Catch A Falling Superstar: A New Adult Erotic Romance

by Steen, J. Emily

  Ophelia: “You're saying that everyone is a coward.”

  I put some disdain into that, avoiding the matter-of-fact tone that Lisa had used. Ophelia didn't buy it yet.

  Hamlet: “Yes! Every life has shit in it. It has more shit than good things. Much more. As soon as you realize that, you should fix it or you're a coward.”

  Ophelia: “So this is your 'I didn't ask to be born' argument, right?”

  That line was all mine.

  Hamlet: “No one asks to be born or conceived. We can't. We don't exist. Other people make the decision to bring us into being.”

  Ophelia: “You think everyone should kill themselves?”

  Hamlet: “Everyone who's an adult. Let me ask you this: Do you even like this world we live in?”

  Ophelia, quietly, vulnerable: “I like some things about it.”

  To me, that line was obviously her saying, in her own way, that she loved Hamlet. But that was not how Lisa had been playing it.

  Hamlet: “We were born into this world with no choice. Your parents know only that you will have to take a shit-ton of crap in your life from everyone who feels that they have power over you. That's all they can guarantee you. Everyone who gets the chance to hurt you will do it as soon and as hard as they can. If not, it's because they are waiting for a better opportunity to hurt you even more.”

  Ophelia: “I don't believe that. Some bad things have happened to you recently. They have, I know. They make you exaggerate the evils of the world. I understand.”

  That was almost all me. It came naturally. It's what I would have said if I were Ophelia in this scene.

  Hamlet: “What if you knew for a fact that there was nothing after this? Just nothing, and you also know that you will be going there anyway, after a life filled to beyond capacity with humiliation and heartache and worry and trouble? Would you not just get it done and over with? Anything we do in this world is worthless and useless anyway.”

  That was said with such intensity and sincerity that I just stared for a moment, even if I had heard the line many times before. That was the difference between a person reading lines and a world class actor being in a role. This was Archer being Archer Stratton, Academy Award winner. It made my next line absolutely true.

  Ophelia: “Don't talk like that. It makes me afraid.”

  Hamlet: “Afraid because I'm right!”

  That was the end of the scene in the script. But not in my mind. My Ophelia would not let herself and her opinions be dismissed like that.

  Ophelia: “No! Afraid because you're wrong. And you know you are. But you still say these things to me. As if you wish me... harm.”

  I said the last thing with an anxious anger, in a way. Well, that's what it felt like. I don't know a better way to describe it.

  Now it was Archer's turn to stare at me. We just stood there in silence, enjoying the feeling of a scene that had been played pretty well. That had to be an addictive feeling, I thought. Then I saw Archer do a double take and look out of the set, toward the camera. I followed his glance with my own eyes.

  There was Hector Matheson, famous and admired director of many high budget motion pictures, leaning nonchalantly up against a light pole, a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. He was looking right at us, a relaxed smile playing at his lips.

  “Now that,” he said calmly. “That works.”

  Archer called out to him. “How long have you been there, Hec?”

  “Oh, long enough. I just had the feeling I should come back to the set a little earlier after lunch. Strange hunch I had. I get those. Sometimes they pay out, mostly not. This one payed out fine. I think a little rewrite is in the cards. We'll postpone this scene until tomorrow. We'll probably breeze through it in a couple of takes.”

  He turned away and sauntered off.

  More people were filing in, having seen the director finish his lunch and walk towards the set. Always a good idea to keep tabs on what the boss is doing, I guess.

  “Okay,” Archer said. “That frees me up for the rest of the day. Seems we'll have a late lunch after all. Decide on where you want to go. I'll go to my trailer and freshen up. Walk around here and look at stuff as much as you want. One more scene to be shot here today, but not with me in it.”

  Then he left, crossing paths with Lisa as she came in. I could tell he was looking at her, trying to establish friendly eye contact, but she wasn't having it, and just stared ahead of her. She went right over to where Hector was conferring with a group of what I guessed were assistants and important technicians, and they all gave her priority. So I was left to myself on the sound stage of a major Hollywood production.

  6

  I sat down in Archer's designated chair again, happy with my first attempt at acting. Of course I couldn't really know if I had been able to provide any real help to Archer, or how good my acting had really been, but the way both he and Hector had reacted told me that it might have been okay.

  There was a lot of noise in the sound stage by now, because people were preparing for the last scene of the day. Shouting, electric drills, just normal conversations, metallic bangs and hollow booms made the backdrop of a huge hall in which lots of people were busy working. So I couldn't hear what was being said between Lisa and the director, but I couldn't help noticing that even if Hector never looked in my direction, he must have mentioned me somehow, because Lisa suddenly half turned and looked straight at me.

  Somehow, a super famous Hollywood actress at the top of her game staring at me made me super conscious of my own appearance, in my ridiculous yellow and black LuckyStop uniform, hat and all. I looked away and pretended not to have noticed her gaze falling on me. Did she even know who I was?

  When I glanced back at the group, it was only Hector talking and joking with some of the crew. Lisa was nowhere to be seen.

