“Definitely with Commander Jakes,” Will injected.
He caught her eye, and Cassidy thought there was a message there she was supŹposed to catch. She frowned and dropped her head briefly, aware of a heat in her cheeks. When she had controlled it, she looked up. “There has been a different edge between Jakes and Hanssen as they’re working out their differences or at least comŹing to an understanding. I’ve learned a lot working with everyone, but Brenna in particular. She’s”
The reporter’s follow up interrupted Cassidy’s thought. “Why do you think that is?”
Will supplied the answer. “Female bonding. Audiences eat it up. It’s closed out nearly all the males.”
He shoved off the table, the intensity of the maneuver startling Cassidy. Her chest tightened at his abrupt and dismissive tone. Damn. She had finally begun to feel part of the company, with the banter, the lunches, and the clincher, Brenna’s openness in talking with her. She didn’t want to lose that.
“Will, wait.” She pushed to her feet, waving the reporter to stay seated. “Wait here,” she commanded sharply. Will turned. She looked into his features. In a low voice she asked, “What is wrong with you?”
“What?”
His exclamation was muted, in deference to her own lowered voice, she guessed. “I…” She searched for words. “Why are you being like this?” It sounded petŹulant even to her ears, but she hoped for an answer.
“It’s no secret.”
“I can’t change the scripts,” she replied sharply. “I try to be part of the team, but you’re making no effort at all.”
“You can’t change things, but he can.” Will’s accusation accompanied a glare directed somewhere over Cassidy’s left shoulder. Turning, she jumped when she saw Cameron only a few feet away. “Right, Cameron?” Will’s tone was baiting.
“What?”
“Hanssen and Raycreek would make a good match, don’t you think?”
Though the question had been posed casually, Cassidy could see Will’s eyes harden. A focused glare nailed Cameron as he walked up.
Cameron did not look away from the challenge. He snapped, “No, I don’t think so.”
Cassidy flinched. “Cam, I”
“Stay out of this,” he told her sharply. He turned back to Chapman, shoving a finger in the bigger man’s face. “Stop your bellyaching. There’s auditions going on right down the street.” He waved in a gesture of “out there”. “You can walk away anyŹtime.”
Stung by Cameron’s sharp dismissal, Cassidy watched silently as Will straightŹened to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. His expression was supremely confident. Standing firm in the face of Cameron’s fury, which was washŹing off the writer in almost visible waves, Chapman suddenly appeared mountainŹlike. Immovable. Granite hard. The smile he wore promised unpleasantness. She tried again. “Will…”
He glanced at her briefly, only shaking his head before returning his gaze to Palassis. “I don’t like being window dressing,” he said. “Scenes with Cassidy could change that.”
“You will never touch her,” Cameron shot back. “Never.”
Suddenly Brenna was pushing between the two men. She did not touch either one, but awareness of her presence diverted them from their enmity.
Looking up at one then the other, Brenna warned, “Not here. Not now.” The rest of the reporters swung their attentions toward the tense group. “I don’t give a damn what your differences are, but you can’t do this here!”
“Haven’t you heard, Cassidy?” Will blurted. “They say you’d rather have Jakes than Raycreek.”
Cameron became incensed. “The fans are always making up some kind of crap. Fuck that and fuck you. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He stepped toward Cassidy, his body rigid, angry. Brenna stepped back to remain between them.
Cassidy recognized the signs of impending violence. “No,” she said sharply. Thanks to her restroom encounter, she had an idea of what was fueling the rumors, but she wanted to hear more. “Why? Just because Luria kissed what appeared to be Chris they think I’m gay?”
“Even before that.”
Cameron fumed. “Come on.”
“Because the number of scenes you have with any male can be counted on one hand. Or they’re your father figure, like Dr. Pryor.”
“But the storylines…”
“And who do you think writes the damn storylines? This jackass who thinks you’re too hot to be on the same set with most of us. Who thinks we’d lust after you.”
“Cameron?”
“I am not letting him get his hands on you.”
“Excuse me? Cameron, they’re co-workers. I… What’s wrong with…” Cassidy found no words to express herself, leaning into Brenna, looking from one man to another as if both had escaped from an asylum.
