“Ms. Danes, I presume?” Winston wiped his face and brushed dust from his hair and shirt. He flashed practice smiles and bit his lips to puff and color them as he’d been taught. He’d really learned a lot of tricks these past few days. Shelly hated that she felt a flash of guilt and hoped again he wouldn’t develop a fat ego.
Lydia approached with her long-stemmed swagger, dressed in a clingy, rust-colored knit wrap dress and heeled sandals. Her lion’s mane hair breezed back as she moved through the settling dust like Ingrid Bergman at a train station. Slow motion for ultimate swing effect.
Shelly’s heart stopped cold at the sight of the man following with an arrogant strut of his own. Tommy Lord.
*
Day Four - Exterior - Late Afternoon
Danny had never been so close to a real movie star like Lydia Danes. He couldn’t stop staring and felt like an awestruck thirteen-year-old. Even Jen was jumpy with anticipation. “You met her?” he whispered.
“Just on the phone,” she replied. The official set photographers and some crew members took pictures. It was certainly a made-for-film moment.
“Wow, that’s really her? I can’t believe I’m seeing this.” He nudged Shelly. “Does she always do stuff like this?”
When Shelly didn’t respond, Danny managed to drag his attention away from Lydia. Shelly looked worse than he’d felt yesterday during his first on-the-spot interview. “Are you okay?”
He glanced about to see if anyone else was bothered by her strange behavior. Jen had eyes only for Lydia.
The older woman who came with Lydia and the other man—Danny’s replacement perhaps?—rushed after the star, papers in one hand, phone in the other, talking to both, alternately.
Lydia paused and posed when she reached the lawn. She turned full circle and seemed to zero in on Danny. Danny promptly pushed concern for Shelly aside and moved toward Lydia as if she held his strings.
“My, my,” Lydia murmured when he got within speaking range. “If you are who I think you are, we are going to have a good time.” She drew out “good” as if pulling taffy. “Come closer. I definitely want to save the prairie with you by my side.”
A sharp nudge against Danny’s hip threw him off kilter and he hopped to catch himself from tripping. Maybe Lydia didn’t notice?
“Lydia,” Shelly cut in. He hadn’t realized she followed. “I sent a car for you this morning. We were so worried.”
“When I saw this glorious machine of Pettibone’s sitting idle at the airport, I couldn’t resist.”
The women air-kissed, missing each other’s cheeks by half a mile. Danny tried to relax his star-struck nervous quiver.
“You would have done the same,” Lydia said to Shelly.
“I probably would have called my producer at least, or had my assistant do that.”
Lydia trilled an airy laugh. “You’re such a worrier. So sweet of you.” She took a step to her left.
Danny wondered why Shelly blocked it then forgave her the next moment.
“May I introduce you to Winston Daniels, your new co-star?”
Lydia narrowed her eyes only briefly as if not wanting to create a wrinkle on her smooth skin. “My leading man, you mean? So lovely to meet you. From what well did they draw you, honey? You have that too-fresh look about you.”
“I’m just a farmer from these parts, Ly—ma’am. Not far away, actually. I was visiting—”
“How fascinating! We will get to know each other better, don’t worry. Opal! She’s my third hand, can’t do without her. Opal! Oh, there you are. Have my luggage sent to the—where am I staying? Trailer? A big one, good. Then have my lunch plate and water sent—” Her sights settled on the porch swing. “There. Me and this hunk of farm boy simply must get acclimated to one another.”
Danny looked for Jen, who’d hung back. “My sister, Jen, Miss Danes. She’s—”
“Of course, her too. Later, though.”
Lydia, taller than Shelly by at least half a foot, slid a long boney arm rattling with bracelets around his. He watched her, fascinated, as she sent a mocking smile at the man who’d gotten out of the helicopter. Danny squinted as Lydia drew him farther away. The man who was now talking to Shelly seemed familiar. Shelly, whose battle-clenched fists resting on her hips and ready for action stance made it obvious she wasn’t happy with the guy.
