Plus, this was the thing he wanted to focus on, not the second email he’d gotten from Dawn the day before. He’d ignored the first one, in the hopes he wouldn’t have to deal with it, but she’d sent another one—just as friendly and cheerful as the first time, with a note that maybe her first email had gotten stuck in his spam folder.
Wait. Were these emails some sort of precursor to hearing from his dad? He definitely didn’t want that to happen. Shit. He’d have to email her back to make this stop, wouldn’t he?
Okay, he’d figure out how to do that tonight.
It was a very long day, with many takes and long waits and repositioning and breaks to eat or fix Anna’s hair or change the camera because of a cloud or change it back because the sun was out or lose perfect takes because of an airplane going overhead, but finally, after many hours, Ben and the director agreed they had what they needed, at least for the day.
He glanced around at the crew as they all packed up to leave.
“Drinks?”
Everyone nodded forcefully. Yes, that was exactly how he felt, too.
Ben grabbed his bag and went over to check in with Vanessa. It had gotten chillier on the beach as the day had gone on, and everyone on set had bundled up in their hoodies and vests. Well, everyone except Anna, who kept having to run in and out of the icy water with just a cotton dress on. She hadn’t even complained. He looked over at her now, a cardigan wrapped tightly around herself as she said good-bye to the director.
She looked up and saw him looking at her. Oh, awesome, perfect. She walked over to him.
“What’s this I hear about everyone going to get drinks? Am I invited?”
Was she invited? Um, she would have been if he’d thought she’d wanted to come.
He fought back a laugh.
“Yes, Anna Gardiner, I have a feeling you’re invited anywhere you damn well want to be, and yes, of course you’re invited to come out with us for drinks. Apologies for not making that clear; I assumed you’d be busy.”
She grinned at him and shrugged.
“My busy plans tonight involved the couch in my hotel suite and room service, and as much as I love room service, I’ll be in that hotel for what, two weeks? I have a feeling I’ll get to know that menu very well.”
Was Anna Gardiner really going to go out for drinks with them tonight? He had to tell Theo this part. He needed to read that fucking NDA again.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
“Oh, a place not too far away, it’s . . . Do you need a ride?”
She slid her phone out of her bag and glanced at it.
“I think my driver is here, but if he drops me off at a bar, it might be kind of . . . conspicuous. So sure, I’ll take a ride, if that’s okay.”
Which is how he ended up giving Anna Gardiner a ride to a dive bar.
When they got in the car, she pulled her hair into a knot on top of her head and wrapped a big scarf around her neck.
“Is that your disguise?” he asked.
If it was, it wasn’t going to work—she looked exactly like Anna Gardiner, just with her hair up and a scarf around her neck. Honestly, the scarf made her look even more glamorous than she had before.
“Not exactly,” she said. “If people recognize me, they’re going to recognize me, but also I don’t think anyone knows yet that I’m in San Francisco right now, which is why it’s probably one of the safest times for me to come out with you guys. This is more just to give me a little warning—people will have to stop and think and make sure it’s me, and then I know it’s coming. Though . . . if you can help me get a seat in a dark corner, that’ll help even more.”
He grinned at her.
“Didn’t I tell you that you could count on me?”
When they got to the bar, some of the crew was already there and had commandeered a big table in the back. The director was already in the poorly lit seat against the wall, but Ben gestured to him, with a nod at Anna. He was prepared to say more but luckily, he didn’t have to—Gene got up and moved over to the corresponding position at the other end of the table.
Anna slid into the seat and blinked at Ben.
“How did that happen? What other magic do you have?”
He winked at her and dropped his bag into the seat next to hers.
“What did I tell you? Also, I’m headed to the bar—what can I get you?”
She shook her head and pulled out her wallet. Oh God, was she going to be mad that he’d tried to buy her a drink? That’s just what they did at these kinds of happy hours . . . but in retrospect, he should probably stop to think before he did something like that with someone like Anna.
She handed him a stack of twenties.
“I’ll take a rain check on that, but can you get a few pitchers for the table from me, please? I’d do it myself, but . . .”
He shook his head.
“No, of course you can’t. No problem.”
Had she meant that about the rain check, or . . .
Probably or. Ben had no small ego about his way with women, but Anna Gardiner must have a boyfriend and also several more waiting in the wings. Oh, that reminded him.
“Are you hungry? They have wings here . . . and not much else that’s good. The wings are spicy—just a warning—but if you like spicy, they’re good.”
She widened her eyes at him.
“I’m starving. Wings sound incredible right now, though I’m a little insulted that you felt like you had to warn me that they’re spicy.”
He came back to the table a few minutes later with Vanessa behind him, both of them carrying pitchers of beer, and the waitress following behind with pint glasses.
“Ooh, Ben, look at Mr. Big Shot over here buying drinks,” the lighting guy yelled out. That motherfucker, after Ben had handpicked him for this job after days of research. They’d worked together before, but still.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ben said. “I am Mr. Big Shot, but I am not your benefactor this evening.” He nodded in Anna’s direction.
