Текст книги "The Accidental Movie Star "
Автор книги: Emily Evans
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 13 страниц)
Chapter 18
Caz spent the next month in postproduction meetings, cleaning up technical issues from filming and generally jumping down the throat of anyone who mentioned his parents, Garrett, or Ashley. Today he was meeting the sound team to rerecord some dialogue. Most of the other actors would be there too.
Petra leaned against the wall near him, wearing too much of her god-awful perfume. She used him as a captive audience, to chat. For ten minutes, she talked about herself, her wardrobe, and her idea for a line of fragrances to match jewelry. Caz’s eyelids lowered and he jerked back awake when Olive jumped in with one of her exclamations of agreement. She agreed with everything Petra said by repeating most of Petra’s phrases.
Standing with the two of them was like being stuck in the most boring echo chamber in the world.
He pinched his fingers between his eyes; he needed more sleep. They were shooting an action film on the lot near his trailer and the sound effects went straight through the thin walls. He should have picked a new place to stay by now, but he hadn’t yet replaced the Realtor he’d fired.
Powder turned the corner and joined them. Makeup people rarely visited sound booths. Frankly, he welcomed the break from Petra and Olive. “Hiya.”
Powder ignored his greeting. “Have you seen Ashley’s notebook?”
“No,” Caz said, clipping off the word. He did not want to have this discussion.
“She called and said she left it behind, you know, when she was fired, but I can’t find it.”
Silence.
Olive said, “She must’ve sold the notes when she sold her story.”
“Sold her notebook?” Powder turned to Olive with her hands on her hips, her flamboyant fuchsia dress extra bright when faced with Olive’s drab jumpsuit.
Women were so weird about their clothes.
“Yeah.” Olive spoke fast. “She used to write down stuff we said. I thought she was writing a diary, all those words. Now I understand, she probably sold her memoir to the highest bidder at the tabloids.”
Caz rubbed his temple, a headache starting to pound as Olive continued barking out accusations. He breathed in, trying one of the techniques the martial arts instructor had showed him during their daily workouts.
“Oh wow,” Petra said. “I can’t wait to see what they picked to print of the things I said. I said some really funny stuff during the shoot. You remember when Cutter tried to put me in the green shoes and I was all like, I can’t wear green shoes. That’s the color the alligator was originally. I mean if you can’t even have enough fashion sense to dye your shoes, well what’s the point. Right? I hope that goes in, or maybe like that day they asked me to hold that pose like forever, and I was all stiff, and no one could find the masseuse.”
Powder rolled her eyes, made a disgusted noise, and left.
Chapter 19
Senior year. Everything looked the same but felt different. It amazed Ashley that she could spend the summers running around million-dollar movie sets, but one month later and she couldn’t be trusted to stand in the hall after the bell rang.
Ashley turned to her best friend. “Can senioritis hit as early as September?”
Marissa’s groan of “yes” held all the weight of twelve years of oppression. She unlatched her locker and snagged an emerald sweater off the hook. The sweater was her favorite and the bright color matched her eyes.
Ashley said. “Did you wear that sweater to work?”
Marissa sniffed the sleeve. “Why? Does it smell like fries?”
“Yep.”
Marissa shrugged. “French class is too cold.” She continued muttering, but switched to French and went on about fries and the weather.
Hearing French made her think of Caz. Missing him, and being angry with him, was taking up a ridiculous amount of her time and she couldn’t seem to make her thoughts stop. Last night at the grocery store, she’d caught herself scouring the tabloids. That was how far she’d fallen and how desperate she was for news about him. Even knowing the stories were probably untrue, Ashley hated the pictures of him with other girls. And there was lots to hate because there were lots of pictures, fans, models, and actresses.
Ashley didn’t talk much about her own summer, but Marissa’s nemesis and part-time Fry Hut Manager, Irina, did, not the Fry Hut Manager part, but about her August in Italy. All her conversations started with, “In Italia we,” or “The Italians would,’ or “That’s wrong because in Roma…”
Marissa usually followed with, “Well, at the Fry Hut we…” or “Did you go to Italy?” but she must’ve taken some of Irina’s mean comments to heart if she wanted to change her hair color.
Ashley’s cell phone beeped, a text message from Dad: “Back from trip. Have you headed back to school?”
Ashley pressed her lips together, wishing she could find the words funny, but she knew her eyes were burning when she put her phone away without replying. She’d been in Texas for a couple of weeks now.
***
By November, Ashley didn’t want any news or any reminder of Caz. He could forget her? Fine. She could forget him. Of course, that was the week the movie’s theme song, “Love’s Romantic Ruin,” became popular on the radio. Ashley couldn’t go down the halls or turn on her stereo without hearing someone sing the lyrics.
