“Won’t that hurt the scene if you’re suddenly dry?” I catch her death glare before I turn around. I’m not wrong though. Jay will make her stand out in the rain until she’s just as wet as before. “I’ll only be a minute. Then you can get back to work and in your warm clothes before you know it.”
Tabitha crosses her arms over her chest like a belligerent child refusing vegetables. Jokes on her, I’ve got experience in that arena.
Using a cotton swab and working to remove only what I need to, I ignore her temper tantrum, even when she offers up a few more humphs and sighs. The stupid part of this is that she needs to look like she’s been crying. This is the scene where Paxton moves on, I guess that’s the part of this movie that makes it new age. No happy ending. She needs to look bad, but a tragic and gorgeous sort of bad.
“Did you hear the news?” Tabitha asks as I touch up her lips.
“Probably not,” I say with a little too much snark.
She presses her lips together then releases them with a pop. “Zane’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night.”
I drop the pot of lip color on the counter and scramble to recover. “What? Like a date?”
“Yep.” She lets the P pop like her lips.
“What about Jay’s rules?”
Like a crocodile edging out of the water, she smiles. “Zane begged Jay to remove it. Says he can’t hold back his attraction any longer. He told him that he aches for me.”
“You’d never guess it from the way he’s acting on set,” Kiara says from her side where she’s listening in. “I still say you’d be crazy to go out with someone like that.”
“Why?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“He an ex-addict. I’ve dated his type before,” Kiara shoves a few pieces back on the racks. Metal screeches on metal and she shoves them down the line. “They all go back to it. You’ll never be as good as his next fix.”
“That can’t be true for everyone,” I say. Powder drizzles over Tabitha’s cheeks because my hands won’t stop trembling. I’m sure it’s the cold, not my heart cracking in half. “Surely some of them actually recover.”
“Yeah, but you have to be careful even then.” Kiara snags a shirt from the rack and sets a sewing needle between her teeth. Talking with clenched teeth, she says, “I had this guy, and he was fully recovered, but he became obsessed with me. Said he loved me, moved way too fast, I didn’t understand it until I saw it for myself.”
“Saw what?” My heart waits on her answer.
She pulls the needle from between her teeth, so I’ll hear her clearly. “I was his new drug. He’s switched one addiction for another. He didn’t love me. He only wanted me because I felt good. I refused to be his next high, and I had to walk away.”
“Well that’s not Zane,” Tabitha says as she pulls away from my chair. “He’s all self-control around me. Obviously, since he’s kept his feelings hidden for this long. And now we’re going to be the hottest couple in LA. Everyone’s going to be talking about us. What do you think our celebrity couple name will be? Zanitha? Taney?”
I walk out before I have to listen to another word. My feet hit hollow like my heart as each of my footfalls collide with the aluminum steps. Not a real building. Not a real life. I catch Zane’s eye and he smiles.
Not a real relationship.
The rain falls over my cheeks. I could cry and no one would ever be the wiser. I want to cry. If what Tabitha said is true, then I deserve to cry. Was this all a game to him? See if he could get the uptight abuse victim to let go? Maybe he was locked in a wager with Jay to see which of them could get me first. That would fit with this lifestyle. When their reality is reduced to the words on a page and wearing a new face with every passing moment, should I be surprised that my emotions are nothing more than a game to them?
“Hey, you okay?” Zane asks in a voice meant only for me. He must have noticed me fuming and wanted to be sure his investment was intact.
“I’m fine,” I say, and it has a new meaning.
Foolish.
Irritated.
Neurotic.
Exhausted.
Tabitha shoots Zane a grin as she walks by, and he’s all too quick to flash one back. At any second my back molars are going to crack under the pressure of my clenched jaw.
“Okay, places people,” Jay yells. “Marina is pouring her soul out, and Paxton is about to realize his own worth and break her heart.”
“Ironic,” I whisper to myself, but it brings Zane’s head around to stare. I don’t care. I keep my feelings to myself and focus on my job.
“Places, Zane,” Jay yells. “The rain is fading. I want this shot.”
