by Cat Johnson
Rick stopped. After another step, Jamey paused as well and turned back, the question of what the hold up was clear in his expression.
“I’m sorry,” Rick said.
Jamey’s mouth tipped up in one corner. “It’s okay. I understand. I’d lose my fucking mind if I had to watch my girl with another guy all damn day too.”
“Yeah, it sucks. Believe me. But I should have been able to handle it.” Rick ran a hand over his face. “And you’re right. Thanks to me the movie is fucked. I’m definitely fucked. I’ll be lucky if Sierra doesn’t break up with me. I’ll definitely be thrown off set.”
Jamey shook his head. “Nah. I’ll cover for you.”
Rick frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’ll just say I got into a bar fight or something so you don’t get into trouble.”
Crap. Why the fuck did this guy have to be so nice? Just when Rick was happily hating him, he not only turned out to be a normal guy who’d survived what sounded like a horribly tough upbringing, he was also decent.
Hell, way more than just decent. Jamey was willing to take the fall for Rick’s mistake.
He couldn’t allow that. Rick shook his head. “No. Thanks, but I did it. I’ll take responsibility for it.”
Jamey pressed his lips tight. “You sure? Because I think you’re right. You’ll probably be thrown off set for good and there’s like two months left.”
“I’m aware.” Sixty-nine days on the schedule to be exact. Rick had been crossing them off one by one in an effort to keep his sanity. As it turns out, obsessing over this movie might have only made him crazier. “But the fact remains, I’ve got to take responsibility for my actions.”
“All right. I respect that. I think you’re nuts but I respect it.”
Rick laughed. “Better they throw me off set than you. The studio wouldn’t be happy with you if they thought you’d gone out in the middle of production, got in a bar fight and messed up your pretty face in the process.”
Jamey lifted one shoulder. “Eh, the publicist would just spin it. Work the bad boy angle. Movie goers love that shit.”
“But I know producers don’t. Especially when it costs them money,” Rick said.
Jamey laughed. “You’ve probably been around more movie sets than me but yeah, even I know that.”
“What do you mean?” Rick asked, still feeling like an absolute newbie in this business.
“This is only my second movie. And shooting the first one was nothing like this. It was one of those low budget productions that broke out at Sundance and made it big.”
“Really?” Rick hadn’t realized that.
He knew this kid was new on the Hollywood scene but he hadn’t realized exactly how new or how inexperienced.
“Yeah. I was working at a gym and doing some fighting on the side. Two guys showed up, said they were making a movie and asked if I would be in it. I said sure. They weren’t paying that much but hey, cash is cash and to get paid and not have to take any real punches to do it—I was in.” He shrugged. “That was it. The movie hit. Suddenly I found myself with an agent and a contract and that’s how I got here. Hey, can we pop into my trailer so I can change my shirt?”
That would be better for everyone. They’d attract a little less attention if he didn’t bring Hollywood’s newest darling into the ER covered in blood.
“Sure.” Rick nodded. If only he could erase the rest of the evidence of what he’d done as easily.
Inside Jamey’s trailer, Rick found pretty much the same set up that Sierra had in hers. Except, instead of make-up and clothes, this guy had barbells on the floor and a jumbo jug of protein powder on the counter.
Against all odds, Rick’s number one enemy was . . . normal. Average even.
As much as he hated it, Rick was starting to really like this guy. Enough so that he was feeling in the mood to confess a few things himself.
As Jamey pulled off the bloody shirt, Rick said, “My path to Hollywood was pretty odd and rambling too. And I’m about as new to it as you are.”
“For real?” New shirt in hand, Jamey glanced at Rick. “I’d never have guessed. You look so . . . comfortable on set.”
Maybe he should try his hand at acting because he was far from comfortable in this environment. And being on this set in particular had probably done irreparable damage to his body and mind.
“Yeah, no.” Rick laughed. “I retired from the Navy when I blew out my knee. Sierra hired the company my friends run in Virginia to handle her security on a movie she was filming there. I was her bodyguard. Then one thing led to another and here I am. That was a little over two years ago.”
“Huh. Well, seems we’re both fish out of water around here then.”
“Yeah, that’s a good way to put it.”
Jamey pressed a towel against his face and pulled it away again. “I think it’s clotting.”
Rick moved closer and evaluated the wound. “Looks like it did.” But it still wasn’t pretty.
“Good. I’m not going to bother with stitches then.
Rick frowned. “You don’t want to go to the hospital?”
“Nah.” Jamey studied his reflection in the mirror. “I’ve got some butterfly bandages around here somewhere. There’s ice in the freezer. That and some Ibuprofen and I’ll be good to go.”
“Okay. Up to you.” Not that it mattered much. Stitches or no stitches, what looked bad now was going to look even worse in the morning.
Jamey turned back to face Rick. “I’d rather have a drink than sit in a waiting room for the next couple of hours. Want one?”
Rick lifted a brow. “You want to have a drink with me? After what I did to you?”
