Chapter 7
JACK
Okay, sometimes I could be a real dick. My best friend had repeatedly told me it was a defense mechanism, but I wasn’t sure what for, especially with Alison. She stuck her neck out for me, got me this sweet gig in a movie that I was hoping would help me break out of the bullshit ‘Jack Steele is a terrible actor to have on set’ cycle that seemed to plague me everywhere I go.
I probably shouldn't have tried to make her touch my dick. She was just bangin'. Hard. I thought maybe...
Maybe, right?
By the time I hit the makeup chair, it was pretty clear I fucked up bad. What if she told Denver? What if my ass was roasted by the time I made it on set? I needed to apologize, make up for me making assumptions. I didn't want to sound like an arrogant asshole, but girls were usually trying to get in my pants. Fucking helped me concentrate.
Sarah was the makeup artist for the day. She immediately set to work, talking about fuck knows what, while I sat stewing in my mistakes. This was probably the shit that added to my reputation. I really needed to fix this. How could I tell her it was all a misunderstanding and that some old habits die hard? I wanted to do better, it was just...
"Hey." I cut off Sarah while she bounced around like a bird. "Is that Alison?"
Sarah looked behind her at the picture stuck on her mirror. She grinned. Sarah was also a pretty girl, but she was outshone by Alison. "Yeah. We've been best friends for years. Roommates, too. This is actually our first time being able to work together! And thanks to you, she's on set a lot more than she would be usually. I should thank you for being such a bad boy."
Sarah winked at me, like it was supposed to be a compliment, but it just made me feel like shit. "Happy to help."
"She acts like she's put off by having to watch you, but I think she likes it because it gives her more time out here. She's usually all behind the scenes, before the cameras start rolling, but now she gets to watch the fruits of her labor. And man, did she labor."
A strange feeling crept over me. One I didn't feel often.
Guilt.
"I'm really grateful for her. This opportunity has been amazing." I didn't know if Alison would have told everyone about me in the trailer, but I needed to start cauterizing this. Jack Steele was good at many things, but apologizing wasn't one of them. "That she even took a chance on me is... wow."
"She really believes in you."
Gut. Punch. "What's she like, outside of work?"
Sarah pursed her lips and stared me down in the mirror, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth and eyes. "Why do you want to know?"
Oh, shit. Did she know? "I want to find a way to thank her for doing all this extra work just to get me on set. Not a lot of people would be willing to take a chance on me."
"I think you're wrong there, but thanking the woman who helped you is never a bad thing. We're so undervalued here sometimes." Sarah let out a huge sigh. "She mostly just works all the time. The last time we had a break, she drove halfway across the country to see Maroon5 play because she was locked in a casting office when they played in LA. Aside from that, she likes shitty scary movies. And dancing. If I can ever get her to go out, she always wants to go dancing. But I guess you knew that already."
She looked at me very knowingly. I couldn't help but grin like an asshole back. That pole dance was a treasured memory in the spank bank. "I think everyone here doesn't get to enjoy life as much as they want."
"True." Sarah stepped back and cocked her head. "God, guys are so easy. You don't even understand."
I was about to ask more about Alison, because liking Maroon5 was not exactly the inside information I was looking for, when yelling from over the wall broke out. Everyone stopped what they were doing, like gazelles on the plains, and hurried over to the curtain to see what was going on.
I grabbed my script and cut through the crowd. Standing in the center was that dude who hated my guts... Josh something-rather? He flailed his arms around and shoved the script in Denver's face with more attitude than anyone should ever show to a director, much less Denver Latmini. What was this dude's problem?
"It's bullshit and you know it!" Josh flapped his script again. "Who the hell approved this? My character would not say this shit. I think I would know better than anyone, Denver. He's mine."
"Josh, you need to calm down—"
"Remember Jimmy Dean, Denver! He didn't want to accept that drink from the guy he hated because he understood the character’s motivations. The director didn't listen to him and later regretted the fuck out of it because he knew James Dean was right!"
"Are you trying to compare yourself to one of the greatest actors of all time?" I interrupted, coming up behind Denver to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You, the dude who has like twenty minutes of air time in a two-hour long movie, are trying to compare yourself to James Dean?"