He reaches for my hand, but I’m not about to give it to him. I step back and his lips part to speak. But knowing he has a job to do, he jogs out to his mark and waits.
“Action!” Jay yells.
“What I’m trying to tell you, Pax…” Tabitha chokes back a sob and smears her hand through the makeup. I’ll have to fix it. I might as well get some cotton swabs now. “I love you, Paxton. Despite your scars.”
I roll my eyes at the dramatic nature of this mess. When I glance back Zane is still staring at me. There’s a plea written in his features, tears in his eyes, but his character Paxton is nowhere to be found.
“Zane!” Jay yells. “Say your line.”
It’s enough to jar him back, but not enough to put him in character. “That’s the problem, Marina. You never saw past my scars.”
It’s halfhearted, dying with the rain that’s filtering away to sunshine.
“Cut!” Jay screams. “What was that? And now we’ve lost the rain. Are you kidding me?”
“Use a machine,” Zane says as he starts toward me. “They’re easier to control."
“I want the authenticity,” Jay calls after him. “It won’t be the same.”
Knowing he’s going to catch me, I jog back for my trailer. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now. Jay shouts orders, demanding a weather map. Tabitha still stands on her mark waiting for Zane to come back and finish the scene. And I’m running for cover because that’s what I do.
Zane’s hand catches my arm, no asking, no permission, just a tight grip to pull me behind the trailer and away from prying eyes.
“What was that?” The fiberglass siding bows back where he’s pressed me against the trailer. “What’s going on with you? Did I do something wrong? Have I offended you?”
I’m focused on the dirt, counting pebbles, willing this moment to be over. I can’t concentrate. I can’t breathe. Fear winds over my skin, creeping toward my mouth, clogging my throat.
“I screwed up a scene for the first time in months because I couldn’t shake that look you gave me. Explain yourself. What did I do to deserve to have you try to sear my skin off with your eyes?”
I don’t have an answer. Darkness edges in at the corners of my vision. Breathing becomes gasps as my throat tightens.
“Answer me.”
My body flinches and cowers because instinct tells me pain comes next. I look up at him, and instantly he melts. Backing away, his hands go into his hair, palms pressed against his temples as if he can squeeze the offending emotions out. Without turning back, he whispers, “I’m sorry. I got angry. I got scared.” Zane turns back, the emotion in his eyes catches the light of the sun breaking through the clouds. “I’m trying so hard to be what you need, Finn, and when you looked at me like that, I lost it. I was afraid I lost you, and I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.”
“Zane!” Jay’s calls him from the other side of the trailer. If he catches us back here, there will be no explaining it away.
“You need to go. Jay’s calling you,” I say.
Zane curses under his breath like I’m not hearing him. “Finn, I don’t care what Jay wants. I care what you think about me. Now, explain yourself, please.”
It’s a plea, not a demand. Maybe I owe him that much.
“Tabitha told me what you said to Jay, ab
out wanting to be with her. She told me about your date and how much you want her. How Jay’s lifting the ban so you can be together.”
Four wrinkles cinch down between his eyebrows and forehead. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a date with Tabitha.”
“She just told me, Zane. You don’t have to lie,” I tell him. He pulls a face and stares at me as if I’m the crazy one. “Fine, do you deny talking to Jay?”
“No, I talked to Jay,” Zane says, “but not about Tabitha. I told him there was someone on set I wanted to be with, and I’d loosen up if he would let me live my life a little.” Taking a step toward me, Zane reaches for my hands. “It’s you I want, Finley. Not her.”
If I could choose a superpower, I’d want to be a lie detector. Then I’d never have to rely on trust. I’d know beyond a doubt if I’m being fed a line.
“Then why does Tabitha think you need a celebrity couple name?”
Zane rolls his eyes and groans. “Are you serious? I don’t know. She’s crazy, I guess. Jay did say that he hoped I meant Tabitha because it would be great for promoting the movie, but I never told him I wanted her. I swear.”
