Take Three

by Mia Masters

  “Exactly,” I agreed. “That’s exactly what it is. People here are just— well, the movie industry just makes everyone so desperate to be a part of it. It’s really ridiculous. Everyone’s constantly complimenting you and not really meaning it. It’s easy to lose perspective.”

  “I know. Why can’t they just be honest?” said Blythe. “I mean, you’re not doing me any favors as a performer to praise me when I’ve done something that isn’t good. Your politeness is actually hurting me because I won’t correct anything.”

  “Yeah and that fake compliment is essentially a lie,” I said. “It’s like, they’re being fake to make themselves feel better at the expense of your perspective.”

  “It’s like, I pulled into a parking lot the other day,” she told me. “It was a plaza with a drug store and some other stores. The place was so crowded, they actually had to have paid parking. So I pull in and I ask the guy if it’s okay to park there and he’s like, so cheery— ‘Yeah, it’s great!’ Great!

  “So, I park there and come out with my validation showing that I had been in the drug store. When I try to pull out he’s like, ‘Ooh, you parked in the wrong space. I have to charge you more.’ And I’m like, ‘What? You just told me it was okay to park here.’ And he gives me this look like I’ve broken some kind of unwritten rule about yelling at people. Ooh! I was so mad! I just left. I refused to pay him.”

  “Good for you,” I said. “One time, I was in this shop trying to find some Christmas cookies for my mother. I asked the guy what he recommended. He points to this tin of chocolate cookies. And I’m like, ‘No, my mother doesn’t like chocolate.’ And you know what he says?”

  Blythe shook her head to indicate that she didn’t know.

  “He says, ‘But I really like these cookies!’” I was mildly outraged as I relayed the story. “And I’m like, ‘Dude! I don’t give a shit about what cookies you like. These are for my mother, you selfish prick.”

  “People get fucking warped in this town,” said Blythe. “There are some nice people though, but there are a lot of… I guess you would call them weak?”

  “Yeah, that’s a good word for them. They’re weak,” I agreed.

  “The whole movie industry and the city just warps them,” she postulated. “They can’t handle it or something. They either turn to drugs, leave or become total weirdos.”

  “Oh, I would leave Hollywood in a hot minute if I had the money,” I said. “Get the fuck out of Dodge.”

  “But how would you work?” asked Blythe.

  “The big names don’t need to live here. They have homes for when they’re here, but they live wherever they want the rest of the year,” I said.

  “But aren’t you originally from here?” she asked.

  “Yeah and that’s exactly why I’d leave. I’d probably move up north somewhere,” I speculated. “I mean, it would partly depend up on where my family was. I wouldn’t go to Idaho. Well, I guess if I was insanely rich, I could. I could just have a private jet.”

  “I hear Bruce Willis was like that,” said Blythe. “I heard he took his entire graduating high school class on vacation to like Bermuda or something. Paid for everything. Can you imagine?”

  “How about Johnny Depp’s private island?” I laughed. “He’s barely there and owns a whole island. Who uses it while he’s away? He has to hire a guy to just upkeep it! Think about the overhead and the staff these people have.”

  “Promise me we’ll keep things simple,” said Blythe. “No private islands. I mean, we can rent one, but I don’t want to own one. That seems weird.”

  “I promise to keep things simple,” I said. “Except for my private submarine. That’s just for me.”

  We shared a laugh. It was so great being with Blythe. I wasn’t even going to dwell on the fact that we were already talking as if we were a couple, when she was still interested in my two friends.

  There were some things I didn’t want to deal with.

  We were having a great time, so why ruin it?

  I knew there would be plenty of time later to talk about the future and figure out what it was that Blythe truly wanted.

  But for now, as long as she was happy, so was I. And she was laughing and winking at me, so I knew she was happy, and that was all that mattered to me.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Blythe

  It was two weeks later and dating my three guys had been going okay. It still wasn’t one relationship with three guys, more like three different potential relationships, but I figured that was fine, especially considering I’d never done anything like this before so I had no idea what was normal.

