Текст книги "The Accidental Movie Star "
Автор книги: Emily Evans
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Garrett seemed smitten. “We’re on our own. I doubt his parents would be here together anyway. They’re splitting up, you know.”
Ashley glanced at Caz.
The muscle ticked in his jaw and his fists clenched.
***
They broke early that afternoon, and Ashley was eager to get home and try out the new Chinese recipe Marissa sent. She could never get Chinese recipes to taste like takeout, but was determined to keep trying. She’d get the stuff for the new dish and pick up ingredients to make Caz’s snacks. After winding a last heavy cable, she hung it on the wall and rolled her shoulders back. Time to go home.
Caz stood not too far away, arguing with his tall agent, and the concerned– looking AD hovered nearby. No peace for the wicked.
Even though she kept her gaze on the exit and walked with fast steps, Caz snagged her arm when she passed, pulling her into the conversation.
His agent said, “They promised an artistic photo shoot, and you agreed to pose.” She patted her pocket as if looking for a cigarette.
Caz shook his head. “I agreed to do press after filming, not during. I should be concentrating on my next scene, practicing my lines.”
His agent shrugged and tapped her foot. “You signed the contract. You’re committed.” She handed Ashley her coffee cup. Ashley stared down at the smelly, empty container.
The AD bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to please. “We’ve wrapped for today. You do what you need to do, and we’ll send someone to run lines with you.”
When photo opportunities emerged, Petra had bionic hearing. She waved at them from her spot on the stage and strolled over. Her ruby-laden belt rolled lower against her hips with each step. “I can be there. I’m already made up, and I have a great relationship with most photographers in town. Only last week, I shot with Rae Frost, you know Rae, right, Rae is famous, after all, well I—”
Ashley wiggled the coffee cup at Caz and smirked.
“PA.” Caz quirked an eyebrow. “Go with me.”
Ashley shook her head in refusal. She had a ton of things to do other than babysit him.
Petra pouted and curled against Caz’s side. She batted her eyelashes until she caught sight of her reflection in a pole, then she went over to the makeup mirror to smooth her hair.
Caz didn’t seem to mind that she left. Talkative must not be his type, Ashley thought and wondered if he had a type. Maybe if he had a girlfriend around to cater to some of his whims, she would have more time to help other crew. She was quickly getting a reputation as “Caz’s PA,” and the title wasn’t winning her any friends. “Couldn’t Olive—”
The AD said, “Olive, over here.”
Olive pounded her small frame over to them, swinging a hammer in her hand. “How can I help?”
Caz shook his head. “Ashley’s got this.”
The AD let out a forceful breath. He shoved a script at Ashley. “Pull the car around.”
The man obviously saved his coddling tone for the actors.
The agent looked between Olive and Ashley. “I really need that coffee.” Her voice was apologetic but insistent.
The AD snagged the cup from Ashley and handed it to Olive. “Get her a fresh one. Then go help out on set B. The mobile toilet’s acting up again.”
Olive put her head down and beelined for the coffee cart.
Ashley swatted Caz with the rolled script on her way to get the car.
Chapter 5
Ashley steered Dad’s Audi R8 up to the front of the warehouse and rolled down her window. There was no way Caz, his agent, plus whomever else was tagging along would fit in her two-seater. They’d have to use a larger car with a studio driver. The studio provided drivers for all the stars, which was smart because actors were notorious for their drunk-driving incidents. Not that she’d seen Caz drunk, but the studio was smart to play it safe. Artistic didn’t go hand in hand with reliable.
The agent stood outside with Caz, cradling her new coffee cup and cell phone in the same hand. She eyed the lack of a backseat with a frown and more toe-tapping.
Doing her best to conceal a grin, Ashley spoke through the open window. “Meet y’all there.”
“No,” Caz said, and went around to the passenger side.
The agent sighed and handed Ashley a card with the photographer’s address. “I need him there right away.”
“Okay,” Ashley said to the agent’s narrow back as she walked off. Ashley handed the card to Caz. “Read this into the GPS.” Caz typed on the upper right hand of the screen, and a feminine voice came on asking for their destination.
Caz said, “1342 Water View Road.”
“Don’t you have a car?” Ashley put the car in gear and exited from the front gate onto the streets of Burbank.
“I plan to buy one, since I’m staying in the States. I just haven’t chosen one yet. This car’s nice.”
The navigation system asked for a repeat, and Caz said, “1342 Water View Road.”
