by A. B. Wilson
A short-haired blonde stepped next to me and smiled. “Nice to meet you. That was super-hot with the stand-in. Do you think she’s into women? Can I get her number?”
I shook my head in confusion.
“Action!” Michael shouted.
I totally like liked her and I needed to stop lying about it.
Chapter Twelve
Alina
While they rehearsed and finally ran the scene, I got the crew ready to wrap. People clapped as I closed the door to the stage where the action was happening and I took several awkward bows. I issued Michael’s orders to break down the remainder of the small sets so there would only be the one they were presently using to take care of when filming finally wrapped for the day.
There was a lot of catcalling about making out with the hottest man in the world, and more than a few speculative looks, but it was relatively good-natured, as if no one would ever think that we’d really be together. And that was both reassuring that I wouldn’t get caught up in gossip, but also a little bit of a kick in the teeth of my insecurity.
Everyone was chattering and gossiping about the karaoke battle planned for the informal cast and crew party that night and, luckily, we were almost immediately forgotten in the excitement. I had hoped to drop into the party after the meeting, but now I had promised Markus time to talk. I steeled my spine as I thought about exactly what he might have to say.
* * * *
Candace took one look at me in my sad clown makeup and still-wrinkled little black emergency dress and practically tore it off my body. She threw it at a passing wardrobe assistant to iron, shoved a robe at me and marched me to a vanity for quick makeup and hair.
“Girl, you’re going to look great. Where are you going again?”
“Nobu. It’s only dinner with the execs, but we’re selling them on Markus joining the show and it’s a huge opportunity for me to network,” I nervously confessed.
She stopped working, the brush still held against my face, tickling me. “He’s joining the show? And you two? What’s going on there?”
“Yes, shit, I wasn’t supposed to say anything! You can’t tell anyone about him joining the show. If it happens, it will be announced at the Premiere.” I batted her hand away from my face as I sneezed. “Nothing’s going on with us. We’re friends, okay?”
Candace started working again and hummed in agreement. “You better believe you’re going to spill the details later, girl.” Her words were vaguely threatening.
“Of course, promise.” I trusted her, but couldn’t deal with the third degree on the full Markus-Alina saga. Not when his rejection was so raw.
Michael burst in as I was sliding into my heels. He whistled as he looked me up and down. “Very nice, m’dear. Are you ready? Our chariot awaits. How do I look?” He had changed into a new Hawaiian shirt over his usual jeans and Birkenstock sandals, and looked like the aging hippie artist he was.
I stifled a laugh and said, “Lovely, boss. Let’s roll. Are we waiting on Markus?”
“No, he’ll meet us there. He needs to shower and change, get rid of that makeup. Besides, I want you to have time to impress the suits before he shows up. You deserve that, at the minimum, for getting him onboard.”
I protested that I’d had nothing to do with it, but he wasn’t listening as we ducked into the waiting car. He instructed the driver where to take us and turned to me. “Alina, I have something I want to ask you. A proposal, if you will.”
I dropped my phone into my bag and glanced over at his uncharacteristically serious face. “Sure, what’s up?”
His face was so innocent, his eyes huge like a baby deer’s. “Well, it’s like this. Remember when I asked if there was anything else you wanted to do besides produce and direct?”
I nodded, wondering where this was going.
“And then I asked if you’d ever thought about acting?”
“And I said, very clearly, ‘no’?” I answered carefully.
“You did, but I’m wondering if you’d reconsider.”
Shockwaves emanated through me. This was not part of my Plan.
He took my silence for permission to continue. “Having Markus is great and it will totally sway the network into renewing us for at least the next season. But what if his love interest storyline went deeper? With someone he really had chemistry with? It wouldn’t have to be the main arc in the story, but a few steamy scenes would make ratings go gangbusters and the viewers would eat that shit up with a spoon and lick the bowl.” He looked at me hopefully.
