by Eva Haining
Despite my legs protesting, I speed up to keep pace with little miss holier-than-thou. I should be the one storming off. She doesn’t strike me as naïve enough to believe everything she reads, but she’s obviously decided I’m guilty as charged when it comes to Cece.
I wander through the grass, a few steps behind Maisie, thinking of my last conversation with my agent. He was still pushing for me to drop this project and head back to LA, especially after auditioning hundreds of actresses without success. I told him to put the feelers out to some more established actresses. There has to be one who’s smart enough to know I can pull this off. Or maybe I have an inflated opinion of my current stock in Hollywood. Yes, I’ve taken a dive lately, but I’m known for being professional, dedicated, and I’ve proven I can deliver when it comes to the Box Office.
Whether or not these stories were true about my private life, I’m a damn good actor, and I shouldn’t be written off for one mistake, a mistake that’s as fictional as my characters.
The sound of running water is a welcome relief. I’d never admit it to Maisie, but I could use a few minutes to stretch out my arms and legs. I want to kill that damn horse right now. As the babbling river comes into view, I’m struck by how beautiful it is. I didn’t think it would have the same impact the second time around, but hell if it isn’t even more breathtaking than the last spot. It will make a perfect backdrop for one of the newly-written scenes.
Maisie breaks our stalemate.
“Is this what you were thinking of?”
“It’s perfect.” Her self-satisfied smile irks me. She didn’t create this place. It’s nature. I wasn’t complimenting her. If I did, I’d be met with sneering contempt, I’m sure.
“Is there a specific scene you’re thinking of?”
“Yeah. And, this will look amazing on the big screen.”
“So, walk me through it.” I didn’t bring the script with me, but I can pull it up on my phone. The gods of Kingsbury Falls cell service are smiling down on me as I manage to download the pages from my email. She strides over to me with confident ease—perfect for the leading lady. I’ll need to remember that swagger for whoever takes the role. Invading my space, she leans in to read, the soft scent of her perfume carries in the breeze. It’s subtle. Sexy.
I already know ninety percent of this scene off script, and so I’m free to watch her, gauging her reaction as she scans the dialogue for the first time. And, there it is—angst and emotion written all over her face. The words are speaking to her. This is what I need.
I explain my vision for the scene before we start, but I’m not prepared for how well she interprets the sentiment of the story. Every word is spoken as if they were her own, and it inspires me to throw myself fully into the character.
Jett: Why won’t you let me love you?
Anna: Because a guy like you doesn’t know the meaning of the word.
Jett: Goddammit, Anna. I know you’ve been hurt worse than anyone should have to bear, but you can’t punish me for it.
Anna: I’m not!
Jett: If you really believe that, then walk away. Turn around and don’t look back.
Anna: I can’t! Don’t you get it? Why in the hell do you need to hear me say it?
This girl’s got talent. Toward the end of the scene, the male lead is supposed to pull her into an intense kiss, and I’m all in at this point, swept up in the moment. Sliding my hand up her side, I move closer, my character pouring his heart out, but just as I’m about to go in for the kill, Maisie’s hand clasps over my mouth.
“What are you doing?”
“It’s in the script.”
“Yeah, and that’s where it’s staying. I’m not here to suck face with you, pretty boy.” What the hell is her problem?
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was sticking to the script. When I run lines, I go with what’s happening in the scene. It’s more authentic.”
“Sounds like an excuse to make out. It might not matter to you, but I’m not a cheater.” She’s not this naïve.
“Do you really think you can make it on the big screen if you’re not willing to kiss an actor if the story requires it? It’s not about attraction, or cheating, or chemistry. It’s fake. It’s acting.”
“I get that. But, we’re in the middle of nowhere, alone, and I don’t think we need to go there.”
“So, what? It’s cheating if we’re working, which I thought we were doing? But, when we do it with a camera crew, that changes it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” I’m genuinely interested in her answer.
“It just does. I’m not going to be some lovestruck groupie you pick up on location and throw away when you leave.”
“Hold the goddamn phone. You just took a turn way off track. I wasn’t secretly hoping for some lame make-out session. I’m a professional, and if you can’t respect me as such, then you have no business working on this movie.” She has the good sense to look embarrassed.
“I’m sorry. I’ve never had to kiss someone before.”
“What? Tell me you’re not a small-town virgin waiting for true love’s kiss.” The disgust in her eyes gives me a sordid satisfaction.
“I said I’d never had to. For a part! And my sex life is none of your damn business. Just because you find me abhorrent and small-town, you think no guy has ever looked my way?”
“Why do you twist everything I say?”
“Because everything you say is laced with contempt. You could at least try to hide your hatred of life out here in the boondocks. Some of us happen to like it. You’re judgmental and narcissistic.”
“Where do you get off? You’re the one who’s been judging me every minute since we met. And, let’s talk about ego for a second. I’m not the one who thinks a simple kiss in a scene is some convoluted attempt to get in your pants! You obviously think you’re God’s gift to mankind. I have zero interest in you or your snotty little opinions about me.”
