by Savannah May
“I better not hear about you hanging around this set when they start rolling,” he grunts as he takes my hand to lead me from the room.
“Only so as to imagine being here with you again.”
I shouldn't be this happy. Not when I'm about to lose him.
We step out into dawn or very early morning and walk under a pale tangerine sky across the lot to the exterior set. Jake was right. Hell had been set free. I’m glad Truan keeps hold of my hand and shields me with his huge bicep from the gaping stares and whispers of the crew.
He struts through the parting crowd with no fear while I tremble with dread inside. I can't bear to have him torn from me. With no idea how long it would be before I'd be safe in his arms again.
Kendall Lowebloom the Third is on set talking to Alaine in hushed tones. Alaine is slumped in his director's high chair with Kendall beside him.
As we head in that direction, Emily Jayne emerges from her trailer and storms across the set, parting the crowd as they scuttle like insects out of her advancing hellfire.
“Enter The Exorcist,” someone mutters to one side of me.
Emily Jayne reaches Alaine's chair and starts screaming. Basically her every word is 'No'.
I'm looking all around for the detectives and I can tell Truan is rigid with anticipation even though he appears calm and strong. We arrive beside the studio head. Alaine, Emily Jayne and Kendall the Third all turn to gape at us.
“No,” Emily Jayne howls again. “No, no, no, no, no.”
“Enough,” Kendall the Third says, holding up his hand so she startles at the power of his tone.
“I've had it with these tantrums. One bratty star is standard, two is giving me an emotional breakdown,” Alaine moans into his faceplant.
Truan and I stand there like atmosphere, wondering when the cops are going to drag him away.
“I'm not starring opposite a stunt man,” she spits out the words like she said dog poop.
“Then you won't be starring,” Kendall the Third says.
Alaine comes out of his slump. I look at Truan like, what the fuck, but he remains steady, observing the unfolding scene.
“Either you act out your contract opposite Truan as Knox or you drop out of your contract,” Kendall the Third tells her.
“You can't replace me,” she squeals.
Alaine casts his eyes to me.
“She can do it,” he says. “She's a better actor anyway.”
“What?” Emily Jayne screeches like a vulture. “I'll sue. My agent will have you over hot coals.”
“You either complete the movie as your contract requires or the PA takes your place,” Kendall shrugs like every star is completely dispensable as far as he's concerned.
He makes them, he'll break them faster.
“Someone wanna fill us in on what the fuck is going on,” Truan interrupts Emily Jayne powering up for a barrel load of threats.
“Knox had to be removed from set. The police were here and we only managed to secure him by sending him out to a high security rehab. He'll be there a long while being treated for his,” Kendall the Third drops his voice, “Sexual addictions.”
“You'll complete the movie,” Alaine tells Truan, “Takeover the final scenes as Knox.”
“Nah-anh,” Truan shakes his head. “No way.”
“It's only the Mexico beach scenes,” Alaine informs him. “The final shoot out and the love scene.”
Emily Jayne huffs and turns her nose up even higher. A pang flies through my heart as I imagine Truan kissing her. I've read the script. He'll be naked in bed with her and that sends me purple livid. As though he knows what I'm thinking he squeezes my hand and pulls me closer to him.
“Nope. I've been Knox’s patsy stand-in since I was six years old. I'm done with that shit. I'm only working for myself now. For myself and as myself. No more fucking faking it.”
Alaine and Kendall the Third lock eyes, like they're running through the options.
It takes a few minutes of furious negotiation but to Emily Jayne’s chagrin, Kendall agrees to turn the movie over to Truan. They'll put some marketing spin on it but Truan will get joint star credit under his own name. He'll be on all the late night shows.
Ohmigod, I'm so thrilled for him. More than he is for himself. Because he looks like he doesn't give a shit.
I'm just calculating that I've lost my job as well as my big break and will likely be heading back to Comfort when Truan suddenly steps in.
“And Jenna comes along to Mexico,” he adds as a codicil.
The bosses look like they're about to refuse, based on Emily Jayne getting ready to start yelping again.
“I need her with me,” Truan states bluntly. “As you noticed tonight, I can't perform unless I know she's okay.”