“Yes, I can see why that would be an attractive addition to the season. Are you running this by me to see if I think the idea is a good one, or for some other reason?” I was so, so hopeful that he wasn’t about to ask what I was pretty sure he wanted to ask.
“No, not exactly. I’m wondering if you’d be willing, on behalf of the show, to step in for a small-ish role as Markus’ character’s love interest. I promise that it would be a very little part and that I’d totally make it worth your while.”
I exploded. “No, Michael! I did not sign up to be in front of the camera. I do not want to be known for this. No.”
“Alina, I know, I know,” he soothed. “This is very sudden, but hear me out. If you were to do this, and if Markus is amenable too, we could even spin a whole ‘real’ relationship arc. Play it off as if you were this starstruck couple from different sides of the industry track. It would be huge publicity for the show. Life imitating art.”
I looked at him in disbelief. We were almost to the restaurant and a dull hum seemed to block out everything but Michael’s voice.
“And we’d make sure you got paid very well for your part. I’d also include an offer to be my assistant director on an upcoming film project—your choice which one. Plus introductions and references for any of my contacts. If we can get through this next season, you, me and Markus can walk away with our heads high and reputations very well enhanced.”
“You’re not kidding?” I asked, still wondering when the “April Fool’s!” was coming, even though it was August.
“Nope, I’m not. Seriously, you two have en fuego chemistry and that will make it easier if we script in a love interest at the last minute. I loved watching you run lines together during the walk-through. Markus hasn’t come alive like that since he joined us and it’s been like pulling teeth. I mean, he’s a consummate professional and way better than anyone else,” he said carelessly.
“Ouch,” I muttered.
“Psh, you know it’s true. He’s incredible, but today was the first day that I actually saw his full range again. Haven’t seen that since we worked together a few years ago,” he reminisced.
“Hmmm,” I murmured, wondering if he’d finally get back to his point.
“Anyways, added bonus if you join, the network heads would go bonkers if we could at least hint that the on-screen romance might be turning slightly real.”
“Let me get this straight. You think that me taking on a small role will make Markus even better. I’ll have a couple of steamy scenes with Markus Fucking Shellenberg. And somehow this combination will save the show?” I asked incredulously.
“Yep. Definitely. Having him on is the big deal, but you’ll help get the most out of him. Your chemistry, the trust he has in you, it’s all going to make him more effective.” Michael sounded positive and, worse yet, he was starting to convince me.
“So, what’s in it for me?” I asked. “You’re serious that, if I do this and the show is ‘saved’, you’re promising me an assistant director cred on the upcoming film project of my choice? Plus access to your Rolodex.”
“Uh-huh. Cast salaries are a lot higher than crew, too. If the network sees the value in Markus joining as a regular, they’re going to be prepared to open the purse strings. Opening them a little further for you shouldn’t be an issue if they buy this.”
“Can I think about it?” I asked, desperately hoping to put this off. “Also, shouldn’t we ask Markus how he fe
els?”
“Nope, he’s an actor. The script is the script. You’re different, though, and we need to be on the same page. Ideally, I’d like to propose this tonight, and we’re going to be at the restaurant in—” He looked out the window, craning his head to see through the tinted glass. “—five minutes.”
I dropped my head to my hands and started massaging my temples. This was a bananas offer. A little bit of bribery, to be sure, but an incredible opportunity. The contacts alone would be worth it. And kissing Markus here and there wasn’t exactly a hardship either. My thoughts raced as I considered all the ramifications of saying yes. This would derail my steady rise for a year while I acted and it was possible that there would be a lot of gossip about me being linked with Markus that could invade my privacy, but the payoffs…were too good to pass up.
“Michael, I’ll do it. Under two very important conditions.”
“Shut the fuck up, really?” he crowed.
“Condition one—it is a small part. I’m an addition to the storyline, this isn’t a leading role and the current characters remain in the forefront. Condition two—we are absolutely not pretending to be together for the press or publicity.”
