“I don’t need to pay people to hang all over me all day. I’ve played out that whole bit before and I don’t need another lesson in how fame ruins people.” His words were clipped, reverting back to the scowl I was so familiar with. He slipped it on smoothly, like an old favorite sweatshirt. His legs and arms inched inward, until his back was stiff and his arms crossed over his chest resolutely.
It was clear it was a sore subject, and I wasn’t as curious as I was disconcerted by his mood swings. I knew how to handle snarky-Declan, but the scowl was something I’d never get used to. The silence ate at me until I was about to blurt out something pertaining to the weather, just to scare off the space growing between us, when he saved me.
“I just remembered what I wanted to ask you about.”
In the short seconds I’d been distracted, he’d easily reverted back into his slouching position that would have surely given my old ballet teacher a coronary. His bad posture wasn’t what was making me nervous though. It was the dirty smirk pointed directly at me. I really wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
I swallowed down the thickness in my throat, and steeled myself for what was to come.
“You hate The Girl in the Yellow Dress.” He held up a finger to me, letting me know it wasn’t my turn to refute his allegations before he continued, “You act like the world found your diary, and the rest of us are just going out of our way to taunt you with it.”
I bit my tongue to keep from pointing out that Declan did go out of his way to taunt me with it.
“Do you have a point?” I demanded instead.
“I’m so glad you asked because, yes, in fact, I do.” Beautiful or not, he was evil. I was sure of it. “Cam could have never printed your name or told the story without your expressed legal consent. I’ve been sued enough times to understand a little bit about the American judicial system, and I’m pretty sure you lot have pretty strict laws on slander and all that codswallop.”
My lips glued together in a thin, unyielding line. He didn’t seem surprised at my lack of comment. In fact, I daresay he looked perfectly smug at the absence of a rebuttal.
Delving into my personal life was nothing new. His never-ending curiosity had become a theme of our drives. Unlike Madeline, he didn’t just focus on my life according to The Girl in the Yellow Dress. If anything, it felt like he was trying to disprove things about me he could have only found in Cam’s book.
“If you never wanted anyone to know, then why let your name be written on it?” His tone shifted, turned into genuine interest, and I knew we’d moved beyond the territory of him just trying to get a rise out of me. He really wanted to know.
Like a startled hermit crab, I quickly sank back into the comforts of my shell. His question was more complicated than he could ever know, and the answer was far too personal to share with the likes of Declan Davies.
It was far too easy to forget exactly who it was sharing the seat beside me in the decadent limousine. It wasn’t just that he was movie star. It was the fact that he was an internationally recognized celebrity, who managed to chip away at the numbing cocoon I’d spent four years erecting around myself. Declan might have bated me with teases and tortures, but that didn’t make his ability to spark such vivacious emotions in me any less scary.
“Can you just shut the hell up for five seconds, or do you really enjoying hearing yourself that much?” I snapped with the bite of a pit-bull.
Whether he had a reply or not was irrelevant because as the car had barely drawn to a halt, I made my swift escape, slamming the door behind me as I charged through the back lot.
Walking away, I knew he wouldn’t follow me today, and I thought about how ironic it was that I hadn’t realized that we’d made any progress forward until we took such a monumental step backwards. It was easy to distract myself with the routine I’d fallen into, once I had officially become a part of Madeline’s entourage. My momentary lapse in judgment had sealed my fate. The vulnerability Madeline had tricked me with might have been long gone, but I was far from being dismissed from her services.
Predictably, Madeline was still in her daily morning session with Ms. Louna when I arrived at her trailer. I didn’t bother entering. The strange sounds and shapes they made with their mouths during what Ms. Louna deigned ‘diction exercises,’ had been amusing at first. They both looked like complete idiots, but getting spit on one too many times during the P’s, had put me off of that.
Alfred gave me the procedural glance before completely ignoring my best smile which was usually reserved for recitals and winning dance competitions.
“Still playing hard to get?” I joked, nudging him with my elbow and finding him so solid that it was my body that was moved by the motion.
His black expressive eyes stared down at me, yet offered no hints to the emotions within. “Ms. Little wanted me to tell you that there have been some alterations to the call times, and you should go wait for her in the wardrobe department. She’ll join you momentarily.”
“Thanks, Al.” I cringed when the nickname only made the huge man frown at me harder.
The usual colorful personalities that filled the wardrobe area were absent, and even though Madeline’s assistant Fran was already there, she was dialed into her cell phone with a look of fierce concentration, leaving me practically alone.
The long rack of clothing sporting Madeline’s name caught my eye, and I drifted closer to it, running my hands gently down the soft fabrics. I could barely even recall a single item of clothing Madeline had worn when she was in character besides the hospital gown she’d first greeted me in. Her beauty and overwhelming personality had a way of distracting from something as trivial as clothing or accessories.
My eyes took the time to digest the clothes. They were far from what I would have ever worn, not because they were ugly or unstylish, but because they were all selected to accentuate Madeline’s shorter body type and unique coloring. Next to Madeline’s rack, there was another one with just as many hangers shoved along the metal bar. I bit my lip nervously before taking a step closer to Declan’s rack. It felt like I was doing something naughty, and I was thankful to be deserted as I ran my hand along leg of a pair of jeans I’d seen him wear a few days before. Declan’s wardrobe was much more on par with what Cam would have actually worn.
