Текст книги "The Accidental Movie Star "

Автор книги: Emily Evans

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Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter 13

Wearing the wig and wedding gown, Ashley didn’t recognize herself. The gown cascaded in complicated silk drapes, and removing the flounce improved the beautiful dress to a ridiculous degree. She wanted to spend more time staring at her image through her fake eyelashes, but the extras were in place and they wanted to run through the scene. That involved checking the lighting and making small changes to the sets and costumes. Then they’d shoot as much as they could and film close-ups with Lorene this afternoon, or if Lorene couldn’t be sobered up enough for that today, they’d shoot the close-ups tomorrow.

That schedule gave Cutter a short deadline to find a size eight wedding dress comparable to the elaborate one worn by Ashley, so the AD sent Olive to help Cutter search.

This bridal gown was gorgeous. Ashley would have to remember to ask Powder to snap a picture of her wearing it with all the makeup and wig. The photo would make a great memento of her job, and Mom would love it. She swayed in the hoop, wondering if Marissa’s fry costume had a similar type of framework or if it was all foam padding. After her last hip sway threatened to take out a lamp, she stepped more carefully onto the stage.

This time, she wasn’t nervous. She’d helped map out blocking a number of times, plus there was no way they’d make her hold the tape and mark the floor in this dress. Standing around would be easy.

The main director was shooting today. He’d looked her over with a nod and started calling her “Aurora,” the name of the long-lost love. Being called Aurorawas a distinct step up from being called PA.

“Walk down the aisle toward Caz, clasp his hands, and stare into his eyes.” The director turned to the sound guy. “I want music. Fold the song for the scene and I’ll let you know where to mark it.”

The haunting ballad “Love’s Romantic Ruin” came on and Ashley wedding-marched down the aisle, past about fifty extras, wearing a tentative smile for Caz. They were only shooting her from the back. The camera’s focus would be on the groom and Lorene’s image would be cut in later. She was near enough to see his face, his hopeful and loving expression. The look really wasn’t anything like the real Caz, so she grinned. Her smile widened and her steps became more certain. When she reached him, she took his warm hand and let him draw her close. A fake maid of honor took the prop bouquet of pink silk flowers from her, leaving Ashley to stare at Caz for the next few minutes—not a bad way to earn a living. She whispered, “If you shoot out an orange lizard tongue at me, I’ll scream.”

His grin deepened, and for a second it was the real Caz’s smile. The director made her repeat the march down the aisle several times and with each take, they played the same song in the background. Ashley knew she’d hear “Love’s Romantic Ruin” in her head for the rest of the day.

The location moved to a bedroom. The AD noted that usually the bride changed into a going-away dress for the honeymoon suite, not her wedding gown.

Cutter had returned and he had a fit over that suggestion. “We’re featuring that dress. You wanted romantic, and that dress epitomizes romance. The white silk has visual impact, the cascade drama.”

“I agree,” the director said. “Leave it on, Aurora.”

The AD protested, “But we want to keep as much of this shot as we can, and Cutter’s having problems with the replacement dress. It doesn’t match. That gown is a one of a kind.”

“We’re shooting dark and candlelit, and we can tweak the images with the computers if we have to, blurring it.”

Cutter moaned. “I’ll search harder.”

The AD nodded. He made a rolling motion and the song kicked on again. The crew adjusted prop candles around the king-size bed. Ashley looked at the green sheets and folded her arms over her waist. She wasn’t nervous to kiss Caz. He tasted great, but she didn’t want to be judged on how she looked kissing, not that they could see much of her under the wig. She caught her reflection in the mirror and the foreignness helped calm her pulse. Long curly red wig, wedding gown—she didn’t look like herself at all.

“No, no,” the director said. “Ashley, isn’t it?”

Ashley looked toward him in surprise. Again, she had a name. She nodded.

“Keep that virginal-terror look you had a second ago.” The director moved behind a camera. “The expression worked.”

Crap, they were judging her already and they hadn’t even gotten to the kiss yet.She bit her lip. She wasn’t an actress. Which kiss did Caz want to do? He needed to tell her. She tried to catch his eyes and ask, but he didn’t meet her gaze.

Next, she heard some information about the take, “Sound speed,” “Roll camera,” then “Speed.” Powder appeared in front of her and slicked strawberry-vanilla-flavored gloss across her lips, then spritzed breath spray in her mouth. Ashley coughed as the wintergreen hit her tongue. The clapper guy called out, “Marker” and clicked the clapperboard shut.

