by Jae
“Crash?” Ben said. “You okay?”
“Oh, yeah. Sorry.” She quickly climbed up onto the concrete deck and got into position.
The cameras started rolling, and the platform began to shake beneath her.
How fitting, Crash thought. That was exactly how she felt: shaken to the core, just like the title of the movie.
“Cut,” Ben shouted. “That’s a wrap for today, folks. See you tomorrow.”
“Hallelujah,” the stuntwoman who’d played the trapped earthquake victim mumbled.
Jill gave her a commiserating glance. “Amen, sister.” She had thought the redeeming words would never come and they would have to do take after take of this scene until sunset.
When she got up from her kneeling position, relief weakened her knees. Or maybe it was sheer exhaustion. She didn’t care. All she cared about was finally making it off this damn pile of rubble. She felt as if she had just fought a three-day battle against an enemy that outnumbered her. Unfortunately, the MS was an opponent that couldn’t be beaten.
With her arms spread to both sides to help keep her balance, she made her way over bricks and other debris until she reached the edge of the platform.
It wasn’t much more than a yard off the ground, but even that distance felt like having to jump off a plane without a parachute. Normally, her foot brace helped stabilize her ankle, but she couldn’t wear it for this scene because the plastic was too rigid and made crouching and crawling over the debris nearly impossible.
She sat on the edge of the concrete deck and let her feet dangle down so she was closer to the ground, praying that her left leg would hold up when she jumped.
“Wait!”
Jill had been so focused on safely getting down that Crash’s calling out startled her. She looked up.
Crash left her conversation with Ben and the stuntwoman doubling for Shawn and rushed over. She unhooked Jill’s safety wire and held out her hands to catch her.
“Thanks,” Jill said. “I’m fine.” Crash had already helped her down once, and Jill didn’t want to start behaving like a damsel who needed help every single time.
Crash let her arms drop and then folded them across her chest. A frown marred her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re as stubborn as a mule?”
“A person or two might have mentioned it,” Jill said with a tired grin. She waved at Crash to clear the space in front of her.
For a moment, Crash looked as if she wanted to ignore her wishes, grab her around the waist, and lift her down. Then she shook her head and stepped back.
Jill slid forward on her ass. When she pushed off the platform, her dress caught on a piece of concrete that was sticking up. The ripping of fabric sounded overly loud to Jill.
She landed unevenly, trying to keep her weight mostly on her stronger right foot, and clutched the platform to keep herself upright. When she trusted her legs to hold her, she let go and reached behind herself with one hand. A large rip ran diagonally across her backside.
Despite her exhaustion—or maybe because of it—laughter bubbled up.
“You okay?” Crash eyed her as if she doubted Jill’s mental soundness, but then a grin spread over her face too. She still stood with her hands held out, ready to catch Jill if needed.
“Yeah. I’m fine, but I think my days as wardrobe’s favorite are numbered. The dress is toast.” She had never thought she’d ever be grateful she had to wear two petticoats, but now those articles of clothing kept her from revealing her drawers to the entire cast and crew of Shaken to the Core. “See you tomorrow.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she pushed past Crash and walked toward her trailer, glad that the long hem of her dress hid that she was favoring her left leg.
She felt Crash’s gaze on her all the way to the trailer and up the three metal stairs that were akin to climbing Mount Everest.
With a sigh of relief, she pulled the door closed behind her and turned up the air conditioner as high as it could go. The cold blasts of air felt heavenly. As her body cooled down, the burning sensation on the left side of her body and the numbness in her leg receded. Still, she kept close to the wall as she made her way over to the couch, just in case she had to catch herself.
She dropped onto the couch, sank back, and closed her eyes. Elation at having finished the shoot warred with frustration, but mainly, she was just tired. So tired. She knew she should get up and drive home or at least get into the trailer’s tiny shower and clean herself up, but she just couldn’t summon the energy to move.
A knock sounded on the door.