“I’m protecting you!”
Cassidy recoiled from his vehemence. Clearly defeated by that single reaction, Cameron threw up his hands, then shoved a finger into Chapman’s chest. “Fine. You want scenes, Mr. Macho, you got em.” He cursed and pushed through several reportŹers on his way out.
Cassidy and Brenna held their breath as Cameron stormed off. Abruptly, and still keyed for violence, Cassidy sank into the nearest chair and dropped her head into her hands.
Brenna pushed into Chapman’s personal space. “I never figured you for such a bastard,” she said harshly. “That was completely uncalled for.”
He pursed his lips, looking in the direction Cameron had gone before respondŹing coolly, “It was a bit more of a dust-up than I had figured on, but it worked. He showed his true colors.” Turning away, he strode toward the edge of the set.
Hurting for Cassidy, Brenna spat after him, “So did you.” Will paused at the edge of the set and gave her a look she could not interpret, eyes narrowing almost angrily, then just as abruptly he shrugged and resumed walking away.
Confused but pushing him from her mind for the moment, Brenna turned and grasped Cassidy’s shoulder. Rich, who had walked into the mess without warning, now stood absolutely frozen. Converging from the other direction was a sea of reporters, microphones, pads, and pens at the ready and asking loud questions.
“Rich, run interference.” Brenna nodded toward the press.
He looked from her to Cassidy, who was trying to hide her face in her hands. “Uh. Sure.” He drew the reporters after him with promises of sneak previews. Smartly he played off the entire scene as a rehearsal, insisting it was all part of the storylines coming up. “If you’ll come with me, there’s more on another set for you to see.”
There were grumbles as Brenna continued to “act” concerned over Cassidy who had seemingly withdrawn in shock. Finally when the reporters were on the other side of a closed door, she squeezed Cassidy’s shoulder. The blonde started.
Brenna kept her voice low, to soothe Cassidy as well as not be overheard. “It’s all right. You needed an out. I just made you one.”
Rising to her feet, Cassidy inhaled shakily. “I have never been so humiliated.” Her baffled voice caught on the question. “He’s demanding I do a scene with him just to prove Chris isn’t gay?”
“I used to think Will was just a harmless, bored actor,” Brenna admitted as Cassidy eased out of the chair. “But that was purely self-serving.”
“It’s not really like it is even today’s news. I had heard rumors; I just didn’t put a lot of stock in them.” Cassidy reminded, “You also mentioned something from the convention in Vegas.”
Brenna flushed. “I… Well, how would Chapman have heard? I…didn’t talk about it.”
Cassidy shrugged and exhaled. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about the numbers game, politics, any of it. I wish I wasn’t here right now.”
Brenna caught Cassidy’s shoulders and ushered her gently toward the exit. “Let’s get you out of here, at least.” They walked together out the back of the soundstage, looking around cautiously for unwelcome press before they locked themselves in Cassi
dy’s trailer.
Anxious to be gone, Cassidy pushed the gown off one shoulder and struggled to pull it off. She had trouble with a catch and tried to force it. Brenna’s hands closed over her fidgeting ones. Cassidy met a sympathetic expression, and her adrenaline
shock faded, giving way to tears.
“Relax,” Brenna whispered. “You’ll need that costume for the scenes you have to shoot tomorrow. It’s not the dress that you’re mad at.”
Cassidy drew a ragged breath. She finished the buttons and turned around. Brenna tugged the bodice off her other shoulder, and her fingers momentarily touched bare skin. Cassidy shivered and dropped her head. “Thank you.” She hoped Brenna understood her gratitude was not only for the help with her costume.
“You’re welcome.”
The inflection promised Cassidy that Brenna knew what she had meant. She lifted her eyes in time to see Brenna lean away and snap up a loose tee shirt.
“Here.”
With a quick pull, Cassidy was covered again. Then she dropped to her couch, laid back, and covered her face to compose herself. Brenna perched on the edge of the cushion next to her, resting a hand on Cassidy’s thigh. “Take a deep breath. It’s over.”