  But I’d talked to Mallory more and she had assured me that it had gone like this for her and the Haywood boys at first, too. She said it took some time to jump to everyone being together all at once.

  Having shot most of the sexy scenes, we were concentrating on the action ones. Monk and I were in a martial arts scene at a dojo.

  Since I was originally hired as a stunt woman, I was in my element. Monk, however, was only in the shots that required dialogue. During the actual fight, he was swapped out for his double.

  “Come at us if you want, Futagami! But the Yakuza will never get those computer codes,” vowed Monk, as his character, Barry.

  “Okay, hold!” shouted Jim. “Monk out. Steve in.”

  Monk’s stunt double, Steve, took his exact position.

  “Good luck,” said Monk, exiting the set.

  “Way to leave when the fight gets real,” I joked.

  “And… action!”

  Steve and I did the action sequence we had rehearsed with the other stunt men. It was a lot of mock punching and flipping. Sometimes we’d throw the martial artists through walls or into each other.

  It felt lame doing it, but on screen, after the effects and music were added, it would look badass. After a few minutes and breaking a bunch of the set, Jim called cut.

  “Okay, nice work,” said Jim. “Let’s reset it and do it again. Take five, stunt team.”

  Steven, the rest of the stunt crew and I all got a water at the craft table. Monk was getting his makeup touched up. He had a fake wound on the top of his head that had been painted on. Again, it looked fake as hell close-up, but on the screen, I knew it would look good.

  “Nice work, Blythe,” said Steve. “What’s the word on you and Monk?”

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  “Scuttlebutt on set says you guys are dating,” he said. “But someone else said you were dating Jim.”

  “Whoa, I am not dating Jim,” I assured him. “That part, I can definitely confirm is not true.”

  “So, Monk then?” asked Steve.

  “It’s complicated,” I said, evasively.

  “Hey, I don’t judge. Big movie star like you needs to date another big movie star,” he joked.

  “Oh, shut up, you,” I said.

  Steve was a good guy. I had worked with him on a bunch of movies. He was married with a wife and two kids.

  He seemed to me to be a rarity in the Hollywood system. Just a normal working dad, trying to get through the day. He would look out for me now and again, especially in the early days when I was just starting.

  We got reset for the next take and the clapboard guy stepped in.

  “Dojo fight scene, take two,” he said routinely.

  “And action,” said Jim.

  “Come at us if you want, Futagami! But the Yakuza will never get those computer codes,” vowed Monk, as his character.

  “Okay, hold!” shouted Jim. “Monk out. Steve in.”

  Steve took his exact position again.

  “And… action!”

  Again, Steve and I fought to save the world. It was pretty strenuous, physically. And it was sometimes hard to get used to a stunt guy, whom you barely touched, reeling back like you had clobbered him with all your might.

  The breaks in between these takes had to be longer, not only to redress the set and replace all the stuff we b
roke, but also so that we could catch our breath.

  That’s why everyone in a fight scene you see in a movie never seems to get tired. We basically shoot it a punch at a time.

  After several takes of this, I was pretty wiped out and we broke for lunch. I went to the craft services table with the rest of the stunt crew. It had been a while since I had hung out with them.

  “Oh, so you eat with us instead of in your big fancy trailer,” teased Steve. “How’s life in the big leagues, movie star?”

  “It’s pretty great, actually,” I said. “I’m actually living in that trailer during the week, it’s so nice.”

  “Can’t say I blame ya,” said Steve. “Although I would miss Carol and the kids. Might be a nice vacation for me.”

  “If you ever get the opportunity, I highly recommend it,” I said.

  “Actually, I did once,” said Steve, remembering. “Similar situation. Lead actor got hurt and they offered me the role, but I said no.”

