He lowered his head into his hands and wondered at the fact that he sat at a coffee table in an office on a studio set in 1925.
The phone rang and Sid Goodman picked it up with a booming, “Whatcha got for me, Gracie?”
Scott watched him nod his head, scratch his balding pate and rub his nose. Sid grunted a few times then said, “Gotcha. Send ’em over when you can.” He motioned for Scott to move closer to his desk. “Okay, thanks girl.” Once he’d hung up the phone Sid said, “Now. Tell me about yourself.”
A bubble of nervous acid rose to Scott’s throat. He couldn’t tell this man about himself. His mind raced to come up with something plausible. His knee bounced up and down with nervous energy. “Well, I’m twenty-four years old. I have an older brother, Mike, he’s two years older…” Scott realized he was rambling and couldn’t stop. “I’ve been a firefighter for a year and—”
The door opened and Selma entered. “Here’s the script, sir.” She dropped a heavy bundle of paper on Sid’s desk.
“Good. Now get going. I’m expecting Westerly and Gant any minute.” Selma turned and left the room, but not before giving Scott one long appraising look. “Can’t live without that girl,” Sid said to Scott. “She’s the best assistant this side of the Rockies.”
Scott hoped that he wouldn’t have to come up with anything more about his background and his wish was granted when two men walked into the room. They took one look at Scott, glanced at each other and nodded their heads. The younger man took out a sheaf of papers and laid them on Sid’s desk. The other man studied Scott.
“You’re right as usual, Sid. He’s perfect,” said a middle-aged man wearing brown framed glasses, a fedora and what looked like slim, custom-made slacks.
“I’ve got the papers here for him to sign,” said the younger man, a good-looking guy with a shock of red hair and bright blue eyes that showed his intelligence.
Irritation washed over Scott. Anger flooded his system. The strangeness of the world, the knowledge that he’d accidentally time traveled to 1925 and had no way to get home, and the mysteries of these studio people cut his normally long fuse short. “What am I perfect for? I’m tired of being looked at like I’m a toxic specimen under a microscope.”
All three men jerked. They obviously weren’t expecting a tirade. It took Scott a long time to lose his temper but when he reached the end it snapped like a frayed rope holding a piano out a second story window.
Sidney Goodman rose from behind his desk and strolled to Scott. He put his hand on Scott’s shoulder and said, “My dear boy, I’ve been remiss. This is Damon Westerly, director of my latest movieand this is Matt Gant, our lawyer.” Scott shook hands with the men. “I should have told you sooner what I had in mind. I want to thank you for saving my life earlier today. So I’ve decided you’re perfect to play the second lead role in my newest movie, The Gunslinger’s Wife.”
Horror flooded Scott. He couldn’t be the center of attention. “I’m no actor!” He shot to his feet and stared at the three men. “I’ve never been on a movie set in my life. I live in a small town. In Oregon. Where are we anyway?”
Goodman shook his head and said to the two men, “He took in too much smoke when he dragged me out of that fire.”
Both men nodded and gave Scott sympathetic looks.
“I did not inhale too much smoke.” Scott laughed at himself and shook his head. He felt a little hysterical. “I did not inhale…too funny,” he muttered. He continued to mumble for another moment ignoring the worried glances the three men gave him, then the irony of parroting President Clinton faded away. “So…where are we?”
“Hollywood, California,” Goodman said.
Great. Hollywood, 1925. This lunatic wants to put him in pictures. The world completed its upside-down spin and Scott sank to the couch.
“Come on, boy, sign the papers. You’ll be in our movie. I’ll hook you up with all the beauties of the day. Believe you me,” his smile reached from ear to ear. “They’ll want to be seen with a good-looking guy like you. Why the newspapers will have a field day when they see you. I’ve never seen a better looking man than you.”
Scott gaped at Sid Goodman. The man must be nuts. He wasn’t good-looking. Scott knew very well that he was average. Well, not in height, he stood six feet four, but his wavy brown hair and matching brown eyes were average. Scott ran his hands through his hair leaving it parted in rows. He sucked in a deep breath then said, “I don’t—”
“The next movie you’ll star in. I promise.” Sid Goodman’s face lit up with delight. His skin turned a light shade of red from excitement.
