Текст книги "Hollywood Dirt"
Автор книги: Alessandra Torre
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Текущая страница: 20 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
CHAPTER 84
SCENE 38: ROYCE AND IDA: LOVE SCENE AT ROYCE’S HOUSE
When Mary banged on my door, I ignored it, my arms wrapped around my knees, my thumb pressing at buttons on the remote without thought. I used to wonder why they put a TV in my trailer; it wasn’t like I had time to lounge around and watch cable. But now I knew. It was for moments of panic, the last line of defense against skittish actresses whose toes were itching to leave. Mary banged again, her delicate little fists doing an impressive number on my locked door. The phone on the kitchenette rang, the third time that had happened in the last fifteen minutes.
I had understood the scene, I had known the need for it, I had finally stopped my complaining and been a big girl about it but now time had run out. It was time for the scene. And every pep talk I’d given myself had run out of gas. I couldn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it. No.
A new voice joined the chorus outside my door, and I tightened my grip on my knees. Him. I turned up the volume, Judge Judy giving it to some redneck who had promised to babysit a dog, then didn’t. I murmured support and almost missed the jiggle of my trailer’s handle, the door swinging open, the glare of incoming sunshine sliced by one muscular male form. My eyes dropped to the giant key ring now dangling from my lock. Figured. It was only a matter of time. I had hoped for Don. Or Eileen. Or anyone but him.
“I’m not doing it,” I repeated, my eyes back on the TV, and there was still hope, in all of this madness, that I wouldn’t cry.
“You have to do it. You signed a contract.” He spoke from the middle of the room, the door settling shut behind him, his legs slightly spread, hands hanging at his side. This was his first time in my trailer, and it was too small of a space for both of us.
“The contract didn’t say anything about me being naked on camera.”
“Correction. The contract didn’t say anything about you not being naked on camera. That is a very important distinction, and it’s not my fault your dimwit ex missed that.”
There was a horrific moment of weakness when my bottom lip trembled, nerves inside of me breaking, one by one. “Please go away.” My voice cracked on the first word, and out of the edge of blurry eyes I saw him move closer, his knees hitting the floor beside the couch.
“Summer.” His voice was quiet, softer, but I didn’t look over, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my weakness.
“I’m not doing it. I haven’t…” I stared at the top of Judge Judy’s head and blinked quickly. “I haven’t been naked in front of anyone in a long time. Other than… you know.” Other than you. A stupid disclosure to have to add. I ran a backwards palm across my cheek, my pinky catching the moisture of a stack of unshed tears. “And I’m not doing it now, not in front of all of those people—” My words almost hiccupped, and I stopped. Pulled up my T-shirt, over my chin, and pressed the material into my wet eyes. Those lights. God, when he and I were being filmed, you could stand in Thomasville and see the details of our faces, we were lit so strongly. What would it be like to be naked under those lights?
“You’re not really naked—” Cole started, and I snorted against my shirt. The outfit that Wardrobe had dropped off was a set of pasties—two nude ones for my breasts and then one long panty-liner looking one, which I was supposed to stick in between my legs. I had tried it, had peeled off the backing and gently, then more firmly, pressed the cold stickers against my flesh, my reflection in the mirror too much for me to look at. That was when you knew you were doing something wrong, when you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror to face it. Now, under my T-shirt, the pasties pulled a little on my skin when I shifted, a constant reminder of the disaster looming before me.
“Summer…” His voice was calming and sweet, a plea for something, and it made me madder than a branded bull, my hands dropping from my face, the T-shirt falling, my head turning to him. He was still on his knees, and I caught him mid-motion, his hand moving back to his thighs. He’d been checking his watch. Any weakness in me vanished, and I gripped onto my anger and held it like a shield. He’d been checking his watch. Screw the concerned face, the friendly and caring position, Cole Masten, kneeling beside his injured costar, his voice tugging at her to behave. Screw my contract; if I didn’t want to do it, I didn’t have to do it. We’d filmed too many scenes, it’d be too expensive for them to start over with a new Ida.
“Get off my floor.” My tone was a knife, solid and sharp, and Cole looked up in surprise. I swung my feet off the couch and stood, the sticker between my legs pulling painfully at little hairs, the entire ensemble covered by a pair of sweatpants.
Cole didn’t move. Of course. The man couldn’t—wouldn’t—do what anyone told him. He just watched me, and I stopped before the front window of the trailer and peeked through the blinds. There was a group still out there. Don was there, as was Eileen, as were the requisite PAs and Mary, her pen moving furiously over a new Post-It, and I could imagine it stuck to her bathroom mirror at her hotel, her frantic message bright and red on the yellow. Find A New Job.