Lydia pulled him up the steps. “How quaint. Oh, don’t pay them any mind. I found that fella at the airport, looking like a coyote without his howl. Gave him a ride.”
“Who is he?”
“Tommy Lord. The love of her life.” She hooted. “I do believe they got some catching up to do.”
*
Day Four - Interior - Evening
Danny sat in the dark of the McCormack’s living room, knowing Fred would find him sooner or later. He contemplated the wonder of the morning with the revelation of feelings for Shelly, the marvel of lunchtime when she admitted the same, though she held concerns about his “Jesus side,” as she called it. A couple of silly texts later…then the bombshell. And he hadn’t meant Lydia.
The evil red eye of Fred’s camera sliced through the black.
“I don’t want to do this, Fred. Not now. I’m too tired.” And worried about Shelly, who texted she needed to attend meetings and would catch up later. Later had yet to come, and it was eleven o’clock.
“I know. If it helps, I’ll film in infrared. Just the hall light on.”
“I mean it. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”
“Is that what you’ve been doing?” Fred set up a short tripod near the sofa and set the camera on top. Danny watched his sure hands point it, setting up the shot, but the little red light went out. Fred sat and crossed his narrow legs. “The good thing about shooting a vlog is that it doesn’t have to be fake.” He shifted, making the cushions squeak.
“They told me everything is fake. Pretend. Even who I’m supposed to be is a made-up person.”
“Sometimes it’s easier to hide behind a persona in this business,” Fred said with more gentleness than Danny had ever heard from him. “Better to protect yourself. You have control over pretend. Not like you do with real life.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I feel trapped, like a puppet. I know it’s cliché, but now I understand what that means. I can’t be Danny Winston.”
“It looked like you were doing a pretty good job of it earlier this afternoon, at lunch with Shelly.”
“You’re not filming this, are you?”
“No.”
“Can I ask you something? Have you ever been loved? Loved by a woman who desperately wanted you to be something, someone, else?”
Fred leaned over and fiddled with the camera. “Maybe. Shelly tell you how we know each other?”
Danny shook his head until he realized Fred probably couldn’t see him. “No.”
“We both worked for Tommy Lord. Shelly’s a good girl—woman. And very talented.”
“Yeah, sure,” Danny said in the pause.
“She made Tommy’s company what it is, you know. When he saw that, he tried to make sure she’d never do the same for anyone else. It wasn’t hard for him to fake admiration and woo her into a relationship. After all, he was the Tommy Lord. He couldn’t accept the fact that Shelly wouldn’t do anything he wanted, even though they were considered a couple. But, poor girl, she’d been so busy most of her young life being the level-headed, calculating businesswoman that she’d never learned to distinguish starved for attention from satisfying mutual relationship.”
“You mean, she was pretty naïve.”
“Hard to believe, but yes. A lot like you, you know, except she’s been there.”
“They were lovers? Then he dumped her.”
“He worked for a long time, longer than I thought, to get her in bed, but she was too careful. I know she never, ever went to his place alone, no matter what the tabloids said. When he found easier pickings and had his fat bank accounts, he shoved her on the streets with all
kinds of lies. It was bad for a while, but backlash never lasts long. Pettibone is on to Tommy.”
“Are you sure?”
“It’s not common knowledge, but I’m her uncle, on her mother’s side. We’ve always been close. When I told Lord what he could do with his company…well, you understand. Only thing was, he had a reason to get rid of me. I’d been drinking—you know how it goes. Shelly got me put back together and convinced Pettibone to hire me. She’s a good person.”
“Yes, she is.” Danny guessed there was more to her story. Why did she need to stay in such a rotten industry? Backstabbing all the time, problems lurking around every corner.
“Don’t blame her for being bitter about relationships. But I think she’s softened.”
“She’ll go back to him, you mean.”
“Are you listening?” Fred stood, careful to move away from the expensive camera.
“I heard her earlier. When you were taping her vlog. She said she was confused why he was here, and scared Pettibone was going to fire her.”
“Pettibone won’t don’t that to her. And she’ll never, ever, go back to Tommy Lord.”