Dropping her hands and opening her eyes, Cassidy looked for forgiveness. “Brenna, I’m so sorry. I hate scenes. I can’t believe he did that. I should tell CamŹeron”
“Don’t take any of this on yourself. Cameron is the one who should apologize. Instead he stormed off to do God knows what. Hell, for that matter, Will needs to make a trip to a confessional,” she said quietly. “All you’ve ever done is your best with what we’re given Cameron’s writing, whatever motivates it. You’ve done a remarkŹable job, making what could have been a flat character very appealing.” Cassidy was silent, but Brenna easily read surprise on the expressive features.
“Do you think so?”
“Yeah, I do.” Brenna smiled gently and patted her leg. Just as Cassidy began to register the warm hand on her thigh it was gone, and Brenna quickly spoke. “You’d better finish getting dressed.”
“Brenna, I…” As Brenna started to her feet again, Cassidy felt Brenna’s gaze become her whole world for a lingering moment. Abruptly, Cassidy said, “Cameron and I are through.” She had no idea why she felt the need to say it, but she knew she wanted Brenna to know.
Brenna abruptly turned away. “Go home. Get some distance from this. Get some sleep.”
“What about the reporters?” Cassidy pushed to her feet.
Despite the butterflies flying through her stomach, Brenna was calmly reassurŹing. “Check the Variety copy in the morning.” She brushed Cassidy’s arm. Brenna drew Cassidy’s warm hand to her chest. “There won’t be a word about this.” Cassidy looked dubiously at the door. “I promise,” Brenna said, drawing the woman against her. She put her arm around Cassidy’s back. “I don’t want dozens of reporters followŹing us into the mountains this weekend.” She leaned back and smiled uncertainly into turbulent green-blue. “That is…if you still want to go.”
Cassidy took a deep breath and smiled back. “Yes, I still do.”
Chapter 20
The sunrise was a sea of golds and reds on the eastern horizon when Cassidy pulled into Brenna’s driveway Saturday morning. Her headlights illuminated the other woman, flanked by her sons. All three wore jeans and hiking boots. Brenna had her hands on her hips and a welcoming smile on her face. It was a unique sensaŹtion Cassidy felt, as though the rest of the world were already far away. As soon as she turned off her engine, Brenna was at her door, grasping the handle, and looking down at her over the side. The expectant expression made her concerned. “I’m not late, am I?”
“Not too bad,” Brenna replied, closing the door after Cassidy emerged. She glanced into the back seat. Soundly sleeping, Ryan was tucked among the bags in the back. “Why don’t you get a cup of coffee? I’ll move Ryan, and Thomas’U put your stuff into the back.”
“Thanks.” Wearing her own jeans and trailblazer boots, Cassidy stretched and then rubbed her face tiredly. “You mentioned coffee?”
“On the kitchen counter. Go on inside.” Brenna gestured to the house, then leaned into the car.
Cassidy did not move immediately for the house. She watched nervously as Brenna pulled Ryan’s limp form against her chest. Absently, Brenna pressed her lips to his hair, and Cassidy swallowed, aware of a surge of warmth that washed through her. Undoubtedly thinking herself unseen, Brenna allowed a fond smile to brighten her expressive face as she moved Cassidy’s son to the backseat of her own vehicle.
The emphatic sense of caring from her friend warmed Cassidy immensely. She had done the same with Cassidy over the last week. Not a whiff of the confrontation had appeared in any news source. At work Brenna kept close tabs on her and even listened in on interviews, ready to provide a diversion if the subject arose.
For her part, Cassidy had spent much of the week evaluating a variety of things. Her relationship with Cameron was at an end. She had not seen him once on the set since the mid-morning break when she told him they were through.
Thoughts scattered from the topsy-turvy week, she entered Brenna’s kitchen and was drawn immediately to the fragrant smell of coffee. She poured some into a mug she found upside down next to the maker.
The break with Cameron had been coming for a while. Will’s public lambasting of the writer had only made the propitious moment appear. Cassidy liked spending time with Ryan; Cameron had never wanted children. She preferred socializing with a small group; he preferred public venues such as conventions, premieres, and awards ceremonies. Then there had been the little things, things Cass now realized she had glossed over. He also had not bothered to attend Ryan’s party or bring him a present.