“It’s almost sinful for a boy to fill out a pair of jeans the way he does,” Fran said conversationally. She’d snuck up behind me.
I squeaked, whirling around to face her. I knew I looked guilty as hell too. There was no telling the density of the red shade my face was painted.
She wanted to laugh at my reaction, but I was thankful she didn’t. Fran officially became my favorite person in California. Her deep brown eyes contradicted the fake gleam that shined in Madeline’s mom’s gaze. They were welcoming, brimming with sincerity.
“How’s your daughter?” I instinctively wanted to connect with her, to accept whatever warmth she could give me.
“A brat…but she’s eight so she’ll grow out of it.” Fran laughed at her own joke, endearing me further. It was hard to believe she was even old enough to have an eight year old. She couldn’t have been older than mid-twenties. “Actually, right now she’s become obsessed with getting me to bring her to work so she could meet the famous Declan Davies.”
I fiddled with my hands. Just what I needed, another reminder of the boy who was already taking up far too many of my thoughts.
“She seems a little young to be a fan. Doesn’t he usually stick to more mature projects?”
My innocent act was a total scam. I knew for a fact that Declan hadn’t made a movie suitable for audiences under thirteen since he’d been old enough to drive. Thank you, IMDB.
Fran smiled mischievously, like she was about to share a secret. “Oh, Maria’s not interested in Declan. She’s convinced he’ll be able to introduce her to his sister, Brittany Davies. She stars in some television show about a mermaid princess set in Australia…I’d be a little more worried abou
t her obsession, but it got her to stop complaining about going to swimming lessons.”
“I didn’t know anyone else in his family was in the business,” I said thoughtfully, digesting the new information.
She stared at me oddly.
“His whole family is in the industry. They practically are the business in Australia. The Davies are like their own miniature empire down under.”
“Like the Kardashians?” My interest was piqued by the idea. On the rare occasions my dorm mate Hannah and I were home at the same time, her little television was always tuned to the goings on of the Kardashians. Hannah obsessed over reality TV, and apparently the Kardashians were reality royalty.
“More like the Kennedy’s, only with actors, writers, and pop stars instead of politicians. Their pedigree is unmatched. We’re talking going back to silent films here.” Fran’s voice was lowered to an appropriate volume for gossiping. “They tend to be more scandalous than tragic, but with about as much press coverage.”
Alfred’s easily identifiable, lumbering footsteps alerted us to Madeline’s arrival, and we moved away from the clothing racks.
I was immediately sequestered to Madeline’s side as she was fitted for a fake baby bump. It was supposed to represent around six months of pregnancy. She kept her interrogation to general questions about what it’d been like to be pregnant and all the little details she thought she might have missed while reading What to Expect When You’re Expecting and three other pregnancy books. I hadn’t even done that much research, and I’d actually had a fetus growing inside of me for nine months.
In comparison to the root canals that she usually administered, it was relatively painless.
After she was dressed in a maternity dress off her rack, I prepared with the rest of the entourage to head to set, but Madeline stopped me.
“With the call time changes, no one’s been able to get in touch with Declan. He’s probably just passed out in his trailer, but someone needs to go fetch him before he throws off the whole schedule for the day.” Her brownish-green eyes met mine expectantly.
My only reply was a blank stare.
“Great!” She smiled brightly as if I had actually agreed. “I’ll let Georgia know you’re on it.”
Quickly shuffling past me, Alfred was the first to follow, and there was no way I could get to her through the 400 pound Hawaiian. I huffed, resigned to my fate, and stomped off to do the little witch’s bidding.
I banged on the door. My blood boiled. I’d been downgraded to Madeline’s private messenger.
After what I deemed an appropriate amount of time (ten very long seconds) without getting a reply, I barged into the trailer. If Declan didn’t want people coming in, then maybe he should have hired people to keep them out like I’d suggested.
“They need you on set!” I didn’t move further than my first step inside. My irritation made me brave, not stupid. I didn’t want him attacking me or anything, thinking I was an intruder.
The shower running in the bathroom muffled his reply, but at least he knew I was there – or at least that someone was.
A familiar accent caught my attention, it wasn’t coming from behind the closed door of his bathroom but from the flat screen television that was almost as big as the wall it was mounted on. The scene that played out between a group of Aussie teens was as melodramatic as any Spanish telenovela I’d ever glimpsed. I identified the backdrop of Sydney by the signature Harbour Bridge that stood as majestically as a white topped mountain over the city. The young actors and actresses were costumed in leotards and point shoes, and my soul shivered at the reminder.
The dancing immediately drew me into the show, and I didn’t notice the water had cut off until the door snapped shut behind him.
“Adley?”
His chest…his chest was bare, tanned, and glowing in post-shower warmth. It was all I could see, and all I wanted to look at for the rest of my life. And then my eyes found his distinctly V’d hip bones….