“I’m not sure what I feel about her and this lifestyle.”
“You’re more sure than you think. Shelly and Hollywood are not linked forever. They don’t have to be.”
“She’s not the kind of woman who could live on a farm.”
“Think outside the square. Try it from her angle, Danny. You want to develop a business, right? Branch out. You need to understand how to market that business. She already knows all about marketing anything.”
Danny rocked harder. Why did he try so hard to convince himself he shouldn’t even try, while Fred gave him all the reasons a relationship with Shelly could work out? “Four days is too short a time to fall in love.”
“Nonsense.”
“I can’t change who I am, what I believe, even for her.”
“She’s not asking you to. All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t throw away the root before the first bud.” He walked toward the stairs. “Lydia,” he said over his shoulder, “probably won’t be able to get her eyes open until after eight at the earliest for the ten a.m. full dress rehearsal. I’ll meet you here at seven, and we’ll do your vlog.”
“Everyone keeps telling me everything about making a motion picture and being on a movie set is all pretense, fake. Pretend, act. What if we realize once the movie is over that all we had was never real?”
“You know what they say about the one who pretendeth too much, right?”
“I think that’s the woman who protesteth too much.”
“You sure?” Fred saluted and trod lightly up the steps.
DAY FIVE
Day Five - Exterior - Morning
No matter how many times Shelly scrunched her eyes tight, wished, wished, wished, Tommy Lord gone, run over by a semi load of foie gras, or fallen out of that helicopter, he was there. Every. Time. Yesterday afternoon and evening had been a nightmare.
So, if God were real, He would at least respond, right? A memo, a return message saying, “You’re good, Shelly, your job is safe. Tommy Lord will get what he deserves. You and Danny Winston will have a long and prosperous life together, two children and a house by the sea.”
She didn’t open her eyes when someone held a cup of coffee under her nose, and she inhaled until her knees got weak. “Why is he here? Why is your God making a fool out of me and giving my job to my worst enemy? It’s not like I’m a bad person.”
“Mr. Pettibone wouldn’t do that. But I have to tell you that being a good person isn’t enough in the sight of God. And He’s not just mine. He can be yours, too.”
Danny’s voice didn’t ask anything of her, didn’t chide or berate her. He offered something she wasn’t sure she could handle.
She opened her eyes and took the cup. “What else is there? Is that something Lane Thompson would say?”
“Nope.” He set his forearms on the porch railing, strong, tanned arms supporting his muscular shoulders. “And I don’t figure that Winston Daniels character even knows what I’m talking about. I missed you yesterday. After they showed up, I hoped we could talk some more.”
Shelly had wanted that too. “I had a lot to do, and I knew once Lydia came you’d be busy. I’m sorry, Danny. About everything this week.”
“Everything?” He lifted a brow and raised his arm to wrap around her shoulders. “It’s been a good week. Weird. But good, even if I don’t get the job.” He leaned into her ear and whispered, “Thanks. And you’re okay? Nothing…happened?”
A hysterical note escaped with her laugh as she rested against his shoulders. Their first real hug, and he had to remind her about Tommy. She peeked up at his jaw…it was shaven. His lips twitched. Was he thinking the same thing? A kiss would work well about now? “You mean, with Tommy Lord?” she said when the kiss didn’t materialize. “I don’t know what Mr. Pettibone will do. I haven’t worked for him very long,”
“I’d sure feel bad if you…if things didn’t work out for you because of me. You are good at your job. I understand now, it wasn’t just pride talking. And if anything, you should be proud of your work.”
“Thank you. That’s sweet of you.” She would have liked to spend the day like this, standing here with him, at peace, forgetting about Tommy Lord.
“We didn’t get much time together yesterday, after Lydia got here. All those meetings, more picture-taking and such.” He ducked his head. “People were talking. Lord asked you back, didn’t he?”
Shelly stiffened and pulled away. She set her mug on the porch rail. “Where did you hear that?”
“All over. Everyone’s saying something about it. That’s really why he’s here.”
