Chapter Seven
Jacob worked his way along the route designated by Enzo, Oswald’s Director of Photography, with an aluminum double-barrel kolec blaster held at the ready.
It was amazing how authentic sandstone walls, painted expando-foam, and a big-ass green screen, could make a guy experience the sights and sounds of an alien bazaar located in the Otaeb quadrant of the Outer Rim Territories.
Half the Moroccan desert had worked its way inside Ethan Fox’s white wifebeater and beige leather pants, irritating the hell out of Jacob’s skin and invading places it had no right to be. The upside of filming in locations like the one they were based at for another three weeks, meant he didn’t need to fake Ethan’s permanent scowl of sexy intimidation.
He pressed his back against the crumbling red stone at the corner and wiped the photogenic sweat from his brow with the back of his hand, before ducking muzzle-first into the alley.
“And cut!” Oswald called, and the extras dressed in a colorful array of fabrics, makeup, and alien prosthetics, returned to their first positions. “Good, Jacob, good, good. You must remember Ethan’s motivation. He is not just breaking into Iskan City for kamna wine and sandfish stew. Dante and the crystal lotus are held captive, and time is against Ethan if he is to save his friend before Romanenko kills him. And of course, the beautiful Raylen Maize has her eyes on the prize too.”
Jacob suspected the wizened director had a thing for the rainbow-haired interstellar jewel thief. And who could blame him? Savannah’s curves filled out Raylen’s cobalt catsuit to perfection.
Oswald clapped Jacob on the back with one hand and took a drag on his cigarillo with the other; his moustache wriggling like a furry caterpillar across his top lip. “We go again, yes?”
“Sure thing, Oswald.” Jacob sighed and ran a hand over his face, only to have Amy appear at his side as if she’d been teleported there. She tisked as she applied fresh corn-syrup blood to the knife wound riding his cheekbone, and added more sand to his hair with an artful wave of the aerosol canister she carried on her belt.
He didn’t know what was wrong with him. Fudging a scene wasn’t his usual MO. He always came to set prepared. After two movies together he knew Ethan Fox as well as he knew himself – some would say better.
Jacob called bullshit on his thoughts. He knew damn well what his problem was. Two months without laying hands on his woman was messing with his focus. He scuffed the toe of his combat boot in the ochre sand and tugged on the lapels of Ethan’s vest, the red leather squeaking against the straps of his shoulder holster. Loving his job didn’t negate the fact that another four months without Jenna would damn near kill him. Sure, he’d gone for longer, but this time he knew how her skin felt under his hands; remembered the scent of her, and how she tasted. The sounds she made when he fucked into her…
Oswald cued the clapper boy and Jacob stepped to his mark, rolling his shoulders and shaking out his arms to dissipate the want his thoughts had stirred up. Ethan had to rescue Dante before Jacob could think more about Jenna.
“Dante Jones and the Crystal Lotus, scene twelve, take two.”
“And in…three…two…”
Jacob made his way along the wall to the crowded alley for a second time. Ethan’s scowl and determination fueled by Jacob’s need to retain his reputation as a no-muss no-fuss professional. Besides, the sooner they wrapped the final chapter in the trilogy, the sooner he’d see her smile again. And he didn’t mean via a TransCom window on his laptop either.
An hour later, while sound and lighting shifted their rigs into the three-walled room playing the role of Romanenko’s secret lair - where Dante would be hog-tied on his knees waiting for Ethan’s daring rescue – Jacob texted Jenna.
Waiting for A.
M’s sandy.
WYWH.
He checked the time once he tapped Send on the last kinda-sappy line. Three-thirty-eight in the afternoon Morocco time meant three-thirty-eight in the morning New Zealand time. It’d be a good four hours before she checked her phone.
Jacob imagined sleeping Jenna. Her red tresses spread in fiery snarls across her pillow, soft snores emitting from a mound of stolen blankets. He smiled; maybe there’d be some green-painted toes peeking out the end.
“You ready to do this?” Adam ducked out from behind the canvas door of his tent wearing his number-three costume, the one Wardrobe attacked with a utility knife before smearing it with blood and grime. Green tape circled his wrists, knees, and ankles, in preparation for the special effects geeks to add in the holocuffs and restraints in postproduction. But Adam would still spend the whole scene gagged with a blood sponge up one nostril, so when Xavier pulled Romanenko’s punches the hits still showed on Dante’s face.
“I oughta be asking you that.” Jacob slipped his phone in to the pocket on the side of his chair and matched his stride to Adam’s.
“Nah, your turn Friday.”
Jacob scowled; he’d forgotten Ethan’s encounter with Raylen in scene twenty-nine. Savannah had winked at him over lunch in the dining tent the day before and asked him what his safeword was. He’d spooned spiced couscous and beef tagine with apricots onto a thick slice of bread, and shoved the lot into his mouth so he didn’t have to answer. His cheeks had flamed hot when she laughed at his discomfort. It made sense now. “Damn.”