Star? Why would he want to do that? Scott couldn’t contain himself any longer and paced the room. “Mr. Goodman. Your thanks are enough for me. I don’t need to be in pictures.”
“Sure you do. Look in the mirror, boy. You’re perfect star material.”
“I don’t want to be a star,” Scott said. “I never wanted to be a star. I don’t like speaking in front of groups of people. And you haven’t even heard me speak lines.”
“What lines? You don’t speak in these movies, you act.”
Scott noticed the two men step away from Goodman’s desk at his sharp tone. Goodman was beginning to lose his temper. Both men held their hats in their hands, one kept running the rim through his fingers. “What do you mean I don’t speak?”
Goodman heaved a sigh and sat at his desk. “No one speaks in movies, boy. They act, music is added to heighten the drama and words are put on the screen for the people to understand what’s going on.”
Oh my God, thought Scott. This man was talking about silent movies. The talkies hadn’t been invented yet. Scott barked out a laugh. The three men jumped at the sound.
Scott wore a line in the rug as he thought about his options. He had no job, no place to stay, no money and no clothes. If he accepted this offer he’d be able to support himself until he could figure out a way to get back home. He’d just have to put aside any anxiety about being the center of attention. His stomach tied into a large knot. If he weren’t in such a dire situation he wouldn’t consider it for a second.
But he was. He had to eat and survive until his sister-in-law could find him and bring him back to his time. The knot began to subside. He’d look at this as an adventure. After all, firefighting had taught him to put aside worry and get the job done. The inevitable reaction would come later. And what the hell, it might be a kick to make a silent movie. He let the decision roll around inside him for a minute. It felt right under the circumstances. With no other option to consider, Scott made his decision.
A strange calmness came over him. “Okay. I’ll do it.”
* * * * *
Scott entered the studio at six the next morning. A guard looked up his name. “Third building on the right. They’ll give you your identification badge and a pass to be on the lot. When you’re done with that Mr. Goodman wants to see you in his office.”
“All right. Thanks.” He walked to building number three. A woman sat at the desk just inside the door. She wore the same bobbed hairstyle and straight, below-the-knee dress that all the other women of the day wore. “I’m here to get my identification.”
“You are—” The woman was busy typing a document on an old, manual typewriter and barely looked at Scott.
“Scott Forrester.”
“Oh!” Her face flushed and she jumped out of her chair. “Excuse me, Mr. Forrester. Mr. Goodman wants you processed right away.” She led him down a hallway and through a door. “Once you’re finished, meet me at the front desk and I’ll hand you your pass to move around the lot.”
It didn’t take long to get his ID and pass. Scott entered Sid Goodman’s office just as the man came in from a back room. “Right on time, I hear. Good. Movies have to be on schedule, you know.”
Scott didn’t know but figured he’d find out.
“Here’s what were going to do. I’ll take you over to building fourteen where we’re filming The Gunslinger’s Wife. Here’s you
r script.” Goodman shoved a thick bunch of papers into his hands. “Study the pages, they tell you what’s happening and what’s expected of you in the story. You play the part of Alex, the hero’s best friend. The director, Damon Westerly, will tell you what he wants from you. Follow me.”
Goodman didn’t wait for a reply from Scott. He set off at a brisk pace for building fourteen. Scott rummaged through the script. He read as he walked, glancing up every so often to make sure he was still following the president of the studio.
Building fourteen was a huge, hangar-like building. The door looked small compared to the rest of the building. Sid opened it for Scott who entered, still reading the script. When he looked up Scott gasped. People rushed everywhere. A full-sized train rolled along a track, smoke rising out of its stack. A woman hung out the window of the train screaming. A man yelled and waved his arms, cameras on wheels were pushed here and there. “More, Sandra! I want more fear, panic. Wave your arms faster. Cue music, Simon. Crescendo it up a little.”