I turn on my heels and head back the way we came. I’d rather end up lost than spend another second with that insipid woman. And what annoys me the most is how well she took to the character of the female lead. If it weren’t for the prospect of working alongside her for the next few months, I’d hire her. If I were objective, she has the potential to be stunning. But, that mouth of hers throws every ounce of her talent out the window for me.
Her boots rustle through the long grass, getting louder as she gets closer.
“Are you always this petty? I saved your ass today, and you storm off like a petulant teenager.” My shoulders sag, my breath forced as all fight seeps from my limbs.
“You’ve already made your mind up about me, so I don’t see any point in even attempting to change it.”
“I’m not exactly peeling the onion with you. It doesn’t take a psychology degree to peg you, Mr. Savage.” The way she says my name, it makes me both aroused and pissed off at the same time. We’re done for the day. My muscles are protesting with every step, and the quicker I get away from her, the less chance I have of saying something I’ll regret. The last thing I need is more unflattering headlines in the papers.
I’m intent on walking Bulldozer back to the stables, but Maisie must have taken a shortcut when I wasn’t paying attention. As the horses come into view, she steps up, slinging her leg over the mountainous mustang’s back, tugging the reins and kicking her heels. He takes off as she straddles him with effortless ease making me feel even more emasculated after my earlier display of ineptitude.
“Are you shitting me?”
Her laughter carries in the afternoon air.
“She’s a great ride, and the only one you’re getting from me!” Well, goddammit. My cock hasn’t got the memo that she’s an insufferable shrew, twitching at her taunt. Watching her harness Bull’s power between her thighs, I can only imagine how skilled she is in the bedroom.
Down, boy.
Chapter Five
MAISIE
“What’s on your mind? You seem
distracted tonight?” Thomas came to hang with me while I tend bar at Cardinals. I don’t exactly have the excuse of being run off my feet. With the cast and ninety-five percent of the crew gone, it’s back to being a ghost town in here.
“Running lines with J.J. is harder than I thought it was going to be.”
“I’m sure you’re not doing as bad as you think you are.” He reaches his hand across the bar, lacing his fingers with mine.
“It’s not that. I’m confident enough in my capability. He’s just… we don’t get along.”
“Is it terrible if I admit I’m sort of relieved to hear that?”
“What? Why?” His cheeks flush, a boyish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“He’s J.J. Savage, and you have to spend all day every day with him right now. Makes a guy a little insecure.”
“You have nothing to feel insecure about. You’re ten times the man he’ll ever be.”
“If only I were ten times better-looking.”
“You are… to me.” It’s not a complete lie. I want to allay his fears. J.J. is undeniably hot—like it’s ridiculous a human being can be that good-looking. But, and the but matters here—J.J.’s personality is nothing like the panty-melting heroes he plays on screen. When I look at Thomas Knox, I see a great-looking guy, but I also see someone who respects me, who knows what southern chivalry means. That is more important than looks alone.
“Nice try, I’m not blind. Every girl in town trips over themselves to get within five feet of him when he graces Kingsbury Falls with his presence. Any guy who says he doesn’t think about his girlfriend dumping him for a shot at the local movie star is lying.”
“Girlfriend?” I didn’t mean to say that out loud. We haven’t labeled whatever is going on between us yet. We haven’t even slept together. The last guy I had sex with turned out to be a complete asshole, and I don’t want to jump the gun again. It’s great getting swept up in the lust of a new relationship, but I walked away with emotional scars that haven’t quite healed yet. Maybe it’s the reason I haven’t wanted to label Thomas and me.
“Erm… yes. Unless you’re not cool with that?” He runs his fingers over the scruff of his jaw, his gaze firmly on the bar. “I know we haven’t exactly talked about it, but, yeah, I like you, and I don’t want to see anyone else. So… yeah… I’d like you to be my girlfriend. Is that lame?” He’s cute when he’s flustered.
“No, it’s not lame. I just hadn’t thought about us in that way.”
“Forget I said anything. Just because I don’t want to see other people doesn’t mean you have to feel the same.”
“Thomas, shut up. You’re the only guy I’m dating, and the only one I plan on dating any time soon, so let’s just see where this goes, okay? I like spending time with you. I just want to take things slow.” His eyes find mine, a spark in their chocolate-brown depths.
“I can manage slow.”
“When you’re done with your PG love confessions, can I get a bourbon?” His voice is deliciously sinful, even if his words are familiarly tactless.
“Oh, it’s you. Any preference on the bourbon?” J.J. browses the sea of amber liquid-filled bottles behind me.
“Jim Beam is fine. Make it a double.” You could cut the tension with a knife. I’m not sure how much of our conversation he heard, or if he heard any of it at all.
“Am I not paying you enough? You still need to work in every business in town?”
“You’re a temporary blip in my life, J.J. I’m still going to have to pay rent long after you leave.”
“Well, aren’t you a delight tonight. Still got a bug up your ass about today?” Thomas doesn’t take kindly to his comment.
“Mr. Savage, I don’t know how you speak to women in Hollywood, but here in the South, a lady is to be respected.”
“Whatever. Tell your girlfriend she shouldn’t be freaking out over a kiss, and we’ll be fine.”
“What?” Thomas looks to me as J.J. slings back the rest of his drink and stands to leave.