“One thing you must learn is not to put stock in rumors. They’re worse than dandelion seeds.”
“I believe it. But I only put stock in an original source. You can talk to me.”
Tempting, but could she trust him? “I don’t have anything to say.”
He waited until he must have realized she had nothing else to give. “Shelly, I hope even if Pettibone doesn’t offer me the gig that we’ll stay in touch.”
That was all he wanted? Stupid Shelly. She should have known. At least she hadn’t said anything…admitted any potentially damaging feelings to him like a lovesick groupie girl. She’d be forced to deal with that soon. Silly girls in a fantasy world who thought, If only he knew me…
“Like pen pals?” she said. “I have just the thing for you then.” She pulled the gold pen from his first day signing the contract out of her pocket and handed it to him. She whirled, furious at the hurt in his cow eyes. “You’re due in makeup in fifteen minutes. Mr. Pettibone will be here to watch your scene with Lydia. Jen will be on set too, for another scene. He’ll watch tape of you, go through the publicity shots, and see the early results from the test markets we did on the east coast and the southern venues the last two days.”
“Test markets? What’s that? How’d you do that so fast? And why didn’t you ask me first?”
She ignored his hand on her shoulder and used her angry tone to remind herself that she was in charge. “Your contract spelled it out, Winston. Time to flash that Daniels smile at your leading lady and make the rest of the world believe in love.”
Shelly danced around a yawning Fred , headed outside with his own cup of coffee.
“Danny out there?” he asked, blinking.
“Yep. He’s all yours.”
She stood in the hall, waiting to calm down. She’d let frustration get the better of her again. She’d wanted him so badly to be a prince in shining armor, protect her from the bad guy despite the fact that she’d been doing well enough on her own. Independent businesswomen who owned their own companies did not need a man.
Shelly breathed in and out rhythmically, slowing her heart rate. Then she straightened. So what? She’d treated Tommy Lord like someone else’s pet anaconda yesterday. She’d been civil and unafraid in publi
c, and never let him corner her. Fred guarded her back as he’d always done, following her around with his camera prop, and Tommy’s oily charm drained into the pasture. She’d laughed off the suave hint that once he took over public relations for Jovian, he might let her come back to handle publicity on the film. “We’ll let Mr. Pettibone work out the details,” she told him with bravado scraped from the bottom of the trench.
And now, this morning? After sharing dreams yesterday, laughing and eating with Danny…this. Accusations, listening to rumors—no, not just listening, but believing. How Christian was that? Huh? Religious freaks were every bit as full of pretense as acting out a movie script.
*
Day Five - Interior - Morning
Shelly hustled to the indoor set inside the huge barn, one of two rooms production had put together to resemble a spacious mayoral office, and the other, a cramped environmental agency headquarters—all half-round log walls, flags and scratched green metal desks. Fake windows with green screens which would be filled in later with prairie vistas. She stood outside the office space while the crew worked on hanging paintings and placing props. Lydia’s double was working with the camera crew on blocking. Lights were swinging into place overhead. Donuts were strewn on a makeshift table. Apparently all the good ones were gone—her favorite with jelly inside.
“Who’d have thought this barn housed the set of a major motion picture?”
Shelly turned at the sound of the voice behind her. “Mr. Pettibone. I didn’t know you’d arrived. Can I get you something? Coffee and a donut?”
Slightly hunched, with a full head of silvered hair, the seventy-year-old movie mogul wore his usual uniform of white shirt and rumpled diamond-patterned tie, and pinstripe suit slacks that looked like he’d slept in them. His jacket was no doubt nearby, slung over a chair back. “Someone commandeered my helicopter yesterday, so I came on the QT.” He grinned. “Amber got me coffee earlier, so no thank you.”
“Nice of you to let Lydia come in style like that, even if we were her only audience.”
“I hope you gave her a good welcome.”
“Standing O.” Shelly returned a strained smile. She was desperate for praise, for acknowledgement of the work she’d done and assurance her job was safe, but of course she’d never ask.
Everything About You Page 6