“Thanks. It’s my dad’s. You should get a big one with a good safety rating since you’re not used to driving on the right.”
“No.”
Ashley pulled over and clicked on the hazard lights, waiting for the GPS to tell her where to go next.
After several beeps, the GPS asked for the address again. Caz leaned close to the navigation screen and spoke the address loudly into the voice activation speaker.
“Please repeat your destination,” the female voice said.
Ashley laughed.
Caz narrowed his eyes and tapped on the screen with a forceful index finger. Ashley pushed his hand away and repeated the words in American English.
“Proceed to the intersection. Stay in the right lane.”
Caz pursed his lips, glared at the GPS, then turned on the radio. His expression made her grin.
The ride didn’t take long, and they reached the photography studio without trouble. Ashley grabbed the script and followed him into the sleek, white, modern studio. The only pop of color came from the smelly eucalyptus plant at the end of the white couch.
His agent bent and smashed a cigarette butt into its mossy base. She was there alone, no Petra or Olive in sight. She’d either driven crazy fast or didn’t have to find parking. The agent shoved her phone in her pocket as Caz drew near, and when they stood within two feet of her, Ashley could tell by the smell that she’d had more than one cigarette with her coffee on the drive over.
His agent said, “The shoot’s going to be really tasteful.”
“Black and white?” Caz asked.
The agent nodded and looked at the receptionist with raised eyebrows and a glance at her watch.
Ashley rolled her eyes and wondered why artists thought color was tacky. She liked color photos. Besides, his eyes were a pretty shade, wasted on black and white.
The receptionist rose from behind a long white half-moon desk and joined them. She stood at least six feet tall, just a few inches shorter than Caz. “Mr. Thaymore, we’re expecting you. Please proceed to studio two.” The receptionist gestured toward the hallway with a slender arm, but her gaze never left Caz.
Studio two had been divided into three areas: technical equipment, makeup, and shooting. Jungle music boomed from speakers mounted in the corners, and a photographer yelled directions over the noise. “Set that up. We need sheets.”
Within the makeup area, a tattoo-covered masseuse leaned against a privacy screen that obscured a massage table. She shook a bottle of baby oil at Caz and said, “Over here, cutie. We’ll get you prepped for the photo.”
Ashley’s eyes widened; she couldn’t wait to text Marissa about this. She said, “It looks like they’re going in a lessartistic direction.”
The agent’s mouth twisted at her words and Caz stiffened. The agent shrugged an apology. “It’s their right, per the agreement you signed.”
Caz looked ready to blow.
The photographer, who was adjusting lenses on set, yelled, “Cover his torso with oil.”
Caz didn’t move. In fact, he looked like he was one minute from walking out.
The agent patted her jacket for another cigarette. “Come on, Caz, this is important to the film. Besides, you have photo approval. Just do it.” The agent stared at Caz for a moment. Her gaze flickered between him and the door then landed on Ashley. She smirked. “His assistant will massage him. Give her the baby oil.”
The tattooed masseuse looked disappointed, but she gestured toward the table with an open palm, clearly used to the vagaries of stars. “Coat him waist up.” She dropped the bottle of baby oil on the table and followed after Caz’s agent. “You know, I’m not just a masseuse, I act too.”
Moving over to the table, Ashley lifted the transparent bottle and shook it. The clear gel slid within the container. Caz, who still looked ready to run, nonetheless pulled off his shirt, climbed up to the table, and lay face down.
Emily Evans
Ashley took a good look. He was so lean; she hadn’t thought he’d be this muscular without his shirt. The director should work in some shirtless scenes to help sell tickets.
His fingers gripped the side of the table and every muscle in his back and arms looked tense.
Ashley opened the lid of the baby oil. Click. She sniffed the contents. “You’re going to smell like a new diaper.” She squirted a blob of oil onto the middle of his back and gave his skin a few tentative slaps, resisting the urge to tap out the jungle beat playing overhead. “My best friend back home’s working fast food. So she hasn’t been giving me too much sympathy about my summer job.” He wasn’t tan at all, but his complexion was nice. She smacked a little harder across his shoulders. They felt as hard as a rock. “Marissa’s always complaining about the grease from the fry vat.”
Sliding an oily hand down his spine, Ashley said, “This is like basting a giant turkey. She’s totally going to have some sympathy for me now.” Under her hand, he stiffened even more. Ashley spread some of the oil down to his waist. “I’m thirsty. Don’t go anywhere, and I’ll try to find some water.”
Caz said nothing.