I search his face like a puzzle, peeking beneath the scars, staring into his eyes, wishing I knew how to pull the parts that I need out of the muddled mess.
“Please,” Zane says, closing the distance between us, “please believe me. I love you, Finn. I need you.” His lips brush mine, slow, careful, gentle and needy. When he’s sure I won’t freak out, he deepens the kiss and wraps his arm around my waist. It’s impossible to think straight when he’s clouding my mind like this. Tabitha. Kiara. All of it feels so far away when I’m in his arms.
“Okay,” I whisper. “I believe you. But you need to set it straight before she tells every tabloid she knows.”
Zane nods and kisses me again. “Whatever it takes.”
“That’s a big allowance for a girl like me,” I say, hoping he picks up on my teasing tone.
His grin tells me he does. “Only the best for you.” It’s a quick kiss before he says, “I was gonna ask you for a ride if you’re willing.”
“You have a license,” I remind him. “You don’t need me anymore.”
“I have a license and no car. I’m sick of borrowing Cecelia’s old junker. I was hoping you’d drive me after work to buy a new car. I’ll buy you dinner.”
I shake my head. “I have Oliver. Maybe Wilbur can take you.”
“My luck he’ll put sugar in my gas tank as a joke. Bring Oliver, you know I love him. I’ll buy him dinner too.”
“Big spender,” I tease as I brush my lips over his cheek. His grip clenches down at the sensation. Hunger burns through his fingertips as if he’s trying to show me that it’s not Tabitha that he’s aching for.
“Zane!” Jay yells. The sound bounces between the neighboring trailers, and we have seconds before he turns the corner. Zane drops his arms from my waist and jogs to the edge of the trailer, meeting Jay before he spots me.
“There you are,” Jay says as he sees Zane.
“Hey, sorry. I was upset with that take. I was getting some air.” Zane catches Jay’s shoulder and moves him back to the front. “Let’s start up the rain machine. I think I can hit it this time.”
I sink back against the trailer as they walk away. We’re taking too many risks, coming too close to being caught. According to Jay we have less than two weeks of filming left. In all honesty, that’s probably all the time I have left with Zane anyway. No need to get twisted up over the nay sayings of the evil stepsisters in my life.
Too bad I can’t convince that voice in the back of my head that says he’s lying to me.
✽ ✽ ✽
“No, honey,” I say to Oliver as we stop in front of Cecelia’s house, “he’s not bringing the monkey.”
“Why not?” he asks. “Where da monkey go?”
“Gongo went to work,” I glance up the walkway to the door, but Zane is already jogging down the steps to meet us. “We’re driving Zane to the car store and then we’re coming home.”
I haven’t told Zane that part yet. After everything today, it seems like a dinner date, even if it’s chaperoned by my son, is a bad idea. If someone caught us, if Tabitha wasn’t making it all up, if…Too many variables. I have to protect my heart and my son. I made that decision a long time ago.
“Hey buddy,” Zane says as he slips in the front seat. With his right arm he reaches back so Oliver can pound knuckles. “How’s my favorite four-year-old?”
“He’s mad you didn’t bring the monkey,” I say as we pull away from the curb.
“I’ll never be as cool as that monkey,” Zane says as he fastens his seatbelt. He reaches to take my hand, but I pull it free. Tension flashes as his jaw clenches. “I thought we were past this, Finn.”
If only he understood the way dangerous thoughts can cling to me like flypaper, but it’s not within my ability to explain. “Not in front of Oliver,” I say instead, because it’s just as true. “I don’t want to confuse him.”
Zane nods like he understands, but he can hear the rest hanging in the air.
Because you’re leaving in two weeks, and I don’t want to explain where you went.
✽ ✽ ✽
Zane finds a newish Toyota Camry that will get him from Cecelia’s to the set with ease. I still think it’s stupid for him to buy a car with only a couple weeks left in Ridgedale, but then driving Wilbur’s near dead Volvo might be more than he can handle.
“I’m gonna go back and do paperwork. Are you okay out here?” Zane asks as he’s about to leave.
