Faithless Dreams

by C. R. Jane

  It was an interesting thing, but I felt like I was one of those people who had experienced a debilitating life-threatening disease and then got another chance at life. I was certain that I would never take for granted the things that I had before. I just had to get them all to fall for me again and to somehow remember me.

  "Do you know what I'm gonna be doing on set today?" I ask Lexi, when she finally takes a breath between sentences.

  She looks kind of nervous all of a sudden. I groan. "Lexi, what did you do? We really do have permission to go on the set today, right? We're not breaking in and apologizing later?" I ask.

  She scoffs, looking affronted. "Have a little more faith in me, Eva," she says indignantly. "I'm just not sure that the role you’re going to be playing today is going to be your favorite," she says.

  I’m nervous. Was I going to be dressed in a horrendous costume? Would I need to cut my hair in order for me to play the part? "Just tell me," I sigh, resigned to whatever fate allows me to see Beckham.

  “Well, you’re kind of going to be a stripper," she says, cringing, keeping her eyes carefully averted from mine.

  I laugh in disbelief. "A stripper?" I ask incredulously. “Isn’t that a bit cliché? I mean I’m sure that will get his attention...but still.”

  Suddenly I realize I know nothing about what the movie is even about. I really have been a terrible girlfriend lately.

  "It’s some kind of thriller mobster movie, I think. Anyway, your part is cool because you actually have some lines. So, it’s a little bit bigger role than just an Extra. You're evidently going to be some kind of spy for a different mobster group. You dress up as a stripper in order to get close to the head of the ruling mobster group. Obviously, the leader is Beckham," she says. "But this is the perfect role to get his attention," she says. "You get to dance around and dress provocatively. He’s going to freak out. Hundred bucks says that he forgets some of his lines when you start dancing," she says proudly. She gives herself a pat on her back and I snort. She’s definitely thinking that she’s a genius with this idea.

  I cringe at the thought of being in what will basically amount to nothing but lingerie in front of a room full of people. I get enough attention as it is. But, if it did get Beckham to notice me sooner rather than later, I would give it a shot.

  I’m wringing my hands, and my emotions are bouncing back and forth between nervousness and excitement as we approach the area where the film is being shot. There are orange barricades all over the place. A guard stops us at one of the barricades and asks for some kind of badge. I freeze, thinking that we are screwed, but Lexi pulls a badge out from the folder that I hadn’t seen in there, and the guard lets us through.

  We finally get to a stopping point where we can’t drive any closer to the set. I can see a mass of people a little ways down the street, gathered around a bar that Lexi said had been converted into one of the movie sets.

  Looking at it, they really had done a good job of making the outside look like a bar from the early 1900s. Was Beckham in there already shooting?

  My whole body is shaking as I get out of the car. I can’t remember when I’ve ever felt this nervous before. Lexi gets out and hands me the folder that I’d left behind. I obviously was already off to a great start if I couldn’t even remember that.

  "We’re supposed to look for someone name Martine. She’s going to take us back to hair and makeup.” She stops when she sees that I’m looking a little pale.

  "You're going to do great, Chica. I can’t wait to hear all about it," she says as she pushes me forward, not following me.

  I look back at her in shock. "Where are you going?" I ask frantically as she begins to walk back towards the car.

  "I have class in an hour so I can’t go with you," she says. "You'll be fine though. There's no way that Beckham is going to be able to resist you," she winks at me.

  I reluctantly watch as Max drives her away. Now I was really freaking out. Lexi’s presence felt like extra armor. I felt naked and vulnerable without it.

  I begin to walk through the crowd, garnering stares as I go along. I finally see some people who look like they are important parts of the movie crew. Or at least they had on badges like they were.

  "Is Martine here?" I ask the group hesitantly. The group consists of seven men and a woman. The woman looks at me with interest, studying me for some reason. One of the men says to the other. "Has Madeline been replaced, and someone forgot to tell me? She’s going to freak out," he says as his eyes dance from one point to another on my body.

  The woman looks down at her list. "It’s not listed on any of my paperwork,” she says, looking up at me thoughtfully.

  "Hey sweetheart," one of the guys says ridiculously. "How can we help you?"

  "Um, my name is Eva Taylor. I'm supposed to be an Extra today. I think I'm some kind of spy," I say, not able to say the word stripper to this group of people. The group of men look even more excited at my mention of my role. “Glad I’m on set today,” a guy whispers loudly to one of the others.

  The woman finally takes pity on me and moves me away from the group of men who are staring at me looking besotted.

  "I’m Martine. Sorry I didn’t say something right away, there are always people looking for me pretending to be an Extra for the movie, hoping to see the Stars. But your name is on my list and I remember one of the Producers mentioning we would have someone new on set today,” she says as we walk. “Hair and makeup are just down this hallway.” She looks down at her list again. “You mentioned you were supposed to be playing a spy. Has anyone told you about the undercover part of the role?" she asks, sympathy heavy in her voice.

  I blush. I wasn't sure why I was blushing. It's not like I hadn’t had sex a million times with three different guys. But the idea of being in a stripper outfit in front of a crowd of people...my heartbeat was skyrocketing just thinking about it. I nod, and she gives me a little smirk at my reaction.

