“You mean attention? Oh honey you’ve had attention since the day you opened that mouth of yours and let the world hear you sing, did you think that styling your hair different, wearing other trends, and glasses would make you Clark Kent?” She chuckled again. “Men.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A knock sounded on the trailer door. “Jay needs Will. He done — holy shit.” The PA was probably around twenty, his face went from a normal healthy shade to complete paleness. “You look… not. Old.”
Gem met my gaze in the mirror and smirked. “See? At least twenty-three.”
“I can’t decide if I like you or hate you,” I mused.
“You like me.” She patted my shoulder with her hand. I don’t know why but I squeezed it. Maybe I needed some of her sass, some of her strength to face everyone looking like.
I gulped.
And then stared at myself again in the mirror.
Looking like myself for the first time in five years.
I stood on shaky legs and slowly followed the still red-faced PA down the trailer steps and out into the sunlight.
My gait was slow through the sand.
The stares however, were frequent, and wide-eyed.
Like I’d somehow handed in my costume and finally revealed myself. People whispered, I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad sign; a sort of fear washed over me.
Yes. Total fear.
Fear of rejection.
Fear that people would realize that while Angelica had never been anything but honest about who she was, however mean, however damaged — that when things got hard in my world.
I forced myself to disappear from it all.
And created a new person.
Without a soul.
BY THE TIME I reached the filming location on the other side of the beach where a small bar stood near the boardwalk, I was ready to hit the ground running, just in the opposite direction, say toward Antarctica. I’d been stopped numerous times.. Every few feet another scream erupted from the sidewalk.
Seriously? I hadn’t looked that bad… had I?
Sure, I wore glasses most of the time because it made sense when staring at a computer most days. I’d developed astigmatism, so what?
And yeah, I liked wearing relaxed jeans, it’s not like they weren’t designer, and right, okay so most of my wardrobe consisted of suits.
Button ups.
Jackets.
I froze.
“Oh, shit.” I ran my hands through my mussed hair and fought the urge to puke. “I’m my father.”
I didn’t have time to think about what this meant, and why it hurt so badly when Ang said the same thing, and why I’d needed to hear her deny it, mainly because he was a money hungry lunatic with designer suits and never enough time for his son.
Besides that, he was boring as hell.
Hedge fund manager.
I shuddered.
I’d gotten my first tattoo in order to piss him off, even had a piercing in both ears and my nose after my first tour.
I smiled to myself.
And then looked up.
Ang was talking with Jay, her eyes wide with fear, and then they both turned to me as the rest of the crew fell silent.
Maybe that was my new super power, change my hair and clothes and nobody talks; they just stare like I’m from a completely different planet.
Fun.
“Hey.” My voice was gravely like I’d been yelling. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Odd since you typically yell at your clients for the same thing,” Jay teased. “You crazy kids ready?”
Ang’s face paled as she eyed me up and down and tucked her hair behind her ears then started fumbling with her script.
I held mine up. “Apparently, I’m not speaking again.”
“Eh, you sound smarter when you don’t have actual lines.” Jay grinned, “Now get in position.”
I distracted myself by reading what position I was actually supposed to be in but all it said was “sit in the booth.” And yet again with no sort of direction other than naturally not to speak, which in Jaymeson’s world meant, only speak if you don’t sound like an ass.
No pressure.
And naturally, I didn’t see Angelica’s lines because that was just another fun game Jay liked to play. I was like the statue in her acting world.
I sat in the booth and waited while Ang made her way over to me.
“Quiet on set!”
Her skintight dress was leather; it made noises when she walked. I couldn’t stop looking at her thighs or imagining what it would be like if she were to wrap those legs around me.
Meaning I needed to get the hell out of these skinny jeans, fast.
“Party scene, take one, action.” The PA slated and walked behind camera while Jay nodded to us.
“You just gonna sit there and stare at me?” Ang asked in a teasing voice, her smile was so full of life, so vibrant that I couldn’t help but smile back.
“It got you over here… didn’t it?” I answered, suddenly feeling like I wasn’t the wounded brokenhearted agent who tried to keep his celebrity clients out of jail.
No, I was just a man.
Staring at a beautiful woman.
Wishing she was sitting by my side.
Ang looked over her shoulder then back at me and lowered her voice, “Only because it’s creepy.”
I barked out a laugh. “Are you calling me creepy?”
“Just did.” She crossed her arms. “Good thing you’re hot.”
“I’m not hot,” I said it quickly, confidently.
“Pretty sure every girl in here thinks so.”
“Funny, since only one girl matters.” Who was this guy? What was I doing! I had no lines! And yet no cut. Was Jay just relying on our chemistry?
I balked.
Chemistry.
We’d always had it.
Since the first day.
We would always have it.
But only when forced to speak to—
My smile fell and then I just went for it as I leaned across the table and whispered, “Dance with me.”
Angelica’s eyes widened. Yeah, I was apparently really going off script now. But who the hell cared? Jaymeson could always yell cut.
I ignored the cameras, my eyes focused in only on hers.
There wasn’t music, in the movie there would be, but now it was just us, just our words, just our bodies swaying.
“You shouldn’t want to dance with me,” she finally said. “But I’m glad you are.”
“You shouldn’t want me to dance with you either,” I agreed, “Because I’m a complete dick, but I’m glad you said yes.”
“Good thing you were staring.”
“Yeah,” I cupped her face, “Good thing.”
She leaned up. I met her halfway and kissed her.
“CUT!” Jaymeson yelled just as I was getting a taste.
Frustration crackled over my nerves. Tension settled in my jaw. One day, one day he was going to die with that damn camera shoved up his ass.
Ang pulled away, I felt it in my soul the distance she put between us, the uncertainty in her eyes. She started chewing on her thumbnail again. “You look different.”
“Yeah.” I tried and failed to shove even one hand into my pocket. “Apparently I don’t look old anymore.”
Her lips lifted into a smile. “I was going to say you finally look like you.”
We didn’t have to re-do the scene, no matter how many times I mentally begged Jay to let us re-visit the kiss, probably because I knew, at least in real life, I didn’t deserve her mouth but at least if we were acting, I could lie to myself and say it was okay.
Five hours later and we were both driving home together.
Home.
I clenched the steering wheel.
Our home.
The coffee cup sat where I’d left it in the Rover.
She saw it.
She said nothing.
But when I parked, she grabbed it like it was hers, and walked ahead of me toward the house.
“BONFIRE!” ZANE SHOUTED pounding on the door minutes after both Ang and I had gotten home.
I groaned. “Think we can hide?”
“I can hear you whispering!” Zane yelled. “Plus I saw the SUV pull up, we already got all the shit, I got the mallows, meet us all on the beach in ten. And Will, try not to look like our chaperone!”