Smooth Operator

by Jennifer Lucia

  I'd only been in the hotel for two days so far, and I'd run into Tyler twice. The first time, he'd been surprised to see me because Doug hadn't told people that Pierre had quit. They'd just been told that the script had changed. I hadn't been surprised to see Tyler because of course the first time I'd run into the gorgeous and well-put-together actor would be when I was coming back from the store wearing an over-sized tee shirt, sweatpants, and no makeup. When I walked by, he'd looked up from the maid he was flirting with and his eyes had widened with recognition and pleasure. I waved slightly and scurried into my hotel room, hoping he hadn't looked too carefully at my appearance.

  The second time we'd run into each other was when I was coming back in from my run this morning. I was sweaty, salt was beading on my forehead, and I reeked to high heaven. I took the stairs instead of the elevator because I didn't want to subject any unsuspecting passengers to my stench in an enclosed area they couldn't escape. I wasn't a monster, after all.

  I emerged into the hallway from the stairwell, humming along to my music, and walked straight into Tyler's perfectly pressed outfit. I wobbled, then held my arms out to steady myself as I bounced back from the impact of hitting his hard chest. Tyler grabbed me by the shoulders, and I let my hands linger on him a bit. Tyler had a beautiful chest. I bet he knew it too. He surveyed my outfit with an appreciatively raised eyebrow. I was wearing a sports bra and shorts- and not much else- and was desperately wishing I'd thrown on a tee shirt.

  "Olivia," he said with pleasure. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I'm fine, thank you. Just klutzing it up as usual," I said, pulling my hands back down to my side. "How are you, Tyler?"

  "Good," he replied. He was smiling widely, still looking appreciatively down at me. "Fancy running into you here." He chuckled at his joke, making me giggle.

  "Yep," I said. "Well, I have to get in the shower now. See you at rehearsals."

  "Wait," Tyler said, stopping me mid-step. "I tried to say hi to you yesterday, but I'm not sure if you heard me."

  "Yes, I did. I waved."

  "I didn't see you wave," Tyler said. He was still standing so close to me with the side of his mouth quirked. I wanted to stand on my tiptoes and lick it. What an absurd thought. "You smell nice."

  "Now I'm worried about your mental state," I said, pushing away from him. "Or you're messing with me. See you at the table read." I hurried back to my hotel room, looking straight ahead so I couldn't see Tyler's reaction to my flushed cheeks. No wonder he liked messing with me. I was an easy target.

  I pulled off my damp running clothes and went into the bathroom for a quick shower before I had to get ready for work. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the way into the tub and cringed. Mascara was running down my face, my cheeks were flushed, and my hair was sticking up in all different directions. I was a hot mess. I closed my eyes, willing the interaction in the hallway to have never happened.

  I showered quickly, shoving my mortification deep down inside me where all the memories I cringe about reside, then deliberated on today's outfit. Today felt like the first day at a new school in a weird way, and I needed to make a good impression. This was ridiculous because I am a twenty-eight-year-old woman, not a fourteen-year-old freshman in high school. Even so, I dabbed on a bit of lipstick and took extra care with my hair, curling the ends of the long brunette strands so it looked like I'd put a little effort into my appearance.

  I arrived at the studio fifteen minutes before Doug had told me to so I could find parking and find the room in which we'd be doing the cold read today. I’d learned yesterday that a cold read is when the actors sit around a table, reading their lines without emotion to familiarize themselves with the script. Simple. I could handle that. We were going to do a couple of cold reads today, and then tomorrow we were starting on rehearsing with blocking- having the actors do the scene with movement.

  It took me far less time to find my way around the building than I'd anticipated, so I sat outside a locked door ten minutes before anyone else arrived at the conference room, hoping this didn't make me seem overeager. I sat down and leaned against the wall, playing on my phone and trying to look casual.

  "Olivia." The deep tone of his voice sent a shiver down my spine, and I didn't have to look up to know who that voice belonged to.

  "Hey, Tyler," I said, straightening up. I resisted my overwhelming urge to pat my hair and giggle. What is wrong with you? Act like an adult!

  "You're here early," he said, leaning next to me on my wall.

  "I live by the motto if you're on time, you're late," I said. "I'm a little anal retentive."

  "Not a bad quality to have," Tyler said, flashing me that beautiful smile. There goes that urge to giggle again. "Is this your first table read?"

  "This is my first everything. I'd never even been to the West Coast before Doug called me," I said.

  "Welcome to the sunny side of the country. How do you like it?" Tyler asked.

  "It's a little overwhelming," I confessed. "I haven't had a chance to explore, but I have gotten a general idea of what everything is like, the general vibe, you know? Glamorous, sunny, fast-paced-"

  "Vacuous, expensive, and fake," Tyler finished for me. He grinned at me sourly.

  "I didn't mean-"

  "I know. I did."

  I shook my head. "Well, I haven't experienced any of that yet, but I've heard rumors along those lines."

  "Whatever you do, ignore the rumors and the gossip," Tyler said. "I've been burned by them before. As much as I say L.A. is fake and vacuous, there's a dichotomy here that you can't find anywhere else, and I can't help but love this town. It is where my career blossomed, after all. So where are you from?" Tyler scooted closer to me on the floor.

  I bit my lip when his hand brushed against my leg. "Um, Bettisville, Maryland. It's a small town about thirty miles outside of Washington, D.C."

  "I'm a small town person, too," Tyler said. I scoffed. "No, really. I grew up in a little town outside of Boise, Idaho. I still go back a few times a year to visit my folks."

