Landon

“Action!”

For a long minute, the silence on set was deafening as everyone waited anxiously for me to deliver. The sweat that beaded on my forehead had little to do with the hot lights pointed at my face to ensure every expression was captured. It was all the emotion I’d channeled throughout filming that now seeped from my pores.

It was during these pivotal moments when a metamorphosis occurred within me. Snippets of the film that were no more than two or three minutes in length would be used in a movie trailer or shown at an awards show. In just a short clip a talented actor could literally set the tone for the entire full-length film…which was exactly what I was accomplishing during this scene.

Even without looking, I knew all eyes were trained on me. Three different cameras followed my every move as I walked toward the bed where my costar sat stone still. I gently took her hand, pulling until she stood before me. My eyes tracked the tears that silently rolled over her cheeks, and I purposely waited another pregnant pause before I took us into the last scene of dialogue.

“I don’t love you. Do you hear me? I will never love you!”

Tears streamed over her cheeks as she desperately gripped the fabric of my shirt. “You don’t mean that.”

“Yes, I do.” Softening my voice and molding my hands on her face, I willed her to look into my eyes and finally hear what I’d been saying all along. “There’s someone else. I may never have her, but I’ll always want her. I can’t give you any part of me, it all belongs to her.”

“But I can’t lose you.” She caged my torso with a death grip in a final attempt to keep me from walking away. “I’ll take any part of you, for as long as I can. Please don’t throw us away.”

“I’m sorry.” I gently peeled her arms away before releasing her for the last time. “Goodbye, Leanne.” Without looking back, I walked away as she stood rooted at the foot of the bed, sobbing and pleading for me to stay.

“Cut! That’s a wrap! Broken Branches is in the can.” Our director’s announcement pulled me back to reality and out of the scene.

At the sound of the words we’d been dying to hear, chaos broke out on the set. Finally over, it had been a long week at the end of a torturously long film shoot, and everyone was beyond exhausted. When we’d attempted this scene at the top of the production schedule, the director was not happy with the level of emotion my costar and I portrayed. He’d decided to shoot everything else first and come back to this critical part of the movie at the end of shooting. At the time, I’d thought it was a horrible idea. In hindsight, he was right—which proved I still belonged in front of the camera and not behind it. I had a lot to learn, but with each movie I was getting closer.

This one marked number nine for me. I’d lucked out with my debut in Hollywood. Right out of college, I landed the role of a war vet in an epic drama that put me on the map. It might have had to do with the casting director wanting into my pants. I was young and naïve, but, thank God, smarter than that. By some miracle, my refusal earned her respect and subsequently the role.

When your first acting part is nominated for an Academy Award, you can pretty much write your meal ticket…and I did.

Of course it was luck, as well as great directing, a fucking awesome script, costars who carried me…the list went on. It took a village and all that crap. The outcome might have been a collaborative effort, yet the magic I created on-screen playing that wounded young man was all me.

I didn’t win that time, but I learned a lot. One thing was to be very selective in choosing my next role. Although my agent was flooded with requests ranging from slapstick comedies to emotional dramas, I decided early on I wanted to be taken seriously. That decision paid off with movie number four. It was then that I won that coveted golden statue for best actor, along with half a dozen other awards that year…and the company of a few hot actresses.

Since that role, the movies that followed were all blockbusters.

I, Landon Price, was the hottest actor in Hollywood…at least at the moment.

This business was fickle as fuck. One minute you could be on top, the next, yesterday’s news. When I turned thirty last year I contemplated my success. Was there a finish line? In all actuality, I’d already validated my acting skills with the highest accolades in the business, I had enough money to buy whatever the hell I wanted, and I was still young enough to enjoy all the benefits wealth and fame could offer. So, if I wanted to call it quits I could, and do so knowing I had achieved everything one could in this business.

The real question was, could I quit? I was exhausted at the age of thirty-one. The thought of doing this for ten, twenty, fifty more years made me want to live the rest of my days in a hut on Fiji. In spite of all my money, my nice toys, my homes on each coast, something was missing.

Oh, wait, a life—I didn’t have a life to speak of.

Now that I had everything I had ever wanted, what I craved was normalcy.

I always knew I’d be an actor. By age ten, I had played to perfection the roles of son, brother, perfect student, best friend, lead in the school play, and even years later of third baseman on my college team. Every day in my real life, I was always on, always pretending. I had lost track of who the real me was. In fact, except for my parents, I couldn’t name one person in my life who knew the real me. They all bought my act hook, line, and sinker. And that was exactly what my life had become, an act. Role after role, part after part, all meshed together to create this persona that people seemed to love.