“I didn’t kiss him, Thomas. He’s pissed I said no.” That didn’t come out as intended, and sure enough, J.J. jumps on it.
“It was in the fucking script! I wasn’t trying to get lucky. For God’s sake. Like I’d want to kiss you.” Pulling a twenty from his pocket, he drops it on the bar and heads for the door, leaving me to deal with Thomas’ questioning gaze.
“Care to elaborate, Mais?”
“Ugh. He’s right. I overreacted. It was part of the scene we were working on, but you and I have been dating and kissing, and it felt wrong to let it happen.” A wide smile spreads across his handsome features.
“You’re so stinking cute. I love that you didn’t want to, but as much as it pains me to say this… it’s part of acting. You’re too talented to lose your shot over something like a fake kiss. Trust me, the thought of you Frenching J.J. Savage makes me want to vomit, but a screen kiss isn’t the same as a real one. If the scene calls for you to kiss, then you have to kiss. I may not like it, but you’ll only be acting. It’s not like you’ll be kissing him in real life.” He’s conflicted. I can see it in his eyes, and part of me wishes he hadn’t just given me permission. Not that I need his permission. We’ve been on a handful of dates and had a few hot and heavy kisses of our own, but I like giving myself an excuse to keep J.J. at arm’s length.
Thankfully, the rest of my shift is uneventful. Thomas stays to help me lock up and walk me back to my place. Walking hand in hand through the streets of our little town, it’s comfortable, and when we reach my front porch, he leans in, brushing his lips to mine before wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me closer. I deepen our kiss, gently flicking my tongue to his—a small flutter awakening in my stomach. He tastes like the Dos Equis he’s been nursing all night.
Like a true gentleman, he pulls back, respecting my earlier request to take it slow.
“Goodnight, Maisie Bryant. I’m going home to take a cold shower.”
“Night, Thomas.”
The past few days have been awkward at best. The new script is coming along great. I didn’t get a chance to read the original version, so I have no comparison, but what we’re working on now is definitely worthy of the big screen. As far as I know, they’ve got a few callbacks for their leading lady, but no firm decisions yet. The sooner they find someone, the sooner I can stop spending my days with the ungrateful Mr. Savage, which is great, but it also means the end of my whopping paycheck. To give him his due, J.J. made sure I was more than compensated for being at his beck and call each day.
Today we’re back in the barn where we met. He sent me the pages last night, and they are different from the scene I read with him on that first day. I’m pleasantly surprised when I walk inside to find him with his head in the script and the writer at his side. This is the first day there’s been someone else sitting in on our sessions. Usually, I’d be inclined to feel nervous performing in front of the person who wrote the scene, but I’m just so darn happy to have a buffer between J.J and me. This scene is the hottest of any I’ve read thus far, and that was probably a conscious decision on his part after the last time we ran a scene with a kiss.
I can’t avoid it this time, or I’ll be confirming everything he said about me. Kissing an actor is as clinical as any other part of my craft. Conveying emotion to the audience that’s believable is vital. On-screen chemistry is something entirely different than a real-life connection. I steel myself for the day ahead, knowing J.J. is going to be waiting for me to mess up, anticipating the same reaction I had last time, but I’m prepared. I read over the scene a million times last night, flushing out each nuance, learning every word by heart. I’m not going to let him catch me off-guard.
“Good morning. You must be Dylan. It’s so nice to finally meet you. I’m Maisie.” He stands to greet me, while J.J. remains seated. Ignorant.
“It’s a pleasure. I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve stepped in to help while I’m writing the ne
w script.”
“It’s an honor, and I love what you’ve done so far.”
“This ranch is so inspiring. I can see how it’ll translate to the big screen, and I want to do it justice. I feel like it’s bringing out the best in me. Time will tell.”
J.J. decides to acknowledge my arrival.
“Have you read the scene for today?”
“Yes. I know it by heart. I’m ready to work.”
“Fine.” Could he be any more lackluster? Rather than waste my breath on him, I turn my attention back to Dylan.
“I’d welcome any insight or notes you might have on the scene.”
“You don’t need notes. You’re a place marker. A seat warmer until we find a real actress,” J.J. Interjects. Dylan looks suitably shocked by his lack of anything resembling decency when it comes to me.
“I’m just trying to be useful while I’m here. Are you ready to get started? As delightful as I find your small talk, J.J., I’d really just like to get to work.”
“Fine by me.” He stalks across the barn, and as he turns to face me, it’s as if he flips a switch. No longer the obnoxious movie star, he transforms before my eyes into a sultry, thoughtful, heartthrob cowboy. It’s disconcerting and annoyingly impressive. Taking a deep, grounding breath, I walk over to meet him, putting a little extra sway in my hips.
“From the top?”
“Yep.”
We run through the lines, start to finish a few times, letting Dylan explain his vision of how these characters react to each other. It’s intriguing for me to hear firsthand from the writer knowing exactly what he had envisaged these characters, and how he felt when he was writing them. It’s fascinating, and for once, J.J. and I are on the same page. He’s enthralled by every comment and suggestion of Dylan’s. He may not take me seriously, but he’s deadly serious about his craft.
