yet?”

  “What? Fire you? Who said anything like that?” Shelly mentally slapped and high-fived herself at the same time. Yes, she was that good. But he was a project, remember? She’d have to squelch any rumors like that immediately. “No one’s getting fired around here. Put that right out of your beau—head—right now.”

  Whap! Get a hold of yourself!

  Did she get enough caffeine that morning? She waved him to the stool next to her and shielded her eyes to check for Betty behind the camera. “Betty?”

  “Yo.”

  *

  Day Four - Interior - Morning

  Something changed. Danny slid slowly onto the bar stool and put on the Winston smile. He’d been so relieved about not getting fired—yet—he turned the smile into Winston playing Lane Thompson grin. Confident. Charming. Maybe a little flirty. Like he knew how to do that. Shelly stared at him as if he had strawberry seeds stuck between his teeth. Since he’d checked the expensive fake smile in the bathroom mirror a minute ago, it wasn’t that. He talked out of the side of his mouth while grinning like a fool. “What else is wrong if I’m not fired?” The “fired” came out like “furred.”

  She turned her lips up, late, as if someone else told her to. She shook her head. “Nothing. What could be wrong?” She sat then, and turned toward Betty. “Except you messing up the interviews.”

  Danny still wasn’t sure what was diffe
rent between them, but he caught her rubbing her palms on her denim skirt several times during the hour he lobbed back innocuous answers to her questions and found himself falling deeper in like with her, wishing they weren’t having such a good time. If this movie thing didn’t work out, he’d be gone after tomorrow. Before he had a chance to have a real conversation with her. He wanted to know her better, but would she consider exploring a relationship? With him? If that was possible for their schedules and work load. He hadn’t missed the cows as much as he thought he would. Even the fish farm dream faded a little.

  “Now, here are twelve lines scripted for you to memorize so you’ll never fumble for words.”

  “Even when they ask me something easy?”

  “Especially then.”

  Danny vowed to not let her down and turned on the full moon in love face he’d been practicing earlier.

  “Do you have a girlfriend? America wants to know, Winston? Are you taken?”

  “What do you do for fun? Show us the at-home Winston Daniels.”

  “I understand your sister, Jen, is on the set with you, and that she got you the gig. Tell America about your sibling rivalry.”

  “You bring up God’s name a lot. How does that play into your life?”

  His personal faith was not an answer Shelly had scripted for him—at least not one he would use. The others were easy—he’d not had much time for dating, he liked to read, go horseback riding—not really, but Shelly said it sounded romantic—and was learning to cook and make cheese from the milk of his own cows—sorry, Dad—and he and Jen had always been good friends, never rivals. Though he wasn’t sure he’d thank her for taking away his privacy. Hearty Winston Daniels laugh.

  But God? “I’m a Christian.”

  “No, no—not like that, Winston,” Shelly cut in. “Say ‘I attend church.’ ‘I’m a church goer.’ ‘I go to the church I grew up in whenever I’m home.’” She leaned over and pointed at the paper in his hands. “See. It says right there—”

  “Not this answer.” Winston got a whiff of that honey hair of hers and reared back, almost falling off the stool. He managed to hold on to the clipboard. He closed his eyes and gulped. “You—” He swallowed to get the squeak out of his voice. What was happening? “You can put all those other words in my mouth, but not these. My faith is real and I won’t water it down.” He nodded at the camera and the wide audience it represented. “Not for them.” Barb gave a solemn nod back. They’d prayed together only two hours earlier. He inclined his head toward Shelly, though had a hard time meeting her eyes. “Not even for you.”

  When he did look, her pretty lips were parted and her eyes rounded. She nodded, red staining her cheeks. “We’ll work on it.”

  Danny leaned back. “Sounds like a plan.” At last he knew why he was here in this place at this time. Shelly Colter might be a proud, talented woman, but she needed God in her life. Oh, he wasn’t about to make a Christian out of her, that wasn’t possible as it was God’s job, but he could be her spotlight, showing her the right blocking for a change. If God saw fit to give something more, he’d be the happiest man on earth.

  *

  Day Four - Interior - Midmorning

  Shelly mentally groaned and gnashed her teeth. How could she have missed the fact that he was one of those lunatic religious types? Perhaps she could get some riders on his contract, like forbidding him to talk about Jesus in public. Shades of that brief dust-up with a former child actor who renounced his role in a popular sit-com one day, calling it evil, then the next day recanting, flashed before her eyes. She reviewed the script for Everything About You, which was surprisingly clean. They’d probably spice it up as they filmed. It wasn’t like Seth could have spoken two sentences in a row without cussing.

  America loved nice guys. But religious nuts? No-no-no! That lazy grin on Winston’s face forecast trouble ahead.

  For once, Fred was silent.

  “I’m not ashamed of what I believe, Shelly,” Winston told her. “Being faithful isn’t scary. You’ll see.”

  No-no-no-no-no! Should she call Pettibone now or later? She reached for her phone.

