Chapter Two
“How many different ways can I say I’m sorry? When is it going to make a difference? When are you going to hear me?”
Jude watched from the shadows, absorbed in spite of himself as Genevieve Jones knelt next to her costar’s chair, her voice catching as she gripped his hands.
He’d seen glamour shots of her before—the standard publicity stills where her red hair was perfectly curled and her make up as flawless as a 1920s studio starlet. He’d known she was beautiful. It was simply a fact of the world: the sky was blue and Genevieve Jones was beautiful. But he hadn’t expected to find her so… captivating.
“Please, Tyler.” Tears glittered on her lashes, but miraculously didn’t fall.
The hair and make-up team had obviously gone to great lengths to make her look run down, but even with her auburn locks falling out of a sloppy pony tail she was still freaking radiant. They’d added shading to make her face look gaunt and haggard, but it only accentuated her incredible bone structure. She freaking glowed. There was no other way to describe it. And he couldn’t look away.
Jude didn’t like Genevieve Jones—had detested her since the first time he’d heard her voice on the tape—but even he had to admit, the woman could act. He saw the burly sound tech discretely wipe away a tear as she went on, breaking every heart in the building.
“I made a mistake. I know I did, but that isn’t who I am. You know me.”
“Do I?” her costar shouted and Jude cringed as his overacting shattered the moment.
“Cut!” The director rushed forward, looking so young Jude could almost smell the film school on him, but his frown indicated he at least had the instincts necessary to know what was screwing up his scene. “Damien, remember, this moment isn’t about your anger. We shot that one yesterday. This is about your struggle—you love her, you want to believe her, but you just don’t know if you can.”
The actor nodded. “Right. I’m doing that.”
“Right.” The director’s smile was forced. “Ginny, honey, why don’t you take five while we reset and I talk to Damien.”
“Sure thing.” Ginny stood from her huddle on the floor, brushing the tears off her face as if they’d been sprayed there rather than wrenched out of her moments before.
Jude had seen some actors carry their roles around with them, living inside the emotion of the scene for hours, but Ginny was another breed—the kind who could turn that depth of emotion on and off like flipping a switch. She smiled at the boom operator she’d made cry, trading a quip Jude was too far away to hear.
“We’re on.”
Jude barely stopped himself from jumping at the voice at his shoulder. He’d forgotten Jack Cooper and his little publicist were there, with him in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to ambush the starlet. In under five minutes, Genevieve Jones had somehow made him completely forget his reason for being here.
As Ginny wove her way through the set, Jack set a course to intercept her and Jude fell in behind him in his role as documentarian. From his position behind the star, Jude couldn’t see Jack’s face, but he had a clear view of the first time Ginny noticed her ex.
“Jack.” Something flickered across her face, so fast Jude wasn’t entirely sure what he was seeing, but after the initial flash of confusion there was something else—something almost calculating—before her expression melted into a heart-wrenching mélange of hope, nervousness, and vulnerability. “What are you doing here?”
Damn. The woman was good. Jude almost wanted to coddle her and tell her everything was going to be all right himself—and he knew what she was like beneath all the layers of fakeness. He’d heard that tape far too many times not to know.
“Hello, Ginny,” Jack said, playing his own role to perfection. “I was hoping we could talk.”
She nodded, sweet and hesitant. “Of course. My dressing room is right back here.”
Jack fell into step beside her, the two of them not touching but seeming intensely aware of one another, and Jude trailed along behind. Ginny opened a small door notable only for the piece of printer paper with her name scribbled on it taped to the front. Jack held the door as she preceded him inside, then slipped in behind her.
It wasn’t until the door snapped shut in Jude’s face that he realized how much he’d been expecting the entire reunion to be played out for his benefit. Wasn’t that what the movie star wanted?
The publicist, who had been recording the entire scene from her phone, lowered it now and gave Jude a little what-can-you-do grimace, as if Jack and Ginny’s bid for privacy was an adorable foible. Jude matched her grimace with a tight smile of his own and settled in to wait to see what the next act of the show would be.
Ginny turned in the tight confines of what passed for a dressing room in low-budget indie hell and faced the man she’d once thought might be the Brad to her Angelina. Of course, even those two were on the rocks these days, so maybe that wasn’t such a good analogy. Sadly, she couldn’t think of any healthy Hollywood relationships to use as a template anymore.
Now that they were no longer being watched—and filmed by some damn woman with a cell phone—she let the dewy infatuation fall from her face and frowned up at one of People’s Sexiest Men Alive. “What are you doing here, Jack?”
