by Maisie Dean
Nate was as charmingly clueless as he was drop-dead gorgeous.
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s great to meet you.”
“Likewise,” he said, giving me a beautiful grin.
Nate’s teeth were perfectly straight and white. Were his teeth real, or veneers? Just about every big-name actor in the industry had veneers. Smiling around those perfect teeth were soft-looking lips. His eyes were a golden brown, but after staring at photos of him for so long I could confidently say that there was a small hint of green in them too, if you really looked. His brown hair had a subtle red tinge to it that majorly upped his cute factor. Not to mention the dimples. Nate had softer edges to his face and jaw than most A-list actors, but his chin was strong.
The whole package, and at such close proximity, was a little dizzying, but I forced myself to focus on the reason I was there. And the reason was most certainly not to be a fangirl. It was to be a spy.
I cleared my throat. “The case,” I said. “Have there been any changes, any updates?”
At the mention of the case, the reason I was there in the first place, Nate’s face fell. His lips adjusted into a pout and he scratched at his head. His eyes, warm and inviting a few seconds earlier, had grown darker and worried.
“Nothing new, exactly, no. But I’m more certain than ever that something’s up. If this show doesn’t get picked up, if someone really wants to take me down...” Nate trailed off, putting his head in his hands. “This will probably be the last project I get if things keep going like this.” The confidence had all but left his voice. It was a tone I hadn’t heard in any of the clips I’d seen him in.
When Harrison had outlined the case, I’d been expecting a cocky, self-absorbed actor upset that anyone was talking smack about his talent or character. It was a common enough story amongst actors. Competition was intense, and people could be ruthless. But from what I could tell, Nate had what it took to really make it. Even I could admit that something didn’t add up about his slow climb to fame given his body of work. Nate contacted the Booker brothers about suspicions that people around him were involved in a whisper campaign meant to sink his career.
“Is there anyone on this show you’re particularly worried about?” I asked.
He paused for a moment before nodding grimly. “I’ve narrowed it down to two,” he said.
“Which two?” I asked. “Cast? Crew?”
Nate wasn’t looking at me. Something had caught his attention in front of my car. A woman with a cropped, blonde bob wearing a headset was gesturing for him to get a move on. She was holding what looked to be a breakfast burrito in one hand and a smoothie in the other.
“We’re about to start,” he said, opening the passenger door. “I’ll tell you more later, for now just observe what you can,” Nate said as he slipped out of the car.
I gathered up my jacket and purse and jumped out of the car after him. I locked the car with my key fob and tried to keep my gaze locked on the back of his reddish head. I was supposed to be his PA after all, and I certainly wasn’t going to miss out on playing a role even if it was behind the camera.
CHAPTER 3
The hush inside the sound studio had been enticing the nostalgia out of me all morning. It was like returning to another world that I never thought I would make it back to. Feeling the gentle kiss of ventilated air on my face and hearing the low voices around the periphery of the set jump back up to regular volume between takes, it was too much. Instead of being Kacey, torn between two worlds, I had to keep reminding myself that I was here as an investigator. It was an especially difficult task, however, because I’d been acting as Nate’s dutiful PA by bringing him beverages and relaying his issue and concerns to some of the crew. I’d forgotten I had a different job on several occasions already and I had only been there for several hours!
The show had a large crew. There were a lot of people in dark clothing, all looking purposeful and like they knew exactly where they were meant to be in each moment. I fit in when it came to the dark clothing. I’d worn my more comfortable black pants. They looked and moved like dress pants, but they were stretchy and comfortable enough that I could take off at a sprint at a moment’s notice. My black blouse was tucked in loosely to the waistband of my pants. It was a cute outfit anywhere, but especially cute and practical on a film set. Despite my appropriate attire, I couldn’t dredge up that same level of purpose that was being demonstrated all around me.