Marissa appeared beside her, interrupting her thoughts, which was good since she should’ve been working on her college application essays. She needed one more referral.
Marissa poked her in the arm until she looked up. Her face was flushed, her emerald eyes bright.
“What?”
“You’ve got to see this.”
Marissa held up her phone and said, “The movie preview. You’re totally in it.”
Ashley dropped her gaze to the screen and the trailer for Eternal Loss, Eternal Revengecame on. The clip was short and the narration made her heart stop. Caz’s voice came through the speakers. It had been so long since she’d heard him. She even knew the words his character was saying since she’d been in the recording studio when he’d recorded them.
The trailer opened with a visual of Caz’s haunted eyes staring out, and his British voice continued through the speakers.
“Drinking, women, risks, I tried them all and nothing made me forget the pain.” The camera angle widened, and behind Caz was Ashley, dressed in a pale sundress, her hand reaching for a car door handle. Before touching it, she looked back and gifted him a sweet smile. Then an explosion lit the screen, and you knew she was gone.
Caz’s voice went husky. “I can’t forget.” The clip ended, and Caz said the final words: “It’s time to give them something to remember.”
Ashley’s breath left her lungs. Wow. That was her smile. She’d washed that car on the set. She’d done Caz’s eyeliner. That was her in the wig. Her total screen time was probably one second, but it was her.
“So what, do you want to be an actress now?” Marissa said with enthusiasm.
“No, architecture’s still it for me.”
Marissa squeezed her arm. “One day, I’ll text you a picture of a building you designed.”
***
Ashley and her mom searched the racks at the department store, looking for a dress. Ashley held up an ice-blue one. “What do you think?”
A frown slid off Mom’s face. “You’ll look beautiful in anything.”
Ashley smiled. Powder would not agree. She’d have to send her some pictures and get her input.
Mom worried at her lip and her voice was soft and low. “Um, Ashley?”
“Yeah?” Ashley slid hangers further down the metal rack, looking for her size.
“Um, well, I know you don’t have a date, but sometimes that doesn’t mean you won’t meet someone at the dance. You know about condoms, right?”
“Mom!” Ashley stopped sorting and looked up. “I’m not sleeping with anyone.” As she said the words, she wondered why the thought of sleeping with one of the guys at her high school was so appalling.
“It’s only that, things happen, and you don’t always mean them to, and you need to be prepared.”
Ashley continued her search, keeping her eyes on the clothes instead of her mom’s bright red face. “I know you had me in college, so I wasn’t exactly planned.”
Mom wrapped her arms around her waist. “It’s not that. You were my favorite gift ever. Just —”
Ashley shook her head. “Mom, really, we don’t have to go there.”
Chapter 20
The first thing she saw when she entered her room was her Winter Dance dress, hanging on the back of her closet. The second thing she saw was an invitation to the movie premiere from Dad. The embossed card lay on top of a travel itinerary and a huge square dress box. Inside lay three designer dresses wrapped in tissue paper.
She touched the delicate fabric of the white one on top. Could she go? Did they let fired people in? Pressing the heel of her right hand against her forehead, she wrapped her left hand around her waist. She should’ve told Dad she was fired from the project.
Screw that; she’d worked hard on the film and wanted to see it. She didn’t want to be stuck at home while Caz worked the red carpet like he was the only one who’d worked on the film. Who cared if Caz believed her or not? He was Hollywood dressed in a British accent. All the drama, mixed in with ego, and all the problems that actors created for themselves. Her cell rang, and the screen showed a picture of Marissa. She tried to sound normal when she answered. “Hello?”
“I found my dress. It’s awesome,” Marissa said. “Kind of an eggplant color. I’ll send you the picture as soon as we hang up.”
“Dad sent me an invitation to the movie premiere. I don’t know if I should go, because of Caz and everything that happened.” Ashley’s voice dwindled at the last words.
Silence, then, “He’s a total fry wipe. And he doesn’t own the movie.”
Knock, knock.
“Call you later.” Ashley hung up.
Mom entered. She wore a big sweater and a worried look. The door clicked closed behind her.
Ashley said, “Did you see the dresses Dad sent? They’re gorgeous.”
Mom nodded, but her frown didn’t fall away. She bit her lip and sat on the edge of Ashley’s bed, clasping and unclasping her hands. Mom said, “Honey, I’d never ask you to keep something from your father.”
Ashley frowned and pulled her knees toward her chest.
“It’s just that maybe you could put off telling him something until I’ve fully worked it out?”
“Okay, sure.”
Mom flattened a hand on her stomach. “You see. Well, last summer, when I visited you that weekend.” Mom sucked in a breath and looked at the wall. “Well, your father and I.” Her face flushed a deep red. “We love each other very much.”
“I know. You’re different people and can’t live together.”