They weaved their way through crew members and milling extras to where Oswald waited; newly-lit cigarillo clamped between his teeth as he gesticulated with his hands, deep in creative conversation with a nodding Enzo.
“Ah, Adam, Jacob, places, places. We must beat up Dante before dinner, yes?”
“Whatever you say, Ozzy.” Adam held his fist out for Jacob to bump before dropping down into position on his blocking tape. “Let’s get this on the first try.”
Jacob smirked and moved to take up his mark off-camera, blaster in hand, ready to charge in on Oswald’s cue. Adam always said that at the start of a scene, and strangely enough it helped Jacob get into character too.
“Dante Jones and the Crystal Lotus, scene fourteen, take one.”
The sound of the clapper board completed Jacob’s transition into Ethan Fox and he braced for the call.
“And three…two…one….action!”
♥♥♥
Jenna woke to rain pounding a tattoo on the roof and wind howling around the windows trying to find a way in, screaming in frustration when it failed. The idea of leaving the sanctuary of her warm bed to drive the thirty minutes to school wasn’t a favorable one. Instead she snuggled deeper into her nest of blankets and closed her eyes. But sleep wasn’t coming back, both the storm and her well-trained body clock preventing a lie-in of any duration.
She groaned and flopped a hand out in search of her phone, pulling it in under the covers where it illuminated her blanket cave in a harsh white glow. A cheerful bleep signaled three new messages – all from Jacob. She held tight to the fluttery excited feeling in her belly at the sight of his name on her screen and tapped open the first one.
Waiting for A.
A for Adam? Well that explained why he’d had time to text her in the middle of his filming day. She rolled on her side, pulling her knees up and snuggling into the warmth surrounding her inside and out. He’d been thinking of her.
M’s sandy.
She wondered exactly which M he meant, since he hadn’t been allowed to disclose any of their shooting locations. But the image of her disgruntled action star in a place where sand was an issue made her chuckle. Jacob wasn’t a fan of sand.
WYWH.
Another tap revealed an acronym she’d never seen before. It wasn’t the first of its kind. Jacob’s unique text-speak had taken a bit of getting used to the first few days into their sporadic trans-hemisphere conversation. But a quick search usually ended with a duh moment, and then she was sending back her own reply. Jenna brought up the search app on her phone, tapped in WYWH, and grinned when the top result brought clarity.
Wish You Were Here.
“Me too.” She whispered and traced a fingertip over the text whose meaning equated to so much more than the sum of its four individual letters.
Me too.
Wherever *here* is.
7.30 - work calls.
She tapped Send and lay on her back, phone on her belly, and sighed before throwing back the covers and leaping to her feet in a whorl of energy and a spectacular case of bed-hair.
♥♥♥
It wasn’t until recess that Jenna turned her phone back on. The message app sprang to life as if it was reciting a Christmas carol.
“Someone’s keen.” Eleanor, the other fifth grade teacher in the classroom next to Jenna’s, smiled at her from beside the coffee machine.
“Sorry.” Jenna clutched her phone to her chest in an effort to muffle the bleeping.
Eleanor emptied her fourth Sweeeet! sachet into her enormous Coffee-Drinking Is My Super Power What’s Yours? mug and reached for a wooden stirrer. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m just jealous.”
Jenna made an encouraging sound and eased out a relieved breath when her phone fell silent at last.
“George hardly ever texts me. Even when we were first together.” Eleanor waved a dismissive hand and sank into the chair opposite Jenna. “Not that texting was an option back in the time of the dinosaurs.”
Jenna bit her lip to keep from laughing. Eleanor was her senior by a good three decades, but the woman’s carefully-maintained features and on-trend wardrobe did a great job of concealing the fact.
“How long have you been together?”
“Huh?” Jenna’s attention had drifted to the first of Jacob’s messages and she answered without looking up. “Oh, two months.”
Had it really been that long? Could what she and Jacob had be classed as a relationship, when ninety-percent of their interactions were via text?
“Oh, I remember those days.” Eleanor sipped from her mug and gave Jenna a slow knowing smile. “All the hot sweaty sex you could want.”
“Eleanor!” Jenna glanced around the teacher’s lounge to see if anyone had overheard, but they were alone – for the moment.
“I’ll take that to mean I’ve hit the nail on the head, as it were.”
Jenna sighed and Eleanor leaned across the table between them. “Oh, you can tell me, honey. Doesn’t he know what he’s doing in the bedroom?”
“No, I mean yes, hell yes, but he’s away for work and well…I miss him.” Jenna gestured to her phone where Jacob’s messages waited eagerly for her attention. “I don’t know if all this back ‘n’ forth makes it easier, or harder.”
Eleanor patted her on the wrist, giving it a bracing squeeze before returning to her coffee. “When’s he back?”
Jenna didn’t know how to respond. They hadn’t discussed it. Too busy memorizing each other with mouths and hands to dwell on their impending separation. They’d barely remembered to exchange contact information in the airport before she flight was called for boarding. Now, two months into said separation, it didn’t seem like the best of plans. “Four months.”