Nate. Nate was my purpose. The assignment was to help him find out what was going on with his career and reputation. I knew there was something that he felt was off, that much had been clear in his client report and he’d said as much to me personally this morning. He hadn’t yet, however, told me anything else. He had said in the car that he suspected two potential people of having something to do with sabotaging him, yet he hadn’t given me either of their names. It felt like intentional drama. Pfft, actors.
Shooting was going at the usual snail’s pace. Nate was still on the same long scene that he and his fellow co-star had been working since six a.m. that morning. From my brief glances at the script, I gathered that the two men were brothers and they had returned to their family cabin where their experience with the supernatural began many years ago.
The writing wasn’t anything special and, given the level of detail on the set and costume design, I guessed that the budget wasn’t terribly high for the pilot. Then again, it likely didn’t need to be. The story seemed familiar to me. I couldn’t place it until it crossed my mind how excited Rosie would be later to hear about what Nate Pavel was like in real life. Rosie had been addicted to a show about a pair of brothers who hunted down demons and monsters, and this one seemed to be firmly based on it. I’d never been very interested when Rosie would plop down on Fridays with a tub of ice cream and a bag of chips, her eyes glued to the screen for an hour. I was interested in the ice cream and chips, obviously, but I usually thumbed through a magazine or read film critic reviews on my phone until her episode was over. It had never been monsters and demons that scared me. I was more afraid of regular people, and their capacity for wrong-doing.
“Take ten!” the director, an extremely tall and gray-looking man, shouted.
The volume in the gigantic box of a studio raised a few decibels and groups of people moved around the building, adjusting aspects of the set, and retouching the actors’ hair and makeup.
After a young brunette worked a small dollop of mousse into Nate’s hair, I saw him make a gesture to her like he was praying. The woman nodded and moved onto Nate’s co-star. Nate caught my eye and beelined across the set in my direction.
When he arrived by my side there were a few stylists standing close by, discussing a possible change, so I made an effort to keep up my role.
“Nice work, that last take was…” I trailed off. I’d been zoning out and didn’t know what had happened. It was the 27th take, after all.
Nate raised his eyebrows. A smirk appeared to be doing its best to pull at the edges of his mouth, but apprehension was squashing it. He shook his head, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I was acting, too.
“What are you talking about? It was garbage, Kacey,” Nate said. While he pinched his fingers over the bridge of his nose, the stylists walked away, leaving us with privacy—or at least as much privacy as you could find on a busy film set. “Do you have any ideas yet?”
The first order in my brain was to register that despite having listened to Nate put on an incredibly accurate American accent all morning, the return to his British intonation threw me. Kacey, the case!
I had been keeping an eye on people but being on set does not have the reputation of always being a gentle and supportive environment. It’s not unusual for temperaments to be heightened or for there to be a general air of exasperation. Could Nate just be overly sensitive to criticism? Was I here because an up-and-coming actor couldn’t handle some adversity in their career? I pushed the thought from my mind. Even if that was th
e case, I would do my job, get the answers, and report back to the Bookers to complete the case. For now, I was there to answer to Nate.
I crossed my arms and met his gaze. Darn it, he was cute. “You haven’t given me much to go off of, but so far I haven’t seen anything I’d call suspicious. Are you ready to give me those names?” I asked.
Nate glanced around, shifting his weight from side to side. Biting his nail, which partially blocked his mouth, he said in a low voice, “Thomas Crosswell.”
I recognized that name. Where had I seen it? I looked at the canvas chairs sitting off to the side of the camera. There were two black chairs, side by side. In white blocky writing, one of them was labeled “Pavel” and the other “Crosswell.”
“Your co-star? That’s Thomas?” I asked.
Nate nodded. I was confused. Out of everyone I had kept an eye on over the previous hours, Thomas was the least suspicious. In fact, I hadn’t gotten the sense that Thomas was anything but warm and encouraging to his on-screen brother. Nate and I watched as the young makeup artist blotted a shiny spot on Thomas’s head. The woman said something, and Thomas let out a booming laugh, throwing back his dark blonde head with enthusiasm.
