by A. B. Wilson
I laughed at my over-the-top friend and cut off as the waiter deposited our food. We both dug in for a few bites before I paused to answer her question. “I know, it’s a lot. I said yes to Michael and the show without thinking it all the way through. I saw a shortcut to the endgame of my Plan and got greedy. And Markus, yeah, he’s got me tied up in ten kinds of knots. He’s just so, argh…”
“Fucking gorgeous? Those the words you’re looking for?” She grinned at me.
“Yeah, that, but so much more too. I really like him.” I pointed a fork at her, complete with pancake and dripping syrup. “What we’re talking about does not leave this table. Got it?”
She flipped me off, scratching between her eyebrows with a raised middle finger. “Duh. Promise.”
“Okay. Well, last night things may have gotten a little heated—”
“Oh my god, so hot. Did you two finally get it on?”
She’d totally derailed me. “No! Anyways, we were finally talking about what’s going on with us. The crazy attraction, whether there’s feelings attached. It was overdue given the fact that our little walk-through scene was like the third time we’ve gotten carried away with each other.”
She looked at me with question marks in her big brown eyes.
“You know, physically. Carried away. First base? Maybe second? Does that still mean anything? You know, never mind.”
“Squeee!” Her giggles triggered mine, and I almost choked on my pancakes.
“Mmmhmm. Suffice to say that, yeah, we’ve had a few encounters, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but I wanted to keep it a secret since I didn’t think anything was going anywhere and really wanted to ignore what was happening.”
“And what was happening?”
“Stuff! You know!”
She grinned wickedly. “No, I don’t know. What is this ‘stuff’ you speak of?”
“Fuck you, Candace. You know. Feelings, all right? We were friends immediately. I feel like I’ve known him forever. There’s such a strange level of comfort and ease when we’re together. There’s something about him—about us together—that is so terrifyingly right, and I’ve never felt that before.”
Her jaw had dropped somewhere along the way, and she stared at me with hearts in her eyes. “You love him! Eeeep! You. Love. Him!”
I shushed her and looked around to make sure no one had heard her squeals. “No, no! All I know is that we’ve come close to hooking up a few times, but one of us has always stopped it. Yesterday he finally admitted that he did have feelings, but wasn’t sure if he could commit to anything and asked if we could we try casually—but exclusively—dating and see where it goes from there. And then Vanessa cornered me, but he rescued me—and oh my god, my life is a soap opera.” I slumped in my seat, ready to hide in the collar of my shirt. This was nuts. I was a producer, the furthest thing from an A-lister in this town.
“So you’re together?” Candace cut to the heart of it.
“I don’t know. Kind of? It’s casual, though. I mean, saying yes to anything with him was such a relief—like, finally, I was where I was meant to be. Trying to deny those feelings felt so wrong. He’s a magnet, always pulling at me, and when we’re together literally nothing else matters.”
“Alina, I am holding back my screams right now. Maybe you can’t tell.” I could tell. Her eyes were huge and deranged. “He may have made it sound like he wants casual, but that guy is so into you. He gravitates toward you on set, always looking for you, and the relief on his face when he finds you…”
“So I’m his security blanket?”
“A little, but there’s more there too. I think your attraction goes both ways and, like you are, he’s surprised by the strength of it. My guess is that Markus feels that sense of relief too—you’re both where you’re meant to be now. Fighting it so hard must be exhausting, even if the feelings are super confusing.” Leaning back, she crossed her arms, dropped her chin and looked at me over her shades. “So, very exciting. Something else is up, though. What is it?”
“This whole show thing. I’m completely freaking out. Did I do the right thing? I feel like I’m taking a shortcut and didn’t think it through enough.”
“Uh, yeah. You definitely didn’t think it through. But I don’t think it’s a bad thing. This industry is impossible and it never matters how hard you work. I’ve seen so many talented people stall out. You have to know the right people, work the right angles. And a lot of it is luck.”
“That was my instinct too,” I murmured, semi-reassured, as I toyed with my napkin. “So do it? Sign the contract?”
“I would, in a heartbeat. It’s going to be really hard, not gonna lie, but I believe in you. You can do this. There are a bunch of us who have your back.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. “I think you’re right, I’m going to go for it. But please keep this whole Markus-and-me-feelings stuff quiet, cool?” I signaled the waiter for the check. “I’ve got to get going. I’ve got a shitload of errands to run today, but I meant to ask if you wanted to get ready for the Premiere together? Markus asked me to go with him as his date.”
Candace laughed and pulled me in for a huge hug. “Of course, Alina, I’d love to style you up. Don’t worry about the Markus stuff—live in the moment. The way you two are together is so sweet, and it’s been hilarious watching y’all fumble your way toward each other. Now, go get your shit taken care of. I’ve got the check. Give Markus a hand job for me or something.” She winked and smiled as she shooed me away from the table.
“Gross. A hand job?” I shook my head and hugged her again before grabbing my bag to go.