Bone-weary, Jill stayed where she was, hoping her visitor would take the hint and go away.
But the knock came again.
Groaning, she opened her eyes and pushed herself into an upright position. “Yes?”
She wasn’t overly surprised when Crash peeked into her trailer. “Sorry to disturb you.”
“No problem. Come on in. I was just going over my lines for tomorrow.” Too late she realized that tomorrow’s script pages were nowhere to be seen. She hoped Crash wouldn’t notice.
Crash looked as if she didn’t believe her, but she said nothing.
“So, what can I do for you?” Jill asked.
“The question is, what can I do for you,” Crash said. She entered, closed the door behind her, and pointed at Jill’s costume. “I remembered that you’re still wearing the stunt harness, and I thought you might need some help getting out of that thing.”
“Oh.” Jill glanced down at herself. She’d forgotten about the harness. “Thanks, but I can manage.” Truth be told, she had no idea how to take off the contraption, but accepting help didn’t come easily for her.
Crash stepped closer and looked down at her. “Really?”
There was something in her blue eyes…something that hadn’t been there before. Not pity, exactly, more like compassion mixed with sorrow.
Jill’s overheated body went cold. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment and then opened them again. The expression in Crash’s eyes was still the same. “You know,” Jill whispered.
Crash nodded. Her jaw muscles bunched.
Dammit. Jill’s eyes stung. She told herself it was just the dust and ash the large fans had blown on her all day. She didn’t care if Crash knew, right? Jill never cared what people thought.
But that feeling of regret, anger, and vulnerability right behind her sternum just wouldn’t go away. She had liked the fact that Crash hadn’t known and had treated her like an attractive woman, not like an MS patient.
“Does it hurt?” Crash asked.
For a moment, Jill thought she was talking about the MS, but then she realized she’d been rubbing her chest through the harness. “No, it’s fine. Just not the most comfortable.”
“Come on, let’s take it off.”
“I bet you say that to all the women,” Jill said, hiding behind a grin.
“Nah.” Crash returned the grin, but her eyes remained serious. “Usually, they take off their clothes without me having to tell them.”
Jill shrugged. She still didn’t move to take off her dress. “Guess I’m special, then.”
“You’re especially stubborn; that’s what you are.”
“Yeah, we established that already.”
Crash perched on the coffee table and looked at her, now eye to eye. “Well, I’m a Leo, and you know what they say about my sun sign. We’re pretty stubborn too.”
Jill snorted and shook her head. “Isn’t Taurus supposed to be the stubborn one?”
“You got me there. I don’t know a thing about astrology, but I do know how to take off a stunt harness, so…” Crash gestured toward Jill’s dress.
Jesus. Leo or not, Crash was pretty stubborn. If Jill wanted to get some rest anytime soon, she had to give in and get this over with. “Okay, okay.”
She lifted her hands to the bodice of her dress, but the tiny buttons wouldn’t cooperate. They simply refused to slide through the buttonholes. That was exactly why she had banned articles of clothing with buttons from her wardrobe for the most part, but on the set, she had to wear them.
She was tempted to tear off the buttons, but she was probably already in the doghouse with the wardrobe people for ripping the back of the dress, so she kept fumbling with the buttons, trying to get her still-numb left hand to cooperate.
“Did I mention I know how to take off a dress too?” Crash said.
“I’ll just bet you do,” Jill mumbled without looking up from her battle with the buttons.
Finally, one slid through the buttonhole.
Suppressing a triumphant cry, she started to work on the next. Several minutes later, she had them all open and slipped out of the dress. The two petticoats followed. Now she stood in front of Crash in a pair of knee-length drawers, a lacy chemise, and the stunt harness. The old-fashioned underwear covered nearly all of her body, but she still felt strangely exposed. Ignoring the feeling, she looked over at Crash with a challenging stare. “There.”
“Okay, so let’s see…” Crash stood from where she had perched on the coffee table and rubbed her fingers together as if to warm them, even though she wouldn’t actually have to touch Jill’s skin to remove the harness.