Mom stiffened and nodded. “It’s only that, sometimes, like I said, if you’re not careful…” Mom’s voice trailed off.
“What’s wrong? I haven’t heard from Dad in a week, what’s going on?”
“I’m pregnant.”
Chapter 21
“I’ve arranged for the limo,” Marissa said to their lunch table. She offered a box of reheated fries coated with dots of red powder to the table. Everyone declined. Marissa shrugged and popped one in her mouth. “It’ll pick me up, then Ashley, then Steve; then we’ll swing by Michelle’s for photos and get everyone. Unless you want to meet me at the Fry Hut early?”
Ashley joined her friends in shaking their heads.
Marissa rooted through her bag and dug out a brochure to show them the stretch limo.
By the end of lunch, Ashley was actually excited. She welcomed the distraction from what was going on at home, and she’d probably have more fun going with her friends than a date anyway.
Michelle poked her arm with the brochure. “Tell me about your dress.”
“Ice blue and long,” Ashley said. “Yours?”
“Nice, you’ll look like an Icee,” Marissa said.
Michelle said, “Oh, Ashley, ice blue will match your eyes. How pretty. Mine’s pure white, like a snow queen.”
Chapter 22
Caz kept his jacket on as he entered the cold studio to record dialogue over special effects. This should be the last of his technical tasks on this film, and he was ready to finish.
The sound and special effects art directors sat at the control booth, intent on the images flashing on the small screen in front of them. Beside them were a pile of scripts and notes.
Caz stilled as he recognized Ashley’s notebook. Maybe she’d sold the quotes inside, but clearly she hadn’t given the notebook itself to the tabloids. “Hey,” he said in greeting.
“Caspian, great, let’s get you started.” The sound director handed him a set of headphones. He pointed toward a glass-enclosed sound recording area.
Caz paused by the art director. “Isn’t that Ashley’s notebook?”
The art director looked reluctantly away from the screen images. “Huh? Oh, hi, Caspian.”
Caz reached for it.
The art director followed the motion distractedly. “I found it on set after she left. I thought maybe the PA would be here.”
“I’ll return it.” Caz tucked Ashley’s book under his arm as he headed toward the door.
“Thanks, and tell her from me, there’s some good stuff in there.” The art director turned his attention back to the monitor. “She should call when she gets her degree.”
Caz couldn’t wait to finish this recording and open the notebook she’d never let him look at before. He didn’t get a chance until after martial arts practice.
***
In his room, Caz flipped open the cover and braced himself to see proof of her deceit. He’d seen Ashley with the notebook a million times, and he wished she’d been honest just once and told him why she betrayed him. Some people liked their name in print. Some needed money. He got that, but Ashley wasn’t an attention-seeker, and he’d seen her father’s house. She didn’t need money.
Caz opened the cover and stilled. The first page held a picture of her father’s place, but a stylized version. Arched windows were made gothic and dramatic, chimneys soared into the clouds, and statues appeared to be in motion. He ran a finger against the rough surface of the thick paper.
The next held a drawing of warehouse 47. Instead of square metal, she’d given the building curves and balconies.
He flipped a few more pages. Some buildings he recognized, some he didn’t. There were images of the interior set also, but none were realistic, and he hadn’t seen any version of them in the press. Her drawings were fascinating, close enough to their original buildings to recognize, but then turned around and made interesting. The ones he didn’t recognize he wanted to ask her about so he could see the originals.
His fingers tightened on the binding. There were no quotes, no costume pictures, just buildings. The only thing remotely about him was a list of house-hunting features he’d liked and jotted sketches of features from the houses they’d toured, and he’d never seen the list in the press.
His fingers tightened on the book, fighting his promise to return it. Reluctantly, he removed an envelope from his drawer and slid the notebook inside. Next, Caz dialed the human resources department to obtain Ashley’s address in Houston.
Chapter 23
“Say cheese.” Mom snapped another photo. “Oh, that one’s so good,” Mom said, examining the screen on the camera. “I’ll send it to your dad.” Mom’s voice trailed off, and she bit her bottom lip and put a hand over her stomach. “One more.”
Ashley moved over to the cinnamon-smelling Christmas candles and lifted one toward the tree. “Dry needles and fire. We need to baby-proof.”
Mom waved a hand in the air. “We have months.”
Mom’s current philosophy was denial. If she didn’t talk about the baby, they didn’t have to worry about the baby or tell Dad.
The sound of tires outside meant the limo was here. Ashley’s heart rate sped up and she put the candle back in its holder.
Yay. Fun. She grabbed the rough edge of her crystal-beaded evening purse and tucked it under her arm.
Mom peered through the blinds, then gave Ashley a quick hug and said, “Make Marissa come in for a picture.”