“Hey, now,” she said as she giggled. “Hand jobs can be very romantic.”
As I walked back to my car to get started on my interminable list, I texted Markus again. He’d replied to my last message while we were at brunch.
Oral fixation? More like fixated on every inch of you.
We’d have to work on his texting skills. He gave good sext, but this proper grammar shit was annoying.
Lol can’t wait. Good luck with your P.R. song and dance.
Almost no time passed before I saw the dancing dots of a reply.
Oh, it’s just going to be the most fun. I’ll call you about tonight.
I smirked as I dropped my phone back into my bag and twirled my keys like an Old West gunslinger. Game on, Markus. Game. On.
* * * *
My good mood lasted until I saw the package delivered by courier on my front steps when I got back from brunch and errands. The contract. I grabbed it and eagerly tore it open as I shouldered my way through the door. I quickly fired up my espresso machine and took my doppio out to the table on my patio. As I read through the contract while sipping the rich coffee, my head started to throb with an impending migraine. The legalese spun a deceptive picture, but a careful reading immediately called out the fact that the whole thing was bullshit, a starting point to test whether or not I knew anything about the industry.
My inner Depression-era grandma started noting out all of the clauses that were oppressive, disrespectful and downright cheap. Markus’ team was going to tear this shit apart and get me what I deserved.
Chapter Sixteen
Markus
After my sexually fraught texting exchange with Alina, my morning workout was more half-assed than eighty percent of the crap Tarantino slapped his name on. I couldn’t concentrate for the life of me. The truth was that my feelings for her scared the shit out of me and I knew a casual thing wouldn’t be enough. I worried that she’d bail on me if things got too tricky with media attention. In an attempt to distract myself, I tore open the couriered envelope my housekeeper had dropped on my counter and scanned through the pages of our shiny new contracts
Michael already knew what I would demand and his offer was fair. Alina’s, on the other hand, was complete horseshit. My blood pressure started to climb as I flipped the pages on her contract. I grabbed my phone and hit speed dial to Will.
“Markus, hey, how’s things? Yes, it’s a lovely day, and yes, all is well in my world.”
“Fucking smart-ass. Have you seen these contracts or not?”
He got serious quickly. “Of course. Yours is fine, but I think we can do better. The young woman’s, though, is going to take some work.”
I could practically hear him cracking his figurative knuckles as he got ready to dig into the contract. The guy was bloodthirsty, and I turned him loose. “Get her the best deal that you can. I guarantee that she’ll reject this, as well. Text her to confirm. She’s got priority.”
“Done and done.”
* * * *
With time to kill before the P.R. blitz, I decided to get some shopping in for my nieces. Stores were crowded, but everything seemed to be going smoothly for once. I had left the house without security and completely alone, something I rarely attempted. Alina’s involvement in my life made me curious about whether or not we’d ever be able to live a ‘normal’ life together, or if being with me would strip that freedom from her.
No one seemed to recognize me in the first shop I visited, which had me feeling optimistic, and I whistled my way down the street. But that optimism went crashing straight into the ground when I saw the photographers waiting for me as I left the second.
“Markus! What’s going on with Kate? Tell us about the break-up. Are you going to work things out? Did Sellers fire you?”
The shouts all ran together into one loud, intrusive voice, and before I knew it a small crowd had encircled me with their phones and cameras out, ready to record my tiniest move. I tried to smile and wave them off, but they pressed in closer.
“Markus, how was working with Michael Burch? Is it true that it’s your only role? How does it feel to be blacklisted?”
I backed up against the door of a boutique, saying, “No comment, no comment.” Things were starting to get frightening with the press and barrage of questions when the door behind me suddenly opened and I tumbled in. A security guard nodded at me and I thanked him.
“No worries, man. I’ll clear them out. Call a car and have it come to the back. We’ll get you out of here.”
Again, I thanked him, texted David quickly and started looking around. The shop, a boutique specializing in vintage high-end Hollywood fashion, was quiet, and a display of jewelry in a case caught my attention. A set of vintage Cartier bangles glimmered in a corner. The small info card noted that they had belonged to, of all people, Barbra Streisand. I stopped to look and a sales associate rushed over.
“Oh, you like these, Mr. Shellenberg?” She blushed faintly.
“Ah. Yes. I do. My, um, sister would like them a lot.” I felt trapped by her attention, but also curious as to how Barbra Streisand’s jewelry had ended up in this shop.
The woman pulled out the tray and placed it on the case, separating the bracelets for me to look at. “Your sister? Is she a fan? The seller told us that these bracelets were given to Ms. Streisand by Robert Redford during the filming of The Way We Were. She had been dealing with a horrendous amount of pressure from the studios and media and was near a breakdown. He had them engraved with some empowering messages and gave them to her for good luck.”
The bracelets were nothing special at first glance. They were the traditional Cartier ‘Love’ design. Everyone and their mother had those bracelets.
“What do you mean ‘empowering messages’?” I asked.