She looked at Caz and didn’t have to fake the virginal terror. They were definitely taping this. This situation was doubly critical because Caz had blown the other kiss. The directors were all watching, geared to criticize. The situation was different when the eyes were on you, and she wished she’d been a little more sensitive in offering her opinion back in the viewing room.

Music swelled and lights dimmed. That helped. Caz took her hand and led her to the bed, while shrugging out of his tuxedo jacket, kicking off his shoes, and pulling at his tie. His expression was intent and loving, not one of Caz’s usual expressions. Once they were beside the bed, he gave her a gentle kiss then pushed at her arms until she sat.

The gown puffed around her. From the bed, Ashley looked up at Caz with a smile. This was a better way of hitting the mattress than the throw they’d practiced in the trailer. He was learning fast, thanks to his teacher.

Caz lifted a cufflinked wrist to her and raised his eyebrows. Ashley grinned again. He’d liked that wrist kiss thing. Slipping the metal stud from the French cuff, she leaned across him to place the link on the bedside table. His expression showed gentle passion. She lifted his wrist, shoved the cuff up, and bent her head to glide her lips over his skin.

Grasping her arms to raise her to her feet, he pulled her closer, but the hoop prevented him from reeling her in. Ashley smiled and shoved at the sea of fabric. This scene was going to need several takes. Caz leaned over sideways and removed her high heels. She balanced with hands against his shoulders.

After flinging the white satin pumps across the room, Caz turned her so that her back was to him. Gently pushing her hair over her shoulder, he undid the first pearl button. With each two undone, he placed a kiss on her back. She shivered. Midway through, she turned in his arms and grasped his shirt. She pulled the ends loose from his trousers.

His hands went to her back and he began blindly working on the rest of the gown’s buttons. Ashley undid the buttons of his dress shirt and pulled the sides open. The more film they could get of Caz with his shirt off, the better. Caz shrugged free and stepped back to pull his undershirt over his head. She paused a moment to admire the view. Wow. His workout routine paid off. Her hands went to his shoulders and she lightly kissed the side of his neck.

His hands were busy at the back of her dress. When the buttons were undone to her waist, he untied the hoop’s bow. Once loosened, the stringed closure fell open and the hoop dropped to the floor beneath the wedding dress. Caz groaned at his success and he pulled her flush against him. Backing up to the bed, he sat and pulled her close. She straddled his legs, her knees against the mattress. Shoving at the yards of silk, she smiled, knowing the kiss he’d chosen.

Caz tugged at the top of the dress and she let it slide down her arms, leaving her wearing the corset, which was much more than Petra usually wore around the set. He kissed her neck, her shoulder, and her collarbone. Ashley shoved him against the bed so she could lie against him.

He put one arm around her hips and one hand behind her head and kissed her while rolling her over so that he was on top. He felt great, not too heavy at all. Their mouths clung and their legs tangled. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she pulled him closer and ran a hand down his back. Her leg lifted over his hips, and she shifted to pull him tighter. She felt him push at the hem of her gown, sliding the silk up her calf until his hand rested against her knee. She moaned against his mouth. His hand slid around to the underside of her knee and his fingers played against her skin. She gasped against his lips, and no longer heard the song in her head, the sparks drowning out the lyrics.

The director said, “Okay, that’s good.”

Ashley’s arms slid into Caz’s hair and his mouth bit at her bottom lip, demanding wider. She ran a tongue against the edge of his teeth.

“Perfect, I think you got it guys.” The director laughed.

The laughter shook her out of the moment. Ashley pulled back in confusion, resisting Caz’s searching mouth, and looked over his shoulder. His mouth went to her neck. Her eyelids closed.

“Cut.”

***

Today, Aurora died. Ashley, wearing the character’s wig and sundress, had to walk over to a car, wave at Caz with a smile, then reach for the door handle. After that, the director would add in the green screen stunt with Aurora flying backwards to her demise.

They scheduled the explosion scene first because they needed the daylight to shoot it. Lorene would arrive this afternoon to record wedding vows, the honeymoon scene, and the wave. The actor’s day would be tremendously long, but they weren’t relenting. Keeping on schedule meant everything on a film’s budget. The studio had decided not to replace Lorene after a pleading call from her agent and because her scenes were really short.

“Ashley,” the director called.

She turned, still startled at not being called PA.

“We had some hiccups in the scene where you take Caz his tea. Do you mind taking this cup over to Caz?” The director handed her a cup of coffee and nodded toward the stage.

“Sure, but you know he doesn’t drink coffee.”

“It’s for the character.”

Ashley joined him. “Here.” She set the cup down on the prop desk. Caz wore the uniform of a young police sergeant.