Before Nate could explain the situation any further, Thomas noticed us looking at him. With a few long strides, he’d crossed the room to join us.
Thomas was well over six feet tall. He had broad shoulders and a wide jaw that necessitated a wide mouth. There was a handsome amount of stubble over his face and neck, which provided contrast and more prominent edges to his face. His clear eyes and classic features made me confident that if it were possible, he could be dropped into an old film with James Dean and look exactly right for the part. Unlike Nate, his natural voice was distinctly American, and there was a deep tone with an edge of grittiness to his voice.
“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met,” Thomas said and extended a big, solid hand toward me.
“I’m Kacey, it’s nice to meet you. You guys are doing a great job.”
Thomas let out another booming laugh.
“That’s nice of you to say, Kacey, but we’re having a rough morning. Happens to the best of us, right?” Thomas clapped Nate on the back. Nate made an effort to smile, but it came out strained.
“You’ve been doing great, man. I loved the way you responded when I changed my delivery in the beginning. It’s like you were reading my mind. I need to rework that longer line to make it sound more natural.”
Thomas sounded earnest and kind in his praise of Nate, but Nate’s shoulders were tense, and he kept looking away as Thomas spoke.
“I’m going to go have a talk with Tina about that line. The next shot will be it, buddy!” Thomas said. He clapped Nate on the back one more time on his way over to a lady with an afro of brown hair holding a script in a binder.
Once he and the rest of the crew were out of earshot again, Nate said, “Do you see what I mean? He’s scheming, I know it!”
“Really?” I asked. “He seems like a pretty genuine guy.”
“He’s an actor, Kacey, it’s what he does. Remember? He probably wants to get close enough to really plunge the knife in deep.”
I crossed my arms again and raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize we were in a Shakespeare play.”
“Maybe I am being paranoid,” Nate said. “But this is why I hired your company. You need to watch him. Don’t be fooled by his good looks, or the smacking-me-on-the-back thing.” Nate shook his body like a cat receiving unwanted pets. “I don’t understand why people are always trying to get their paws all over me.”
Someone called Nate’s name from across the room. The scene was about to pick up again.
“Don’t worry about me losing my, uh, motivation,” I assured him. “I can see past the good looks.”
“Is that so?” He sounded more British and charming than ever.
“I’m seeing past the excess buckets of smarmy charm with you, aren’t I?” I kept my face and tone even. I was not flirting. This was simply a statement of fact.
Nate’s eyes lit up mischievously and he raised his eyebrows.
“Buckets of smarmy charm,” he said. “That’s cute.”
“You’re… welcome?”
He held his hands up as he backed away. Before he got too far, he whispered, “Complain about me to Thomas, then see what he says. Tell him how annoying it is to work with me.”
“So, stick to the truth?”
“Hah! Or you could moan about how unfair it is that I’m so young, and already I’m number one on the call sheet.”
I narrowed my eyes and put a hand on my hip. “Isn’t this whole case about repairing your reputation, not tarnishing it further?”
Nate shrugged. “Do whatever it takes. We’ve got to try everything.” As he was walking backward a few steps while facing me, a couple of set decorators suddenly came around the corner with a big wall of foliage. The foliage nearly took him out. When Nate adeptly dodged the passing greenery, he didn’t stop grinning. Then he gave me another flirty wink before he turned away and headed back to his starting mark.
If Nate was right about Thomas, did that mean that I’d been a sucker myself? My film world nemesis, Katy Chase, always acted so sweet and kind to my face. Could Katy have been sabotaging my career for years? Whenever we had been at auditions together, if Katy was called in first, she would always give me a funny look on her way out. She could have been talking about me and cutting me down in front of the executives.
A loud laugh drew my attention back to Thomas who was chatting amiably with a crew member. Apparently, he wasn’t needed for the shot Nate was about to do. When the crew member was called away by walkie-talkie, Thomas leaned against a plywood wall and scrolled through his phone.