She handed one to me and gestured for me to look inside at the engraving.
‘Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a fuck,’ it read. “Gone with the Wind?” I asked.
The woman nodded and handed me the other two. I looked at each of them and started to smile. All of them contained some mangled quote from a film that incorporated the word fuck. I loved their quirkiness and knew immediately that Alina would too. And I owed her something for all of those mixed messages. She needed to know that I supported her—I could be her Redford.
“How much?” I asked, already reaching for my wallet.
* * * *
Around nine o’clock that night, I heard from Will and Roger that the deals were done. My brain was fried after the run-in with paparazzi and a full afternoon and evening of Sellers-related P.R. nonsense. While I was disappointed that Alina had been unable to get together, it was almost a relief when she texted saying she wasn’t feeling well. I opened a bottle of scotch to celebrate the contract signing and paired it with a bowl of cereal. Single adult dinner of champions.
I finished the first glass while reviewing and uploading my contract. The upload confirmation email had a link to the new plot arc summary and scripts, and I wasted no time pouring another while I tore into them. When I finished, I stared blankly at the wall and gulped the remaining whiskey in my glass. Then I scrolled back through the pages to the beginning and read through two more times before tossing my tablet aside.
Seeing it all in black and white made things real, and I started to actually think about the implications of us taking on leading roles. Because that was exactly what the parts were. I wasn’t joining the cast as a side character with a girlfriend like I’d been promised. No, of course not, that would be too easy.
Michael had somehow gotten the network to greenlight the screenwriters rewriting the season so Alina and I were the main focus, and he’d gotten away with it because we couldn’t see the scripts until the contracts were signed. That shark in a goofy artist’s clothing. I might not have seen the original scripts, but given the lack of story focusing on anything but our relationship, the entire season had to have been trashed.
The cast was going to lose their shit completely when they found out about all of this, and I really didn’t blame them. If it were me, I’d be furious and immediately looking for a way out of my contract. This was not going to make our transition easy—we were both going to have targets on our backs. Forget the ‘family atmosphere’. People were going to be pissed.
More alarming, though, than the response of the existing cast—at least from my perspective—was the way that the rumor mill on both traditional and social media was going to react. All of the back and forth about my break-up with Kate was going to gain traction. Alina would be drawn in too as my mysterious co-star and if people found out we were dating, she’d end up cast as the evil other woman. The story had legs now and would take off running. I had to protect her from the coming attacks, but I didn’t know how.
I sent Alina a text to ask her if she’d reviewed the contract and see if she wanted to get together to review the scripts and storyline, but she’d gone dark on me after letting me know she had a migraine. With no other options and feeling completely at loose ends, I grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed for my room. If getting or giving head wasn’t on the table, solo drinking and binging on bad TV would surely make this nightmare better.
Chapter Seventeen
Alina
When I finally pulled out of my migraine the next day, I got back to work and started to review the scripts over coffee and toast. Almost immediately, my palms started to sweat.
The thing was, the show was more than a little outlandish. Seasons one through three had introduced the audience to a family of immortal demigods who had fled from France to the New World back in the 1500s to avoid the vicious in-fighting within their community of beings. The family eventually settled in what was modern-day Savannah and went underground, content to pass as human.
Sebastian, Markus’ character, was the emissary of the shadowy Central organization sent to force the family to ally with the rest of the immortal community. And, according to the original scripts, he had been supposed to die in a battle with another character. The power struggle between the family and the nefarious Central group had been set to be the main arc in the upcoming season.
That plot, according to the pages I’d read, had been tossed completely out the window. The new one pushed all of the other characters to secondar
y roles, leaving Sebastian and his love interest as the primary protagonists for the season. As the new arc went, Sebastian, who had thrown his lot in with the family during that climactic battle, would meet a woman who would turn his life upside down in the first episode of the season. She would be identical to the love of his existence—a mortal woman who died hundreds of years ago.
Although he’d try to stay away, the woman, played by little old me, would burrow under his skin and he would feel compelled to be near her, to know her. Without a doubt, she is the reincarnation of his lost love and, in a sense, Sebastian would begin to come back to life after a millennium of being alone.
The new arc, despite stretching viewers’ credulity to the breaking point and its similarity to some of the old vampire-y shows on the CW and HBO, was miles better than the original. It was poignant and suspenseful. However, its success hinged on me suddenly becoming an actor capable of carrying an entire season on her back.
I grabbed my phone and frantically texted Markus.
I just read the storyline. Freaking out.
He responded immediately.
I know. Do you want to get on a call with Michael later? We need to talk to him about this. It goes against everything he promised.
I quickly messaged Michael as my unease increased. If Markus was worried too…
I messaged him requesting a call. What should we do if he doesn’t respond?
Markus didn’t reply for a moment, and little black specks started to dance in my peripheral vision.
It’s going to be ok, we can track him down tonight at the premier if he doesn’t get back to us. Phone sex?