Ashley smeared her hand against the side of his arm to lose some of the oil then scooted around the table and out of the screened section. Spotting the agent right away, Ashley asked about drinks.
Motioning toward the set’s assistant, the agent said, “We need water and a coffee.”
It was fun to see someone else scurry for a change, Ashley thought.
The agent blew out a breath and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I’m so glad I got him to sign this contract while he was distracted, or he’d have never agreed to this shoot.” She shot Ashley a conspiratorial look. “Sometimes they need a little push in the right direction. You don’t tell them all the details.”
That was so not right, Ashley thought. The agent was supposed to have his back, not trick him.
The assistant rushed back with some water, saving her the need to reply. Ashley held out her hand, but the assistant hurried past her and around the screen. “It’s for Mr. Thaymore. The assistant hovered near Caz and set the bottles on the table. “Let me know if you need anything else, Mr. Thaymore. Anything.”
Caz nodded.
Ashley snatched up a bottle. After swallowing, she set both bottles on the floor. This time she rubbed in the oil with a smooth, pressing motion. She felt the muscles loosen after a few strokes. It was kind of neat. Caz had nice skin, warm, smooth. She flexed her fingers then pushed at his arm. “Over.”
Caz flipped and kept his eyes shut.
She paused with the bottle of oil above his chest. He had really defined muscles. The only chest she’d ever touched before had been her last boyfriend, and he wasn’t six-pack material, and there hadn’t been this much touching. Ashley put some of the oil on her palms and rubbed them together to warm the liquid. She laid her fingers against his abdomen.
His eyes flew open. Her fingers stilled. They tingled where they met his skin, and Ashley met his gaze, feeling her face heat. Her mouth opened then shut again. All of a sudden, this felt intimate. She no longer heard the music or the technicians. It was only her cocooned in this small area with Caz, caught in his gaze.
The agent came around the privacy screen. “How’s the prep going?”
Withdrawing her hands quickly, Ashley swung them behind her back.
Caz shrugged at the agent and didn’t say anything. He sat up and spread the rest of the oil over his torso and arms.
“They’re ready for you.” The agent rolled her eyes at his silence and went back to the set.
Ashley put a hand against his jean-clad knee and handed him a water. “My friend Marissa works at the Fry Hut, and sometimes she has to wear the French fry costume. She does this minimum wage job to afford things like movies and magazines. So the least you can do is go out there in your baby oil costume and give her a sexy look.” She tugged at the seam that ran along the side of his jeans. “It’s not like you have to remove your jeans. I’d have your back if they tried to make you strip.”
Caz didn’t smile, but his mouth twitched a little, and he hopped down from the table. A hairstylist and makeup artist took a few minutes to touch him up, then he was ready to go.
Ashley stayed in the background and watched her first live photo shoot. At first, Caz just stood and stared toward the camera, a shiny image of gorgeous.
Clicking away, the photographer shouted out, “Great, now pout for us. Excellent. Now show us hot.” His voice escalated. “Hotter, hotter, make my lens steam. Yes, that’s the expression. Now on the bed, drop against the pillows.”
Ashley figured the photographer was lucky that Caz’s angry looks made him appear sexy; otherwise, it would have been a waste of good film. She kind of got it now, how actors could get reputations for being difficult. Caz got blindsided and then was told to smile. Life didn’t work that way and Caz handled the situation better than she would have.
“Okay, now turn around and shoot us a smoldering look over your shoulder. You’re a cave beast. A great man creature. Show us.”
Ashley drew in a breath and bit her lip, having to turn away. She couldn’t watch with a straight face and doubted the photographer would appreciate her urge to slash her hands through the air with her fingers curled into claws. She felt her hand lift and couldn’t resist. She turned to Caz and made a small slash.
A smile eased across his lips.
“Great,” the photographer said. “I think we got it.”
Caz shook the photographer’s hand, grabbed his shirt, and headed straight for the front exit.
Ashley had to jog to catch up. “Slow up, man beast.”
Caz reached back and grabbed her arm so she’d move faster. Ashley growled. She could see through the glass that the evening had gotten dark outside, and she wondered how he’d take a nocturnal animal joke.
When they went through the door, she was surprised at how quickly the temperature had dropped since they’d arrived. California had such crazy, nice weather. At home, thermostats still read triple digits at ten p.m. Caz shrugged on his shirt one-handed while they walked and only let go of her to get his arm through the sleeve.