She sipped the coffee thoughtfully. Now that’s just petty. After all, she castigated herself, you were far from perfect, too. She thought about all the times she had declined his dinner invitations because of a late work schedule or an early set call the next morning. Resentment had been inevitable, she realized, as they both continuŹally were not there for one another.
There was something else, too, she realized. Over the last several weeks, she had begun to regain a sense of purpose and self-determination that had apparently
been subverted, first by Mitch and then by a well-meaning Cameron. She look another sip, nodding to herself.
Cassidy leaned on her elbows on the counter, eyes surveying the interior of her colleague’s home. The furnishings were elegant but practical, and they energized the room with vibrant color and texture, much as Brenna herself effortlessly did in any space she occupied.
She moved to the back, looking out on the yard, noting the gardens and a deck that looked new. The dominant furniture was an A-frame wooden swing that made Cassidy think of lazy Missouri summer nights. She leaned against the wall, sipping her coffee and studying the dew-draped trees.
“Like it?”
Brenna’s voice drew Cassidy around to see the other woman unconsciously mimicking her pose hip perched against the entry to the kitchen as she gazed toward the taller woman. She straightened but was caught and held by a pair of smilŹing blue eyes. “The coffee’s delicious. Thank you. You have a fabulous view from here, too.”
Brenna let out a breath she had apparently been holding and straightened as well.
This isn’t Hanssen and Jakes, Cassidy thought, even as she found conflicting signals rushing through her body and her skin tingled. She finished the coffee, more to have something to do than out of any need for the fortification of the caffeine. Brenna walked up alongside her and gazed out on the horizon as well. The woman’s presence offered warmth that Cassidy found hard not to move toward. Why do I feel like Hanssen when she’s about to do something reckless?
“The boys have finished moving everything.” Brenna’s voice was quiet, as though she were distracted.
“Is it a long drive?”
Brenna’s shoulders moved in a shrug. “Couple of ho
urs.”
Cassidy felt the tightness in her chest slowly unfurl, spreading warm tendrils through her arms and legs. “I’m looking forward to putting L.A. behind us.”
Pouring the rest of the coffee into an insulated bottle, Brenna nodded with a smile that intrigued Cassidy. “Me, too. Let’s go.”
Brenna pressed the remote to open her garage door and watched in her rear view as the blonde drove into the shadowed recesses. They were storing Cassidy’s car in the Lanigan garage for the weekend. Brenna closed the garage and waited for Cassidy to get into the front passenger seat and secure her belt. “Everyone set?” Finding Cassidy’s gaze on her, Brenna covered the tightness in her throat by turning around and looking at the three boys in the back seat. Ryan still slept, his head restŹing in Thomas’ lap and his feet on James’ knees. Brenna’s eldest shifted carefully to avoid disturbing Ryan as he made sure the boy’s seat belt was secure.
“All set,” Thomas responded.
She caught Cassidy’s nod and put the Mountaineer into gear. “Then we’re off.”
The pre-dawn lighting was peaceful, and for a while silence settled among the group as Brenna concentrated. Once they were on the highway headed north out of the valley and into the foothills, Brenna reached for a CD from her glove box. The motion was a little blind as she focused her gaze on the road at the same time.
“What are you looking for?” Cassidy asked.
Straightening up, Brenna offered sheepishly, “I thought a little music?”
“Tell me what you want, and I’ll get it for you. I don’t mind.”
“The CDs are in the glove box.” Brenna shot a quick look at her passenger. She wondered what Cassidy would think of her music collection. “I… Well, see if there’s something you like.”
She felt their age difference acutely at that moment. As Cassidy thumbed through the titles, she was keeping her opinions of the selection to herself. Brenna worried nervously at her bottom lip as she returned both hands to the wheel. CerŹtainly the thirty-year-old wouldn’t have the same tastes. Brenna was more than ten years her senior. She glanced into the rear-view mirror to recheck her position amid the light morning highway traffic.
Turning Point Page 18