Caz sniffed at the cup, smelling the coffee. “That’s not tea.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “I know, the director said to give it to you.”

“You know I drink tea.”

“I know. If you say that one more time, I’m not going to be happy.”

“I know.” Caz grinned at her and pulled her onto his lap.

She threw her arms around his shoulders to steady herself, half-laughing.

Caz said, “Will you share with me later?”

“Maybe.”

“Caz,” the director said. “Lift her onto the desk and give her a kiss. Garrett, walk in and make a remark.”

Ashley blinked in surprise, but Caz moved before she could question the plan. He lifted her onto the desk and stepped between her jean-clad legs. “Want to go house hunting with me later?”

“Don’t you have a Realtor?”

“Diane. I’ve been with her. She’s getting impatient with me.”

“Do I get a vote on which you pick?”

“Maybe.” Caz kissed her. His lips felt firm and warm. She wound a hand into his hair and straightened to get closer. Her other arm slid to his waist.

Garrett’s character said, “On your own time.”

Caz pulled back and helped Ashley off the desk.

***

“What do you think about this one?” Diane, the Realtor, waved a hand toward the view below. The house was a sleek, modern, glass-style home clinging to the side of a hill. The structure reminded her of Diane, with her slim-fit modern suit, clinging to her cell phone.

Ashley wasn’t a fan of heights so she stayed far away from the open glass window. “Can paparazzi shoot through the glass? Or is his privacy protected in some way?”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Diane said. “If privacy’s one of Caspian’s concerns he can get curtains.”

Caz looked uncomfortable and didn’t seem to like this house at all. Nor had he liked the last house. That one had been rustic in style and had also clung to the side of a hill.

“Why don’t we look at some places in the city, near the studio?” Diane said. “We can save the beach properties for last.”

Caz nodded and Ashley followed them back out to Diane’s silver Lexus sedan. Diane kept up a monologue the whole way out to the car, not giving Caz or Ashley time to answer. “Though the Hollywood Hills is really where it’s at. You can’t get anything like this view. And the resell. Well, I assume you’ll be going back to England? So resale’s certainly an important factor.”

The expression in Caz’s eyes was wild with a touch of hunted antelope. Diane was asking him his life plan. He was an actor. Ashley would bet he couldn’t say what he wanted for dinner, much less where he’d want to retire.

The first loft they looked at reminded her of Petra’s place but smaller. The loft had been convenient to the studio, but modern and soul-less. “Now, if you’re planning to start a family soon,” Diane said, “this won’t work at all, though people do raise families here. It’s not unheard of.”

For heaven’s sake, he was only a year older than Ashley; how old did Diane think they were? She bit her lip and pulled out her digital camera as Caz’s wild-eyed look got wilder. “Point out any small thing you like or dislike so I can get a shot of it.” Caz thrummed a hand on the granite kitchen counter, but didn’t offer an opinion. She sighed. He would have to be led gently. Turning to Diane, she said, “May we wander around for a bit?”

“Of course,” Diane said, and hovered in the background.

Ashley wondered how Caz had gotten stuck with such an annoying Realtor.

Diane pointed at the skylights. “Note the natural light. This is a very green choice for you.”

Caz looked up dutifully. Ashley held up her camera, took a shot, then pointed it at the countertop. “Caz, do you like this color?” With one hand, she patted the top.

“Yes.”

Ashley snapped a photo.

“That’s not the worst reason to buy a property,” Diane said. “Love is love. You should snap this place up.”

“I read that you should mainly look at the structure,” Ashley said. “The things you can’t change.” Ashley went back into the master bedroom and through to the master bath. The rooms in this loft smelled stale. The space must’ve been vacant for a while. “Do you like the separate his and her sinks or do you want totally separate bathrooms from your woman?”

Caz shrugged.

Ashley snapped a photo.

“Well, separate, of course, is the new trend,” Diane said. “But this is an older property, so you have some location advantages and give up some of the modern trends. You can always renovate.”

Caz said, “It rather depends on the girl, right?”

“Powder would probably turn one of the guest bedrooms into a dressing area.”

“Is Powder your partner?” Diane said. “Your daughter? Should we book when she can be here? How many kids are you planning on? Just a ballpark number will help.”

Ashley sighed again as Diane pushed on. It was like she was doing her best to blow the sale. Was this her first time out with a single guy?

Diane asked, “How about a place with separate quarters? You know, in case you have a buddy/entourage who want to live close?”

Ashley had to shut her down or they’d never get a word out of Caz. “I work for the studio, so I am sure you respect that we need to control the flow of information. There are some things he can’t answer right now. I’m sure you understand, having worked with famous people before.”

