Chapter Seven
Despite Tyler's insistence that I go out on the weekend and explore everything Los Angeles had to offer, I spent both of my days alternately sleeping or ordering obnoxiously large amounts of food from room service with no remorse. I don't care what Tyler advised me to do. I'd had a pretty great weekend.
Sunday morning, Doug had called me to let me know Brittany was being admitted to rehab, and her replacement, Vanessa Rowley, would be in on Monday to start rehearsals. Unfortunately, this pushed filming back a week because we needed to re-rehearse every scene with the new actress. Honestly, though, it was a good thing that Brittany was being replaced by Vanessa. She was a lovely person, I guess, but she needed some serious help.
I walked onto the set Monday well-rested, well-fed, and prepared for another long week. I was anxious to see what Vanessa was going to do with Emmeline, though anything was bound to be better than Brittany's flat affectation and drunken hissy fits.
I waved to Tyler, who was leaning against a clothing rack, sweet-talking a costume designer. He stood up straight when he saw me, smiling and ignoring the hands on his shirt as the designer leaned in close to whisper something to him. I pushed the sudden wave of jealousy down and walked to craft services for a coffee. I grabbed my coffee quickly and went off in search of Doug, who I found talking to a raven-haired statuesque goddess of a woman by the back door. I felt absurdly intimidated, even inadequate, as I approached them.
"Ah, just the woman I wanted to see!" Doug said. "Olivia, this is Vanessa Rowley, your new and improved Emmeline Pauvrefille. Vanessa, this is Olivia Holman, author of the source material and the screenwriter."
Vanessa nodded at me politely and held out her hand for a shake. I shook it, marveling at her soft skin and how feminine her handshake was. I'd never noticed how masculine my hands were before now.
Vanessa released herself from the handshake, and I shoved my man hands back into hiding where they belonged. "Welcome, Vanessa. I'm very excited to work with you."
"Thank you," she replied. "Bet you were glad to be rid of that awful Brittany Campbell and get someone like me on board, eh?"
I was so utterly bewitched by Vanessa's lilting English accent that I didn't immediately realize how obnoxious her statement was.
"Well, of course, we're excited to have you, darling, you're goddamned Vanessa Rowley," Doug simpered.
"Oh please, Douggy, if you'd wanted me that badly, you'd have cast me in the first place," Vanessa pouted.
"You know very well it's because you declined us initially," Doug said.
"That was before I knew I'd be working with my old friend Tyler," Vanessa said. "Speaking of, has anyone seen him yet today? I wanted to catch up before rehearsals."
What could she have meant by that wink or the emphasis she'd placed on catch up? My jealousy went on high alert. "I saw him talking to a costume designer," I said stupidly. "When I was first walking in."
"Brilliant," Vanessa said. "I'll go find him."
She sauntered away, her hips swaying in a way that kind of had me questioning my sexuality.
"Isn't she something?" Doug said, letting out a low whistle as we both watched her walk away.
"You're a married man, Doug," I reminded him. I knew what he meant, though. Vanessa was captivating.
"And I love my wife very much, obviously. Besides, Vanessa can be too much of a diva for me. You'll see- she's a brilliant actress, but she can be very demanding."
"Looking forward to it." I groaned and looked down at my watch. "Five till. Let's go see what she's got."
Doug nodded, and I followed him to where everyone was gathered in a group, looking over their scripts for the day. Vanessa had found Tyler, apparently, and I didn't want to assess the pang of jealousy that hit me when I saw the hand that she had placed on his chest as she giggled uncontrollably at some witticism of his.
Doug cleared his throat, and everyone snapped to attention. "Everyone, I'd like you to meet our new, improved, sober Emmeline Pauvrefille, Miss Vanessa Rowley. Vanessa used to work with Tyler on Passions of our Lives, so they are already experienced scene partners. This small change is going to elevate Smooth Operator to the next level, just you wait and see." Everyone clapped politely for Vanessa, who smiled graciously and waved her hand like a princess at a parade. "Okay, let's start with Act One, Scene Two- Emmeline gets hired by Rafe."
I took my seat between Doug and his assistant Dayna, pen poised above paper as I prepared to take notes.
"Man, I am not looking forward to working with her," Dayna whispered, surprising me. "She's going to be even worse than Brittany."
"What? Why?" I leaned in to whisper back.
"She is notoriously needy. Treats you like trash if she considers you below her. Sure, she'll be nice to you if she thinks you can do something to help her career, but she's a nightmare if you can't benefit her in some way." Dayna pursed her lips in distaste.
"How do you know all this?" I asked curiously.
"I've worked with her before," Dayna said. "She didn't even recognize me though. She introduced herself to me again."