Just the thought of Crash touching her bare skin sent a shiver through Jill’s body. Traitor. Her entire left side had been either numb or burning for most of the day; her balance was off, and she was walking with a limp, but her body still reacted to Crash’s closeness. Figures.
Crash reached for the first strap that held the stunt harness closed around Jill’s torso and tore the Velcro open, then slid the strap through the titanium buckle. Her fingers brushed Jill’s side on their way up to the next strap, sending another shiver through Jill. With her hands on the Velcro, Crash paused. “You okay? I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Jill bit her lip and shook her head. “No. I’m fine.” She tried to distract herself by mentally repeating lines of tomorrow’s scenes. As Crash’s fingers moved higher, to the strap right below her breasts, she switched to nursery rhymes.
Crash opened the last buckle and then knelt to remove the straps around Jill’s upper thighs. A chuckle drifted up. Again, Crash paused and peered up at Jill. “Mary had a little lamb?”
“What?”
“You were humming ‘Mary had a little lamb,’” Crash said with a broad grin.
“Oh.” Heat shot up Jill’s neck. Her tired mind searched for an explanation she could offer—one other than I was trying to distract myself from the way your fingers feel on my body. “Uh, I guess I, um, must be hungry.”
Crash slid the padded leg straps free, stood, and helped Jill out of the safety vest. “Want me to get you something? There’s a Greek restaurant nearby if you have a hankering for lamb.”
Jill dropped onto the couch and gestured for Crash to sit too. “Okay, let’s get one thing straight once and for all. I might have MS, but I’m not helpless.”
“I never said—”
One wave of Jill’s hand stopped her. “I’m not helpless,” Jill repeated. “This is a set, not a hospital, and you are the stuntwoman doubling for me, not my nurse. If I have a hankering for lamb, I’m perfectly capable of calling the restaurant and ordering takeout.”
It wasn’t the first time Jill had delivered a speech like that. Most other people had retreated, hurt by those frank words. Crash’s normally clear blue eyes clouded over for a moment before she nodded. “Fair enough.” She took Jill’s cell phone, which was lying on the coffee table, and pressed it into her hand. “Can you order the chicken gyros for me? No tzatziki, please.”
Clutching the phone, Jill stared at her. She opened her mouth, about to reprimand her and tell her she wasn’t invited to dinner, but instead, she heard herself chuckle and say, “You’re unbelievable, you know that? And I don’t mean it in a good way.”
Crash just grinned. “Share a baklava with me?”
“Share? Are you crazy? If we’re ordering baklava, you can get your own.”
“You say the sweetest things.” Crash pressed her hand to her chest with a dreamy expression on her face.
After sending her a halfhearted glare, Jill turned away from Crash to hide her smile and called the Greek restaurant and then Susana to let her know she’d be late picking up Tramp.
While Crash unpacked the paper takeout bags, Jill walked over to the mini fridge, pleased to feel her left leg cooperate. “Diet Coke?”
“Do you have any water?” Crash asked. “I try to avoid soda if I can.”
Was she a health nut? Her body certainly looked as if she took good care of it. Focus. Her body is none of your business. Jill grabbed a can of Coke and a bottle of water and carried them over to the couch.
They sat side by side, sipping their beverages and digging into their food.
Jill moaned at the taste of her lamb souvlaki, deliciously marinated in rosemary, oregano, and lemon.
They ate in silence for several minutes.
“Can I ask you something?” What the heck…? Jill hadn’t meant to say that. But admittedly, she was curious about Crash.
Crash looked up from her box of gyros. “Sure.” She took a sip of water. “If I get to ask you something in return.”
Jill instantly regretted her question. She knew what Crash would ask now that she had found out about the MS. Since revealing her disease to the public, she got the same type of questions over and over. But Jill had started it, so she wasn’t about to back down now. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“So, what’s your question?” Crash leaned back and sprawled out her legs, the picture of relaxation, so totally comfortable in her own skin that Jill couldn’t help envying her.