I dropped my hand from the blinds, and they fell back into place. “The movie doesn’t need the sex scene.”
“It’s the climax of the relationship arc. Of course it does.” Cole finally stood, easing up slowly, and he met my eyes when he spoke, the authority back in his voice, his coddling tone from earlier gone.
“A body double.” The idea was sudden and brilliant, and I hated that I hadn’t thought of it before. It happened all the time, I remembered watching Pretty Woman after reading that Julia Roberts had used one. I’d stared at every single clip of their love scenes and could never see anything that gave it away. “There’s got to be some clause I can sign, and you can use a double. Easy!” My hand trembled against the top of my air conditioning unit, and I squeezed it into a fist to stop the shake. This would be fine; this could be fixed. I moved to the door, Cole stepping forward as if to stop me, and I yanked it open. “Don!” I called, the director turning from the crowd, his head tilting up at me. I waved him in, and Cole groaned, lifting his hands, his fingers finding each other, linking, and settling onto the top of his head. Don ducked in the trailer, the door shut, and now it was really crowded.
“I want a body double.” I chirped out my new idea, standing close to Don, my arms crossed around my chest, and I watched closely as Don glanced at Cole.
Cole shrugged his shoulders, his face impassive and stubborn. “Isn’t happening. We don’t have a five-foot-six blonde in your body type just lying around the set, waiting to strip off her clothes and get in front of the camera. And we don’t have time to go through casting. That could take a week, or longer, which we can’t afford.”
I focused on Don. “Florida State is forty-five minutes away.” I gestured in the general direction of Tallahassee. “You have twenty thousand college girls there. Trust me, you’ll find someone who would be more than happy to strip naked and hop into bed with him.” I felt an odd burn of something dark, the image too clear in my mind, and I pushed it aside.
“Glad to know that our Pecan Queen knows casting so well.”
I glared at Cole. “I know that if we put up a tent on Landis Green you’ll have two hundred girls stripping naked for a casting camera within two hours. If you can’t find one who looks like me before dinner time, I’ll—”
“What?” Cole cut in. “You’ll do the shoot?” He stepped forward, his hands dropping from his head, a smile curving over his face. “Let’s make a bet, Country.” He glanced back at his watch as if he couldn’t remember the time. “It’s eight-thirty. Right now, let’s pack up some cameras and a team, and do it. Take your ridiculous suggestion and see. But if we don’t find a girl by six o’clock tonight, then you’re filming this, first thing tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to hear shit about it. No tears, no woe is me bullshit. You’re gonna man up, and be a professional about it.”
I rolled my bottom lip against my teeth, and glanced at Don who looked back and forth between Cole and me like we were insane. “Okay.” I nodded. “But I’m coming, so are Don and Eileen. If three of the four of us agree that a girl will work, then I win, and I don’t have to do the scene at all.”
Don stepped in, holding up a hand. “This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, but if this has any chance of working, I’d need you to do some close up stuff. Kissing, gasping, et cetera.”
“But you could do that with a strapless bra on,” Cole interjected. “And shorts.” He stuck out his hand. “Deal?”
I shook it without pausing to think, without pausing to examine the details or require more stipulations. I shook and felt an enormous wave of relief.
The man, I was certain, had never been to Florida State. It was where God vomited all of his beauties. We wouldn’t need until six o’clock. We’d have a dozen options by lunch.
CHAPTER 85
“If you weren’t financing this movie, I’d have you fired. An impromptu public casting call? On a film day?” Don stood in the middle of activity, his arms waving in the air like an inflatable tube man, his face a dark shade of red, sweat streaking down his temples. Behind him, one of the set trailers was being packed up, a dozen people moving in concert—lights, rigs, cables, and signage flowing in one smooth sea of motion.
“It’ll be fine,” Cole said with a smile, slapping the director on the back, his hand snagging the shirt of a passing PA. “You. What’s your name?”
“Ugh…” The kid’s eyes darted to Don, then back to Cole. “Tim Myers.”
“Tim, find Justin and get him here.”
Don’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and he ran a hand over the top of his bald head. “Do you know how much this will cost—this stupid bet between you two?”
“We need the scene, and she’s not doing it without it.” Cole smiled. “Relax, Don. It’s not your money, it’s mine.”
“And it’s my career if this movie tanks. Or runs out of funding. Or if my costars kill each other before the last shot is wrapped. We could have just covered her with a sheet and filmed it. All this…” Don watched a man run by, his arms full of clipboards, “is ridiculous.”