“Better than drinking alone.” Jamey opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of bourbon and two glasses. “Unless you need to get back to Sierra.”
“I have a bit of time.” At this point any delay in his having to go back to the hotel and confess to Sierra what he’d done seemed like a good plan. He’d have to get their take-out food and her pages and get back shortly, but after tonight, a drink definitely seemed in order. “I guess I can have one.”
Jamey nodded and splashed the amber liquid into the glasses before carrying one over to Rick.
After pulling out a few pieces of ice from the freezer and wrapping them in the towel, he grabbed his own glass.
“So what did you do in the Navy?” Sprawling on the sofa with a drink in one hand, Jamey held the ice on his cheek with the other.
So they were going to do this? Have a normal conversation, as if Rick hadn’t been the one to break his face?
Hell, why not?
“I was in the SEALs,” Rick said.
“What? Shit. For real?” Jamey’s eyes—or at least the one that wasn’t swelling shut—opened wider.
This exact reaction was why Rick didn’t tell many people the details about his prior service.
“Yeah.” Rick rolled his eyes. “Why? Was it your boyhood dream to be a SEAL or something?”
“No. I wanted to be a racecar driver when I was little. But you do know what this movie is about, right?”
Rick lifted a shoulder. “You and Sierra having sex?”
Jamey let out a short laugh. “Besides that. My character was a SEAL. There’s a bunch of flashback scenes of when he was still in the Navy.”
Rick drew his brows low. “I didn’t know that.”
Why didn’t he know that? Probably because he was so busy obsessing over the sex scenes.
So there was more to this movie than just sex. That was a relief.
“We haven’t shot any of those scenes yet so I guess if you didn’t read the script you wouldn’t know,” Jamey said. “There’s a scene where I’m supposed to be explaining what Hell Week was like to Sierra. It’s pretty intense.”
A laugh escaped Rick. “Intense is one word for it.”
“Can you tell me what that was like?” Jamey leaned forward, forearms on his knees as he sat, eyes wide, and looked
eager.
Rick’s brows rose. Describe Hell Week accurately to a man who’d never been through it? Who was a civilian, no less? Not a chance.
He decided on the first word that came to mind. “Wet.”
“Wet?” Jamey laughed. “That’s it?”
Rick considered that. “And cold.”
Though that might not be accurate. He hadn’t read the script and didn’t know what time of year the character was supposed to have gone through Hell Week. The discomfort was constant, but whether you roasted or froze varied with the season.
“And sometimes hot,” Rick added, for accuracy. “And sandy. Always sandy.”
That was one thing he’d never forget—the sand. In his mouth. In his eyes. Sand that scraped his skin until he had a thousand tiny cuts that felt like they were on fire.
Jamey nodded. “And they starve you guys to make it harder. Right?”
“No.” Rick shook his head. “We got fed plenty. They deprived us of sleep to make it harder.”
“See! That’s what I’m worried about.” Jamey threw his hands up and flopped back against the sofa cushion. “They’ve got me saying that we were literally starved during Hell Week. What else did they get wrong in the script? This is exactly why I was afraid to take this part in the first place.”
“Don’t they have military consultants for this kind of shit?” Rick asked.
“Supposedly some guy went over the script and helped the costume department with the uniforms, but he wasn’t a SEAL.”
Rick sighed, thinking about every movie and television show he’d watched that had gotten it all wrong, right down to the uniforms, in spite of having experts advising them.
“If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take a look at Sierra’s script.”
“Oh my God. Yes! Would you? Thank you.”
“Sure. No problem.” After what he’d done to the star of this movie’s face, Rick owed the production company a free consultation, at the very least.
It would be interesting if nothing else. He hadn’t read any of her scripts. He hadn’t wanted to have those sex scenes burnt into his brain with words in addition to having to watch it all play out on set in front of him.
Maybe he could just skip to the military parts. Or offer some tips while on set if he saw something wrong during the actual filming.
If he was still around.
After tonight, he likely wouldn’t be spending another day on set.
Shit, he was going to have to arrange for someone else to take over Sierra’s security on the lot in his absence.
He couldn’t protect her if he wasn’t even allowed in the gate. And he knew from first hand experience a movie lot wasn’t as safe as they all liked to think. He wasn’t about to leave her completely unprotected.
Damn, he’d fucked up. That realization was really starting to settle in. It brought Rick’s mood down further than it had been.
He raised his glass to his lips and emptied it, relishing the last of the burn down his throat. It might be the last good thing he enjoyed for the near future.
Standing, he took the couple of steps necessary to cross the width of the trailer. He set down the empty glass with a clunk on the counter next to the bottle Jamey had left there.
Fun time was over.
“Time to get back,” he said.
Back to Sierra to face the music. He couldn’t avoid telling her forever that he’d broken her co-star’s face.
He glanced at Jamey one last time and cringed. “I really am sorry.” For so many reasons.
Jamey waved away the apology. “Hey, if this is what it took for you to agree to be my personal military consultant on this film, it was well worth it.”
