Last night, I had stayed up searching online for information about the movie. I sorted through the infinite number of fan sites. The movies depicted a series of books about futuristic government agents, with supernatural abilities, who traveled through time defeating criminal masterminds. In this one, they were defeating some zombie ruler.
I saw the first movie, and I didn’t care for it. A quick thought entered my head. What if Jackson asked me what I thought about it? What was I thinking? Why would he care what I thought? As if he’d remember me, anyway.
When I reached the plantation’s security gate, the guard asked me a buttload of questions, scrutinized my ID, made a few calls, and finally let me through.
At first, I was anxious. The realization I was on a Hollywood movie set—in Venice, of all places—was surreal. Yet, Louisiana had an unexplainable mystical vibe, and the location made a hauntingly familiar set.
The plantation was huge, made up of one large main house with a detached barn and several surrounding cottages. People and equipment were scattered everywhere, and cranes lifted cameras into the air along the riverbank.
As I proceeded to walk toward the main building, I heard my name being shouted from the distance. I turned and saw a short, pudgy girl heading for me. She looked similar to someone I knew, but the girl I knew was pencil thin, wore glasses, and had bad acne. That girl looked like her distant relative. However, as she approached, I realized I’d known the girl since third grade. “Neesha?”
“O-M-G, Lauren!” She squealed. “You look great! When did you get back?”
“Yesterday.”
She flashed a soured, pouty expression. “Maybe I would have known if you’d kept in touch.”
I pulled her into a hug. “I’m truly sorry, Neesha, but when I left, all I could focus on was that I wanted to put this place behind me. Get my head right.”
“I guess I can understand that, but I missed you. You were one of my best friends. I knew you were going through a lot, but not letting me know how you were doing, hurt, Lauren.”
“Neesha, I’m really sorry. You are a great friend, and you were the only one who understood about being, well, me.”
“You mean an outcast?” She grinned. “Well, at least your brother didn’t murder his girlfriend, which made me a bona fide one. Yet, we survived, didn’t we. I can’t be too mad atcha. I missed ya, girl.”
“I missed you too, and you stayed here?”
“Yeah, I graduate this year. I, uh, was out for a while. I had a special delivery my sophomore year. My little boy, Brock; he’ll be seventeen months next week.”
“Wow.” That explained her physical changes. “Now I feel really bad about not contacting you. I should have been there for you.”
“Don’t. If it were me leaving this place, I would have run, and never looked back.” She gave me a comforting smile.
“I guess. Well, do you have pictures?”
I tried to swallow the guilty lump in my throat as she pulled out a photo keyring. “He favors his dad.”
“Do I know him?”
“He didn’t grow up here. We met in the city when I was an extra on another film. He was part of the crew, and we fooled around for a while. When I found out I was pregnant, he wanted nothing to do with us.”
“Sorry to hear that.”
“I should have known better. You know I’m a sucker for a pretty face.” She winked.
“So, you’re an extra for this film?”
“Yeah. My mom knows people, you?”
“Ashley is the caterer.”
“No!”
“I’m helping her out. That’s why I’m back. She kind of twisted my arm. What about your folks? Are they supportive?”
She shook her head. “Supportive wouldn’t be the word. Dad disowned me for a while. Surprisingly, my mom supported me, somewhat—as in getting me jobs like this one. But, things seem to be slowly getting better. They couldn’t deal with having both their children out of their lives, and they couldn’t help falling in love with Brock.”
I was a little surprised about her family’s acceptance. Even though Neesha was raised in Louisiana, her mom and dad held firm to their Chinese traditions.
Suddenly, an announcement boomed over the intercom.
Neesha hugged me. “I have to go. Let’s meet for lunch and catch up. You also have to meet Brock. Call me with some dates. I’m at the same number. I’ll see you later?”
“I promise.”
“I’ll hold you to it this time, Lauren.” She waved and walked away.
It took a while for me to locate Ashley among the numerous tents set up along the plantation grounds. From behind, I spotted her immediately. One couldn’t miss her in those four-inch heels, her wavy, red hair tied back, and wearing one of her signature aprons. She was running around with trays of food, and today especially, everything looked incredible. She was such a perfectionist, aiming to be the South’s Martha Stewart in high heels.
“Lauren, I thought you were lost, hun.” She punctuated it with an early-morning yawn.
“I ran into Neesha from junior high. How can you walk in those in this soil?”
She rolled her eyes.
“Like the apron, by the way. Is that really a tail?”
“Did Neesha tell you about her little surprise?”
I swatted the cat’s tail on her apron. “She did, and he’s a cutie. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You had enough to deal with. It was tough for her at first, and you know how fast word spreads around here.”
“How can I forget? In less than a day, everyone knew Mom was sent away.”
“That’s the joy of living in a small town, hun.”
“Hey, Mamaw said her tests went well—is that true?”
My grandmother had a tendency to stretch the truth when it came to her health. She did it so we didn’t worry, but it had the opposite effect. Ashley now went with her to each doctor’s appointment to make sure everything was fine.
