Adapted for Film

by Stacey Rourke

  “I-I’m not going to do that,” he stammered.

  “Fair enough,” I chuckled. My victorious grin stayed plastered in place as I pushed open the door and let the welcoming midday sun envelope me.

  Chapter 4

  “The next day, after meticulous planning …”

  “Ugh!” The young reporter’s professionalism faltered, her head falling back against her wing-backed chair. “Look, I am really sorry, but you have been talking forever and haven’t mentioned Greyson Meyers even once! So far we’re, what? Two or three days on the set and you haven’t gotten a glimpse of the most painfully beautiful man on the planet? How is some petty rivalry with the director even relevant? This is a love story! The whole world knows about you and Greyson! Let’s get to the steamy stuff!”

  Beads of condensation streaked down the glass of water resting on the table beside me. With the knuckle of my index finger I caught one and wiped it away. “When it comes to love, even the most trivial, irrelevant details can become monumental.” Pretending not to hear her groan of annoyance, I offered her a glimmer of hope, “But don’t worry, Greyson makes his appearance soon enough, and if I’ve learned anything about him it’s that he is always worth the wait.”

  “I thought Californians were supposed to be somewhat laid-back?” Gripping the steering wheel tight, I kept my new rental car moving at barely more than a coast. “We’re getting flipped off by a surprising number of people.”

  “Well, we are driving on a sidewalk through a film lot.” Tandy scooted further down in her seat and attempted to hide behind her giant sunglasses. “Thanks for including me in this, by the way.”

  “You’re the Thelma to my Louise.” I gave a nod of acknowledgement to yet another flown bird. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

  She hiked up one eyebrow in question. “And an angry film crew is going to be our proverbial cliff?”

  “Have faith!” Turning up the radio at the opening chords of Mateo’s new song, I thumped my fingers against the steering wheel to the beat. “Once they see what I’m doing, I could become their modern day Robin Hood, a real-life hero of the people.”

  Tandy slid her sunglasses down and peered at me over the top of the frames. “You’re not fighting the man, you’re being a diva author. That won’t be viewed as noble.”

  “Don’t make me pull this car over on to an actual road, because I’ll do it.”

  Tandy flopped back against her seat, laughing in spite of herself. “You’re really cracking yourself up today, aren’t you?”

  Cranking the wheel to the side, I guided my borrowed Lincoln Town Car between a sound stage and the administrative building that housed the writer’s cave. Up ahead members of the film crew caught sight of us and moved aside, allowing us a clear shot onto the parking lot set. My grin widened enough to make my cheeks ache. “Tormenting Camden brings me immeasurable joy.”

  Crossing one arm over her mid-section, Tandy rested her opposite elbow against her crossed arm. Her palm supported her chin. “After all this time you’re feeling something for a guy. Twisted as it is, I’m going to go ahead and celebrate it.”

  “You and me both.” Easing the car into the parking spot directly in front of camera one, I threw it into park. Tossing my hair—that hung in loose waves down my back—over my shoulder, I hopped from the car and prepared for war.

  Bewilderment and confusion froze most of the film crew, their heads turned in search of answers and pointed me straight for Camden. Pushing my sunglasses up on to my head, I offered a finger wave the second his raven hair popped out from behind the camera. Casting his gaze to the ground, he pinched his full lips together in a thin white line and strode my way with a purposeful stride. He took a beat before speaking, composing himself by lacing his fingers behind his neck and fixing on an unruffled mask.

  “Whatcha doing?” Kole’s eyebrows rose in eager expectation.

  “I am helping to make sure your movie is a stellar success!” Not a fan of confrontation, a family of butterflies roughly the size of bats erupted in my stomach. Still, I refused to let my smile falter.

  “By cruising into a scene right before the cameras start rolling?” Kole’s hands fell with an exaggerated flop, slapping against the tops of his thighs. “It’s not a traditional form of help, but good luck earning that merit badge.”