“No real-fake relationship? C’mon, Alina, that’s half the fun of this idea.” He pouted.
“Absolutely not. If you want to propose it to Markus and me, together, later, fine. But I’m not doing it unless Markus and I discuss it first. Away from you.” I was adamant on the last one. I’d do almost anything for access to Michael’s contacts and that A.D. cred, but not fake a relationship with someone I didn’t want to admit I had real feelings for.
Michael’s piercing gray eyes speared through me as he weighed my sincerity. “Fine. I accept your conditions, but we are definitely going to bring it to Markus for discussion at a later date. Can I tell the execs about this August surprise?”
I nodded, wondering what Markus would think. “Yeah, but I want a contract ready at the same time Markus’ is. And you better believe I’m going to be going over it with a fine-tooth comb.”
We walked through the usual camera-happy crowd lined up in front of Nobu and into the restaurant. Right away, I noticed the group of two men and two women in suits at the bar, the smell of money, power and prestige washing off them and pulling looks from tables nearby. While not well-known figures, they had that stance—impeccably lazy posture, open body language but narrowed eyes—that let people know they were important, not to be fucked with.
In his trademark loud Hawaiian shirt, Michael led the way as we cut through the crowd. People attempted to stop and chat almost every step he took, but he waved them off, eyes on the prize. I trailed behind like a duckling, murmuring my “Excuse me”s like the polite Midwesterner I was. Finally, we reached the suits.
“Barry, Christopher, Susan, Frances, how are you all on this fine, fine evening?” Michael had his jovial, working-the-room voice in full effect as he went through the handshake-air-kiss routine with each of the execs. “This is Alina. She’s one of our assistant producers and the reason we’re all here tonight.”
They looked at me curiously and nodded, but no one held out their hand for a handshake or stepped up for the cheek kiss. I nodded and faded away into the background as the Michael Show took off.
“Have you ordered drinks yet?” he asked.
“Yes,” one of the women—Susan, I think—answered. “And our table should be ready shortly.”
Michael waved down the bartender—probably a struggling actor—who immediately walked away from another patron. “Sir, can I get you anything?”
“I’ll have a vodka gimlet with a lemon. Alina?” he asked as he nudged me.
The bartender didn’t look in my direction as I asked for a glass of white wine. He knew where the sources of power and influence were in the room. He returned with our drinks in record time as Michael made small talk with Barry and Frances, who, it turned out, were married and had attended Michael’s most recent wedding.
“Sir? Your drinks. Can I say that I really enjoyed this last season of Southern Gods. I love the show. Are you doing any open casting?” gushed the bartender.
Normally Michael would have brushed the guy off. In this case, though, he had something to prove. Michael handed me my drink and looked at the execs, smirked at them, and replied, “Oh, it’s possible. Keep an eye on the message boards. You may see something soon, very soon.”
Frances and Susan looked at each other with raised eyebrows, and it looked like Susan was about to ask Michael what he was talking about when the host came over to seat us. We were put at a corner table with plenty of space for privacy, as I’d requested, and I felt a momentary relief that my efforts hadn’t been in vain. As soon as we were seated Susan leaned over to me and asked confidentially, “I’m sure you know what this is about. Could you give us a hint?”
I smiled at her and tried to defer. “Oh, you know Michael. When he’s this excited, do you think he’s going to keep it a secret much longer?”
She hummed in agreement and turned to Michael. Her voice and demeanor hardened. “Michael. What’s this about? You wanted to meet with us. You know where we stand on renewing the show. What on earth do you think might change our minds?”
I liked how she took charge of the conversation and that the men sat back while she did so. I didn’t know much about Susan from the network, but I kinda wanted to be her when I grew up. Immediately, I started cataloging her body language and vocal delivery.
“Susan, please. I would never think to try to sway you one way or another,” Michael said. Barry and Frances looked incredulous, Christopher actually snorted, but Susan never changed expression.