Josh's whole face went red. "This doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern me? Bro, the entire set can hear you. Cast, crew, God…even that homeless dude dancing with his dick out for cash a few blocks away. Let me clue you in on a little secret, homeslice. You don't get to start making demands until you're a headliner. And even then, you better know what the fuck you're asking for and why."
The little dude turned a deeper shade of red. "Fuck off, Steele. You have no business telling me about set manners. Everyone knows about you."
"You're right. I'm an asshole. I fuck assistants and break props and show up late. That's what you've heard, right?"
He didn't say anything, but sure looked smug as hell.
"But I have always respected the scriptwriters and the director, because that's how I keep my fucking job. You clearly don't know your goddamn place, because you are getting in the face of one of the most brilliant minds in Hollywood because you don't know how to find your goddamn motivation."
"Like you're so great?" Josh scoffed back at me. "Like you know what you're doing up here? You're just a meathead who—"
"Hey, Little Dick, your insecurity is showing." I jabbed a finger in his shoulder. "If you want to get anywhere in this business, shut your goddamned trap and pay attention to the people who know what the hell they are doing."
"That's enough, guys." Denver put his hands between us and pushed. "No fighting on the set."
"I'm not going to fight, Denver, because I'm a professional, unlike JV Club over here. You need to prove yourself before you start slinging around demands, little man. No one will take you fucking seriously if you act like this."
Everyone in the room was staring at us. Josh took a minute to look, too, and he went from bright red to ashen. "What are you all looking at?" he yelled.
"Yelling at the crew won't help your shit, either." I bulked myself up as large as I could go and crossed my arms. Big. Imposing. "Do I need to help you find your motivation to play this shit-eating character? I'd be happy to help."
Snorts of laughter slithered through the crowd. Not a lot, but enough to be known. Josh's whole face screwed up. He stormed away, kicking a large set piece as he left, muttering a bunch of nonsense that was riddled with ‘fuck’.
His bad.
"I'm sorry, Denver." I turned to the director and stretched out a hand. "I didn't want to cause a fuss, but I didn't want that dude to think he could dress you down, either."
Denver rested his hand on my shoulder. "I appreciate that, Jack. You're a good man. But I have had more than my fair share of egotistical actors. I don't need you to be my knight in shining armor."
"Shame, though." I winked at him. "I look good in plate mail."
"I don't even want to know." Denver rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Are you ready to go?"
"Let's do this."
We knocked out a few scenes after that, all of them without the douchebag Josh. I hoped that asshat was crying a river in his tiny little trailer. The nerve of the guy was ridiculous. I got shit because of my criminal record but I still respected a movie set. That guy... that guy was half the problem with Hollywood these days. Upstarts who thought they could do whatever they wanted because they were holding a script. He'd never be anything more than a bottom feeder.
Denver called for a break, so I went to find Alison. I needed to apologize for earlier. Especially after calling Josh out on his shit. I needed an ally somewhere and she was it. Also, I really didn't need her to tell anyone and give them more reasons to fire me. I was a fucking idiot.
"Ah, there you are." Her sweet voice was full of poison, but I didn't care. I turned to meet her, trademark smile on my face. "Your scenes were great this morning. Good job."
"Thank you. That means a lot coming from you." I leaned against the wall next to her. "Listen, I wanted to—"
"You need to be careful, though." She interrupted me. "Josh's dad is a producer on the film. Pissing him off is not the smartest course of action here."
"His dad is a producer? Well, that explains a lot."
"He is. And you need to keep your mouth shut and stop rocking the boat. If word gets around that you're verbally assaulting his son, there will be a lot of pressure to move you out of the role."
When she was frustrated, her mouth did this amazing thing where it looked naughty and sexier than ever. I couldn’t quite figure it out—maybe the way she pursed it—but it reinvigorated all the dirty thoughts I had earlier in my trailer. And at the club. And at the audition.
This girl... I needed her in my bed. Immediately.
She cleared her throat, eyebrows looking unfriendly. "Did you hear me?"
Time for the trademark smile again. "Listen, I'm not worried about it. He tried to start shit with the director and I defended our boss. It's his bad."
Alison didn't seem to like my answer very much. She rolled her eyes and walked away without a goodbye. My god, that ass.
"I'll see you later!" I called after her. She didn't wave.
That was okay. I'd get her to come around eventually. It would just take a little more work. Lucky for me, I liked a good chase…