  “No, silly!” Playfully swatting at his arm, I miscalculated the distance between us and slapped him way harder than I intended. I winced at the accidental strike, yet pressed on as he scowled and rubbed his arm. “I’m helping by handling a very particular producer for you. It seems she’s a huge advocate of the book and is insisting we keep it as authentic as possible.”

  Hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his khaki slacks, he rotated his shoulders, the muscles across his chest flexing. “Oh, yeah? A random producer said that?”

  “She did,” I exuberantly nodded and hid my trembling hands behind my back, “and your little parking lot scene nearly caused her to pull her funds altogether, because—as a diehard fan—she knows it’s not in the book. Nevertheless, if it had been, Paige would have been tooling around in something like this stunning Lincoln Town Car and not a Prius.”

  “I almost hate to ask where you’re going with this,” Kole muttered, exasperation tilting his head to the side.

  Clearing my throat, I launched into my well-rehearsed line of bull, “To help you out by keeping her funds secured to our budget, I suggested we open the scene in the parking lot with the Prius center stage. That will meet our advertising obligations. We can go from that to a shot of Paige rolling up in the Lincoln. It will be more true to the character and the story. A simple change and everyone is happy!”

  “So it would seem.” Kole raked his fingers through his hair, peering up at me from under his brow with an alluring gaze that would’ve weakened the knees of any red-blooded woman that didn’t possess my goal-oriented tunnel vision.

  Squaring my shoulders, I iced myself over to his palpable charisma that exuded from him in heady waves. “Is that a yes to using the Town Car?”

  Kole took a step closer, his cobalt eyes narrowing. His index finger jabbed the center of my forehead. A rush of heat flooded my cheeks at the contact, my pulse jumping in an unsteady rhythm. I wanted to slap his hand away and bark at him not to touch me. Unfortunately, doing so would prove he could ruffle me. Instead, I met his gaze with frosty indifference.

  “I’ll give you this win,” he stated in a low tone for my ears only, “but this isn’t over.”

  Throwing my hip to the side, I curled my shoulder in a coquettishly teasing posture. In my best breathy pin-up impression, I mimicked his earlier sentiment, “I’d be disappointed if it was.”

  Silently stewing, Kole curled his raised hand into a fist and let it drop to his side. Spinning on his heel, he shouted to the crew that was doing their best to pretend they weren’t listening in. “Places! Cue marker and get ready to roll film!”

  Pivoting back toward Tandy, my shoulders rose to my ears. A victorious squeal snuck past my lips.

  I was hoping she would join me in a celebratory ninny dance. It seemed, however, that she was busy gaping past me in slack-jawed astonishment. My brows knitting together tight, I followed her stare … and stopped short with a gasp.

  I found myself staring into eyes the color of the most decadent chocolate truffle. A smile of pure seduction vined its way across the Adonis-like face gazing down at me. Sunlight gleamed off his flaxen hair, creating a glowing golden halo around his head. He held himself with the confident air of a man that had charmed many women with his looks alone, yet the immeasurable success he had to back it up made him kryptonite to those possessing a uterus.

  His name slipped from my lips in a breathless whisper, “Greyson Meyers.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, he gave a quick nod of approval. “Nice car,” he said with a grin.

  Without another word, he sauntered off to take his mark for the upcoming scene.

  I
stared after him, star-struck to the point of immobility.

  Tandy, on the other hand, leapt from her seat, caught my wrist in a two-handed grasp, and squeezed it hard enough to cut-off the blood flow. “Ohmygawd-ohmygawd-ohmygaaawwwwd!”

  All I could do was blink rapidly in response. One glimpse of Greyson and my wordsmith mind had completely short-circuited.

  Chapter 5

  “Yes!” Forgetting her professional persona, RB clapped her hands and nearly jumped from her seat. “Now we’re talking! Was it love at first sight? Did he ask you out? How did you not drop dead when he looked at you?”

  The fabricated story I had rehashed countless times formed on my tongue and soured there. I couldn’t spit it out even one more time. Needing something to do with my hands, I snagged my water from the table and traced my finger around the rim. “If it had happened like a chapter from one of my books, that’s exactly what would’ve happened. I know I have fed that same illusion to women more times than I care to admit. But I like you, RB …”

  “RB?”