I want to tell him Oliver and I are headed back home, but he mentioned dinner to Oliver and there’s no deterring my son without some tears. It’s not like I take him out that often on my budget.
“We’ll find something to do,” I say with a gentle smile.
Zane glances to where Oliver is playing with a toy truck on the table before he steals a kiss on my cheek. When I glare at him, he grins. “He wasn’t looking.” With a quick wink, he’s gone.
Truth is, I don’t want to leave. I love spending time with him. I can’t deny the fact that I know I’m falling hard, but it doesn’t stop me from trying to protect myself. Zane Alexander is dangerous. He knows how to wind his way around my heart and that leaves me vulnerable.
I sink down to one of the leather couches. The firm seat keeps me from feeling too comfortable. Makes sense, they want me to walk around and look at cars, not curl up with a book or nap on this couch. Joke’s on them, I could probably sleep here anyway. Wanting to pass the time, I shuffle through the magazines on the table while Oliver makes vroom-vroom sounds with the truck Zane bought him a couple weeks ago.
The truck and the monkey, one for each hand.
Zane Alexander knows the way to my son’s heart as well.
Like I said, dangerous.
I read a home decorating magazine, once more baffled by how these people manage to keep their houses looking show ready every second of every day. Maybe it’s a lie. Maybe they shove the dirty dishes in the oven before someone comes over like I do. Either that, or I’m guessing they don’t have much else to do. People like them list dusting as a hobby and setting tablescapes as a bullet point on their resume. Exhausted by the perfection of it all, I open up a homesteading magazine and read a very interesting article about building a windmill from an old motor. That’s my kind of homemaking.
I can hear Zane’s voice in the hall, a happy, excited, my-life-is-coming-back-together-again kind of tone, and I can’t help but feel a surge of pride for him and who he’s becoming. Oliver runs to him, monkey dragging across the tiled floor. I stand up and wave as the agent tosses him the keys. Zane catches them and does a silly dance to make Oliver laugh. The words of the evil stepsisters feel very far away as I watch him. This level of care, this attention to someone as insignificant as Oliver, or even a nobody like me, it’s not necessary. What does he have to gain? They can’t possibly be right.
I bend down to grab my purse from the table. Papers rustle as they tumble to the floor. I pick them up and toss them back on the table one by one. The final magazine, a tabloid really, catches my eye. I only have time to read, “Happily Ever After for—” blazoned over Zane’s face. Without much thought, I shove the magazine in my purse and straighten as Zane makes it to my side.
“Ready to go? I’m driving. We’ll come back for your car. I want to share the smell of somewhat used new car with you.”
I try to laugh, but the magazine is creating papercuts on my heart.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I say, but I hope I can hide all my fears and insecurities a little longer.
Chapter 15
To my surprise, Oliver talks Zane into fast food in the name of a play place. Four months ago, I never would have thought you’d find a movie star sitting in plain sight at a local burger joint, but Oli didn’t even have to ask twice.
Zane orders for all of us, amounting to burgers and an unholy mountain’s worth of fries before he escorts us to the empty play place. Oliver’s shoes fly off like projectile missiles before he runs up the stairs.
“Come on, Zane!” he yells from the top. “You missing it.”
Looking over his shoulder with a crooked smile, Zane asks, “Can I play too, Mom?”
“As long as you never call me mom again,” I say.
“Deal,” Zane kicks off his shoes and takes the stairs two at a time. I’m tempted to pull the magazine from my purse, but I don’t want to be caught. Besides, I’d be crazy to miss a second of the two of them playing. Thumping echoes down the slide as Zane and Oliver rush to the end, giggles the whole way.
“Again!” Oliver yells before he races up the stairs. Zane flashes a quick grin in my direction before he’s on my son’s heels, laughing just as hard. He might be more excited about the play place than Oliver. I watch Oli take a left at the stairs this time, climbing and winding over foam hurdles. Zane’s height works against him. He looks like a piece of pasta going through a press.
Shards of My Heart (The Forgotten Ones Book 2) Page 14