Todd
I could watch this girl all day long. I love the way she tilts her head when she’s thinking, the way her fingers reach for the clapperboard pendant around her neck and move it from side to side when she’s nervous or thinking, and the way she smiles.
What can I say, I’m smitten.
A shadow falls over me and then a body impedes my view of the perfect woman. Strong, sweet perfume threatens to suffocate me. I cough. Whatever brand it is, it ain’t doing it for me.
“Hellooo,” someone purrs, and I look up.
Emma’s face is now inches away from mine. She smiles brightly. Briefly I notice her tight, low-cut V-neck T-shirt. It reveals a little more than it should, and that’s because she’s bending over me.
If I wanted to, I could catch a good look at her perky breasts. But I don’t want to.
Which is fucking weird.
Instead I try and look past the second grade actress.
Not to be rude, I reply with a short “hi.”
Not to be deterred, Emma continues to lean toward me, almost shoving her boobs into my face. I shift in my seat and then move my chair over to the left just a little, enough to get Emma and her breasts out of my face.
She gets the hint and straightens up. Her arms cross in front of her body.
“Who knew you’d be such a prude. I thought you were a bad boy, Todd?”
I ignore her. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, that is to never take the bait if you don’t want the challenge. I don’t want the challenge. I want to sit here and enjoy feasting on my sweet little Sophie.
“I don’t think we have been formally introduced,” Emma leans toward me again. “I’m Emma.”
I shoot her a sideways glance.
Is she kidding? We’ve been in a couple of scenes together. And who gives a fuck about formal introductions.
“I hear you’ve got quite a reputation for…you know,” she purrs into my ear and leaves the last few words hanging. “I’ve heard you’re always up for a game.”
There’s too much red lipstick for my liking around her pouting lips. She’s licking them and at the same time puts one hand on my thigh and the other on my shoulder.
I push her hands off me and make to stand. Whatever game she’s playing, I don’t want to be part of it.
“I’ve long stopped playing games, Emma,” I say with my most icy voice. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” I start to walk past her.
To my surprise, Emma stands in my way, and she follows my gaze before raising her eyebrows.
“Really? You’ve got to be kidding. Her?”
With each word her tone rises a little, like someone playing the piano scales.
“I thought a man of your caliber would have better taste than to fall for trailer trash.”
It’s as if someone’s punched me in the gut. What did this bitch just call Sophie?
“I mean, look at her,” Emma drones on. “There’s nothing sexy or particularly interesting about her.” She pirouettes in front of me. “If you take me, on the other hand, I’m the complete package.”
“I beg to differ,” I say through clenched teeth. “Sophie is far better than you, and on so many levels.”
To make sure I don’t stoop to anything below my best behavior, I walk off the set altogether.
Steam is coming from my ears, and I feel the need to hit someone, or something. Perhaps I should get myself one of those punching bags in the trailer. Putting might be too tame a past time. Mental note to self, get Jordan to buy me a punching bag.
Walking to my trailer, I mull over what Emma said—about Sophie being trailer trash and nothing compared to her.
Images of Sophie’s naked body flash through my mind. Perky nipples, firm breasts, and delicious round ass cheeks are difficult to ignore. I turn back briefly to catch one last glimpse of the girl of my dreams before I exit and find my trailer.
I flop into my super soft lounge chair under the awning of my trailer. It’s a beautiful day, and I don’t want to be cooped up inside.
Jordan is there, working away on his laptop. What does that guy do all the time?
“What’s up, man?” Jordan gives me one of his all-knowing looks.
“That Emma chick just hit on me,” I say and lean back against the cushion.
“And that’s a problem because?” Jordan shuts his laptop and goes to get me my espresso.
“Have you looked at her?”
Jordan laughs. “Yeah. I thought she’d be your type for sure. What’s not to like about her? She’s a socialite, and she’s probably up for something noncommittal during this film.”
I pout. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I thought Jordan knew me.
“You’ve got be kidding? I mean, have you really looked at her? Those blood-red lips.” I cringe at the thought of them. “Makes me think of a vampire every time I look at them.”
Jordan shakes his head and disappears into the trailer. A few minutes later, he comes back with my caffeine hit.
Grateful, I take it and have a sip. I instantly feel better.
“And compared to Sophie, she’s a slut.”
Jordan sits back at the table with his laptop. He stares at me.
“Sophie? You and Sophie? Really?”
Even if he does not mean to, I’m insulted.
“What do you mean with really?”
“Well,” Jordan says as he shrugs, “she’s not the sort of girl you’ve been going for. Emma is more your type.”
“Bullshit,” I protest. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. How can my best friend be so wrong about me?
“Mr. Alexander.” A young man with a clipboard is coming toward my trailer. He looks a little frightened.
“That’s me,” I say in the most friendly tone I can muster.
“You are required on set, Mr. Alexander.”
The words are music to my ears. I stand and follow the intern and ignore the last comment from Jordan.
It really isn’t worthy of a response anyway.