  She leads me to an unmarked door and opens it up without knocking. The room is bustling with people. Mirrors line both sides of the walls, and the counters below the mirrors are full of various beauty products. Chairs are set up in front of each mirror, and they’re all occupied by beautiful people getting their makeup and hair done.

  Everyone looks over at us expectantly as we enter the room.

  "Liz, this is Eva Taylor. She’s the dancer in the bar scene today with Mr. Stone," says Martine to a woman dressed in all black with streaks of purple liberally splashed throughout her long black hair. She walks over to the woman, pointing to something on her paper. Liz reads it over and then nods.

  "Should be simple enough," Liz says. "She looks camera ready already." Everyone in the room is staring at us. I settle down in the only empty chair in the room, Martine turns to leave. "Thank you," I call after her.

  She turns around and gives me a soft smile. "It's been a pleasure to meet you, Eva," she says before leaving the room.

  Liz is not in a very talkative mood evidently because she barely says anything as she works on me. One time she comments on the size of my pores as she puts various products all over my face. And then at another point she asks if I’m a natural blonde.

  But besides that, she’s silent.

  I play nervously with the cape that she put on me to protect my clothes, not looking in the mirror as she works. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much makeup, let alone had it put all over my face before.

  Finally, she’s done. "Take a look," she says proudly.

  I look up and gasp. I definitely look like a different person. A much sexier person. Unlike when I went to the Grammy’s with Mason where they left me still looking like myself, the person I see looking back at me through the mirror right now is a stranger.

  She’s given me smokey eyes, lining them with copious amounts of black eyeliner. My lips have been painted a bright red. I thought that there was a beauty rule out there somewhere that you weren't supposed to have heavy eyes and heavy lips, but I guess I
was playing a stripper so maybe a few broken rules were expected.

  She made my hair big. It’s been sprayed with so much hairspray that it looks like it has a life of its own. “The volume will look great with you swinging around the pole," she says with a smirk, noting my stunned expression as I study myself.

  Swinging around a pole. I can’t say that I was expecting that when I woke up this morning.

  I give her a weak smile. Liz takes me through the door on the opposite side of the wall that leads into a room that has racks of clothing taking up almost every inch of space in the room with the exception of a tented off corner. She goes to one of the racks and pulls out a black dressing bag that has the number 54 on it.

  "This should be it," she says, unzipping the bag and examining the contents. She gives a satisfied grunt. Then she ushers me into the curtained off corner.

  “Go ahead and put this on, and then come out and show me how it looks,” she orders. “We can make any size adjustments we need by pinning it.”

  I nod and reluctantly step back into the makeshift dressing room, cursing silently the whole time.

  I was desperate to see Beckham though. I needed to see Beckham.

  My costume consists of a sparkly bra and silky black underwear that amounts to nothing but a G-string. There’re also a few pairs of black heels for me to choose from. As I put the outfit on, I want to fade into the wall in embarrassment. I feel like a panic attack is going to strike at any minute.

  I walk out and Liz’s eyes widen. She gives a low whistle. "Girl, it will be surprising if any of the movie actually gets shot today with you looking like that. Rebecca is going to go crazy when she sees you in that outfit."

  “Rebecca?" I ask, wondering why that name seems so familiar.

  "She's Beckham’s agent. She's been in love with him for longer than any of us can remember. We’re just waiting for those two to get together."

  I want to bang my head against the wall. It seems like every woman from my guys’ past has been brought into play in this alternate reality I’ve been thrown into. I dread the thought that Courtney could possibly be hanging around Mason again while he’s on tour.

  Not for the first time, I wonder if we will be able to reunite after this. If there will be too many things that happen before we get to the end that everything about us will have changed too much to recover.

  Could I really get over them being with another woman? Just the thought of any of them being touched by another woman made me want to scream. I had already thought of a million ways that Selena could be tortured.

  Maybe I wasn't the good girl that they'd always thought.

  "Eva?" Liz asks, bringing my head back to reality. I put on a fake smile and follow her out of the room after slipping on the black silk robe that she's graciously given me to cover my costume.

  As we walk, someone in a headset stuffs a couple of pieces of paper into my hand. Looking over them I see that they must be my lines for the day. They had a lot of faith in me if they thought I could memorize all this before we started.

  Looking over it closer though, most of it seems like directions and how I should move rather than what I should say. My heart stutters when I see the line where Beckham is supposed to walk in.

  I could do this. Especially if it would catch Beckham's attention. It was mostly come-hither looks and sexy dancing anyway. I would just need to try and pretend Beckham and I were by ourselves.

  I walk down the sidewalk towards the bar where the scene is being shot, shivering in my thin silk robe. It was winter after all. I would have been better served with a parka.

  The moment we step into the building, it’s like there is a wire connecting my heart to Beckham's. I knew he was nearby. Every cell in my body longs to reach out to touch him, to be with him.

  But I didn't want to get kicked off set right away for jumping the star of the movie.