“Oh, honey.” This time Eleanor’s pat was one of consolation. “I’ll leave you to your messages, but if you want my dime’s worth, a man who takes the time to message that much…you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Jenna smiled, surprised how comforted by Eleanor’s assurances she was. She didn’t doubt Jacob’s loyalty or his desire for her. Two nights ago she’d watched him lying naked on the bed in his tent, somewhere on the other side of the world, jacking off for her while she did the same for him.
Sprawled in her desk chair with her skirt around her waist like a belt, panties caught on one high heel, one leg over the armrest so he could see everything. Her head flung back and her breasts framed by the pushed-down bra, their nipples hard nubs of excitement as she worked for her pleasure. The sound of her name in Jacob’s deep voice murmuring encouragement, his sweet dirty nothings pouring from her laptop speakers, had her screaming his name and coming hard on fingers she wished were his.
Afterward, the only sounds in the shocked silence of her house had been her harsh ragged breaths leaving her boneless and sated body. All praise to whichever TransCom employee had come up with the idea for a face-to-face online communication program. But even with the assistance of an innovative telecommunications company, it was easy to understand why long distance relationships struggled to survive. God, she missed her gorgeous movie star lover with his deep dark eyes, crazy-hot smile, and sleek honed muscles. But it was the way he held her like she was something precious, someone to be treasured beyond physical attraction. And his laugh, so free and warm it lured her in until her sides ached and neither could remember what’d started them off. Two completely different lifestyles would factor in at some point, of that Jenna was sure; but travelling Life’s bumpy road without Jacob by her side wasn’t something she was prepared to contemplate.
Jenna sighed; five minutes before Social Science, enough time to read – if not reply – to Jacob’s messages. If she was lucky he’d still be up when she had her lunch break and they could text back and forth without the annoying time zone differential, before she headed in to supervise her class’s math test.
Rescued A 12 times today.
X has lousy timing.
She chuckled to herself. Jacob might be bitching, but she knew as well as he did, he loved every minute of being a big-time action hero. Xavier King, the actor behind Leck Romanenko – space smuggler extraordinaire and purveyor of information, with his fingers in every kind of pie the Outer Rim Territories could offer up - attended both Wellington and Melbourne conventions, but Jenna hadn’t been inclined to meet him. Not when Jacob was there, live and in the flesh.
Note to self – never wear leather to the beach.
Jenna pictured his annoyed face and her fingers itched to tousle his hair, knowing he’d duck into her touch and laugh at himself. Oh the hardships that must be endured to earn a crust in Hollywood’s gilded realm. A sweet smile played at the corner of her mouth as she tapped open the next message.
Poker with the guys tonight.
Glad the beer’s safe here.
There was a two hour gap between the last two messages and she was happy he had a distraction and some time off from his grueling shooting schedule.
Thinking of you.
Her heart thudded an extra beat and she felt hot all over. She knew the feeling. Every minute of every day, Jacob Starr lingered in her thoughts. Background or foreground, it didn’t matter, he was always on her mind. It was a miracle she got anything other than daydreaming or pining done from one hour to the next.
A says thanks for the winnings.
Her face ached with how hard she grinned. He’d been so distracted thinking about her that Adam won the round at cards. Jacob hadn’t said what he lost, but she hoped it was only a few dollars and not something insane like the pink slip to his truck, or a dare that would have him streaking naked down Hollywood Boulevard. Even if the mental image held a certain appeal.
Dune buggies on Saturday.
The bikes get more air.
She could almost see his pout as she imagined him in motorcycle leathers instead of allowing herself to fret over the dangers. Would he take her out in a buggy? She’d have to remember to ask.
The bell rang and Jenna switched off her phone before putting it in her locker. Then she straightened her black pencil skirt and headed across the quad to her classroom. Social Science was one of her favorite subjects to teach, and her students appeared to enjoy the experience. Today’s lesson might have to include a pop quiz on how many countries began with the letter M.
She entered to the buzz of children’s voices revved up on fresh air and the scrape of chair legs on linoleum, and clapped her hands to gain everyone’s attention. “Hurry, sit down, we’ve got a lot to get through. Please initialize your screens and access your Social Science folder.”
The room settled into an industrious hum and Jenna lost herself in the joy of teaching young minds. It’d always been something she wanted to do. While other little girls had tea parties with their dolls, she’d taught Barnaby Bear, Spaceman Steve, Cuddles the purple unicorn, and Giraffey, their ABCs and their one-two-three’s in her best school ma’am voice. She’d achieved her Master’s in five years instead of the usual six, and had been teaching fifth grade at Lockwood Elementary ever since.
“Miss?”
“Yes, Benjamin?” Jenna looked up from her own screen; knowing what was coming.
A tow-headed boy in the third row rested his chin on his palms and sighed with a dramatic air. “I forgot my password again.”