“Keep Emily Jayne in line.” Alaine says to himself, calculating the benefits of me being along.
“And you give her a role in the next production,” Truan adds, making me gasp. “She's an amazing actress.” That last line was the bomb.
I'm stunned by Truan's confidence at sticking to what he believes. He never gives in or gives up. I'm even more stunned when Kendall the Third agrees to give me a part on one of the two productions scheduled to start rolling next month.
“She'll do the Ryan Gosling,” Truan orders, like he's picking a side at dinner.
Kendall the Third strides off the set complaining about being woken in the middle of the night for this bedeviled production.
“No way in hell I was letting you work on that Mr Grey set,” Truan says, taking my hands and kissing my forehead in front of Alaine. As well as the entire crew, who have been a hushed audience through this.
“Like I told you, you're all mine, real and imaginary.”
Epilogue
“Hollywood dreams do come true,” Jenna says, dancing around the house.
“You just have to stick with it,” I add. “That what you're about to tell me?”
“No one goes for what he wants harder than you, Babe.” She comes twirling into my arms where I grab her sweet ass and pull her to me.
That same long, long day when Knox was removed from the set, Or I guess it had stretched to the next day, anyway, the lawyers descended to redesign our lives. I kept Jenna close with me because I didn't care much what happened other than I had her at my side and she was happy. We spent all the spare time on set with them, hashing out the details of our new life.
First it was determined that I would live in Knox's Beverly Hills twelve bed mansion.
Personally I would have preferred to hang in the pyramid where Jenna and I first made love. A small love nest like that is all I need. But of course, that isn't literally possible. And Jenna says that if we could squat on the studio lot, the only set she'd consider is that bastard Grey's bedroom.
So no.
I had no idea I had it in me to wanna kill a character in a book.
“You're moving in with me,” I told her.
And I refused to listen to any quibbles about how long we'd known each other or any of that other shit. I knew we'd always be together so what was there to wit around for? The studio bought out her rental agreement so her roommates weren't left holding the bag and she came to live with me that day. Or rather, I never allowed her to leave my side.
Why did the lawyers tell us to stay living in Knox's Beverly Hills mansion? There was some BS about his family swooping in to swipe his assets if word got out they were floating around for the taking. The studio also wanted someone on site in case paps came climbing over the wall looking for the story. I know in my gut they're just spinning the story. They figure they can manipulate the public by confusing them with the double. Maybe they can insert me into the space Knox vacated and no one will notice.
“Like they do on daytime soaps,” Jenna says. “When a voice-over announces, 'The role of Knox Templeton will now be played by Truan Dexter.'”
“Yeah, something like that.”
We tried living in the main hou
se but that didn't last a week, thank fuck. I did it for Jenna's sake, she was so enamored of the huge luxury home, whereas I could give a shit where I live so long as I'm with her.
Chicks like houses.
Jenna
Guys like houses too.
But I'm happy to move into the pool house that was Truan's place all along. It's plenty big enough for our love nest and that huge mansion drove me insane. I wanted Truan with me all the time but we kept losing each other in that twelve bedroom place.
My jogging roomie Penny would have loved living in the mansion, she could have kept herself fitted up without ever leaving. My butt sure firmed up from all the times I had to run upstairs to change my clothes, or forgot something on the way out the door. It was like a mile jog to our bedroom, round trip. Long distance running around the house kept me fit, but not as fit as the three times a night marathon with my one Truan love.
Of course I had the girls over for brunch and pool. Needless to say we had a screaming hysteria at my change of circumstances.
“This really is a stunt you two pulled,” Erica says.
“You make it sound like we planned it.”
“Bonnie and Clyde,” she quips, knowing my passion for old movies from a time when Hollywood was really golden.
“All the movie stars back then were decadent hedonists,” I say. “So glamorous.”
“You kinda glamorous yourself now keeping the silver screen alive. What happened in Mexico? Blag blew up with the craziness down there.”
I tell them every little secret about the stuff that went on during the final scenes of the movie that were filmed in Sayulita. A very hip little surfer beach town on the pacific coast of Mexico. It's an exclusive interview that we gave only to Marci at the Blag celebrity gossip website. But I'll happily share it with you too.
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