Goodman stepped ahead of Scott and marched up to the director. “Damon, here’s the Forrester boy.”
“Cut!” Westerly roared. “Goddamnit, Sid. Don’t just walk in on a shoot.” He ran his hand through his already rumpled hair.
“I know the business, Damon. Remember who you’re talking to.”
Goodman’s brows were lowered and his voice had an ominous sound to it. Scott watched the play between the two men with interest. It seemed the director wasn’t intimidated one bit by Sid Goodman’s warning.
“You hired me to do a job, Sid. I’m doing it. Now, this is the boy you told me about?” Westerly asked.
“Yes.” Goodman turned to Scott. “Scott Forrester, Damon Westerly, the director of your new picture.”
Scott and the director shook hands. “Thank you for having me, sir.”
Westerly’s eyes darted to Goodman. “Show some spine, kid. Your part is a tough one. You’re the villain.”
Scott hadn’t gotten that far in the script. “I am?” A feeling of excitement and fear bubbled inside him. “I haven’t read much yet.”
“Well, there’s a trailer next to this building. It’s yours. I’ll have one of the workers put your name on it, but right now there’s a piece of paper taped to the door telling you it’s yours. Read the script the rest of the day, be here in the morning, six sharp and you’ll get to kidnap the girl first thing.”
Scott laughed. “You got it, Mr. Westerly. Just point me in the right direction.”
* * * * *
Once Scott found his trailer he put the script on a table and holed up inside with the time travel device. He knew there must be a way to make it work. He turned on the BlackBerry and it hummed. Anticipation rushed through him. If it worked he’d go home and no one here at the studio would miss him. They’d just think he decided against the part and left. Scott pushed every button on the device but nothing worked. The power on-off switch wasn’t the same. What the hell did Shauna do to this? He knew she was a scientist. She must be brilliant to have cleverly disguised her time travel creation to look like a century-old cell phone. Shit. How would he get a message to Mike? At least Mike and Shauna knew he’d traveled somewhere. Maybe they’d figure it out and get him back.
The first moment of panic he’d had yesterday, the feeling of being all alone faded away. Scott liked adventure or he wouldn’t have become a firefighter. He just never thought he’d be on this wild trip to the past. His frustration with the device faded. Well, he was here for now.
Scott picked up the script and read through it. He finished it at eleven o’clock that night. It wasn’t bad. His character, Alex was a tad shallow and self-centered, but that didn’t bother Scott. What bothered him was the love scene he had with the heroine’s best friend. He’d have to pretend to make love to a stranger in front of strangers. Scott didn’t know if he could do that.
He tossed the script on the table and stretched out on the sofa. Last night Sid Goodman had put him up in a nearby motel, another way of thanking him for saving his life. Tonight he was fine with the trailer. Hell, it was a very nice one, with a living room of sorts and a bathroom. Scott didn’t need much, so he decided he’d stay here for the duration of the film. Once he had some money saved, then maybe he’d look for an apartment.
With no TV, no iPod, no computer and certainly no cell phone Scott fell asleep to the sound of complete quiet.
* * * * *
The lights blinded him and a trickle of sweat ran down his spine. They’d been shooting the same scene for three hours. Scott’s character Alex Weller was a con man. He swindled people out of their money, their homes and their livelihoods.
The scene on the train was where Alex confronted William, the hero and Alex’s former friend, about William’s right to run Alex’s father’s ranch. Alex hated William because he had everything Alex wanted. A stable, loving home, wealth, and a beautiful woman. But the train kept breaking and the actor playing William was drunk and kept flubbing his lines.
Scott wasn’t impressed with Carey Chambers, who played the hero. He’d heard the name once or twice on Turner Classic Movies and knew he’d been a huge star in his day. But he hadn’t paid much attention. Now he found the man rude, obnoxious and downright mean to those around him.