“I don’t want to film some fucking Nicholas Sparks love scene. I want raw, sexy footage. I told you that; you know that. We can’t build up to something and then leave the audience hanging.”
“Sure.” Don looked up at him. “Let’s pretend that’s what it’s about.” He stepped closer to Cole and lowered his voice. “But we both know that it’s not.”
Cole shrugged. “Just get me the scene I want. If I need a therapist, I’ll have…” He snapped his fingers in the direction of the departing PA.
“Tim Myers,” Don supplied.
“Yeah. Tim Myers will get me one.” He threw an arm over the director’s shoulder. “Now. Let’s get on the road.”
CHAPTER 86
I wanted to drive. It made sense for me to drive. I knew my way around Tallahassee, could get our two SUVs, plus the trailing semi, in the general area of where we needed to go without it becoming the circus act that it seemed destined to be. But I wasn’t on the insurance, and I was a woman, and between those two gigantic hurdles, I got stuck in the backseat, staring at the freshly cut hairline of Cole Masten, dark hair meeting in a straight union with tan skin. I’d bet his neck was shaved with a straight blade. Probably on set, the team all but trying to give me a bikini wax every time I set foot into the Hair & Makeup trailer.
I noticed, staring at that freshly cut hairline, that my bet with myself, made that first night in my kitchen, had never been won, his skin a golden hue of tan. Of course, he hadn’t burnt. Instead he’d bronzed, because gods like Cole Masten didn’t suffer from mortal problems like the rest of us. I looked away from the bane of my existence and out the window, the car slowing as we got deeper into the traffic disaster that was the capital city.
On Florida State’s campus, Landis Green stretched from one ugly traffic circle to the Strozier Library, a gorgeous building where—just a few years or so ago—a student brought in a gun and went crazy one late night during finals. Mama and I had sat in front of the TV, slices of lemon pie uneaten before us, and watched the live action unfold. Right there, Momma kept saying. Remember when I used to take you right there? I had remembered. Sunday afternoons, after church, we used to go into Tallahassee. We’d eat a late lunch at Momo’s, then head to the library. I’d sit down against a wall and read novels inappropriate for my age, and Momma would read their papers. She’d start with the New Yorker and work through three rows of publications before we’d pack up, walk back to our car, and head home for dinner. I could still remember the smell of the building, the green plaid print of their carpet, the look of pinched student faces, their books spread out over long tables like they were claiming spots, knees jumping, pens tapping. When I started high school, I stopped going, old enough to stay at home alone. A few years later, Momma also stopped going. Maybe she needed me with her to make it stick. Maybe, without me, it lost its fun. I looked out the window, at the big library, and felt a moment of sad nostalgia. When I moved away, would she stop making biscuits on Sunday morning? Would she stop taking walks on nice evenings? How much of her life would slowly stop?
“Summer.”
I heard my name and looked up to the front of the car, Cole’s eyes on mine in the rearview mirror. “What?”
“You gonna get out?”
I swallowed a smart response and reached for the handle, stopping when I saw the man at my door, his hand on the handle. I hesitated, my eyes catching everything that I had missed in my walk down memory lane. Three suits on this side of the car. A line of cops behind them, facing out. I turned to the front seat, to ask a question, but the doors were all being opened, mine included, and the men were stepping out. I grabbed my bag, and took the hand offered, stepping into the summer sun. A cheer broke out and I turned in the direction of the sound, my eyebrows raising, and saw Cole raise his hand, a bright white smile beaming out from that famous face, his index finger pushing his sunglasses on, the crowd on the other side of the cops surging forward, then pushed back, a living beast that seemed to have no decorum whatsoever. I suddenly appreciated the stoic pride that Quincy held, their refusal to fawn or fangirl. I couldn’t imagine if every day, every experience required this level of ridiculousness. I followed the trio of men, security following me closely, a stranger with an earpiece putting a protective hand on my shoulder. I glared at him, and he removed it.
Before us, a staked out orange safety fence led to the trailer, which was parked next to a fountain on the far end of the lawn. A second crowd had formed there, and it turned as one as we approached, hands and cell phones filling the air, an excited hum floating through the crowd. We were stopped halfway to the trailer, Eileen pulling a cell phone away from her ear long enough to dictate information.
“We’ll have a tent set up in fifteen minutes for the signups and age verifications. I’ll be there and will narrow down the pool as they register. If I see a possible candidate, I’ll have them escorted to the trailer. Cole, we’ll put you and Don in the viewing end. Summer, you stay with me.”
I swallowed my objection, the woman already moving, our group pushing after her. Cole slowed his steps, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You look irritated, Country.”