Vanessa and Tyler started rehearsing their scene, and Dayna and I stopped talking to watch. Vanessa was spellbinding as Emmeline, and everyone was rapt. Her feigned French accent worked well with her swarthy, dark good looks. It was easy to see how Rafe would've found his maid irresistible. I had to agree with Doug. The addition of Vanessa to our cast was elevating the movie to a height that wouldn’t have been possible with Brittany.
Though she is a fantastic actress, Vanessa did live up to her diva persona when it came to taking direction from Doug. She had a different, "better" idea every time Doug tried to block the scene, offering up her "superior" opinion on how things should be done. She was a woman used to getting her way.
Tyler and Vanessa were like magic together, though. As much as the ugly green monster in me hated it, the professional in me had to admit that recasting Emmeline was the best thing we could have done for the movie. I would just have to accept the fact that Sex on a Stick was going to be all over Tyler every day. Not that I even had a right to be jealous over Tyler anyway.
Rehearsals went all day from seven in the morning until seven at night, with only a short break for lunch. Doug was determined to get everything just right and keep everyone on schedule, despite Vanessa's bullheadedness and the setback with Brittany, and he made Tyler and Vanessa reset their scenes constantly until everything was perfect. By the end of the day, even the ordinarily easygoing Tyler was annoyed and sniping at people.
Finally, Doug called it a day, to everyone's relief. Vanessa was hanging onto Tyler's arm and laughing that tinkling laugh over something Tyler had said. I ignored the way this made me feel as I packed my stuff into my backpack and hoisted it over my shoulder. I was ready for a nice, long bath and falling asleep with the television on.
"Big plans tonight?" Dayna appeared next to me, holding her bag at her side.
"Oh yeah, Serta and I have a big date night planned," I quipped. "How about you?"
Dayna smiled. "Going home to hang out with my sister Lauren."
"Sounds exciting." We walked out the back door to the parking lot together.
"Yeah, if you find gossiping about whatever Brixley did to Kayleigh or what Tiara said about Mayleigh exciting," Dayna said, rolling her eyes. "I love her, though, and I'm all she's got, so I put up with her twelve-year-old self and all the drama that comes with that."
"That's amazing, Dayna," I said, meaning it. "She's lucky to have you."
"Jury's still out on that," Dayna said. She clicked a button on her key fob, searching for her car. It beeped three rows down. "See you tomorrow, then."
"See ya," I replied, trying to locate my car. Tyler and Vanessa were exiting the building together now, and I hurried to my beeping vehicle, avoiding eye contact.
I don't know why I was so jealous of Vanessa, really, and it galled me that I could be this jealous of a woman who had done nothing to me. I'd only know Tyler for a couple of months, and it's not like he was even into me in any real way, or would ever be. He was a player, in all senses of the word, and I should stay far away from any and all drama that comes with that.
What should've been a twenty-minute drive to the hotel took me an hour, most of which I'd spent alternately daydreaming of Chinese food or avoiding thinking about my confusing feelings about Tyler. As soon as I got back to the hotel, I ordered some General Tso's chicken, beef and broccoli, and some spring rolls, not correcting the woman on the phone when she asked if I needed three sets of cutlery.
I pulled off my clothing piece by piece, letting out an audible sigh when I took off my bra, then threw on a camisole and some tiny shorts. I was ready to fall asleep watching television while sleeping in a pile of my MSG-laden shame. A knock came at the door, and I glanced down at my watch. Only ten minutes had passed since I'd ordered dinner. There was no way my food was ready yet. I padded to the door and swung it open, forgetting that I was wearing a sheer tank top with no bra.
Tyler was standing there, wearing a cocky smile and wide eyes as he took in my appearance. I blushed furiously as he surveyed me, acutely aware that my nipples were pebbled and jutted out proudly. His eyes zeroed in on them, then flickered back to my face. I swallowed and crossed my arms over my chest, attempting to cover my nipples, which were so hard now they could cut diamonds.
"Tyler," I said, breaking the heavy silence. "What are you doing here? Weren't you going home with Vanessa?"
Tyler gave me an odd look. "Why would I be with Vanessa?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "You guys seemed close when we were leaving."
"We used to work together. We were just catching up," Tyler said. He leaned against my still-open door frame, peering into the hotel room that I now desperately wished didn't have underwear strewn across it.
"Was there something you needed?" I asked, fidgeting.
"Yeah." Tyler sucked his lower lip between his teeth, a movement that happened so quickly that if I weren't watching closely, I'd have missed. My gaze lingered on those impossibly full lips. "I had some questions about Rafe. I want to get inside his head and understand him better so that I do a good job with him."
"I think you're doing a great job with Rafe," I said.
"Really?" Tyler looked skeptical. "Can I come in?"
I paused for a moment, then nodded. I moved aside so Tyler's large frame could enter, then shut the door behind him. I pulled the robe hanging on the back of the door down and wrapped it around me.