  I’m led over to the bar by another person. Liz has disappeared. Evidently, we were doing sort of a “Coyote Ugly” scene and I would be on top of the bar doing my dancing. Three poles were set up along the bar. The script said there would be other dancers there as well, although I was the only one who would be a spy and have lines. At least I wouldn’t be alone up here.

  I listen as one of the Assistant Directors goes over his vision for the scene. But it was difficult to concentrate when I couldn't help but seek out Beckham.

  Finally, he comes through the door, flanked by what seems like fifty people, deep in conversation with the woman I recognize from when I first met him, his agent Rebecca. I don’t know how I had forgotten her.

  Beckham had told me later that she admitted that she was in love with him. He had used his ability to compel people to have her stay away since then, and as far as I knew the only interaction they had was through email discussing projects.

  It was interesting. I hadn't had a problem with her when I first met her, but now I hated her. Especially as I watched her slide her hand up his arm to reinforce a point she was making. I didn’t think it was appropriate to touch your clients like that as an agent, but what did I know?

  Silence fell just then; it was as if the movie had already started. Beckham stiffens, almost like he feels me watching him. He looks away from Rebecca, and our eyes suddenly meet. There was recognition in his eyes, not the kind of recognition that showed that he knew me in this life, but the recognition that came from when two parts of a soul were reunited. All the breath is sucked from my lungs. There was only me and him in the room. Everyone else has disappeared. Beckham takes a step forward, as if he couldn't keep himself away from me.

  We are interrupted when the assistant director calls my name. "Eva, are you paying attention?" he asks, annoyed. I reluctantly break my gaze from Beckham, but even as I did so, I didn't miss the flash of annoyance that Beckham shoots the director for grabbing my attention.

  All at once I feel more confident. While the other two had forgotten our connection before, Beckham had been the first one to remember. He had always been there. He was the first love that I could truly remember, and that couldn’t just be taken away without leaving some kind of trace for me to grab onto.

  Chapter 9

  I put my focus back on what the Assistant Director is saying feeling more confident...feeling much better about this whole plan. Before I know it, I’m standing on the bar, ready to start shooting. Beckham is ushered out of a doorway nearby. I had watched some of his movies with him, and he had been amazing in all of them.

  But it’s a different thing to see him transform in person. Suddenly it wasn't my gentle Beckham standing in the doorway watching me, it’s a dark intense man, danger emanating from every part of him. He watches me from the doorway, drinking from a tumbler full of dark whiskey. He seems to be savoring me more than the drink though.

  I take a deep breath and reluctantly slip off the silk robe, handing it to a waiting assistant. The other girls are already undressed on the poles next to me.

  Immediately I have to fight the urge to cover myself. I know that everyone in the room is looking at me, despite the fact that there are similarly clad women next to me.

  But my eyes are only on Beckham. A deep wanting is written all over his face. Like he's seen something he wants to eat, and he won’t be able to rest until he has had a bite.

  I really want him to have that bite.

  I hear some of the men in the room talking back and forth, I'm sure saying an assortment of inappropriate comments. I see Beckham’s eyes gleam with a wave of possessiveness. He looks like he wants to run over to me and throw his jacket over me to cover me up from all the gawking eyes. I stand there awkwardly, now feeling heat not from embarrassment, but from desire. The Director’s Assistant finally calls out for everyone to be quiet on set.

  "Action," is called out. I freeze for a moment, trying to remember what I’m supposed to be doing.

  That's right, dancing provocatively.

  I stare into Beckham’s eyes, and I will the rest of the room t
o disappear. I begin to move my hips leisurely. I walk in my stilettos seductively around the pole, holding eye contact with him as I do so. I try to remember any movie that I'd ever seen featuring strippers. I sink down and then stand back up slowly, pressing my body against the pole. I send a flirtatious glance at Beckham, who swallows, looking like he’s dying of thirst watching me.

  I sneak a glance at the other girls, trying to make sure that my movements aren’t too far off from theirs. They were really going at it, trying to capture the attention of the movie star I suppose. I begin to move faster, exaggerating my movements. I fling myself around the pole, undulating my legs while I hang upside down. A gasp comes out of the crowd, and the director yells “Cut” in frustration.

  "Who the fuck was that?" the director barks. He sends an obviously annoyed look around the room. "Quiet On Set” is called out again and then we start all over. This time, I don’t have any hesitation. I know exactly what I’m supposed to be doing, and I get motivation from looking at Beckham’s obvious pleasure.

  We have to keep redoing the scene, and it soon gets old. We do the scene a total of ten times because someone in the crew is always paying more attention to what my body is doing then what their supposed to be doing for their job for the scene.

  Finally, the Director is satisfied with what’s been shot, and we can move on. I’m excited to get to the part where I actually get to talk to Beckham.

  The scene starts and he slides into the barstool directly in front of me, not taking his eyes off me. He signals to the bartender, "I want this one in the back," he orders in a voice that brokers no argument. The bartender looks hesitantly up at me, fear in his gaze. Beckham is a deadly mobster after all. "Tessa, show this man upstairs," he directs me.

  I stop dancing and slide off of the bar in front of Beckham as gracefully as I can, Beckham devouring every inch of me as I do so. A shiver passes over me.