Ashley returned her embrace, squeezing tight for a moment, then walked down the front steps to meet her best friend. The sky was dark, but the suburban streetlights and houselights illuminated the limo clearly. The door opened, but it wasn’t Marissa who got out.
It was Caz.
Chapter 24
She let go of her ice-blue skirt and stopped mid-sidewalk.
He waved with her notebook in his hand.
Ashley lifted her long skirt clear of the path and moved forward. The high heels made her eyes level with his mouth. He looked tired, bigger, tougher somehow. She took the small book, careful only to touch it and not Caz. “What are you doing here? Uh, you want to come in?” Her relief at having her sketches back was mixed with the confusion and rush of seeing him again.
“I came to see you. To talk. Yes.” His voice sounded the same—rich, deep, accented.
Ashley blinked at hearing him again in person, and turned to go up the drive, a kind of instinctual retreat in the oddness of the moment.
He said, “You look beautiful.”
Ashley paused, then kept walking. “Thank you. Tonight’s our winter dance.” She gestured down at her dress.
Caz’s hand reached up and he brushed his fingertips against her corsage. “Your date?” His British accent clipped the words.
Ashley pulled her arm away. “Uh, no. I’m going with friends.”
It was so surreal to see him. Caz glowed; there was something charismatic, something over the top, about him. Even in his dark trousers and pale blue shirt, no one would mistake him for just another guy. Something marked him as more. Ashley led him into the house and gestured at the couch.
Caz sat, with straight posture, eyes on the notebook. “Olive told me you were recording notes for tabloids in it.”
Ashley stiffened and sank to the cushion beside him. Answers. “And you believed her?”
“No. I don’t know, I remembered how you’d never let me see it, and I wondered.”
Ashley looked at him carefully: his square, tight jaw, his intense eyes.
He said, “Then I looked inside.”
Her eyes widened, and she winced, feeling a flush cover her face.
“They’re not notes, so Olive lied.” Caz ran a hand through his hair. “I know I could have mailed your notebook, but I wanted to see you. Talk to you.”
Ashley set her purse on the couch and twisted her fingers together. It was easier to look at her French manicure than his face. “It’s been months. You believe me now?”
“I want to know what happened. I want to listen.” His hands opened, palms up against his knees. “I want to know about the pills that were in your bag. About the paparazzi, who were always showing up when we were alone.”
Ashley knew this was a big concession for him to ask, after his parents jerked him around, his agent, his best friend. She pressed a hand to her forehead, and her crystal bracelet twinkled in the light. “You…”
Mom entered the living room with a smile of inquiry for Ashley and a greeting for Caz. “Hi, I’m Ashley’s mom.” Her eyes blinked and she did a double-take.
Caz rose and held out a hand. “I’m Caz.” His gaze flickered to her pregnant belly, but he had the good sense not to comment.
Mom didn’t act like she recognized him, though she must have. She shook his hand. “Is Marissa coming in too?”
“Uh, no,” Ashley said, “Marissa’s not here yet. I worked with Caz last summer.” She left out the part where he got her fired. When she came home early, she’d just told Mom that it was because Dad had to work too much and she missed home. Mom hadn’t questioned her.
“Oh,” Mom said. “Well, why don’t I get one quick photo?”
Setting her notebook beside her purse, Ashley automatically crossed over to the fireplace. As an only child, Ashley was used to the sight of her mom holding a camera and knew her duty. Her gaze flickered to Caz. She didn’t know what to say, but he walked over and stood beside her, close enough that she could smell his ocean cologne, familiar, wonderful. The heaviness and warmth of his arm slid around her waist. The hard muscles of his chest pressed against her side.
Ashley held herself stiffly, trying not to lean into him, trying not to tremble. His hand squeezed her waist, and she could feel the slight movement of each finger. Caz tilted his head toward hers and smiled for the photo, used to the flash. Mom offered him a drink, but he politely refused, and she left them alone.
Ashley returned to the couch and sat back. Her silk skirt fluffed around her legs, and she smoothed it with sweaty palms. “Maybe—”
“Marissa’s here,” Mom said from the hallway.
Ashley popped up and glanced at the clock: 6:30 p.m. Marissa, who always believed her, was waiting. Ashley took a step toward the door. “My friends are here.” She grabbed her purse. The crystals bit into her palm.
Caz’s warm, rough fingers encircled her wrist, halting her. Her eyes closed, and she slightly turned toward him. He said, “We need to talk and I’m scheduled to be in Los Angeles tomorrow. We’re shooting a promo spot for the movie. I should really be there now.”
His schedule stiffened her resolve. Ashley knew all about important Hollywood meetings. They came first. She took a step toward the door. “Sorry, I’m not letting my friends down.”
“Take me with you.”