  “But I can be Winston Daniels who doesn’t use religion to turn people off. There are enough whackos out there. I am what I am, Danny Winston, Christian, playing Winston Daniels, heartthrob, who doesn’t need drugs or sex or bad-boy headlines to sell this movie. He’ll be a good role model. If they ask me why, I’ll be honest. I won’t lie for you, no matter how much I-I admire you. I won’t go off the deep end and get all judgmental and self-righteous, either. Don’t worry.”

  Okay, she’d been worried. Shelly took a deep breath and tore away from those shining eyes. Principles, morals…whackos. She could work with those terms. Why did her heart pound so hard? Her ribs actually hurt. “I’m just looking out for you.”

  “And the company. I get it.”

  Shelly sat up straighter and put all the cynicism she could gather into her voice. “That’s why we’re here.” In two days it might be over. One thing made her smirk. How would Lydia deal with religious talk? Shelly slumped again. She felt badly Winston thought she was some kind of robot. “It’s not like that, Winston.”

  “Call me Danny. My name is Danny.”

  “Danny. All right. Do you want this to work out or not?”

  “This what, Shelly? We were having fun. Maybe even getting to know and like each other.”

  “We’re working, Danny. No office romances here.”

  The smugness in the set of his chin clued her in to what she’d said. Admitted. “I mean, well, um—”

  “No ums.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. “But would you like to clarify?”

  “That’s what I was trying to do. Cut! Time for another elocution session.” Shelly hopped off the stool as if it had been burning coals.

  “Walk me there?” Win—Danny asked, and stuck out his arm.

  Shelly stared for three seconds—long seconds—while the remaining crew waited to see what she would do. No human could develop feelings for another in a few days. A mutual attraction, sure, but not this…this awful need to walk him anywhere he wanted to go. She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow and tossed her hair. Who cared? Danny wasn’t Tommy Lord. She and Danny had the rest of today and tomorrow to spend together, figure out if they had more than mutual attraction. Who knew where romance could lead them. If she did her job right, they’d have plenty more time—time enough to decide if they could get past the religion thing.

  *

  Day Four - Exterior - Mid-afternoon

  Shelly stared at the driver who’d returned from the airport in the company van, alone. A kid. She wasn’t even sure of his name. “You said you waited until everyone disembarked from the plane, asked to have Lydia Danes paged, and when she didn’t show up at the courtesy counter, you left?”

  He shrugged. “I hung around another half hour and asked a lady to check the bathrooms.”

  He’d checked the bathrooms. Like Lydia Danes would use a public restroom. Shelly wanted to cuff his ear. And paging her like a…a…common person. Knowing Lydia, even if she’d been in the tiny La Crosse Regional Airport she wouldn’t have answered a summons like that. “Did you read the passenger manifest?”

  “They told me she wasn’t on board.”

  Shelly dismissed the kid and speed-dialed Pettibone’s assistant. “Amber, did I miss something about Lydia Danes changing her plans to arrive today?”

  Paper rustling sounds came over the line. “I don’t believe so, Ms. Colter. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  Shelly gritted her teeth. “Do you have other information regarding Lydia’s whereabouts and expected time of arrival? Per contractual obligation?”

  “If she’s actually in breach of contract, please let us know. Thank you. Good bye.”

  Staring at the cell in her outstretched hand, Shelly ignored Fred and his camera approaching. Until Winston arrived and a small crowd gathered around them.

 
Gradually a thump-thump sound grew louder. Oh, no—the location had been leaked. “Paparazzi! Who told the media Lydia Danes was expected? Call the local Air Patrol and get this area blocked against air traffic!” She looked frantically for the location manager. “Margie! Get on the phone now!”

  “Sure go to a lot of trouble getting pictures of the stars,” Winston said in her ear. His warm breath tickled her and she shivered. “You can do that? Make this a no-fly zone?” He whistled low.

  “Things can get really crazy—people get hurt—if there’s too much activity. We have horses too.”

  “Don’t want them spooked,” Winston said.

  “Back to work, people,” Shelly called out. “Don’t give them the satisfa…oh, nuts.”

  Fred laughed quietly and aimed his camera toward the incoming helicopter.

  Crew members pointed and waved as soon as the gold lettering on the dark blue chopper became readable. Amber could have given Shelly a warning, saved a round trip to the airport an hour one way by car.

  “Who’s that? Something wrong?” Winston asked, still close enough to rattle Shelly’s waning composure.

  There were four people on board. Lydia wasn’t coming with only her personal assistant. She’d brought a man. Great. Good distraction. Shelly hoped. “Watch and see.”

  A pair of county squad cars, light flashing, staked out a segment of the rural county road on either side of the house, creating a safe landing pad for the helicopter. Shelly poked Margie, who stood near, agape, phone still in her hand. “Never mind that. You’ve seen plenty of landings, girl. Go grab a couple of the guys to get the luggage hustled off. They’re not going to keep the road closed for long.”

  “Right.” Margie stumbled away as the chopper came to a one-bump stop on the solid double yellow line. A set of endless, feminine, bare legs exited first. Whistling and clapping kept time with the slowed blades that still managed to find dust to swirl despite landing on the asphalt. Shelly wrinkled her nose at the fuel smell and fluttered her hand at some of the flying grass and dirt.