What was bothering me the most was the sheer lack of privacy, something no one else really understood. When a tragedy hit in my personal life there was no time to mourn before the media was all about my business. Hell, I couldn’t take a piss without some paparazzo asshole trying to capture it so he could cash in. Then there was the parade of acquaintances, relatives, and past fucks who appeared without warning, truly believing they deserved a piece of me.

It was all too much, coming from every angle. And due to the business I was in, the role I chose to play, I had to throw them my dashing smile and pretend I was made of Teflon if my personal life imploded.

With a sigh, I about-faced back into the makeshift bedroom. Kaelynn sat heavily on the bed, wiping her eyes while smiling. “Whew, that one took a lot out of me.”

“You were fantastic.” I sat beside her, needing a moment to come back down to reality.

I was mentally drained and had been counting the minutes until this shoot was done. The fact that it was over budget, behind schedule, and riddled with drama and bad press since day one took its toll on me. In the nine years that I’d been acting, my shoots had been fairly drama free. This damn movie had put me through the ringer.

She pushed into my shoulder, lingering with her body resting against mine. “Thanks. Having you beside me was definitely the reason.”

“Nah, it was all you. People are going to fall in love with you, you’ll see.” I stood and walked over to the catering table off set to grab a bottle of water. Not surprisingly, she followed and stood right beside me.

Kaelynn had been relentless in her efforts to get me back in bed. The one night we ended up together, I immediately regretted it. Sleeping with costars, especially while filming, was something I’d vowed not to do. I wasn’t sure how or why I gave in to her charms. It might have been the instant chemistry and connection we felt. Needless to say, afterward I woke the fuck up. As hot as our encounter had been, I knew it couldn’t happen again. My excuse? We needed to channel the undeniable heat between us and save it for the camera. She’d bought it, but now that filming was over my excuse wouldn’t fly.

She placed her hand on my arm. “Landon, being on this movie with you was the best experience of my life. Thank you for all you taught me.” Her hand slid upward until it rested on the back of my neck. When she rose onto her toes, bringing her face closer to mine, I wanted to take a step backward. Too many nosy eyes were lurking around the set. The rumors were already rampant in regard to the phantom relationship between Kaelynn and me. She placed her lips near my ear and asked, “Now that we’re done, can we pick up where we left off later tonight?”

I knew this day would come. I’d prepared for it. Regardless, it didn’t lessen the guilt I felt over leading her on. “Right now I want to go home and sleep for twenty-four hours. Can I get a rain check?”

“Yes. I look forward to it.” Her lips finally found their way to mine. Before it could progress, I turned it into a quick peck and stepped away from her hold. My eyes darting around clued her in to my thoughts. “Sorry. I forgot.”

Although I didn’t buy her excuse of forgetting, I wouldn’t allow Kaelynn Holt, or any hot actress I fucked, to control me.

My agent, Roger, had explained years earlier that the more successful I became, the more vicious the rumors, the more people would want a piece of me, and the more opportunists would crawl out from the woodwork. Through the years I’d seen my fair share of all of the above. It wasn’t until this last film that it had finally gotten to me.

What was that saying, Bad things happen in threes? All three of mine occurred while filming that damn romance movie, Broken Branches. If I had learned anything from this experience, it was to trust my gut. The only reason I had accepted this role was because of the director. Being associated with his name would serve me well, and not only as an actor. Even though it was a romance, which I normally shied away from, I knew I’d learn a ton from him.

Turned out I had, but at the cost of my sanity.

Nothing came easily, especially in Hollywood.

Three days into shooting, my brother died in a freak accident.

Halfway through filming, one of the wardrobe assistants accused me of sexual harassment. The charges were quickly dropped when another female on staff came to my defense, outing the bitch for her scheme to ruin me. The social media shitstorm it had unleashed had made it nearly impossible to leave the house and caused a delay in production.

A week had passed since we wrapped, and with each day I knew what I needed to do. I glanced at my vigilant agent, droning on about upcoming opportunities, knowing damn fucking well that the moment I said what I had come to say, he would lose his ever-loving shit.

“So, I separated them into definites, maybes, and absolutely nots.” Roger’s monotone voice interrupted my thoughts. His gaze narrowed in on the piles that majestically sat on the glass top of his desk. Of course, the definites represented a small percentage of the total.

“I need out for a while,” I blurted, deciding it was better to rip off the Band-Aid.

His eyes cut to my face, and the astonished look did little to hide his true feelings. I could always tell what he was thinking. Roger had been with me for five years—a bit of a player, but it worked for me.

“Say again?”

“I said, I need out for a while.”

He shook his head so forcibly, his jowls jiggled. “You can’t do that, Landon. You’re at the top of your game. It’ll be career suicide.”