With the collective attention focused on the Steadicam pointed at Nate, it was as good a time as any to move in on Thomas.
Casually I meandered over to the plywood wall and leaned my back against it. It felt rough and pulled at the smooth fabric of my shirt.
“Mind if I join you?” I asked Thomas in a hushed tone.
“Be my guest,” Thomas replied in a warm whisper. He shifted his weight so that his body was angled toward me. “Tell me,” Thomas whispered, giving me a sideways glance. “How’s your first day going? Is Nate being a perfect gentleman?”
I kept careful watch over Thomas’s face as he tracked what was happening around the camera and with his co-star. “It’s great. It’s going very well,” I said. Shoot! Thomas had given me a perfect invitation and I’d blown it. I bit the edge of my lip to remind myself about what I was supposed to accomplish in this conversation. “I mean, all things considered, besides the typical prima-donna demands of the show’s number one, it’s manageable.”
Thomas glanced at me with raised eyebrows before returning his gaze to Nate. “Prima donna, really?” Thomas asked and crossed his arms.
“He’s already made me sniff his armpits several times today to check if his deodorant is working,” I lied. “I mean, that’s gross, right?”
Finally breaking his concentration on Nate, Thomas brought a large hand to his chin and turned to fully face me. “You’re kidding!” he said. He looked amused and ready to hear more.
CHAPTER 4
I had never driven in a Tesla before. If it weren’t for the warm evening air blowing through the large sunroof, Thomas and I would have been gliding along the LA streets as silent as ghosts. I held my phone in one hand and urged the tense muscles in my shoulders to relax. Thomas was nice. Even if he was capable of intentionally trying to ruin Nate’s career, he was easy-going and funny with me. Surely accepting a ride from him hadn’t been too bad of a judgment call. Besides, I didn’t really have a choice if I wanted to make progress in the case.
Throughout the day Thomas greedily took my invitations to gripe about Nate. He had made an effort to come chat with me whenever Nate was preoccupied with getting notes from the director or undergoing a makeup touch-up. I’d fabricated lie after lie abou
t Nate’s “demanding” behavior and watched Thomas’s face light up with amusement and curiosity.
Due to the crack of dawn call-time, shooting wrapped by five o’clock. When I emerged from the dim soundstage, I had to squint and blink to get accustomed to the peachy evening sky. I stood on the curb next to my car, stretching while I checked my phone. There was a one-word text from Harrison: “Updates?” And one from Lucky with only two emojis: a film camera and the girl flipping her hair. I unlocked my phone to send a reply to Harrison, but my thumbs hovered above the screen. Did I have any updates? Thomas’s reaction to the gossip that I had been feeding him about Nate was suspicious, but it was me who had done most of the talking. I needed to get a better sense of Thomas’s opinion on Nate before I drew any solid conclusions. He could be intentionally hiding his contempt and biting his tongue to cover his tracks.
While I was still standing beside my car, I heard a nearby trailer door slam shut and Thomas’s warm voice announcing his departure for the day. I had to think fast. I speedily unlocked my car door and popped the button to release the latch on my hood. In a few moments, I had the hood lifted and a cable disconnected. I hoped Thomas knew as much about cars as most young Hollywood actors did. Which was exactly nothing. I peered into the complicated depths of the exposed engine and bit my nails. Excellent, Kacey. You already have the most dated car in the lot by fifteen years and now everyone will think it’s busted, too. I tried my best not to feel embarrassed, but I certainly didn’t need to fake the impulse to chew my nails.
“Trouble in paradise, Kacey?” a cheerful voice said behind me.
“Thomas, hi. Yep. It won’t start,” I told him. I put my hands on either side of my face and exhaled. “I’m totally lost with all of this,” I said, gesturing to the engine. It was a lie, but I’d been lying to Thomas all day. I was shocked at how easily they were passing through my lips.
Thomas tilted his head and scanned the machine in front of him. “Hmm.”