Caz said, “I’m really only at the gathering information stage.”

“Of course, but we all need a little push now and again or we wouldn’t get anywhere now, would we?” Diane gave a big wink. “Are there any British-type concerns you might have about a property in the States?”

“You mean like taxes?”

“Oh no, no, your real estate attorney and the title company will work all that out. I meant like foreign features.”

“Oh,” Ashley said. “That’s kind of interesting. You mean like Tudor-style? Eaves? A dormer?”

“Well, of course, certainly those things can matter, but I meant what you live with,” Diane said. “We can bring in some of those touches from home: beer on tap, and separate faucets for hot and cold water. One client even installed one of those red phone booths.”

Caz shrugged.

“Clearly, you need to do more thinking. We won’t run out to any of the out-of-town ranches today. But I do want to go down to the shore and get your reaction.”

Ashley wondered how hard it would be to get a different Realtor.

Chapter 14

The beach house had a crazy layout with an awkward view. No balcony, no porch, and the guest room had the nice view overlooking the water instead of the master. Inside, they could smell the ocean better than they could see it.

When he stood outside looking at the water, Caz’s eyes brightened. “I’d like a holiday by the water.”

Diane jumped all over the gleam. “There are lots of interested parties for this house. You’ll have to act fast with a strong bid to win this one. We can put down earnest money right away and close by early next month.”

“He’s only begun to look.” Ashley shook her head. She wasn’t sure what earnest money was, but she was sure Caz wasn’t ready for this decision.

“This isn’t it,” Caz said.

“Now, don’t be too hasty. You need to think about what you want, not what your girlfriend wants.”

“It isn’t what I want,” Ashley said. “The layout of this house is ridiculous.”

“It has character and charm.”

Ashley bit out firmly, “He doesn’t want it.”

Caz shot her a sideways look and quirked up a corner of his mouth. He was the first to turn back to the car, his arm slung over her shoulders. Traveling north on 110, Ashley sketched highlights of what she’d seen in her notebook while Caz and Diane argued.

“I’ll know it when I see it,” Caz said.

“That’s not tremendously helpful.”

“It is to me,” Caz said. “Isn’t it, Ashley?”

“Yes. Don’t rush the decision.” Caz was spending a fortune by anyone’s standards. Diane pushing him wasn’t helping.

“Fine,” Diane said. “Call me when you at least pick an area of town and I’ll find out what’s available there. You can’t sit on things out here. The California market is not like the market in England.” They’d met Diane on set earlier that morning. It was now four o’clock. Skipping lunch had fueled everyone’s annoyance.

“Want to eat dinner at my place?” Ashley poked Caz in the arm. “We can go over the photos on my laptop. I have some design books here. You can flip through and see which styles you like.”

He nodded. “I could rent, and you could draw blueprints for me.”

Ashley smiled. “I couldn’t draft you a tent. It’ll be like seven years before I could design something for you.”

“There is no advantage to building new,” Diane said stiffly.

“Would you mind dropping us off in Fairville?” Ashley asked Diane.

“Sure.” Diane looked somewhat pleased—probably because her dad’s house was fifteen minutes closer to their current location compared to the studio, meaning she could dump them out that much quicker.

The car braked in front of Dad’s mansion and Diane put the car in park, her gaze assessing the property while she pressured Caz. “I know all about your parents from the news. So this is definitely the time for you to buy your own place. Give them freedom with their shifting life plans.”

Without responding, Caz shoved the door with one hand. He left the door open behind him and walked over to the pedestrian gate.

Diane glanced from Dad’s house to Ashley and back. She spoke with her head tilted and her gaze glued to the mansion. “Anytime you want to go out again, let me know. Caz has my cell, and you both can reach me twenty-four, seven.”

“Thanks.”

“So nice to meet you, dear, I know you were a great help to Caspian today.”

***

“Nice place.” Caz followed her in and across the marble toward the kitchen.

“Thanks, it’s my dad’s.” Ashley tossed her bag on the granite counter, breathing in the smell of Dad’s kitchen—lemon cleaner and disuse. It smelled nothing like Mom’s. “Mom and I live on a much more normal, suburban scale in north Houston.”

His mouth twisted and something hard entered his eyes. “Do your parents still see each other, or no because your mum’s in Texas?”

“Mom usually spends summers with me. She’s a teacher, so she has the time off.”

“She always stays here? With you and your dad?”

“Yeah, they’re friends.”

Caz snorted, disbelief written over his face as if she’d said a politician had been faithful.

