***
"Get up, buttercup!" Paul shook the bed and picked up my pillow, smacking me on the head with it several times.
"Get out, or I'll pimp slap you, and you know I'm capable of doing it." I swatted at him as I spoke through the thick haze of sleep.
"Keep that fire hose to yourself and get up. The girls are already headed to the conference room." He hit me a few more times and jumped backward as I got up and charged him. "Aww... man. You're naked. Really? Shit."
I released him and ran my fingers through my hair. "You filming this shit for us?"
Paul had to be one of my favorite crew members, but the man had mad skills. He was in high demand, and though we had him on the team for most of the early Bond films, he'd been picked up by several other production companies and we lost out. Frank had promised to work a new deal with him to get him back on the crew.
It would seem it worked.
"Obviously. Why does it smell like sex and candy in here?" He scrunched up his nose and shook his head as if he were disgusted.
"Breathe in deep, my friend. That's the smell of defeat. You wouldn't know." I laughed and walked to the dresser beside the television. After pulling on a pair of shorts and tugging a t-shirt over my head, we walked out and stopped by the kitchen. "Where is Frank?"
"He's probably with Riley and Deza." Paul opened the fridge and pulled out cold cuts and cheese as I made myself a travel mug of coffee.
"Speaking of Riley." I leaned against the counter, most likely looking like hell seeing that I felt like it. Good thing we were just working on scenes and not filming for the first day.
"Yeah." He made himself a sandwich while I watched, waiting for something more from him. "You want one?"
"Duh." I sat down and took a sip of my coffee. "So that's it? No comment on her looks or her personality or anything?"
He smiled and glanced up. "She's your kinda gal, isn't she? Short blond hair, funny, confident, great rack and intensely beautiful."
I nodded and breathed in deeply. "Yeah. She's the full package, man. I keep trying to get her into bed, but she won't have none of it."
"Has she seen what you're packing?" He chuckled as I gave him a look.
"It's always dick-envy with you." I took the sandwich he offered me and got up. "Let's get over there. Deza will make my day miserable if I show up too late."
"I'd actually enjoy seeing that." He laughed as I pushed his back.
We walked out into the dismal day and walked in the sand toward the conference room just down the beach a little way. I held up my half-eaten sandwich and smirked.
"This is really good. You wanna be my bitch for the next few weeks?"
"Yeah, sign me up for that shit." He rolled his eyes and opened the door, moving in and dusting off his tennis shoes. I hadn't bothered with shoes at all.
Deza stood in the far corner on her phone, bitching at someone about a bill we'd gotten that wasn't ours to pay.
I turned to find Frank explaining something to Riley. She had her back to me, and the way her tight white shorts fit her ass left my body screaming for far more attention than Vanessa had given it the night before. Poor girl. They always had such high aspirations only to fall flat on their faces.
After shoving the rest of my sandwich into my mouth, I walked over to stand beside Riley.
She glanced up and gave me a once-over before turning her attention back to Frank.
"So we're going to do the scene a few times and then work with other actors to critique each other?" She tilted her head to the side as he nodded. "Why? Why not just have me and Ethan work through it together over and over?"
"Because you think you're great and I think I'm great, and when we're together, we see no faults in our performance, but if I have to stand back and watch you, I'll see everything you don't. Vice versa." I pressed my shoulder to hers. "Good morning."
"Morning." She didn't look at me. Great. She was moody. Surely she wasn't on her period. Didn't the poor girl know that wearing white on her period was just a recipe for disaster?
"Ethan is right. It's the way we roll." Frank handed each of us a script. "This is a fight scene where you're pissed that Ethan is going back to his wife. It's the climax of the movie and we want it to be spot on emotionally. We'll be working on it today for as long as we need to. Read over the lines and get into position when you're ready."
"Sexual harassment. Did you get that on tape?" I glanced around and smiled, trying to lighten the mood.
Riley turned and walked toward the other side of the room without a word. I lifted my eyebrow and motioned toward her as I watched Frank closely.
"What's wrong with her?" I whispered.
He shrugged. "She was fine before you showed up. I'd assume you did something yesterday. Recount your afternoon and evening. You'll find it."
I rolled my eyes and turned my attention on the scene. It was short, but high emotion. I was almost too tired to muster up the anger the scene called for, but after diving into my shitty night with Vanessa I could feel the tension growing deep inside of me.
"I'm ready." I tossed the papers to the side and walked to the center of the moderate-sized conference room. "Riley?"
"Yep." She set her papers on the table beside Deza and walked towards me.
"All right. Get in places," Frank spoke louder than necessary.
Damn directors and their megaphone voices.
Riley put her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes a little.
"Hot," I whispered and winked at her.
She didn't flinch. Damn... she was pissed, and it was my fault. I guess leaving her on the beach by herself the night before was a dick move. I was good at those. Apologizing on the other hand had never been a strong suit of mine.
"And action."
She pushed at my chest as her face contorted in anger. "I've given you all I have to offer. My time, my money, my attention, my body, my fucking heart." She pushed me harder, causing me to stumble backwards, which wasn't in the script.
I reached for her hands and grasped her wrists tightly, pulling her close to me and glaring down at her.
"And you'll keep giving it to me until I'm done using it." I leaned down and pressed my nose to hers as I growled softly, "You're mine. I don't care if you run a million miles from this place. You'll always be mine."
She jerked back, pulled her hand from mine and slapped me - hard.
"You're going back to her and you expect me to stay beside you? To keep your fucking bed warm while you live another life?" Tears swam in her eyes, and part of me couldn't tell where the drama began and she ended. She was so far into the character that I was forced to go farther with her.
"You'll do what I need you to do, Stacey." I licked my lips and gripped the sides of her beautiful face as tears dripped down her cheeks.
"Because you'll force me to? To love you from the sidelines forever?" The tears rolled down her cheeks and broke my heart. Was she trying to tell me something? No. They were lines.
I blinked a few times and stepped back. "I need a moment."
"What? Why?" Frank called out as I turned and walked out of the building and toward the water.
I had to get my shit together. I was a basket case most days as it were, but with her standing in front of me, forcing me to be better, more convincing, I was lost.
"Ethan?" Her voice caused me to turn.
"You okay?" She stopped in front of me and wiped at her eyes.
I reached out and brushed a tear away and nodded. "Yeah. Just trying to forgive myself for being a dick last night. I guess it's not my own forgiveness I want though."
"Well, you'll not be getting mine." She patted the side of my face. "Come on. Stop being a tit and let’s get this scene down."
"I hate you," I mumbled and cupped her hand on my cheek, turning and kissing her palm softly. "You smell good."
"I masturbated with that hand this morning." We both laughed as she stepped back and shook her head. "Get in here and stop being so sensitive. I'm fine. I hate you, but we're good. Let's go."
I walked behind her, my heart racing, my mind running sprints around the possibilities of what it would feel like to let myself have a normal relationship, one where love and lust took turns. One where I could be me and give margin for her to simply be her.
It was a pipe dream that I needed to get over. She was authentic and real, and I was just me... America's favorite fake.