  I thought I would locate the restroom before Archer got back, and so I moseyed off to where Brent had pointed earlier. He was right, the facilities were actually pretty nice.

  As I was washing my hands, someone else came in, but didn't enter a stall. I looked over my shoulder to see who it was. My heart skipped a beat - it was Lisa Scalia. She was standing not too far behind me, arms crossed tightly across her chest and her head down. But she was looking up at me, huge brown eyes smoldering with fire. Yeah, she was not happy.

  “Hi!” she said, too aggressively to be a friendly greeting.

  “Hi-” I started, but she cut me off, her voice strained and high pitched.

  “So is LuckyStop starting a new branch in here?”

  “I... whuh?”

  “Because I don't see why else we'd have little uniformed clerks running around the set, screwing things up.”

  I just stared for a moment, taken aback.

  “Well, I didn't mean to be in the way-”

  “Really? Because I only heard that there was a LuckyStop girl hogging the monitor and making sure no one else could see the shot. Because I guess the the crew – you know, people who actually work here - don't really need to see what's going on. Right?”

  “I was sort of invited-”

  “You were sort of invited? Sort of? What does that mean? You were not really invited? You just couldn't leave? Or wouldn't? Because that's what I'm hearing!”

  I felt tears burning behind my eyes. This was not only unfair, but also hurtful. And she had taken me completely by surprise, stunning me.

  “Now the thing is this, and someone has to tell you: We, about a hundred and fifty people, are trying to tie up this project. We're almost there. And then someone from the outside comes and trips up everything. Yes, I heard you just decided to rewrite the script and change the whole meaning of the main scene! That's so great. Because the reason I just spent seven months preparing for this role and eleven weeks shooting was so that a random convenience store clerk could tell everyone here how to do their jobs, including me. A job I have done about forty times before. You know, shooting a movie or a show? How many movies have you shot?”
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  “I didn't mean to...”

  “Oh, I'm sure you didn't mean to do shit. Weird how that works, huh? This little local girl waltzes in on a closed set in the shadow of Archer Stratton, then proceeds to act in the main scene of the movie!”

  “He asked me to hel-”

  “Yes, I'm sure he did! I'm sure. That's what he's like. And you were not hard to ask, were you? Do you know, if his assistant hadn't quit, she'd have thrown your ass the hell out of here as soon as she saw you? Like, with an armed guard on each side of you, making sure you left forever? Because those are the rules here. This is place of work, did you know that? It's not a place where you can see the sights or hang out with actors any way you want like you own the place!”

  I had to assert myself. This was completely unfair. I tried to find my voice.

  “Hey, I-” But once more she cut me off, her voice going shrill.

  “Now, what I'm saying is this: You got bitten by an ocelot that Archer Stratton was walking. Or scratched or whatever. What is he going to do? Is he going to say there, there, give you his autograph and wait until you sue him and the whole studio for millions of dollars over a tiny injury? Or is he going to take pity on you, pretend to care about your welfare and bring you to the set to get proper treatment and let you see a real sound stage and dazzle the shit out of you? Yeah, I know he's charming. He is charming to everyone, including guys. Don't get any ideas. You have no business being here in the first place. You had your fun, and in the process you have probably screwed up this production for me. For everyone. Do you know that we're very far behind schedule already? Do you have any idea how much that's costing per day?!”

  Remarkably, that whole speech gave me time to work out a response. I knew I was done here and that I had lost this encounter. But famous actress or not, I would not meekly accept her verbal assault without even firing a shot.

  I got in front of the bathroom door so she couldn't leave, but had to hear me out. I angrily wiped some water from my cheeks with the frazzled sleeve of my dirty yellow LuckyStop uniform. I hoped my voice would carry.

  “You know, you're probably right. I have no place here. I was invited, but maybe I should have left sooner. But Lisa Scalia, world famous actress, Oscar nominee, here is something for you to think about: A little convenience store clerk just acted huge circles around you, leaving you in the dust at your own game, fucking wowing your own director! It's true, maybe I shouldn't be here. But are you sure you should?”

  Yeah, it wasn't that good. But it was something. My voice only cracked once. And I think I slammed the door pretty hard behind me.

  7

  I slunk along the wall of the sound stage, much less happy now than before. It made sense to me that Archer was only pretending to be friendly to avoid getting himself and the studio entangled in a legal battle. Well, they needn't have worried. Frivolous lawsuits was not my style. At least it would get him out of the lunch he promised. I'd just sneak out and go home.

  Well, I thought, at least I got the day off. And I had a good story, about celebrities and everything. And a real altercation with Lisa Scalia! Could have been worse. Even so, I still had to wipe a little around my eyes with the sleeve of the uniform. Damn, I didn't need that now.

  As I got to the door out of the sound stage and passed the member of the crew who was standing guard there, of course Archer was on the way in. He smirked, as always.

  “There you are. I was just looking for you. Let's get some lunch, finally. Did you think of a place?”

  “You don't have to take me out to lunch. I know you're busy. Thanks for everything.”

  I tried to act upbeat, but I'm sure my disappointment shone through.