“Nah. I’ll be fine.” Walking over to his well-stocked bar to help myself to two fingers of his finest whiskey, I deliberately ignored his prediction. Roger knew I was exhausted, but he didn’t know I was so damn tired, both physically and mentally, that I couldn’t think straight.

“Landon. Cut me a fucking break. My heart can’t handle this. You’re going to kill me, and then where will you be? I dedicated my life to you, you prick.”

“Stop the drama, no one is having a heart attack. I’m not disappearing for a year. I just need a break.”

Turning my back to him, I gazed out at the view of LA at night. A cold metropolis filled with fake humans. Everyone moved toward one thing—fame. Roger included. He wasn’t sitting in his plush office that overlooked the city at ten o’clock at night because he was a workaholic. He was sitting there to avoid going home to the wife and kids who cramped his style.

“Any break will ruin the momentum you have going.” Roger walked toward his bar, deciding he also needed a drink. He downed the first shot, immediately pouring a second. “Seriously, go to Canyon Ranch for a week. It’s just what you need. Use the spa, relax, tap the best pussy in the country…you’ll come back a changed man.”

“It doesn’t work that way. Maybe I’ll start the book I’ve been wanting to write. Consider it a career detour. Some musicians leave music for film. Doesn’t mean all their fans abandon them.”

“Not the same…”

“Roger, I’m going,” I cut him off before draining the whiskey in my glass. I welcomed the way the slow burn warmed me from the inside out.

On a resigned sigh he asked, “Where the fuck will you go?”

I knew exactly where, but I wasn’t ready to tell him that. I trusted him with my life, but unintentionally, in his attempt to make sure I was well taken care of, he’d expose my location. That was the last thing I wanted. Not even my parents knew where I was going, but they understood why I needed to go. I had promised my mother she would be my only source of contact, and a burner phone would be our only mode of communicating.

The clear visual that popped up in my mind came from meticulous planning. As a kid in New Jersey, we practically lived at the beach from June to September. Some of my best memories as a kid happened on the beach. It’d been the one place I could go and hide to be completely alone with my thoughts. All I needed was a small cozy house, with just the necessities, sitting right on a beach that I could get to without using a passport…I needed to vanish.

If no one knew where to find me, I couldn’t be found.

“Don’t know yet,” I lied. “I’ll know once I get there. My housekeeper; my assistant, Erin; my PR rep, Sadie; and my lawyer were all given my mother’s number and vice versa in case of an emergency. You already have it. Just don’t bother her, please. She doesn’t know where I’m going.” The look on his face went from comical to downright hilarious. “Put your eyes back into their sockets, dude. It’s not a good look for you.”

“Fuck off.”

I glanced down at my Rolex. “I gotta go. I have a ton of shit to do before I leave.”

At my announcement, panic set in. “Landon! Are you insane? This is so stupid. There’s press to do and meetings on the calendar.”

“Press won’t happen for months. The meetings can be cleared. That’s why I pay you the big bucks. Clear them.”

“You can’t be serious and just—”

“Rog.” I cut him off again, leaving no doubt about how serious I was through the tone of my voice. “Either you can be on board with this or not. Either way, I’m going. You’ll hear from me if I feel you need to. This way no one can harass you on my whereabouts. You simply don’t know.”

His jaw dropped farther and a string of unintelligible squeaks escaped before he finally found his words. “You’ll be leaving me with a shitstorm to deal with!”

“Oh, calm down. I’m taking a vacation.”

“They’ll assume you’re in rehab.”

“So? Let them.” I didn’t have a doubt I’d come back and slide right into this plastic town without a blip in my success. I knew damn well my attitude was cocky, but true. The one thing Hollywood was besides fickle, was forgiving.

I stood, removing my Ray-Bans from the neckline of my shirt and automatically sliding them over my eyes in spite of the late hour. “Anyway. I thought you should know.”

“I should know? How considerate of you, you cocksucker!”

I had to laugh at the go-to epithet he used on everyone, including his own mother.

With a wave and another chuckle, I sauntered out of the glass fortress he called an office—one my success had helped to pay for—and said, “I’ll talk to you in a few months.”

In a panic, Roger began babbling desperately. “Don’t just disappear on me, Landon! I’ll hunt you down…”

The more I chuckled, the more his insults echoed loudly down the empty hall until the slide of the elevator door finally silenced him.

A tiny seed of doubt tried to grow in size to the likes of Jack’s beanstalk. Before it could, I tamped it down with a firm stomp of my size-twelve Burberry wingtips. I needed to listen to that inner voice. I could hardly recognize the person I had become. My body might have been perfection, but it was nothing more than a pretty Tupperware container that held the disarray of personality pieces from the different stages in my life.

If I didn’t hide for a while, there wouldn’t be anything left of me to salvage.