  “I don’t know your name, that’s what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

  “My name is Jenna.”

  “I like RB better, and it’s because I like you that I think you deserve the truth. Keep that recorder going. You’re about to get an exclusive.”

  “Do you think it’s squat thrusts that give it that form? I mean, there has to be a trick to achieve that level of … buoyancy.” Tandy’s head cocked, her contemplative gaze fixed on Greyson’s backside as he dropped to the ground to power out some push-ups in between takes.

  Shifting in my seat, I leaned forward with my elbows on my knees, prepared for a full intervention if need be. “You realize you’ve been talking exclusively about his butt for about forty-five minutes, right?”

  “How are you immune to his God-given attributes? Look around!” Palm up, Tandy gestured to the other adoring fans that lined the set in open reverence with a wide arm sweep. “Extras, film crew members, the entire wardrobe department would hump his leg like a Chihuahua in heat if he so much as glanced their way! Yet, here you sit—the ice queen with her frozen libido.”

  “My libido isn’t frozen, and I’m not immune,” I grumbled and let my gaze wander to the heartthrob in question. His taut muscles rippled with each rapid succession push-up. Droplets of sweat streaked down between his shoulder blades, tracing each muscle on their way toward his narrow waist. No woman alive could deny his appeal. Regardless, I didn’t plan on joining his mob of followers. “Sure, he’s hot.” I shrugged. “I just happen to like him more for the fact that he let me have the last dill pickle on the veggie tray at Craft Service. That’s the kind of chivalry I can get behind.”

  “A Girl and Her Pickle, a Story of Truly Ravenous Love; there’s your next book title,” Tandy scoffed with a wry huff of laughter.

  “The Condiments Series,” pursing my lips, I nodded my appreciation, “I like it.”

  Our banter was cut short by the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, an indicator without having to look that Kole was somewhere nearby. Without fail he appeared, dragging Mateo to the side of the set only a few feet in front of us by his forearm. I fought the deep impulse to hiss at his close proximity. Even so, he didn’t acknowledge me any more than one would a leaf on the sidewalk. Mateo, however, seemed to catch Tandy’s scent in the air. He was in full lustful leer, giving her that cool guy nod all men somehow know.

  “Why do I always feel like I need a shower and a shot of penicillin whenever he’s around?” Tandy groaned, distracting herself by riffling through her giant purse for her lip gloss.

  My head tilted, considering him like a science experiment. “I think that’s supposed to be part of his appeal.”

  Duncan trotted up beside Kole, a clipboard in hand and a fresh sheen of sweat coating his brow and staining the arm pits of his shirt. At least he had the courtesy to offer us a friendly wave.

  “’Sup, boss man?” Mateo asked, making his pecs dance beneath the thin fabric of his white tank.

  Kole slapped a hand on Mateo’s thick shoulder, taking the buddy approach to scene coaching. “I wanted to talk to you about your portrayal of Rocco.”

  My ears perked at the mention of my character. Maybe, just maybe, Kole would finally do right by my Russian roughneck character.

  For a minute Mateo’s cocky swagger cracked, revealing the hard-working man that was eager to please who lay beneath. “This is my first film and I want to do right by you. Any notes you have, feel free to be brutally honest.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Tandy peeking up from under her brow. Not that I could blame her. A softer side of Mateo Cruz was truly a sight to behold, not unlike watching a Leprechaun ride a unicycle.

  “You’re doing great … with the material you have to work with,” Kole reassured him.

  Upon close, death glare inspection I noticed the corners of Kole’s eyes crinkling with amusement at his dig at my expense. My hands gripped the wooden arm rests of my canvas chair, a twitch throbbing behind my left eyelid.

  Oblivious to my plight, Kole put his index finger to his lips, as if deliberating on his directorially notes. “You know, I just don’t think the readers that will be hitting the theater really care if Rocco is Russian, and your accent is coming across somewhat forced.”

  “Can stress cause someone’s eyeball shoot right out of their socket? I’m legitimately worried about that right now,” I warned Tandy in a hushed whisper.