Without warning, a bright light flashed, and she stumbled, momentarily blinded. Paparazzi cameras flashed from the sidewalk up ahead. Caz reached back and dragged her forward.
Chapter 6
The paparazzi stood between them and the parking lot. She should have had Caz wait inside while she drove the car around. She’d know next time.
“Let’s go,” Caz said. Heads down, they ran all-out to the car. Holding up the keyless entry, Ashley chirped open the locks as soon as they were in range.
After speeding out of the lot, she said, “Maybe it’s good you have a driver. Photographers are crazy.” She slowed to make the turn and said, “What am I thinking? You’re an actor. Do you want me to circle back around so they can get more shots?”
“No.”
Caz checked his phone and frowned.
“What?”
He didn’t answer.
Shut into the tiny car with him, she could really smell the baby oil. She decided to give him a break. “I wish my friend Marissa didn’t have to work all summer and could come up. You bringing anyone over?”
Silence. Then he said in a gravelly voice, “Didn’t you see the news?”
Oops, of course she had. His friend Garrett spilled the news about his parents’ split on air. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”
He shook his head.
Ashley said, “At least Garrett’s here, when you decide to forgive him, that is.”
Caz frowned and shifted in his seat. “Never happen.”
Ashley sucked in a breath. “A lifelong friendship and you’re giving up after one mistake?”
“Fool me once.”
Okay, one shot and you’re out; that sounded like Hollywood. She didn’t think she could keep a friend who wouldn’t allow her to make a mistake. Everyone made mistakes. Actors made lots of them. Ashley braked for the red light.
They rode in silence for a few blocks and then Ashley tried for a new topic. “Marissa sent me a new recipe, but I can’t get it to taste as good as takeout. I’ll have to call her when I get home and see what ingredient is missing.” She chatted about Marissa’s creative recipes for the rest of the trip.
Caz looked kind of expectant right up to the point where she parked near his trailer. Putting one hand on the door handle, he raised his eyebrows at her. “Did you want to get dinner?”
Please, twelve hours on set were enough. She really hadn’t been hitting on him with the condoms. He needed to let that go. “Too busy, but you have a good night.”
“Good night.”
***
The assistant director caught her as Ashley walked into the warehouse the next morning. “They need you in the filing room, warehouse twelve.”
Olive stood in the background, nodding. She held a tray of coffee cups with one empty slot. A matching cup rested in the AD’s hand.
Olive said, “I’ve got this set covered. You go ahead.”
“No problem.” Ashley turned back to the door.
Olive’s hurried stomps caught up to her. “Coffee?” she asked loudly. Ashley shook her head. Olive knew she didn’t like coffee.
Olive leaned close and whispered, “Sleeping with someone may have gotten you the job, but I guess whoring won’t save you from filing.”
“What? That wasn’t part of your interview too?”
Olive’s hazel eyes glowered. “I’ll go do my job now. You have no idea how much I have to do around here.”
“Who do you think I slept with?”
“We all know.” Olive scooted back and pounded her way to the coffee cart.
Ashley detoured by the makeup station. While walking, she shot off a text to Marissa. “Hollywood gossip says I slept with someone to get this job.”
Marissa texted, “It’s an unpaid internship. You must not be very good at it.”
Ashley smiled and felt some of her tension ease. “What do I do?”
The reply returned immediately. “Fry vat overflowed. Irina suggested I still serve the floor fries. Tell gossiper what I told her.”
Ashley texted, “What did you stick in the oil?”
“Whole potatoes, cored and stuffed with special seasoning. Customers rated ’em an eight.”
***
Ashley left the drama behind her in search of warehouse twelve. It stood near the stucco main office buildings. Ashley jogged past and headed to Dad’s office. She took the elevator to the top floor. Tap, tap, tap. “Dad in?” she asked his secretary.
“Sorry, dear, he’s got meetings all day.”
Ashley swallowed and backtracked to warehouse twelve. Just inside, a gray-haired woman sat at a long counter with row upon row of floor-to-ceiling racks behind her. Fluorescent bulbs hummed overhead, and the smell of dusty paper overwhelmed the space.
“I’m Ashley Herrington, here to assist for the day.”
The woman slowly raised her eyes from the papers in front of her and gestured behind her. Ashley moved around the counter. Boxes of papers were stacked under the counter and on the floor all around her chair. The lady lifted a piece of paper, stared at the words, then wrote a number in the top right corner. Then she put the coded piece of paper in an outbox to her left. She nudged the outbox toward Ashley. “File these. The shelves and folders are numbered.”