Everyone jumped to thank Anna, but she waved that away.
“It was the least I could do after how great everyone was today. Cheers, all.”
Ben slid into his seat next to Anna and poured her, and then himself, a pint of beer.
He lifted his glass to hers before he took a sip.
“Forgive me if I’m wrong here, but I wouldn’t have pegged you as a big beer drinker,” he said as she picked up her beer.
He was pretty sure he could see her smile behind the glass.
“I’m not, really. But this didn’t seem like a sauvignon blanc or gin-and-tonic kind of situation. Or even a Manhattan one.”
If they ever had that rain check, he’d remember all of that. He didn’t really think that would happen, though, no matter how much she flirted with him. That was probably her default way of dealing with the world.
It was definitely his default way of dealing with the world. He’d tried to force himself to dial it back when talking to Anna, but he hadn’t been . . . completely successful at that.
“So tell me: How does an ad exec like you know how to be a fill-in sound guy?” Anna asked him.
Astute of her to realize that most people in his job didn’t know anything about the other side of the camera.
“I have all sorts of talents,” he said. There he was, flirting again. Damn it. Pull yourself together, Stephens. “I actually used to do this kind of work awhile ago, before I made the jump to advertising. It’s one of the things that got me interested in working at an agency—I worked on a few ad campaigns, and I could always tell when it was working and when it wasn’t. And I wondered how it was all put together.” He gestured down to Gene, who was now at the far end of the table. “He and I have worked together a bunch, starting when I was much more junior than I am now, and I told him I used to do this kind of w
ork, so he’s always been good about teaching me about the new stuff they use. Probably just so he can do things like today, and use me to pitch in and help out when there’s a crisis.”
There, that sounded nice and professional, and not like he deeply wished the two of them were alone, at some cozy little bar, in a booth in the back, sipping bourbon, instead of at a great big table surrounded by a whole lot of people.
“When did you do that kind of work?” she asked him. “The crew work, I mean.”
Yes, okay, they could talk about his professional life; this was good. Anna seemed to like him, and he wanted that to continue—not just because she was the most attractive woman he’d ever interacted with, but because her respect and approval could do a hell of a lot for his career.
“Worked my way through college that way. I was sort of a late start to college anyway—I was doing other stuff, and then I sort of fell into the crew work accidentally. I got my first job as a favor from a friend of a friend, but I liked it and was good at it, so I kept going for a while, and then kept working on and off through college and after.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“What ‘other stuff’ were you doing?”
Well, he’d walked right into that one, hadn’t he?
“Oh. Well.” He glanced around at the rest of the table, but no one seemed to be paying attention to him and Anna. “I was a backup dancer for a few years in my late teens, early twenties. I sort of ran away to L.A. to try to break in, and it worked for a while. But I had to find a way to pay the bills, which is eventually how”—he gestured to the table—“all of this happened.”
She stared at him and set her beer down.
“Wait, no, you can’t just slip that into a conversation and then try to turn it back to advertising. I need more information here—you ran away to become a backup dancer? Is this a secret? Does anyone else know?”
He hadn’t expected her to be that interested in this—former wannabe stars must be a dime a dozen in her world.
“It’s not exactly a secret—there are definitely videos online of me dancing, but I don’t talk about it much.” He nodded down the table. “Gene knew at one point, but I think he’s forgotten. He’s cool, though, so it’s no big deal. Sometimes people can get weird about it. Wanting me to, like . . . dance for them like their own little minstrel show or something, and I’m not exactly into that. But it was a pretty fun time.”
He did not think when he woke up this morning that by eight p.m. he’d be drinking beer and sharing confidences with Anna Gardiner, but hey, life had a habit of surprising him.
* * *
—
Anna didn’t quite know what she’d expected when she’d invited herself along for this happy hour, but it definitely wasn’t finding out that the delightfully charming man she’d been flirting with all day used to be a backup dancer. Shit. He must look very good underneath that hoodie.
No, she couldn’t think like that. He was very fun to talk to, especially when he looked at her with that sexy grin, and stopped himself and looked away, clearly reminding himself that they were both at work. His self-restraint was even more sexy than the grin. But they were both at work. Plus, no matter how much she might be ready to break this terrible accidental celibacy streak, this was the wrong way to do it.
“How long did you do it? Dance, I mean,” she asked him.
“For about three years, on and off,” he said. “I loved it, but even though I was young and very, very stupid, I knew deep down that it wasn’t going to last forever—I think that’s also why I was attracted to the crew work; to build some sort of skills I knew I could keep doing.”
He took a sip of his beer and then ran his fingertip down the condensation on the side of the glass. Anna let herself imagine what it would be like if he ran that finger down her skin. She took a gulp of her beer.
“It’s probably why you’re so good at what you do now,” she said. “You had some time and space to figure out what you really wanted to do.”