"So, what can I help you better understand?" I asked. Tyler looked disappointed at the addition of the robe, and I rolled my eyes while gesturing for him to sit on the bed. When his back was turned, I scooped up all the bras and panties that I could see and shoved them behind the dresser.
"Well, I want to know why Rafe wanted to be a pirate," Tyler said.
I knitted my eyebrows. "We've already been over this. Because the sea calls to him. It's his destiny, remember?"
"Oh, yeah. I just wanted reiteration," Tyler said. "Also, he's a duke and a pirate, and in this universe that you've created, those are both sexy things for a man to be. Rafe could have had his pick of any woman. Why did he choose an impoverished employee of his that isn't very nice to him whom he has to abduct to make her love him? Isn't there an imbalance of power there?"
"Because he loves her, and they are soul mates," I said. Duh.
"So if I fall in love with someone who doesn't love me back, it's okay to kidnap her and force her to marry me because she'll fall in love with me eventually?" Tyler asked, making himself at home by reclining on his elbow. "Very modern of you."
"Not in the real world, obviously. But it happens a lot in romance novels. The convention stems back to when romance novels started gaining steam in the seventies. Women weren't supposed to admit that they enjoyed sex, so the workaround for that was having the hero abduct the heroine. That way, the heroine still gets pleasure, but not in a way that makes her a whore," I explained.
Tyler nodded slowly. "I get that. It doesn't explain why you wrote it in 2008. Kind of a blow to feminism, if you ask me."
"I didn't ask you," I said, nudging him. "I wrote it as a tribute to those early books, though. I didn't realize how big it would get. Any other questions?"
Tyler shook his head. "I have a confession to make."
"Is it that you enjoy antagonizing me?" I asked.
"No, that is fun. You get this adorable little wiggle in your nose when you're irritated. I doubt you even notice you're doing it. My confession is that I just wanted an excuse to hang out with you tonight, even if it was to ask you questions I already know the answers to." Tyler moved closer to me on the bed. I squirmed, not sure where this was going- or not believing it.
"If you wanted to hang out, you could've just asked. No need for artifice," I said, watching as his hand made its way towards my thigh.
"I already tried, remember?" Tyler said. "You're a hard woman to pin down." Another knock came at the door, and Tyler pulled his hand back to his side. "Were you expecting someone else?"
"That's the Chinese food I ordered. Unless someone else is here to hang out under false pretenses," I quipped nervously.
Tyler chuckled as I stood up, gripping my robe tightly to keep from giving the delivery guy a show he hadn't bargained for. I opened the door, and the delivery guy looked at me holding my robe closed and Tyler lounging on the bed with a lazy grin.
"It isn't what you think," I said quickly.
"I don't care, lady," he said. "That'll be thirty-nine dollars."
"Thirty-nine dollars?" I asked in disbelief.
"Plus tip." The delivery guy said, flashing me a toothy grin as I grudgingly shoved all the cash into his hand and took my food.
"I'd better get used to sticker shock while I'm here, I guess," I said, shutting the door and heading back to Tyler. "Would you like some Chinese food?"
"I would love that," he said, moving over and making room on the bed for me. He didn't attempt to touch me again, to my relief and disappointment. "Were you planning on eating all of this yourself?"
"No," I lied. I handed him a pair of chopsticks, and we dug in while watching trashy television.
We ate in comfortable silence until all the food was gone, and there was no more reason for Tyler to be there. "Well, it's getting late," I said awkwardly.
"Yeah, it is," Tyler said slowly.
"I should probably get some sleep." I wiggled a bit, and Tyler's eyes didn't miss the movement.
Tyler didn't budge. "We do have an early day tomorrow." His eyes lingered on my lips, daring me to make the first move.
Player. The word popped into my mind, breaking the spell Tyler had over me. "Okay," I said, standing up. "I'll see you in the morning." I stood in the hallway and gestured towards the door.
Tyler's mouth set in a firm line, clearly disappointed, but he stood up, brushing the crumbs off the bed for me. He stopped in front of me in the open doorway and leaned over me, playing with the sides of my robe. I looked up into his face, my resolve to sleep alone tonight slowly slipping away. "I had a nice time tonight," he whispered.
"Me too. Thanks for saving me from myself and sharing the bulk of my food."
Tyler grinned. "Anytime." He paused, considering, then started walking away. He shook his head, turned back around and grabbed me by the back of my neck.
"Tyler, what-"
Tyler kissed me. Softly at first, his lips tangy from the food we'd just devoured, then harder. He deepened the kiss, keeping hold of the back of my neck possessively. He drew back from the kiss against my light protest, eyes crinkled at the edges. "I didn't want to leave before doing that," he whispered.
Tyler placed one more soft kiss on my lips before stepping back and walking out the door. I leaned against the door frame in a daze, staring at Tyler's retreating back. Just before he got in the elevator, he looked back at me, catching me staring. I waved awkwardly, then shut my door and leaned against it.
I was in trouble now.