She’d played along out there because if there was even a fraction of a chance that they were going to pick up where they left off, she didn’t want to screw it up by being less than picture perfect for their reunion, but the way her life was going lately she somehow doubted he was here because he wanted her back. Men like Jack Cooper didn’t tie themselves to human scandal-grenades like Ginny.
“I’m looking for redemption.”
She frowned. Okay. Not what she’d expected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m on a redemption tour. Making amends with everyone I’ve ever wronged,” he explained, adorably earnest.
He really was entirely too good looking for his own good. There was something about him. People just wanted to give him things. Which couldn’t be good for a man’s character. No wonder he was as shallow as a teacup.
“Are you sure you want to patch things up with me? Being seen with me isn’t going to help your reputation,” she reminded him. A fact which he’d certainly been aware of when he ghosted on her six months ago, right as the shit was hitting the fan.
“I’m not here for my reputation. Well, not exactly. It’s for a part,” he admitted.
She listened absently as he explained about his plan to access his character’s inner being. He’d always been annoyingly method. She’d thought it was cute when they were together—his dedication, his passion about becoming the role—but then, she’d thought everything about him was perfection when they were together. Before he vanished off the face of the planet without so much as a see ya round.
“What do you need me to do?”
He blinked, startled by her interruption. Which made sense. She’d never have dreamed of interrupting him when they were playing at being the perfect besotted couple. Before The Tape.
“I’ll play along,” she explained. “Just tell me what role you want me to play. Are you magnanimously taking me back? Are we just friends? What’s my part?”
She hadn’t been able to figure out what he was doing here when he appeared in the middle of the set, but a publicity stunt to sell his new film made sense. And God knew she could use a little publicity that didn’t focus on the fact that she’d called one of the Grande Dames of Hollywood a raging bitch.
Concern puckered Jack’s brow. “Were you always this jaded? Or did I do this to you?”
Ginny barely stopped herself from snorting. He really was sweet, but such a freaking self-absorbed narcissist he never seemed to see the world beyond his own nose. Such a freaking actor.
“It isn’t always about you, Jack,” she said, as gently as she could. “I’ve had a shitty few months, okay? I screwed up. Big time. That’s on me. And now I’m just trying to pick up the pieces. You wanna help with that? Awesome. Just let me know what you need me to do.”
A knock sounded on the door as Jack frowned at her. “Two minutes, Ginny!” a production assistant called through the wood.
“Thank you, two!” she called back, habit from years in theater.
She smiled at Jack, not without affection. He really was a good egg—especially for an actor. It was a shame things had gone the way they had with them, but she did understand. She didn’t know anyone who wouldn’t have bailed on her like he did when she became career cyanide.
“I should get back to set,” she said. “This may be an indie film with no budget to speak of, but it’s still a job.”
A better one than she’d thought she would ever get again when things were at their worst. Sure, the money was virtually nonexistent and her costar was a giant tool who thought he was an Artist because he’d been a secondary villain in a recent superhero movie, but the script was excellent and the director seemed to actually know what he was doing.
And the subject matter had a certain poetry to it. Fitting that Ginny’s first job after The Tape would be all about redemption and the desperate need to make amends even when you knew there was nothing you could do to undo the past.
If she was going to be trapped in indie obscurity because of one stupid moment in her make-up trailer six months ago, at least she was doing good work.
“I don’t want to interfere with your work,” Jack said, his gaze serious—so freaking intent and sweet it reminded her of all the reasons she’d thought he might be The One. “Maybe we can talk tonight?”
“Sure. Whatever you need.” She gave him a smile and retreated quickly, before the disappointment could overwhelm her that he was another part of her life she’d blown up with one careless diatribe.
They could have been good. Their relationship had never really gotten off the ground, but there had been so much potential there. It had started out as a showmance. She was playing his love interest—a relatively minor role, considering she was killed off in the first third of the film—but they’d really clicked. They’d spent all their free time on set together—and word had gotten out. Rumors had started in the press and Ginny had read the articles on the two of them as eagerly as a fangirl.
The onscreen chemistry was electric, but he seemed even more genuine when the cameras stopped rolling. She had visions of smiling coyly on his arm at the movie premiere, blushing and fielding questions about their off-camera affair.
But it had never made it that far.
She’d been caught in a moment of incredible stupidity, he’d vanished to film his next movie, and her part in that summer blockbuster had been cut down to nearly nothing after the scandal. She hadn’t even been invited to the premiere, let alone gone as his date.
Sometimes life kicked you in the teeth. And she couldn’t even say she didn’t deserve it.
She didn’t miss the irony of Jack’s redemption mission either. Her life definitely seemed to have developed a theme lately.
Ginny jerked open her dressing room door, rushing out—and nearly mowed down the man hovering outside.