Dozens of questions shot through Jill’s mind. She’d always been a curious person, but it amazed her how much she wanted to know about Crash. Finally, she settled on “What’s your real name?”
“Ooh, you’re going right for the jugular.” Crash grinned at her and popped a piece of chicken into her mouth.
“Let me guess. You could tell me, but then you’d have to kill me.”
“Kill you? Nah. I could think of much more pleasant things to do with you.”
Her words and her low voice, smooth as honey, with just a hint of a Texas drawl, made Jill tingle all over—a tingling very unlike that in her left leg. Snap out of it. She cleared her throat. “Don’t try to distract me. Your real name.” She waved her fingers at Crash. “Tell me.”
“Okay.” Crash put down her plastic fork and sat up straight. “Ready?”
Jill nodded.
“My real name is Edna Myrtle Patterson.”
“Uh…” Jill eyed her warily, not wanting to say anything wrong in case Crash wasn’t joking. “Really?”
“What? It’s a perfectly good name for a nice girl from Texas,” Crash drawled. Then she couldn’t keep up her serious facade any longer and burst out laughing.
Jill socked her in the shoulder. “Liar. Your name isn’t really Edna Myrtle…is it?”
“No. My parents are not that cruel.”
“So, what is it? Come on!” Jill wriggled her fingers in a gimme motion.
“Kristine No-Middle-Name Patterson.”
“Kristine,” Jill repeated, testing out the sound of the name. She decided she liked it. With a glance at Crash’s athletic frame and her strong jawline, she asked, “Do you go by Kris?”
Crash energetically shook her head. “Nope. I’ve got enough of the lesbian stereotype going on, thank you very much.” She ruffled her short, wind-blown hair. “It’s Kristine.”
“No middle name?”
“No middle name,” Crash confirmed. “After having four boys, my parents had given up hope of ever getting a daughter, so th
ey hadn’t picked out a first name, much less a middle name for a girl. I was lucky they didn’t name me Christopher, which was the name they had picked out for child number five.”
Jill laughed. “So you have four brothers?”
“Five,” Crash said with an affectionate smile. “My little brother, Cody, is a year younger than me.”
“Wow. Five brothers.” Jill shook her head. She couldn’t imagine growing up like that. “I suddenly feel like saying ‘I’m sorry.’ Having one brother is more than enough for me.”
“Nah. It wasn’t that bad,” Crash said. “Raising five boys prepared my mother for having a daughter like me… Although she would probably say that there is no way to prepare for that, other than having good insurance.”
“So maybe Crash is a fitting name for you after all,” Jill said with a smile. “Even if it doesn’t seem to be the best nickname for a stuntwoman. I mean, who wants to be known for crashing?”
Crash shook her head. “That’s not how I got my nickname. When I first started out in the stunt business, I did a lot of driving gags. I kind of specialized in crashing cars—on purpose, mind you.”
Jill tried to imagine having a job like that, but she couldn’t wrap her head around it. Why would a reasonably sane person voluntarily risk life and limb every single day? Jill would have given anything to be healthy again, while Crash readily accepted being hurt, maybe even ending up in a wheelchair or possibly dying, every time she went to work. “How did you get into stunts?”
“You realize that’s a second question, don’t you? Does that mean I’ll get to ask you a second one too?”
Shit. Jill’s mother had always told her that her curiosity would be her downfall one day. It seemed she’d been right after all. Or maybe not, because Jill’s biggest flaw wasn’t her curiosity—it was her inability to back down. She sighed. “All right.”
“I’ve always been very athletic,” Crash said. “In my family, everything revolved around sports. My father is a football coach, and my mother used to be a gymnast. I started taking Taekwondo classes when I was seven; I was into horses, and I took pretty much every sport you can think of in high school. Everyone always thought I’d either break my neck at a young age or win fame and fortune as a sports star.”