“What happens in the trailer?” I nodded toward it, watching as a group of orange-vested men rolled a large tent out on the grass. The speed at which all of this had come together was impressive.
“We’ll take some test shots. See how the girl looks on camera.”
“Naked.” I looked up at him and he laughed.
“Well, yes. That’s what we need.”
“Rough afternoon for you.” I could feel my lips tighten, and I hated the reaction. It was the objectification of the women that bothered me. Nothing else.
“I’d rather be looking at someone else.”
I shrugged off his arm and squashed the bit of joy that came from the flirtatious remark. “Just focus on your bet. I’d hate for you to lose to a girl.”
“We need this out now, before those jackasses at THR scoop this.”
“Envision is going to have our ass. You know that, right? Putting this out without giving them a heads up.”
“Just let legal know to be ready. But this is it. The cover. You’ve got three days before it goes to print. Make it happen.”
CHAPTER 87
Live events were always a pain in the ass. Cole smiled, his side aching from a sharply-timed Summer elbow, and stopped, taking the pen from the closest girl and scribbling his name. Then again. Then again. He glanced at the closest suits, and they swarmed, pulling him away, Cole pretending to argue before signing one last notebook and stepping off. Summer snorted, and he glanced in her direction, her hands wrapped around a snow cone, her eyes meeting his before she looked away. Where the hell had she gotten a snow cone? He slapped at a bug on the back of his neck and ducked under the shade of the tent. From the far end of the road, the boom of a radio station satellite van started up. All this bullshit. But all necessary, all good. There’d be photos of this across every Seminole’s social media feed within the hour. #FortuneBottleCasting would be trending on Twitter, if it weren’t already. Every class would be skipped, and every hot coed would be here, Tweeting and Instagramming their hot pink nails off. The best advertising a day off filming could provide. And if it could get Summer Jenkins practically naked and on top of him? Hey, even better.
He climbed the steps into the air-conditioned trailer, and nodded to Don and Justin, taking the available seat and scooting it forward slightly. Before them, the west end of the trailer held a white backdrop, two photographers at work with cameras and lights. Behind them, a changing room and single chair, for the girl on deck.
“Eileen got the release forms?” Cole asked, twisting the top off a water bottle and taking a sip.
“Yep. Anyone walking in this door will be cleared and will have signed a non-disclosure. Not that any of this, with that circus outside, will be kept quiet.” He sighed, the seventh or eight non-verbal indicator of how he felt about this event.
It wasn’t smart. Not for the budget. What was smart was to have shot a different scene and had someone flown in from Central Casting. But Summer had challenged him, he’d called her bluff, and now they were here. Playing a game. And hell, it was fun. He glanced at the trailer window and saw Summer, seated at the table next to Eileen, her smile big as she laughed at something. See she was enjoying it too. And she only had a few months of obscurity left. Then the trailers would start, then the release would come, and overnight she’d be a household name. Poof. Everything, in an instant, different. She’d no longer be his secret; she’d belong to the world.
The trailer door opened, and a girl, blonde hair, the right height, the right build, stepped in. Tim handed her a robe, led her to the bathroom, and they all waited, a silent hum of anticipation in the room. A few minutes later, Cole heard the door open and the girl walked by, onto the set, her robe pulled tight, her smile gone, face nervous. Cole looked at her and saw Summer, her hunch against the couch, hands tight on her knees, her voice shaking.
“Next,” Cole said, Don turning to look at him, his eyebrows raising.
“What?” the girl said quickly, her hands suddenly moving, jerking on her sash. “I’m ready.”
“No.” Cole looked down at the page before him and prayed that she hadn’t already opened the robe. “Thank you for your time. There are signed movie posters by the exit. Justin?” Justin stepped up from his seat and to her side, his hand cupping her elbow as they moved past.
“What the fuck was that?” Don spoke out of the corner of his mouth, waiting for the door to shut before turning to Cole.
“She was nervous. Skittish. I don’t need another Summer, who will require a pep talk. I want a girl who wants to be seen.” He reclined in the seat and rested his boot on the table’s axle. “Half the girls on this campus dance topless at house parties on the weekend. Let’s find them and get this done.” There was a large whoop from outside the trailer, and Justin stepped back inside, a smile on his face.
“Girls are doing body shots off the radio station van.”
“See?” Cole spread his hands and leaned back in the chair. “Easy.” Maybe Summer was right. Maybe he would lose the bet after all. Maybe it would be for the best. Maybe, with a different girl under his hands, he’d finally get her out from under his skin.
The door opened, a fresh blonde walking in, and he turned, his eyes locking with hers. She grinned, and confidence, with this one, wouldn’t be a problem.