“Oh, all right, fine. The thing is, Alina here is friends with our guest star, Markus Shellenberg. You know he did this short stint as a favor to me, but he recently came to me with an idea for his character to be made permanent. Actually, Alina suggested it when he told her that he was enjoying himself with the show, then they brought it to me.” Michael’s self-satisfied proclamation landed like a grenade on our table.
The four suits looked at one another and seemed to have an entire nonverbal conversation. Then Susan picked up point again. “Why is that an attractive proposition for us? We’ve all heard the rumors about him, that he’s unreliable and something of a loose cannon on sets. Sure, he’s a truly great talent, but I don’t know if hiring him is a such an advantage.”
That was how Susan lost credibility with me, and my stomach started to churn, my hackles went up and I was this close to interrupting her and demanding a retraction when Michael smoothly stepped in. “Susie, Susie, please. You know that’s a big pile of horseshit. George Sellers put together a terrible movie and is blaming it on everyone, especially Markus. Sellers can’t own up to the fact that he’s lost his vision and touch. He’s done.”
I’d had no idea, and filed that away for future consideration when I looked at jobs.
“Markus is rock solid and incredibly bankable. I’ve had zero issues with him during this shoot and he’s fit right in with our little family, right, Alina?”
I nodded, and the Michael train barreled on, “You know he’s good, so stop trying to stonewall me. There’s an added benny too. Alina here has agreed to take on a tiny role as Markus’ character’s love interest.”
Everyone’s attention immediately shifted to me and sharpened. I felt incredibly exposed in the predatory gazes of the four executives. Frances chose to speak first. “Why is that a good thing?”
“Oh, come on, Franny. You know it’s a good thing. Markus gets a love interest and runs some sexy scenes—excuse me, his character gets a love interest and the press will eat that shit up. I mean, Alina stood in for a scene with him while we were waiting for the actress to get through Wardrobe and their chemistry is incredible. The press will probably manufacture an entire relationship for the two of them and the publicity will be unbelievable.”
My misgivings about agreeing to this idea were mounting as all of the sui
ts transferred their focus back to me and nodded decisively.
Christopher tossed Susan a ‘back-off’ look and took over point. “Michael, I love it. Any publicity is good publicity, and we know that for a fact. Having him on will definitely be publicity-worthy.” He sounded so smug as he raised his glass to his lips and took a sip, then set it down with a loud thunk. “Alina, congrats. You’ve single-handedly saved the show.”
But I was still watching Susan and Frances, who were skewering me with their eyeballs. Susan angled her head away and stood abruptly. “Excuse me for a moment, I need to take a call.” She looked at me meaningfully and turned and headed back to the crowded bar. After a moment, I stood as well and muttered something about the bathroom, but no one was paying attention to me anymore after toasting the next season.
“Alina.” Susan appeared next to me at the corner of the bar. Her Botoxed brow managed to crease in concern. “I want to make sure that this is something that you’re comfortable with. The press attention, publicity, it’s going to be a lot for a newbie. The scenes as well. I need to hear it from you that you’re truly okay with what amounts to a massive life change.” She looked wistful for a moment as she said, “I was you once and I would hate to see a promising career get waylaid by ugly gossip.”
“Susan, thank you for asking and your concern. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” I began. “But I’m fine with this. Completely comfortable. Markus and I are good friends, nothing is going to affect that and, I think, with the right legal documentation, I’ll be largely safe. I also trust Michael.”
She shook her head ruefully at me. “I’d be careful about who you trust in this town, but it sounds like you’ve got it all figured out. Here, take my card. If anything comes up during filming, feel free to reach out to me. Anytime.”
I took the card she pressed into my hand and nodded. She squeezed my shoulder in an unexpected moment of solidarity and walked back to our table, the clicking of her skyscraper, ass-kicking heels muted by the clashing conversations of the diners and bar patrons. I read over the words on her card—her title, cell, email—as I tried to give enough space between the two of us returning to hide our private discussion.