by Fiona Riley
Hayley felt like deep down she knew that, but hearing it confirmed so matter-of-factly made her feel sick. And selfishly, a little hopeless in the screenwriting department. “Jesus. That’s depressing.”
Emerson nodded. “So depressing. But I can see the tide changing. I can see things shifting in a new direction. Little by little, projects with heart are making their way to the table. And the writers behind them are finally reflecting the greater populace. Women are writing women and the results are incredible.”
She leaned forward, her passion palpable. “This movie is a gritty, three-actor led film where two-thirds of the leads are female. The female characters are strong and well developed and they have such complexity and depth that even hearing about something like this is thrilling. But having the chance to be in it? Having the chance to land a possibly life changing role like Willow? I’d never miss that chance. I could never forgive myself for not trying.”
She took a breath. “So to answer your question, Hayley—Willow Path represents the fork in the road in all our lives. She’s the person, place, or instance that turns everything we thought we knew on its head. I’ve played Rhea a thousand times before, but never once have I had the chance to bring Willow to life. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Wow.” Hayley didn’t know what to say. But she felt charged. Something Emerson said resonated with her. “You said the role of Willow was possibly life changing—do you mean for you?”
Emerson gave her a small smile. “I suppose I did. She was. Or she is. Maybe she will be. I don’t know. But when I said it just then, I meant it more for the audience. Willow lives by her own rules. She’s untethered and free with her love and her life. She doesn’t beg forgiveness or ask permission. What an incredible representation for a young woman to see on the big screen: a fearless image of themselves faced with impossible challenges and conditions, not only surviving but thriving in the process.” Her expression turned playful. “Plus, I love to see a woman embrace her sexuality and own it. Good on you, Willow.”
That was the crack in the armor she’d been hoping for—Emerson was finally letting her in a little. Of course, now all she could think about was Emerson portraying the brooding bisexual drifter and the likely inevitable sex scene featuring Emerson making out with another woman that was sure to be in the film—which would probably be even more explicit than the book’s version. Was it hot in here? It was definitely hot in here.
Before she had a chance to ask a follow-up question, the car pulled up to the curb, effectively ending their time together. As Emerson exited the car, she paused and caught Hayley’s eye. “To be continued, I suppose.”
Hayley sat in the car, unsure of what to do. Or feel. She didn’t have long to consider either before Tremont poked his head back into the car.
Tremont said, “It’s a mostly closed studio today. If you wanted to observe some of the goings-on, I think I could convince Emerson to agree to it.”
This was unexpected. Hayley was usually given a lot of notice to things she would be included or excluded from. “I’d like that.”
Tremont held the door open for her and walked slowly next to her. “She talks to you, like, really talks to you. I think it’s good for her”—he paused—“and to be honest, she’s not looking forward to this voice-over scene. We’ve pushed it back three times already. I think if you’re there she’ll soldier through it.”
“Okay.” Hayley frowned at this information. She’d not seen Emerson uncomfortable often, and Tremont never let on to it if she ever was. “What about this scene is so stressful for her?”
Tremont stopped dead in his tracks and turned to her. “It’s the pinnacle sex scene between the female leads in the movie. The entire mood of the film changes with this exchange between the main characters—everything changes after this.” He shrugged. “I can see why she’s anxious about it.”
Hayley swallowed. Now she was anxious about it, too. Anxious with a mix of something else. Excitement? Maybe. The writer in her was excited to see Emerson’s process behind the scenes. But she had a feeling it was more than that. Her feelings regarding Emerson were complicated as of late. This would surely only complicate things more.
“Are you coming, Hayley?” Tremont asked impatiently as he held that back door open to the ADR studio.
Hayley thought his word choice was questionable, but she kept that to herself. The thought of watching Emerson climax or bring another woman to climax on screen in front of her made a pressure form between her hips. So the answer to his question was not yet, but she settled on, “Uh, yeah.”
Chapter Nine
“One more time, Ms. Sterling.” The disembodied voice of a recording engineer spoke into her headset encouraging her to repeat the last line.
She nodded and complied. This was probably her least favorite part of acting. She found it difficult to summon the correct emotions without the scene playing in front of her, but she hated seeing herself act, so she found this more frustrating than most.
“Great work. Let’s take a quick break before we do the last three scenes,” the voice in her headset replied.
Emerson pulled off the headset and placed it to the side. She could see Tremont on the phone on the other side of the glass. He’d asked if she minded Hayley observing. She did, and she didn’t. She didn’t mind because spending time with Hayley was easy. But she did mind because today’s scenes were promising to be emotionally draining, and she didn’t want to fail in front of her. That was a new thing, the fear of failure…in front of Hayley specifically. She was aware that Hayley had gotten under her skin a bit. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
At the moment, Hayley was focused on what she was typing, and her eyes were directed downward. Emerson took the time to appreciate how attractive Hayley was. She was effortlessly beautiful. She furrowed her brow when she focused and chewed the end of her glasses as she worked on the content in front of her. Emerson found the glasses thing particularly adorable. She swept her hair behind her ear inefficiently, more as if a nervous habit than with any real purpose. Emerson had grown to love watching her work. She wondered what Hayley was writing, what she was thinking…she wondered that more than she’d like to admit.