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  “Besides the fact that I’m not that confident in my acting abilities, I just didn’t want to be away from my family that much. Carol was pregnant and to have the lead role— well, that’s demanding. You haven’t even done the promotional tour.”

  “Monk says it’s fun,” I countered.

  “I guess, if you’re single and that’s all you have to do,” he sighed. “But when you have kids and a family, you want to stay closer to home. Don’t get me wrong, it would’ve been a nice paycheck and might have brought me some fame, but sometimes you have to pick family over money.”

  Like I said, Steve was a rarity in the Hollywood system. Quite frankly, I worried that it would eat him up one day.

  “This is my last movie for a while, by the way,” he revealed.

  “Why? Are you okay?” I asked, a little worried.

  “Oh, I’m fine. I took a job up north. I’m going to be an instructor at a stunt school. The pay is steady and it’s a long-term contract. No more scrambling for the next gig,” he smiled. “It’s gonna be nice to have some consistent income.”

  “I’ll bet,” I said. “Don’t worry. If I become a big star, I’ll keep your phone ringing.”

  “Thanks, Blythe,” he said, toasting me. “Here’s to the beginning of new careers.”

  After lunch, I got back on the set to shoot the aftermath scene with Monk. In the scene, he’s badly injured. He had to spend most of lunch in makeup getting ready.

  We got positioned in the dojo. Monk did this great, heart aching monologue where our characters may never see each other again. It was really good. He was just incredible. The most amazing thing about it was that he was able to do it nine times and each time, he did it as heart wrenchingly as he had in the previous take.

  I couldn’t help but admire Monk’s raw talent. And I was aching to be with him even though I knew he wanted to wait until we were done filming. I was waiting to find my perfect opening.

  Chapter Twenty

  Blythe

  That Saturday, I met Monk at the Century City Playhouse. One of his acting buddies was in a new show.

  “You might have to do some real acting tonight,” warned Monk.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “This is a really political play,” he said.

  “That’s fine, I like political stuff sometimes,” I said.

  “No, I mean, it’s really political,” he warned. “I’m just saying, brace yourself. No matter what we see, I have to tell him I love it. If you hate it, just try to be neutral about it, okay? He’s a good guy, he’s just caught up in politics right now.”

  We went inside and the play started. At first it seemed pretty standard, if a little over dramatic. During the play, I held Monk’s hand and tried to get more touchy feely.

  Monk would back off if I tried to touch his leg. I guess I was teasing him a bit, but I couldn’t help it. I really wanted him, and I had already had sex with Zack and Christian a bunch of times. It seemed unfair that Monk and I hadn’t done it and there were weeks of shooting left.

  At some point, I became distracted by the play. Yes, I know how that sounds. Honestly, though, at first I wasn’t paying much attention to it, as much as I was trying to move things forward with Monk.

  But suddenly, I realized the actors were really screaming and over-the-top. What began as a drama about protesters and politics got really preachy.

  And when I say preachy, I don’t mean a few heartfelt monologues— what I mean is, the actors were actually lecturing the audience. At one point, one of the actors started hectoring a guy in the front row who wore a suit.

  It got pretty intense and the guy in the suit left with his date. I wasn’t sure if the guy in a suit was a plant or if it was actually real.

  Things kind of spiraled down from there. I mean, I had heard some ham-fisted political agendas in plays before, but nothing like this. Halfway through, I thought I was trapped in some kind of political propaganda event. The actors continued to scream at audience members, who started visibly squirming in their seats.

  It ended with the actors passing out leaflets as we left. It was truly bizarre, and I felt that whatever dramatic narrative had started, it had crumbled by the end. It was like the story and entertainment no longer mattered anymore.

  “What was that?” I whispered to Monk in shock.

  “I know, I know,” said Monk. “I warned you. Just stay neutral. I have to say something nice.”

  “Hey, Monk!” called out the lead actor. “Thanks for coming, man!”

  Monk gave his friend a hug.

  “Sure, sure, buddy. Great show,” he said. “This is my date, Blythe. Blythe, this is David, my old scene partner.”