“The last visit went well. The doctor wants her to slow down, and she has to watch her stress. He’s more concerned about her having another stroke.”
“We’re all concerned about that.”
“Being involved with her church clubs and Bible study seems to be helping. Any place she can brag about you kids makes her happy.”
“Right.”
“I’m serious. At the beauty parlor, she brags about you and Blake all the time. Also, when we go to lunch, she tells the servers about your artwork.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That’s why I am telling you. You’ll be surprised how much she talks about you.”
Ashley knew about the strain between Mamaw and me. The whole family did. Sometimes, she had to play mediator between us.
“You’re still taking Mamaw to the beauty shop?”
“Every Saturday, then lunch at May’s. I wouldn’t miss our girl time.”
Mom didn’t have many friends, but I was grateful she had Ashley. Ashley thought of Mamaw and Granddaddy as her second parents. Mamaw had mentioned she saw Ashley more than she saw her biological children. They created a special bond, and the two of them were thick as thieves.
“Ashley, what would you like me to do first?”
“You can start warming up those beignets. You’ll find everything over there in the trailer.”
I turned and saw rows of trailers.
“Trailer number ten, Lauren.”
She grinned knowingly before swishing away, wagging the cat’s tail behind her, which emphasized her curvy, hourglass figure.
It wasn’t easy locating trailer number ten. All the numbers on the front were hidden. When I finally found it, I knocked a couple times on the door, but no one answered, so I walked in.
The interior of the trailer was not what I expected. On the outside, it appeared as a regular trailer, but the inside told another story. The decor was plush, the colors vibrant, and it was more spacious than most homes.
I headed
straight toward the kitchen sink and started washing my hands, when I sensed someone behind me. A subtle, warm breeze brushed along the back of my neck, before the hairs stood up—the person was inches away.
I took a deep, halting breath, lifted my head, and saw his reflection from the window in front of me.
“Need any help?” Jackson purred into my ear. His eyes were piercing, even in the reflection, and his expression intense.
I flinched before I spun face-to-face with him. “I-I didn’t mean to intrude. I knocked, and no one answered.” I spoke a bit flustered.
“You thought you could barge right in?”
“No! I would never enter—”
He chuckled. “Lauren, it’s okay. This is catering’s trailer. Aren’t you a caterer?”
He remembered my name.
“Caterer’s assistant, slash do-whatever-Ashley-wants girl.” I playfully huffed, and he stepped closer.
“Was the remainder of your evening last night pleasant?”
I was very wrong. He did remember. However, I wasn’t sure why. What I did understand was that his close proximity made me uncomfortable.
We were almost the same height, but he had a few inches over my 5’4” stance. It didn’t help seeing him in tight jeans; his unbuttoned green oxford shirt revealed his fine chest hair. Every inch of my body remembered him.
Whoa! I needed to get a grip.
I grabbed a towel to dry my hands and slid past him. “Ashley is probably looking for me. I was late this morning getting through security.”
“Security’s heavy because of the fans.”
“They seemed harmless, but I did see quite a few ‘OHHH, Jackson’ signs along the way.”
“You would be surprised. Some of those sweet-looking girls can be vicious. We expect the occasional stalker now and then, but there are those who’ll rip us apart if they get their hands on us.”
“Has that happened to you?”
“Which time? Once, a girl grabbed a section of my hair and ripped it off my scalp. Other than that, pretty tame stuff.”
“I never understood how a person could deal with that?”
“It’s easy, Cliff deals with it.”
“Okay, who’s Cliff?”
“My bodyguard. Although, I’m not sure how good he is at his job. You came in without being detected.”
“Maybe he saw my badge?” I felt bad Cliff was in trouble.
“I was joking, Lauren. Cliff knows who you are. He was with me last night.”
“Ah, good.” We stood a moment in awkward silence. “I’d better go. It was nice seeing you again, Jackson.” I hurried through the door.
“I’ll walk with you. I need to bulk up.” He flexed his chest muscles. His body was far from that of a body builder, but his muscles were well defined. “You make me laugh,” he stated unexpectedly.
“Why?”
“You’re too serious. It makes me nervous, which in turn, causes me to laugh.”
“I make you nervous?”
“Most girls I meet are excited to see me.”
I felt excited. Was I saying something wrong? I looked at him, and he had an expression that said I was a moron. If that was an insult . . .
“See, like now. I just told you that you don’t seem excited to see me, and you look as if you’re going to deck me.” He shook his head. “There’s something about you, Lauren. I could have sworn we met before. Hell, that sounds creepy,” he said, more to himself.
“How am I supposed to act? We did just meet last night.”
“Exactly. You met me, Jackson Cruz!”
I stood there in awe of his self-righteous attitude. I thought he was a nice guy. Was I supposed to bow down at his feet and praise him for being Jackson Cruz? I didn’t care if he was gorgeous and a famous movie star.
When he grinned at me, it only made me more irritated. I started to walk away before he could finish, but he grabbed my arm and swung me around to face him.