Ashley lifted the papers and headed into the world of filing. Minutes in the world of filing crawled by like the Dallas Cowboys in the fourth quarter—slow. She really needed to thank Dad for getting her the job on the set instead of in an office because this was painful. Ashley checked the clock on the wall. It had to be almost noon. The clock read nine forty-five .She swallowed and trekked back to the front. “Are there any vending machines near here?”
The gray head shook. “They didn’t want to risk anything getting wet. Or people taking too many breaks.”
“So no restroom either?”
“You have to go two buildings over for that.”
Ashley went back to row 844 to continue filing and played tunes on her mobile phone until the battery ran down. She filed everything she could, and the only things left in her pile were ones labeled with a number and the letter B.Ashley jogged back to the front. “I can’t find row 72B.”
The gray-haired lady let her hand drape off the counter and she pointed downwards. “Below this floor. Sub-basement filing.”
Noon.
Thank you, God.Ashley climbed from the basement storage and dropped off the empty outbox with the filing lady. Filing lady didn’t say thanks.
Ashley waved anyway and ran for the exit. She threw her arms out in the California air, blinked against the sunlight, and sucked in a breath free of the smell of paper.
Odd how just being in a filing room could make you so thirsty. She thought maybe it was California’s dry air; or maybe it was the knowledge that the building didn’t have a drink machine. She couldn’t have a drink, so she wanted a drink—the lure of the forbidden. Raising her arms over her head, Ashley stretched as she walked toward her set.
In addition to boredom and thirst, the repetitive task of filing in the cold basement level of the warehouse had made her stiff. Here she was, living in the land of yoga, and she could barely move. Stretching on tiptoe to work out her muscles, she spotted a new coffee kiosk and went to see if they had hot chocolate.
They did, but they also had hot tea. In Texas, she only liked iced tea, but California could be chilly, so hot tea worked. Craft services offered tea on set, but theirs tasted like the bottom of the coffee pot they brewed it in, so she’d only drank it once.
She stirred in milk and sugar and popped on the white lid. The steam of the tea seeped through the hole. Sipping the drink, she made the short walk back, enjoying the warmth of the cup against her cold fingers. Inside, the stage area was quiet, which meant shooting. She eased closer.
“Cut,” the director said right as Ashley got close enough to watch.
Ashley hoped they’d resume soon. When Caz transformed into character, his eyes changed, his posture changed. He became the other person, intense, amazing. She never told him because he had enough praise. Olive usually began the compliments, but others chimed in. He didn’t need her gushing too.
“Caz, sorry to hear about your parents,” the director said. “If you’re going to need time off during the shoot, we need to schedule the break now.”
Caz waved a dismissive hand. “It’s fine, Russ.”
“I know how hard divorce can be,” the director said. “My ex-wife still calls every week, needing something. Plus, Garrett will be on set again soon for more shooting.”
Caz’s face took on a detached expression. “Not a problem.”
The director looked like he would say more, but Caz left him and joined Ashley. He took her cup and sipped. He blinked and his shoulders relaxed. “Tea.”
Fetching him a drink and having him take hers were two different things. Staking her claim, Ashley took the tea back from him and took a drink. She held his gaze while she did it.
Caz frowned, and spoke with a heavier British accent than he normally used. “Where’d you get it then?”
Ashley raised an eyebrow. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She stroked a finger down the side of the cup. “Yum.”
“That’s rubbish. I know that cup’s not from this set.”
***
After that episode, it became routine for Caz to drink out of her drinks, sort of a game on his part. He grinned every time she took the cup back and drank after him. Just this morning, he’d snagged her cup on her way to the makeup area.
Powder handed her a stack of application brushes and numbered sticky labels. “He’s flirting,” she said. She wore an orange sherbet dress with matching tights and she spoke with authority. “I had an ex who liked to steal my stuff. He only stole to stay near me.”
“He’s not.”
Powder nodded, and placed the numbered items on a tray. Every now and then, she’d glance at some notes or a Polaroid photo to make sure she knew which scenes they were shooting, whose makeup she’d be doing, and what that makeup looked like when they’d left off the last scene.
There were separate makeup areas set up for minor actors and extras, but Powder did all the key players except Petra. Petra had her own makeup artist, and only came by the makeup chairs for a touchup or some gossip.
Ashley loaded the next tray, fiddling with one of the face creams. “Is it creepy touching strangers?”
“Nah, I’ve dated worse than these guys.”