  “Yeah, where’s the dude from, like Transylvania or somethin’?” Mateo snorted, his lips screwing up in disdain. “This ain’t Dracula! We don’t need that mess!”

  Tandy placed a comforting hand on mine. “It seems both literature and geography are taking a hit today.”

  Kole risked a quick glance my way, mischief sparking in his eyes. “I really feel fans will want to see Mateo Cruz in all of his Cuban glory.”

  “You want full frontal? We can do that, long as the set isn’t too cold. Shrinkage is no friend to my reputation. Know what I’m sayin’?” Mateo smacked Kole in the arm with the side of his fist, chortling with laughter.

  “Ms. Evans, can I get you anything?” Maya, my overly perky on-set assistant, leaned around from the back of my chair to inquire.

  “The biggest bottle of antacid the world has ever seen. And I don’t just mean the biggest on the drugstore shelf. I want one for the record books. Go now, and don’t come back without it.”

  Oddly enough, I never did see Maya again after that. I can only assume she’s still looking.

  “Should I get him a love sock?” Duncan asked, his pen poised and hovering over his clipboard.

  “That won’t be necessary.” Kole ducked his head, under the guise of scratching the back of his neck. Even from my vantage point, I could see the red-faced laugh he was attempting to hide. “Although I do appreciate your enthusiasm. What I actually meant was seeing a bit more of your personality in the role. You know, maybe Spanish it up a bit.”

  Duncan’s hands fell to his sides, the wrongness of the situation robbing his face of emotion. “That’s really politically incorrect. You can’t say that.”

  “No, man, I get it!” Mateo bounced on the balls of his feet, like a boxer about to step into the ring. “Cuba representin’! I like it!”

  Turning in my seat toward Tandy, my lips vanished into a tightly puckered white line. “At my last book signing a bus load of women showed up wearing shirts that read I’d let Rocco in my Red Square. They’re going to notice if he’s suddenly Cuban!”

  Tandy gnawed on her lower lip, nodding her agreement. “The gay community loves him. They call him their Siberian Bear.”

  “Aw,” I sighed, my shoulders sagging with defeat. “I didn’t know that. That’s so sweet! This will devastate them.”

  “Great!” Kole punctuated his proclamation with a sharp clap of his hands. “Let’s get you in place for the next scene. Unless our superstar writer has a complaint?” His cobalt g
aze flashed with challenge as he turned the full-force of his devilish grin my way.

  Tandy caught my elbow, her fingernails digging shallow half-moons in my skin. “Everyone is watching. Keep your cool.”

  Swallowing hard, I nearly choked on the stream of profanities eager to be unleashed. It took every ounce of willpower I had to refrain, and nothing short of divine intervention to force my lips back in what I hoped resembled a nonchalant smile.

  “I trust your directorial opinion,” I lied. “I mean, how could I doubt a man that won an MTV Movie Award for—what was it again? Best use of booty shorts in a full-length film?”

  “Something like that.” His Cheshire cat grin broadcasted just how much he was enjoying this.

  Casual as I could, I scratched my forehead with my middle finger. “There’s just one more thing, a little tip from me to you.” My hand paused, the tip of my finger tapping the center of my forehead. “This? Not over.”

  Our combative fodder had become so focused that neither of us noticed one of the extras pulling her phone from her pocket. One body, hidden in the crowd, eagerly snapped away. So many birds had flown that day, yet mine was the only one captured on film.

  Chapter 6

  “Want to explain the meaning of this to me?” Art Hadley, the president of Raven’s Claw Productions bellowed, wildly gesturing toward the magazine cover photo of me flipping Kole off. His face bloomed purple with rage, starting at his wobbly second chin. Spittle foamed at the corners of his mouth.

  Having never met Art before, I didn’t know if he was socially inept or being literal. My face blank of expression, I blinked up at him. “D-do you really not know what it means? It’s pretty common, especially considering the L.A. traffic situation.”

  Beside me, Kole hid a snort of laughter behind his hand and played it off as a cough.