  He looked at me, puzzled.

  “But... I thought... don't you want to?”

  “I did. It was very generous of you to offer. But I have to go. Seriously, thanks for showing me this, the set and everything. I had a great time. Good luck with the scene tomorrow!”

  He filled the doorway with his muscular frame, and he'd have to get out of my way if I was to physically leave.

  Maybe seven or eight seconds went by while he looked past me into the huge sound stage, processing this turn of events.

  Then he did something I did not expect: He completely overruled me, friendly but firmly.

  He fixed his gaze on me, pinning me in place with those green twin laser beams. Did I see some fire in there, too?

  “No, you're not getting out of this. I need lunch, and after weeks of catering company stuff, I want something different this time. We have a deal, and I won't let you back down on it. You're a local, you know the places to go.”

  He gently took my arm and pulled me firmly with him. His certainty and the physical contact calmed me right down. And it made me a little relieved, for some reason. He seemed sincere. I reminded myself that as a world class actor, he could probably fake sincerity as easy and naturally as chewing gum. But all in all, I felt that I wouldn't mind spending more time with him. It would make this an even better story to tell later. And I was leaving the set, just like Lisa had wanted.

  I came with him, not knowing what to say.

  “Where do we go?” he asked.

  I pulled myself together. Might as well go with the flow.

  “I was thinking of Deliah's. They have good wraps and a decent chocolate fondant. If you like that sort of thing.”

  “I'm sure I will. We have to get one of these.” He pointed to a row of black SUVs.

  “And for a public and non-disguised outing like this, we have to have a threesome.”

  He waved at a little groups of men chatting by the cars. One of them separated from the group and walked towards the closest SUV, then got in and drove it over to us. Archer gentlemanly opened the door for me, smiling reassuringly.

  “Entré”, he said. I took some French in high school, so I could have replied in the same language. But I just said “thanks” and got in.

  Archer got in beside me from the other side.

  “Blue, meet Magnus, my bodyguard.”

  The driver half turned and said “hi.” He was wearing a sport coat, a shirt and jeans, and he was plainly very muscular. From behind him it looked like his shoulders went all the way up to his ears. And he had that classic, white wire from one ear down to inside his coat. And, it struck me, he was probably carrying a gun, too.

  “Where to?” he asked, and Archer looked at me. Well, I knew the way.

  “Go left, and then right at the second intersection,” I said.

  We drove in silence for a while. I was surprised by how weird it felt to drive down this street, which I'd driven down and walked along thousands of times, sitting just a foot away from a super-famous actor. I glanced at him. Yes, it was still Archer Stratton. He was a little different now. His jaw was firmly set, and he was less talkative. I wondered if I had hurt his feelings when I tried to leave without going to lunch. Or maybe he was annoyed that he had to go through with this after all. Well, I'd just ride it out.

  We got to Deliah's, and Magnus let the engine run while he got out, looked quickly around and opened the door so Archer could get out. I tried to open the door on my side, but it wouldn't open.

  Archer stuck his head back in.

  “You can't get out that way. Slide over here.”

  I did, and he chivalrously took my hand to help me out.

  “That other door won't open in a setting like this, outside a secure area. It's a security thing. Prevents unwanted elements from gaining entry to the car,” he explained while Magnus walked ahead of us into the restaurant, scoped it out quickly, then returned to park the car in a better place.

  Archer offered his arm for me to put mine through, and we walked into the restaurant. It was a pretty upscale place, and lots of people from the businesses close by came there for lunch. No one looked that hard at us, which was probably mainly because Archer was dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt, none of them too fancy. And he was still wearing his baseball cap a
nd sunglasses.

  “They're usually two people, a driver and a bodyguard. Now there's only Magnus. He doesn't like to leave either us or the car alone. But since he has to choose, he will stay with the car, while keeping an eye out for people coming into the restaurant. What sometimes happens is that word will get around that someone famous is inside, and people may come here to get a look. If the place starts to fill up, unnaturally, we'll have to leave.”

  We got our menus, and the waitress asked us if we wanted to start with drinks. Archer looked at me, and I ordered a bottle of water. Then he said “the same, please,” in a voice that he made a little more gruff and hoarse than usual. I noticed that the waitress did look at him a little weird. Or maybe it was my imagination.

  “So this is where you hang out?” he asked me, looking around. It was a modern building with many large windows along one side and a round gas fireplace in the middle. It was very bright and airy.

  “Not really. This is a little out of my price range. I've been here a couple of times with my parents, that's all. That was years ago.”

  “Mhm. It's very nice. So you actually grew up in this town?”

  “Yes. Is there something wrong with it?”

  Hey, no one criticizes my home town. Except me, of course.

  “I don't know. Didn't see anything bad yet. Just nice things so far. Well, I've hardly left the sound stage while I've been here. So it's very nice of you to show me something more. Although you were hard to convince to come through on our agreement.” He looked at me and lifted his eyebrows a little, as if wanting an explanation.

  “Well... I got the feeling that you might have better things to do with your time,” I lied.

  He was not falling for it. Man, he sure could make his face look sarcastic.