“Who’s the worst?” Ashley fluffed a soft brush against her palm and sat on one of the folding chairs.
“It’s all good as long as the actor’s not one of those free spirits who refuse to shower and won’t use deodorant. I’ve worked on a few of those.”
“Great,” Ashley said. “I hope I get to work on someone who’s had a shower.”
Caz came around the partition and took the seat beside her. He wore a frown and his head tilted downwards. Actors had expressive faces, and his read annoyed. Ashley wondered if he needed breakfast. Maybe she should take care of that before his makeup.
Two other actors came over. Powder pointed them into chairs and tossed a jar of face cream toward Ashley.
Ashley caught the heavy glass container and Powder gestured toward Caz. “Put that on his face and neck. I’ve got these two.”
Opening the lid, Ashley took a sniff. Not bad, a faint rose fragrance. Sticking her finger into the pink cream, she scooped some onto the back of her hand: cool, wet. She set the jar on her armrest and got up. “Hi,” she said; then she rubbed the cream between her hands. “Did you get breakfast?”
Caz ignored her question. “I took a shower. Just because I’m British doesn’t mean I don’t shower.”
Ashley tilted her head at him. What a leap. She hadn’t been talking about him. “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. Let me see.” Leaning forward until her elbows rested on the wooden armrests of his chair, she put her face near his shoulder and neck, and made snuffling sniffs. He smelled like ocean wave soap and shampoo. “You’ll do.”
Caz shot her a little glare that made her laugh, and Powder said, “Stop sniffing him and get to work.” She’d already moved on to the next stage of makeup application.
Ashley leaned back. Using one hand, she braced against his chair and leaned forward to rub some cream into his face. Because of his height, leaning over his knees and reaching up to his face was awkward. She looked over to see Powder’s method.
Powder was tall too. There wasn’t a trick; she stood beside the actors’ chairs and behind their chairs and pretty much just got in their personal space. Ashley scooped up some more cream and looked at Caz, assessing the best angle.
Caz put his hands on her waist and pulled her forward. When her jean-clad legs hit his, he tugged one of her knees up until it rested on his chair beside his thighs.
“Thanks.” Ashley used one hand and pulled up until she straddled his legs. The fabric director’s-style chair made balancing a little difficult, so she mostly sat on his lap. “Security let me in your trailer this morning.”
Caz frowned.
“I dropped off snacks.”
His eyes flickered. “Thanks.”
She rubbed the cream onto his face, then his neck. Tucking her fingers into the neckline of his V-neck, she pressed into the top of his shoulders, kneading. He shifted toward her and put his hands on her waist to help her balance when she kneeled up to reach lower. His skin was warm and his muscles hard.
Caz’s hands held Ashley in place, and occasionally, he’d rub his thumbs over her waist. Sensation radiated out whenever his fingers moved, and her eyelids lowered, making concentrating on the makeup application difficult.
Powder said, “Uh, Ashley, that’s good enough.”
Ashley looked in Powder’s direction, her hands still in Caz’s shirt. “Hmm?”
Powder smirked. “Face and neck are fine.”
Ashley slowly removed her hands from his shirt and contracted her fingers.
Powder rolled a tray over. “Watch while we add a little street makeup, to make him look natural under the lights.” Her hand swiped quickly along Caz’s face with a brush dipped in concealer. The makeup artist concentrated on her task, but she talked to Ashley the whole time. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or like any boy back in Texas?”
“No,” Ashley said. “After my last breakup, I picked out a new guy named Kevin, but I couldn’t catch him.”
Powder added Chapstick. “I’ve never dated a Kevin.”
Ashley stayed on Caz’s lap and watched closely. They’d definitely shoot a close-up of Caz’s mouth because the shape was perfectly proportioned, not too thin, definitely one of his best features, and that was saying something. Caz had naturally dark lashes, so Powder left those untouched.
“I’ll tell you about the Kissing Pentagon,” Powder said. “Once you perfect the technique, try the pentagon on him.” Eyeliner came next. Powder applied eyeliner then lightened the line with the end of a cotton swab.
“Perfect it?”
“Pick a guy.” Powder waved toward the studio. “Use one of ’em. Those boys back in Texas won’t know what hit them.”
“I can’t randomly kiss some guy.”
“Fine, then pick a guy friend.” Last, Powder added a dusting from a compact.
Caz looked at Powder with bored expectation. Ashley caught the look and could tell he thought Powder would name him—actors and their egos.
Powder said, “Boomer would kiss you.”