One of the techs came into the booth after a brisk knock. He handed her a bottle of water and gave her the next scene to review. Emerson swallowed hard as she scanned the text. This was the sex scene she’d been dreading. It had fast become her least favorite scene to shoot. Once Rachel was fired, she had needed to reshoot it with Piper. It was sort of a pinnacle scene in the movie: Rhea and Willow engage in a brief tryst before being discovered by Kevin. This was one of the scenes that had drawn Emerson to the role initially. It was raw and unadulterated. The depiction was carnal and explicit, full of passion and heat. It was Rhea’s first time with a woman—an eye-opening experience under the careful guidance of the much more experienced Willow. The chemistry in this scene was vital to the remainder of the movie. And she’d managed to ace the physical portrayal, but some of the audio was obscured. With all the movement and choreographed position changes that were necessary, it wasn’t unusual to have to rerecord audio for sex scenes. But she wasn’t sure she had this in her today. There was so much happening outside of her control these days, she felt a little lost.
“We’re ready when you are,” the engineer said over the loudspeaker in the room, and she reached for her headset.
The scene began in front of her as she adjusted the headset and followed the script markers. She started the voice-over narration but stopped abruptly midsentence.
“Everything okay?” the engineer asked.
“Change the film.” Her tone was flat. She did her best to make sure her expression remained vacant as she stared at the screen.
“I’m sorry?” the voice crackled in her ear.
“You cued the wrong scene. Change the film.” Rachel’s face, not Piper’s, was frozen on the screen in front of her, her mouth in a tight O as the audi
ence saw the back of Emerson’s head at Rachel’s chest and Rachel’s hands threaded into Emerson’s hair.
“Oh, dear. I’m sorry. We’ll fix it right away.” The screen went black. Emerson closed her eyes to try to purge the image. That only made it worse.
“I’m taking a break. Find me when you fix the problem.” Emerson was careful to keep the rage out of her voice. But she had rage. Definite rage.
Emerson pulled off the headset and used every ounce of her anger management training to keep from launching it at the glass separating her from the engineers and the sound editors. She turned and intentionally exited the booth through the door opposite Tremont and Hayley to avoid them. She needed a moment to herself, to collect herself. She hated how much Rachel’s image affected her.
Emerson pushed through the exit door into the semiprivate back lot of the ADR studio. She sat heavily on the concrete stairs, her eyes scanning the lot for any possible unwanted spectators. It was unusually quiet back here and she was grateful.
She let her head drop and her shoulders sag. The weight of the last few weeks settled squarely across her upper back, a headache threatening to bloom over her left temple. Even though it had been years since she’d smoked, old habits stirred, and she found herself reaching for a cigarette to soothe her nerves. A bitter chuckle spilled from her lips as she slid her hands along the faux pockets of her pants. Tremont always told her to avoid unnecessary lines in her clothing. Pockets were unnecessary when you had someone around you to carry your belongings. If you even needed belongings. It wasn’t like she needed to have her ID on her these days. She didn’t drive because the paparazzi were relentless, and it was dangerous. She didn’t purchase anything with her own card because there was always the risk of a fan or stalker getting her information. She had two locks on her cell phone and had her email encrypted automatically. She hadn’t manned her own social media pages in over a year. Every t was crossed and every i was dotted by someone other than herself.
“What I would give for a stiff drink and a long, slow drag,” she muttered to no one in particular.
“How long has it been since you smoked?” Hayley’s voice over her shoulder startled her.
Emerson dropped her head and gently rolled her neck. “According to the tabloids or real life?”
Hayley sat next to her, leaving a little space between them. She leaned against the metal railing to her left. “Someone once told me that the information in the tabloids isn’t correct and should not be trusted. So real life, I suppose.”
“I used to smoke when I was younger, in my late teens and early twenties. But I did it for all the wrong reasons, not that there is ever a good reason to smoke.” Emerson leaned back and rested her elbows on the step above her. She kept her eyes on the small delivery parking lot in front of them.
“And a drink?” Hayley asked.
“Champagne is the only thing I dabble in these days. At award ceremonies or events. But even that’s rare”—Emerson turned and looked at Hayley—“because I don’t like to be numb if I don’t have to. You find a reason to numb a lot of things in this business. It’s addicting, it’s so commonplace. I prefer to stay off Page Six, if possible.”
“You are more cautious than I expect most people realize,” Hayley replied.
“I think to retain any sort of sanity in this fishbowl, you have to be,” Emerson added wistfully.
Hayley nodded but didn’t say anything in response. She held Emerson’s gaze, something that Emerson noticed Hayley had always done. Not many people made direct eye contact with her for very long. She’d assumed it was because of her celebrity or their own insecurities. Eye contact was important to Emerson—it always had been. She looked for people’s truths, their true intentions, in their eyes. Hayley never turned from her gaze. She didn’t seem to hide anything. Ever. That was one of the things Emerson liked most about her—she felt like what you saw was what you got with Hayley. The reliability of it made her feel safe.