“No, really, they get along great. She’s visiting only occasionally this summer because of my job, but she used to stay most of the summer. What? Your parents don’t get along?”

“Dad comes around between girlfriends. He can’t be alone and Mum takes him back every time, no matter what he’s done.” His voice sounded blasé, but his fists clenched for a moment and frustrated rage flickered through his eyes.

Ashley made a sympathetic humming noise, but didn’t comment.

Caz looked around again, his shoulders relaxing. “Why are you working as an assistant if you live here? It can’t pay that much.”

“I’m an unpaid intern.”

His eyebrows rose high on his forehead, meeting the edge of his lighter blond bangs, and he said, “You take a lot of crap for a volunteer.”

“Don’t I know it.” Ashley opened the fridge and removed a covered dish holding two steaks marinating in one of Marissa’s recipes. The steaks would’ve been grilled last night, but Dad hadn’t been able to make dinner again, so Caz was in luck. She also scooped out the bowl of salad she’d put together: spinach, apples, cranberries, and bleu cheese crumbles. She carried the dishes through the French doors to the tiled patio. “Do you want a new house, historic, or somewhere in between?”

“I don’t know.” He used the handle to raise the lid on the grill.

“Okay, let’s go at this from a different direction. Dracula or werewolf?”

“What does—”

“Just answer.”

“Dracula, but—”

“That means gothic over woodsy nature.” Ashley fiddled with the knobs to get the grill to the perfect temperature, speared the steaks, and tossed them on. Marinade dripped; the fire hissed and emitted a smoky, citrus aroma. After handing Caz the barbeque fork, she said, “Turn them when they brown. Burn mine.”

He nodded and held onto the fork when his phone beeped. He lifted the phone in his left hand so he could read the screen. He frowned and his fingers tightened.

“What? We’re needed on set?”

“No, Mum’s texting me about her argument with Dad—again.”

“Oh. Sorry. I’m so glad my parents get along; that must be really hard.” She winced in sympathy, but left him alone. Inside the kitchen, she gathered a couple of cans of soda, iced tea, and water, not knowing what he’d like, and having a Southern need to comfort with food. She put the tray on the table under the umbrella and held up a glass of iced tea, waited for his shudder of rejection before taking a sip of the cold, sweet drink. “It’s fun to eat outside. We don’t get to in Houston, not with our heat.”

“We have the rain, but the temperature’s mild.”

“Cotton candy or apple tart?”

“Candy.”

“What don’t you like about the trailer?”

“Noisy, too small, and too many visitors with keys. No privacy.”

“Are you firing that Realtor?”

“Absolutely.”

***

A lean crew was headed up to Mt. Whitney for a location shoot. They’d be gone about three days, and the remaining crew, Ashley included, would hang back and work in the warehouse. Ashley didn’t mind, though. She hoped to spend some time with Dad this weekend, and she needed a break from Caz to get her head back on straight. Caz couldn’t be as appealing as she was starting to think.

On the mountain, three bad guys were going to hold Caz’s character hostage. After escaping, Caz’s character would hike the trail and spend a cold miserable night by the lake. In reality, the cast and crew would stay in climate-controlled cabins so the trip wouldn’t be as rough as it sounded, but Ashley shuddered for them. The air thinned in the mountains and the temperature dropped—not pleasant. When she was a kid, Dad had driven her to some of the scenic parks and she’d gotten nosebleeds and dizzy from the altitude. She was better off in LA, which, like Houston, lay much closer to sea level.

She sat in her usual corner, adding more shading to her sketch, and felt eyes on her. Caz. He held a call sheet, and she saw his gaze shift from her to the AD. She sprang up and hurried over. “Don’t.”

Caz gave her an innocent look.

“Don’t,” Ashley said. “I’m a sea-level creature.”

His perfect mouth twitched.

“No.”

Caz turned away and she followed, stepping into his line of vision.

“Look at me, Caz.”

He slanted a look at her from the side of his blue-green eyes.

“No,” Ashley said, slowly and clearly, leaving no room for misunderstanding.

“Next week is our last week, then shooting wraps.”

“Right, so I’ll see you next week and after that for several more in postproduction work.”

“I need you there.”

“I don’t like the mountains.”

“You didn’t say that when we were house hunting.”

“Hollywood Hills isn’t exactly Mt. Whitney. Besides, I want you to live wherever you want. I don’t have to like the location.”

Caz hooked an arm around her waist and drew her in. “Please, please come with me?”

Her cell beeped, delaying her refusal. Ashley looked down and read her text message. “Unexpected meeting in New York, back Sunday, Dad.”