“Hey! I’m not used to people—certain people—treating me so indifferent.” He snarled as I peered at his large hand wrapped around my arm. “I apologize, Lauren.” He released his hand. “It’s rare that I’m treated like a normal person. Can you understand that?”
Even if I did, I wanted to tell him off for grabbing me. I didn’t care who he was; however, his eyes showed his sincerity.
“I do understand. Even though I thought you were—”
“I know what you thought of me, Lauren. It was all over your face. Yes, I’m an ass. But maybe, next time, I could change your mind regarding me?” He wore that sly-looking grin.
“You might, if there’s a next time,” I added playfully.
Jackson looked over my shoulder. “Do you recommend anything special?”
What?
I glanced around, not realizing we were standing by one of the food tables. I saw Ashley peering in our direction. She didn’t try very hard to be discreet.
“I was in the trailer trying to sneak a quick bite, but I was caught red-handed,” Jackson continued.
“Uh-huh. Well, try these stuffed omelets. They’re one of my favorites.” I led him to them.
“I love the food here in New Orleans.” He grabbed an omelet, taking a bite, and hummed in satisfaction.
“There’s nothing like it anywhere. One thing I missed while I was in Minnesota was the delicious food.”
“Why did you leave your family to go to Minnesota?”
I hated that question. How did I answer? Um, well, my dad was murdered. My mom went crazy from seeing his dead body walking around the house. I figured it was a great time to escape and leave everything behind. Instead, out came a safe answer: “My uncle is the principal of the high school I attended. He insisted his school system was better than the one I was to attend here. So, my family let me go.” I didn’t lie. It was a partial explanation—one that wouldn’t scare anyone.
“That must have been different.” He took another stuffed omelet.
“Different in a good way.”
I noticed he was standing close. I wasn’t used to people being inside my personal space, but I didn’t want to step away from him that time.
Why was I analyzing everything he did?
“Your eyes are gorgeous,” he blurted out.
My heart skipped several beats. “Brown’s pretty common.” I looked away nervously.
“Lauren, nothing about you is common.”
Thank God for the man holding a radio and screaming, “I found him!” who ran up to Jackson. “They need you, now!”
“Coming,” he answered, without taking his eyes off me. “Work calls. I’ll see you later?”
I nodded, watching him walk off with the man still yelling into his radio.
Three.
Two.
One.
Ashley arrived as if right on cue. “So, Jackson Cruz?”
“Ash, it’s nothing.”
“From what I saw, it sure didn’t look like nothing.”
“Trust me. It was nothing.”
“Lauren, that was far from nothing. You’re special hun, and it appears that Jackson sees it, too.” Of course, she would say that. She sounded like my mom.
“Jackson asked me why my parents let me go to Minnesota.”
She began to walk around the table, primping food as she went along. “What did you tell him?”
“It was because Minnesota had a better school system.”
She glanced at me but didn’t respond as she stacked trays. We didn’t talk about my mom much.
Ashley had suffered as much as Blake and I had—and we both knew it wasn’t over.
I didn’t see Jackson during lunch, but I overheard someone say he was held behind, and a plate of food had been delivered to him.
I cleaned up the remaining lunch trays, as Ashley started to set up the “craft” tables. I soon discovered craft was actually the movie set term for the snack tables. I also realized I had a lot to learn.
They weren’t supposed to s
tart filming until after the holidays, but there was a huge error regarding the production schedule. I heard the studio head was a real jerk, and he made them start on a holiday to control the cost of the error made. Half the production crew wasn’t even in town.
Today’s shooting was going to finish earlier than expected, and they decided to serve snacks versus dinner. Ashley had muffalettas, croquettes, and loads of salty and sweet snacks. I wanted to eat everything, but I often had to remind myself that I didn’t spend the past two years working out to gain the pounds back.
As I tried to find the trailer again, I found myself turned around, and I ended in a makeshift set of an office interior. The lights were off, but I could see the trailers from the other side. I thought it would be okay to cut through since no filming was occurring.
The set was dark, and I had to pay attention where I stepped to not trip over wires. As I walked through, the strangest feeling came over me that I wasn’t alone—someone was there. Even though it was quiet, I could sense their presence.
As I turned my head to the right, there sat the same creepy guy from Alligator’s, recognizable from his silhouette. As he sat cross-legged and staring, all I could see was the flame of his lit cigarette. The spark cast a shadow on his mouth, but the rest of his face stayed shaded. He stared at me with the same scowled look.
I greeted him with a shaky hello, but he said nothing. I apologized for cutting through, explaining that I was lost. Again nothing. The cigarette would briefly turn bright orange as puffs of smoke exited his mouth. Taking his silence as my cue to leave, I headed toward the trailers, glad to have distance between us.
As I started to refill the trays, I heard the door open. I couldn’t help smiling as I peeked behind me. Maybe he’d notice I was excited to see him. He was gorgeous. That smooth walk and sexy scruff of a beard was unforgettable.
The Devil has a British Accent: Book One: Jackson (White Carpet #1) Page 3