“You have beautiful eyes.” Hayley’s gaze remained unwavering when she spoke, and Emerson felt like she could bask in that feeling forever.
Emerson could tell by Hayley’s expression that she was being genuine. She felt her heart flutter in her chest at Hayley’s honesty. “You are very sweet.”
Emerson closed her eyes and leaned her head back. She let the late-day sun wash over her skin. “Besides this piece we’re doing together, what else have you been up to?”
“You mean for the Sun?” Hayley replied.
“No.” Emerson shook her head but kept her eyes closed as she lounged onto her elbows. “I mean for you. What are you doing for you?”
“Ah. Actually, I’ve been doing a little work on a screenplay I started a while ago.”
Emerson picked up her head and looked at her. “Why did you stop?”
Hayley looked shy again. She’d shown that shyness in the car earlier. That conversation felt like an eternity ago. It was funny how a mere flash of Rachel’s face could ruin everything. Always.
“Um, life gets in the way of the creative process, I guess. That’s what I tell myself anyway.” Hayley reached out and absentmindedly ran her fingers along the tips of Emerson’s hair. “I’ve been inspired a lot though, lately. The Muse has visited me.”
Emerson watched Hayley distractedly play with her hair. She smiled at the innocence of the action and spoke softly so as to not disturb her. “What are you writing about?”
Hayley twirled the ends around her finger as she chewed her bottom lip. “It’s fiction, sort of headed in the direction of a romance piece. But that wasn’t my intention.”
That was awfully vague. Emerson watched Hayley worry her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment. The desire to find out if Hayley’s lips were as soft as they looked was suddenly all she could think about. Emerson tried to remember what they were talking about before she got lost in her lusty haze…shyness. Hayley seemed shy. Right. That. “Does it make you uncomfortable to talk about your writing?”
Hayley shook her head, pausing midshake when she seemed to realize what she was doing with her fingers. “Oh, sorry, nervous habit.” She released Emerson’s hair and looked up as she answered. “Not usually.”
“But it does now?” she asked. There was that look again, that intense focus. They were sitting awfully close, weren’t they?
Hayley blinked. “Evidently.”
“Do I make you nervous?” Emerson found this information amusing. She liked the idea that she might make Hayley nervous. It made her feel like she wasn’t the only one with some baggage involved.
“Today you do,” Hayley said, looking unsure of herself.
Emerson raised her eyebrows. “Why today in particular?”
A few people walked through the parking lot and Hayley shifted, positioning herself closer. Her eyes traced the outline of Emerson’s face, momentarily pausing at Emerson’s lips before returning to Emerson’s eyes. Emerson didn’t miss that.
“You seemed tense and unsettled in there.” Her voice was softer, almost as if she was trying to keep their discussion private. She hesitated before adding, “And I think I missed being around you. So I don’t want to upset you during the short time I get to spend with you.”
Emerson considered this, the admission warming her a little. The scene snafu back there did little to ease her discomfort, but the truth was she was more worried about her impending visit to Colorado. They’d pushed it off so Rory wouldn’t have to miss spring break plans with her friends, but things were so unpredictable around here, she didn’t trust that they had time on their side before the news hit the press. She was simultaneously eager and dreading the conversation. She wanted to tell Rory about being her biological mother herself before she read it on the internet. She decided to omit that bit in her response. “I’ve had a longish few weeks. The movie release is fast approaching, and I think I’m a little stressed.”
Hayley nodded, staying close.
Emerson thought about what Hayley had said. T
here was something about Hayley that drew her in. She found a strength in her presence. And an attraction, too. She’d be a fool to deny that she found herself more and more attracted to Hayley each day. “I think I missed being around you, too.” She wanted to clarify something. “You don’t upset me when you’re around, even though you’re the media. You make me feel very relaxed, actually. Like I can be myself with you. And it—”
“Frightens you a little?” Hayley asked. Yes. Yes, it did.
“Maybe.” Emerson regarded Hayley. She was close enough to touch. She remembered the way Hayley’s eyes flicked down to her lips before, and she had a feeling that if she kissed Hayley, Hayley would kiss her back. The desire to test that theory was very strong. This was dangerous.
“A good frightened or a bad frightened?” Hayley seemed to read her mind and spoke directly to Emerson’s lips, desire written across her face. This felt like too much. Too much to ignore. Too much work to pretend like she didn’t feel the same way.
Emerson caved and reached out to caress her cheek. She grazed her thumb along the edge of Hayley’s jaw and marveled at the softness of her skin. She teased the skin below Hayley’s lip, causing her bottom lip to protrude a bit before she leaned back and put a little distance between them. “Good frightened.”
Hayley looked like she was going to say something when the sound of approaching footsteps on the other side of the heavy door behind them drew their attention.
A tech poked his head out the door. “Ms. Sterling? Are you ready to continue?”
She nodded, her mood markedly improved. “I’ll be right in.”
He gave her a hesitant look before he ducked back inside.
“He’s afraid of you,” Hayley observed.