Rick laughed, his hand on the doorknob. “I didn’t agree to that.”
“You will. You’ll see.” Jamey smiled and then winced, no doubt from the pain in his cheek.
Feeling a new rush of guilt, Rick nodded. “We’ll see.”
CHAPTER 4
Rick swung by Sierra’s trailer and found the pages she said she needed easily enough. They were right on the table where she’d left them next to her water bottle.
The take-out order was of course ready and sitting in a brown paper bag on the counter of the restaurant by the time Rick got there.
He’d taken so long—beating the shit out of Jamey and then making nice afterward—the food had probably sat there for half an hour.
He should have let the damn place deliver it, the way Sierra had wanted. It might have saved his job.
It sure as hell would have saved his fist, which was aching now that the pain-numbing surge of adrenaline had completely subsided.
With the bag of takeout held in his left hand, Rick opened his right one wide and flexed his fingers a couple of times.
As he faced the door of Sierra’s hotel room, he had a feeling his hand was the least of his worries.
With no reason to delay going inside—except that he plain didn’t want to—he slid the keycard into the slot and watched the green light welcome him inside. He could only hope Sierra would welcome him inside again as well after he told her what he’d done.
She was sitting on the sofa when he walked in.
He put the bag on the coffee table in front of her and opened his mouth to begin his apology when he realized she was talking on the phone through the Bluetooth earpiece nearly invisible in her ear.
She let out a huff. “Seriously?”
Uh oh. Had someone seen what had happened on the lot and she already knew all about it?
Shit. He had wanted to be the one to tell her. To at least try to explain. Then he could beg forgiveness or grovel or do whatever else it took to smooth things over with her.
And not just with her. With the studio too.
What if they couldn’t shoot with Jamey’s face like it was?
If he’d thrown off the production schedule . . . If he’d cost the movie thousands—hell, possibly hundreds of thousands of dollars—all because he’d been a jealous fool, an apology wasn’t going to cut it.
What if they fired Sierra because of him?
Fuck. This was way worse than he’d ever imagined, and what he’d imagined was pretty bad.
The woman he loved might never forgive him for this. And she’d be justified in doing so.
As Sierra stood and started pacing the room while she listened to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying, Rick sat.
He leaned forward in the chair, forearms braced on his knees, head down as he waited for his turn to speak with her.
“This is the worst possible time for this. You know that, right?” she asked.
That brought Rick’s head up. He breathed in relief when he realized the bitter question wasn’t directed at him, but at the person on the phone with her.
Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t talking about him, or at least about the situation he’d caused.
“Fine. I’ll read it tonight and text you my decision when I’m done. Is that soon enough?”
Sierra listened for a moment.
“I know. Look for my text.” She lowered the cell from her ear and finally glanced up at him.
“Everything all right?” he asked, dreading the answer.
“Yeah.” She drew in a breath and let it out in a burst. “But I’m going to have to grab my food and lock myself in the bedroom to read a script. I’m sorry.”
He remembered his whole reason for going to the lot tonight in the first place and stood. He drew the rolled pages he’d gone to retrieve out of the pocket in the leg of his cargo pants.
“This?” He handed the colored pages to her.
She let out a snort as she pulled take-out containers from the bag on the table. “No, but I need to do that too before tomorrow morning.”
Locating her sushi roll and seaweed salad, Sierra also grabbed a set of chopsticks and a napkin and straightened.
Items in hand, she said, “I need to make a decision tonight about whether I want
a role in a movie that won’t start filming until next year. My agent sent the script to me the day before we flew out here to start production. I’ve just been too busy with this movie to read the script for the next one.”
“Oh. Well, I guess it’s a good thing. You’re in demand, right?”
She frowned. “It’s one more thing I don’t need on my plate tonight, is what it is.”
Sierra turned toward the bedroom and Rick took a step after her. “I really needed to talk to you about something.”
She glanced back. “Can it wait? I haven’t even opened this script yet and she’s waiting for my text.”
Feeling guilty for his relief over his reprieve, Rick nodded. “Yeah, sure. It’ll wait.”
“Thanks, babe.” The smile she shot him would normally warm him straight through to his core.
Tonight, all it did was make his heart clench at the thought of losing this woman. “I love you,” he said as she strode through the bedroom door.
“Love you back,” she said as she closed the door between them.
The click of the door latch had Rick cussing beneath his breath.
He had to fix this. Somehow. And fast.
CHAPTER 5
The sun was up and glaring by the time Sierra walked out of the make-up trailer the next morning, making her squint behind her sunglasses.
She’d been up way too late the night before reading that damn script. The problem was, it was such a weird and convoluted plot she’d had to actually read the whole thing rather than just skim the beginning to get a gist of the story.
It was some sort of psychological thriller and dammit, that’s what made it so tempting. She really needed to break out of the box she’d been pigeon holed in lately.
After a string of romance films, she should take this role because it was so different. But in this town different wasn’t always better.
People made cookie cutter movies, each one looking like the last, because it was a sure thing. A formula guaranteed to return a profit.