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  “You too,” he said genuinely. “Thanks for coming out. I really think we’re doing something special here.”

  “Yeah, yeah, it was great,” I said, dying on the inside a little.

  “Hey, I know you guys are in the middle of shooting a movie,” he said. “But if you ever want to be part of the theater scene in your off time, then please reach out. It would be so great to get more celebrities involved.”

  “I will definitely call if I get the theater bug again,” smiled Monk. “Thanks so much. We need to jet, but shoot me an email sometime.”

  “Thanks, man!” said David excitedly.

  We got into our limo, which seemed pretty bourgeois, but I was really glad we had one. If I had to spend another minute lying to Monk’s friend, I was going to burst.

  “Holy shit, that was awful,” I said, as we pulled away. “What the fuck was all the screaming about?”

  “It’s a certain concept of performance theater,” Monk explained. “I mean, in theory it sounds like it might be cool. But in practice, it just makes the audience uncomfortable.”

  “Like, I agreed with some of the political stuff in the play, but I felt like they were assuming I didn’t,” I said. “And that assumption kind of made me mad that they were yelling at me. And the guy that left, was he—”

  “No, he wasn’t a plant,” said Monk. “I heard that guy talking on the way in. He was a theater critic!”

  “Holy shit, they’re going to be toast,” I said. “What are you going to say to your friend later?”

  “I don’t know,” said Monk. “Hopefully, he just kind of burns himself out on all this political stuff and gets to working again. I mean, he certainly has a lot of talent, but where’s the entertainment part of the play?”

  “That’s what I was thinking,” I agreed. “If you drop the whole dramatic narrative by the end, then what happens to the payoff for the audience? It just disappears and doesn’t happen.”

  “Exactly,” he said. “I honestly didn’t know it would be that bad. I’m sorry for dragging you to it.”

  “It’s fine,” I told him, and I meant it.

  It was kind of funny, all the unique situations we found ourselves in together. Hanging out with Monk was always a fun time, ev
en if in surprising ways. At least it was never boring or predictable.

  The restaurant was close to Monk’s beach house, so the limo dropped us off there. We started walking to the restaurant. At some point, we cut through an alleyway to get there on time.

  “You know, I’m not all that hungry,” I said. “We could just go someplace for a drink if you want.”

  “Hmmm, I’m pretty hungry,” said Monk, leaning into me. “But not necessarily for anything they’re serving in the restaurant.”

  “Monk,” I said pleasantly. “What about your vow?”

  He pushed me against the wall of the alleyway.

  “I’d rather eat you, than food,” he said breathlessly. “You’ve been teasing me non-stop. I can’t take it anymore. Not having sex with you at this point would be the greater distraction.”

  Monk kissed me up and down my body. He was like a savage animal. Eventually, he reached my skirt, stuck his head underneath and pulled down my panties.

  My heart was racing. I had never experienced anything so erotic in my life! I looked back and forth down the alley to make sure no one was coming, but it was the danger of getting caught that drove me insane.

  Within seconds, Monk’s tongue was inside my pussy. He fucked me with his tongue, and I was in utter ecstasy. His rough face rubbed against my inner thigh and then his lips and tongue found my clit.

  I gasped and held his head. I could feel my climax growing. With two fingers, he began fucking me as he licked. I couldn’t take it. I couldn’t hold back!

  I came, squirting like I had never done before. My joyous squeal echoed down the alleyway and I thought for sure we would be discovered by someone at any second. I could feel my warm juices running down the insides of my legs.

  “Eeeee!” I squealed, quivering in his mouth. “Oh. Oh, Monk!”

  I could feel him put my panties back and he stood up. I was still shaking from the onslaught of pleasure. He had wrecked me in that moment?

  I was helpless and totally in his power. I would’ve done anything for him. Agreed to anything, no matter how crazy or bizarre. Such was the raw sexual power Monk had unleashed.