After lunch they changed scenes to give Chambers the chance to sober up. This scene was where Scott’s character, Alex, sweet-talked the heroine’s best friend, Susie, into helping him retrieve documents that related to the ranch. It didn’t help that Susie was also the hero’s brother. When she says no, he kidnaps her.
Scott took his mark and waited for the actress playing Susie to make her appearance. He ran through his lines, well, not lines, but what the script said he was to do. He didn’t want Damon Westerly to get upset with him too, the man’s temper was already frayed.
“Scott,” Westerly hollered. “You ready? I know this is your first day, but I’d like to make up as much time as I could if possible. Carey has us way behind schedule.”
“I’m ready,” Scott said. “Just bring on the actress.” He laughed as if he’d made a joke.
Everyone in the area stopped. “Bring her on what?” Westerly asked.
Scott realized he’d spoken as if he were in 2005. “Uh, never mind. I’m ready whenever she is.” It occurred to him that he’d have to watch how he spoke. Otherwise people might look at him just the way the crew here had. With suspicion. He’d better pay attention to how people spoke in 1925.
Scott took in deep breaths to calm himself. Filming the other scene had been okay because there were four of them on the set. But this scene was between Alex and Susie. The focus would be on him and he was a little worried he’d mess it up.
“Remember, Scott. Susie comes into the room in a rage. She’s upset that you and her brother argued about your father’s ranch. Ready,” the director yelled, “and…Action!”
A beautiful blonde woman barged into the room. Her blue eyes flashed, her arm waved and she shouted, “Who do you think you are? Where in the world did you get the idea that I would help you ruin my brother?”
Scott’s mind went numb. Here stood the woman from yesterday, the one who stood out from the crowd of 1925 Barbie dolls all staring at the fire. Her pink lips were full, shiny and luscious. Her light eyebrows were raised and her stunning aqua eyes flashed flames.
Scott’s body hardened and his libido jumped into overdrive. Desire raced through him like molten fire. His muscles clenched and he felt as if a fist had punched him in the gut. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
“Cut!” the director yelled. “What’s the matter with you, Scott? You forget you’re supposed to act?”
Scott forgot everything. The woman before him tilted her head. She stepped forward and leaned toward him. Her hand reached out as if to touch him, then fell to her side. She licked her lips as she stared at Scott for a minute then lowered her eyes.
“Forrester!”
“Oh, sorry, Mr. Westerly.”
“Get it right. You know your next move?”
“Yes, sir,” Scott said. He was supposed to disarm her by pulling her into a passionate kiss.
“Okay. Ready. Action!”
The woman entered the room again in a blazing fury. Scott didn’t know why, but her eyes aroused him to the point of pain. Every part of his body hardened. He strode over to her, yanked her into his arms and kissed her.
The room faded away, the hot lights felt like steam. Her lips were his whole world. She tasted sweet and salty. Scott pulled her closer and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She struggled for a minute then melted against him. Her arms circled his neck. Scott’s heart hammered so hard he thought it would jump out of his chest. Need replaced thought.
He needed more.
Scott cupped her face with his hands and tilted her head to settle her lips at just the right angle. She smelled of sunshine and clean air. He kissed her again and again. When he pulled her body close to his to feel his hardness she froze.
The actress shoved at his chest. She pounded him and screamed. Bewildered, Scott didn’t know what to do for a moment. A need so strong he felt weak raced through him and he couldn’t come down from the desire that hardened him. “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” he murmured.
“Let me go, you letch!” The woman playing Susie slapped Scott’s face and turned away.
“Cut!”
Chapter Two
“Can you get him back home?” Mike asked his wife. “I mean, you created the damned contraption.”
“No,” Shauna muttered while she fiddled with her invention. She took a strange tool that looked like a tiny tuning fork and placed it on a chip in the side of a second redesigned BlackBerry. “Goddamnit.” She twisted the fork a bit, muttered, then twisted it some more.
“What’s wrong?” Mike paced the kitchen. His brother was in some time period and didn’t know how to get back. Now it looked as if Shauna couldn’t get her time travel device to work and bring him back home, where he belonged.
No Silent Christmas Page 2