He raised his glass to her.
“Thanks for the compliment, Ms. Gardiner. Is that also why you’re so good at what you do?”
Oh, he was very smooth. Usually, men like that felt fake, but Ben had this crinkle in his eyes that said he didn’t take himself too seriously. She grinned at him.
“Funny, I never thought of that, but I think that’s part of it. I wanted to be an actress when I was a kid, of course—in that way all theater kids do when they get onstage and get a taste of an audience—but I forgot about that dream after a while. Probably because I saw how hard it was for people who looked like me to get anywhere.”
Ben sat back and smiled at the waitress as she put their wings in front of them. Everyone else at the table had clearly had the same idea, except for a few people who had gotten nachos.
“Why didn’t you tell me there were nachos?” she asked as she picked up a wing.
He shook his head.
“They’re terrible, that’s why. I was doing you a favor.”
She took a very tentative bite.
“Oh, this is actually good!”
He narrowed his eyes at her.
“You didn’t trust me, I see. I promise you this: Ben Stephens never lies about chicken.”
She laughed out loud, more at the serious look on his face than his words.
“I’ll remember that.”
His smile peeked out from behind his unnatural frown.
“What happened to change things?” he asked. “I mean, about what you were saying—to change your mind about acting?”
Huh, he’d actually been listening to her. How refreshing.
“I suppose I saw how hard it was for people who looked like me—women who looked like me—anywhere, not just in Hollywood. I’d been working as an agent, so I saw how shitty Hollywood was, but my friends were all over corporate America, and it wasn’t any better there. So after a while, when I saw a role I wanted, I just said fuck it and decided to go for it.”
Why was she telling him all of this? Granted, it wasn’t much more than what she’d said when she told her origin story to reporters, but it was a much more honest version of it.
Maybe it was the beer on an empty stomach. No, that wasn’t it; she was too savvy these days for a little alcohol to give her loose lips. Was she just that starved for male attention that she’d open up to any handsome face with good listening eyes?
No, she got plenty of male attention. She just felt like she could relax around Ben. That in itself was strange; she hadn’t felt like relaxing around someone new in a long time.
Ben interrupted her thoughts.
“So was that all it took? You said fuck it and suddenly the roles came flying to you?”
Anna laughed. Wouldn’t that have been nice.
“My God, if only. No, it took years for me to break through, which was enough time for me to get demoralized and discouraged and give up about fifty times, but somehow I always went back out there. And then, somehow, things started going my way.”
She let herself have a rare moment of pride. At how hard she’d worked, how determined she’d been, at everything she’d fought through.
“Well,” he said, “I’m glad you kept trying; you do incredible work. You should have won that Oscar.”
She picked up another wing and grinned at him.
“Thanks, I think so, too.” Shit. She never said that out loud. She shook the wing at him. “If you ever quote me on that, you’re dead to me.”
He put his hand to his heart.
“I, Ben Stephens, swear on this chicken I will never tell.”
They both cracked up.
Four
Ben lectured himself all the way to the set the next day about how he would act toward Anna. They’d had a vibe going the night before, absolutely. And he’d driven her back to her hote
l after everyone dispersed from the bar. If that had happened with any other woman, he would have ended up going back to her room.
But Anna wasn’t any other woman. For one, she was Anna Gardiner. And two, they were working together. He could be casual and jokey with her last night at the bar, but today at work he had to be uptight and professional. Theo. He should try to act like Theo.
Speaking of Theo, he was having drinks with him tonight. Should he tell him about Dawn? Or about that email he’d sent her late last night, where he’d said if this was a ploy to get him back in touch with his dad, he had no interest in that? He and Theo rarely talked about their dad, but maybe he should warn Theo that she was out there, just in case she tried to get in touch with him, too.
He’d think about that. But first, he had to channel Theo today.
He lasted approximately thirty seconds. Anna was already there when he arrived, getting her hair and makeup done in her tiny dressing room in the house where they were filming the party scene, in that day. When he’d walked by and saw her there, it would have been rude of him to not stop and at least say hi, right? Right.
“Hey, Anna, did anyone take your picture on the way into your hotel last night?”
She laughed and beckoned him in, even though her hair was in big rollers.
“Yes, I told you they would.” When he’d dropped her off at her hotel, she’d put lipstick on before walking inside; when he’d made gentle fun of her for it, she’d said it was because there were always people taking pictures of her in hotel lobbies, something that hadn’t occurred to him. “I looked good in the photos, though, so I can’t complain too much. Thanks for the ride. You know my hair and makeup team, right? Manuel and Jo?”
He waved at the people currently working on Anna.
“We met yesterday. Thanks for being here. FYI, most of this week is going to be jam-packed, but hopefully Friday should be more low-key. Just in case you wanted to make your room-service versus non-room-service plans in advance.”
She laughed again, and he grinned as he left the room. He wasn’t very good at channeling Theo, was he?
While We Were Dating Page 4