“What the hell are you watching?” I snapped trying to shake his glistening from my mind, and focus back on the TV. I pointed at the ballet-themed teen soap with an accusing finger.
It was the first time I’d ever seen him blush, and much to my surprise, my attraction for him hit whole new heights. The little flush that scarred his cheeks was quite possibly the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.
“How should I know? You’re the American. I have no control over what pollutes your airwaves.” He bristled, and I had to look away as he shook his dark hair free of any remaining water droplets, leaning with unintentional seduction against the counter in the small kitchenette. His fingertips tapped out their favorite nervous tune on the marble.
I made a doubtful face, walking to the DVD player and raising not one, but three box sets that were covered with the same characters that still chatted on screen.
He took a posture of mock surrender, his smile endearingly abashed. “Okay, so I might have a slight addiction to Australian teen soap operas.”
“Um…Why?”
Declan was the king of independent films that no one else wanted to touch. He made films that were dark, gritty, and controversial. The Girl in the Yellow Dress was one of the first mainstream projects he’d worked on. His looks and talent got him attention, not his box office numbers. So what could possibly intrigue him about clichéd teen soap?
His fingers continued their dance as he struggled reluctantly to find words. “It’s mindless…I like to just relax into it. Every hardship, every dilemma, every challenge; all solved within twenty-four minutes. There’s something peaceful about it.”
He could have left it at that. There was more honesty in his explanation than I could’ve ever expected, but Declan wasn’t done. His gray eyes flickered with something unreadable, and all I wanted to do was to tell him to stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect two-hundred dollars. Because whatever he was about to tell me was about to make it very hard for me to view him how I needed to.
“I never attended school a day in my life. I was already riding my father’s coattail by the time I could speak, taking bit parts in whatever blockbuster he was filming. I had a tutor just like my sisters, and I didn’t feel like I was missing out on something a single moment when I was traveling the world, getting to have grand adventures.”
He looked at me sternly, as if daring me to feel sorry for him. “I don’t regret it. Haven’t ever. But sometimes I wonder what it would have been like to just be a teenager. I wouldn’t want to trade lives, but it would’ve been cool to get to have both…So I like teen soaps. They remind me of home, and let me experience a different life.”
I didn’t know what to say. He’d shared something personal, and I was uncomfortable with how comfortable I felt hearing it. It set me on edge.
“You know that’s not what being a teen is really like either, right?” I tried to grin. The mood lightened considerably.
“Like you’d know anything about having a normal teenage experience, Ms. 16 and Pregnant,” he scoffed.
I responded to his dig with an arrogant smirk. “Oh and by the way, you were due on set like an hour ago.”
With a little wave, I left him cursing behind me.
***
The next morning was the earliest call we’d had during production. They really were trying to kill me.
It was a miracle that I made it out of bed, and if one person said a word about my rubber ducky shorts, they were going to be in for a rude awakening. Everyone was just lucky I’d taken the time to brush my teeth even if I hadn’t changed out of my pajamas or brushed my hair. I made it halfway to the sleek limousine before I realized I was barefoot and had to backtrack to retrieve my shoes. The clock on the oven glared the hideous time at me. It wasn’t even four AM yet.
When I finally slid into the seat beside Declan, I didn’t bother with pleasantries, instead shoving one of the items I was holding at him.
“What the hell is this?” He was holding the innocent piece of food like it
was a live grenade, and eyeing me like I’d sprouted a second head.
Was it that hard to believe that I could do something nice?
“A muffin. And don’t forget about that club opening you told your agent you’d attend tonight.” I’d already begun the process of curling my body into a tiny ball so I could try and pretend I’d never left the comforts of my bed.
I could feel his penetrating gaze burning the back of my head that I’d presented to him.
“Shut up,” I commanded though he hadn’t said a word. “Just eat it.”
“Oooh, I see now. This is just a ploy to keep my mouth otherwise occupied. Entice me with chocolate chip muffins, which you know are my favorite, and expect me to keep quiet. Well, let me tell you, I could think of much more beneficial ways to keep my mouth occupied…” He kept talking, but his sweet melodious voice became nothing more than a lullaby.
I didn’t wake up until we arrived at the studio. There was nothing left of the muffin but the wrapper.
Madeline was oddly reserved throughout the day, which was a welcomed rarity, and even Alfred barked out a hello to me in greeting (I viewed this as a huge step in the right direction). For lunch, Fran drove all the way to Pasadena to get take-out from my old favorite organic restaurant. And no one even said a word about my rubber ducky shorts.
All around it was turning into a great day.
I was sure it couldn’t get any better when I checked my vibrating phone and found “FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS DRINK AND SEXT” calling.
“Cam!” I answered cheerfully. He’d be gone for a little over a week, but with the time differences and his newly hectic schedule, the most we’d managed to communicate was through a few texts.
“Why can’t you always greet me like that?” He pouted.
“Absence makes the heart grow fonder?” I spiked the end of my statement up until it was a question.
“I was just expecting something a little more…ominous,” Cam admitted, on top of the busy city noises I could hear in the background. A taxi honked, and someone faraway was screaming in a language I couldn’t understand.
Someone I Used to Know Page 8