  "You know, I think I remember reading that online," I said offhandedly before realizing what I'd said.

  "You looked me up?" Tyler asked with a pleased smile. "So you are interested in me."

  "Well, I had to know who I'm working with," I said sheepishly.

  "Do you Google all your coworkers?" Tyler asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.

  "Only the flirty ones," I said. Tyler grinned, about to say something scandalous.

  I was saved from Tyler's response by Brittany's arrival. She was wearing giant sunglasses, a crop top, and Daisy Dukes, and was carrying the largest energy drink I'd ever seen. She nodded her hello at us and jiggled the handle of the conference room door. It didn't open, so she jiggled again. When it didn't open after the second jiggle, she grunted in frustration and flopped onto the floor to begin furiously texting.

  I looked at Tyler and pointed my head at Brittany, silently asking if she was okay. Tyler shook his head, and we avoided eye contact with her, not wanting to be the focus of her ire. If she was going to be like this for the duration of the movie shoot, it was going to be a nightmare to work with her.

  Luckily, Doug and the rest of the actors arrived to alleviate the awkwardness between Brittany and us. Doug nodded at us in greeting and unlocked the door. Brittany stood and waltzed in ahead of the group, still texting rapidly. Tyler motioned for me to go in before him. I inclined my head in thanks before going through the doorway, followed very closely behind by Tyler.

  A long, glass-topped conference table with twenty armchairs arranged around it featured prominently in the conference room. I waited for Doug to choose his seat at the head of the table before picking an inconspicuous spot near the middle, hoping not to attract too much attention to myself. I bit my lip, hiding my pleasure when Tyler sat down next to me with a wink. He nudged my knee with his own and smiled before looking innocently at Doug, who had a giant pile of scripts in front of him. Doug passed
these around the table and flipped his copy open.

  "All right, people, you know what to do," he said. I nodded as if this were a true statement even though I was going in blind. "I'll read the directions, and you all go through your character's lines. Olivia, you take notes on anything we may need to change in the script to make it work for the actors."

  I nodded, and Doug started reading.

  "Open in England, 1819. A young duke is grieving the loss of his parents. His butler approaches him in a library to introduce the executor of the will," Doug said, setting up the scene that establishes young Rafe Daniels as a fabulously wealthy duke.

  I listened as the actors read the whole script, making notes in my copy of the script about minor things that could be improved. The actors brought the characters to life, despite not entirely emoting, crafting every scene at that table and breathing air into the character, raising them from the pages of the script into real life. When it came time for Tyler to speak, I stared at him, transfixed. The way his lips wrapped around the words I'd created, bringing them to life in a way I hadn't even considered possible, was a type of unknowing seduction. It must've been written all over my face. There's no way I could've hidden what I was feeling. Admiration. Lust. Desire.

  More than once, I had to tear my eyes from Tyler's face and pretend to be taking notes for fear that he'd know exactly what I was thinking. It was evident to me now why he was so sought after for movies- he had raw, undeniable talent, the kind you couldn't train for, but were born with. It was the same quality that made him so charming- and so dangerous.

  Doug asked the actors to do one more run through, which was even more impressive than the first, then he called for an end to the workday. I tried to hide my disappointment. I never wanted it to end. "Any notes, Olivia?" Doug asked.

  "Uh, yeah, a few," I stuttered, breaking free of my trance. "Can I give them to you at the end of the day?"

  "Email them to me so I can review them tonight. Everyone go home, relax, and be prepared for tomorrow. It's going to be a long day. We're doing a physical rehearsal at the soundstage on the lot." Doug stood up, nodded at us, and left the room.

  Everyone packed their belongings and began filtering out one by one, until eventually only Tyler, Brittany, and I were left. Brittany was texting, lost in her little world, and Tyler was closing up his briefcase. I shoved all my stuff into my backpack, ready to leave for the day, and Tyler knocked my knee lightly, stopping me from standing. "So? What did you think of your first day in showbiz? Was it everything you ever dreamed of?"

  "So much more," I gushed. I was flustered from the knee contact and watching him work all day, and it showed in my voice. "It was good, I mean," I said, regulating my voice.

  Tyler grinned in surprise. "Really? That didn't bore you?"

  "Are you kidding? That was amazing. The way you brought Rafe off the page and into existence, it's like you breathed life into him. It was one of the best and most surreal experiences of my life," I said. I didn't care if I sounded like a complete fangirl, Tyler needed to know how much I'd loved it.

  Tyler shook his head. "You are the one who gave Rafe a soul, not me. Take credit where credit's due. You created this thing, and it is going to be huge." Tyler smiled at me reassuringly.

  "I have a question," Brittany chimed in.

  "Shoot." I leaned back crossed my legs, pleasantly surprised by her participation.

  "Rafe is often described as a rake," Brittany said slowly, barely looking up from her cell phone.

  "Rafe is a rake," I confirmed.

  "What in the hell does that mean?" Brittany leaned forward, looking up from her phone in confusion.

  I stared at Brittany, not understanding the question. "What do you mean? He's a rake. A womanizer. A man whore."

  "So why don't you just say that?" Brittany asked.

  "‘Man whore' wasn't exactly typical vernacular in the nineteenth century. Besides, rake sounds more romantic than man whore," I said matter-of-factly.

  "A rose by any other name," Tyler said, adding his two cents. I glared at him. "Just kidding."

  "And another thing," Brittany added. I smiled woodenly. "Why would someone who is filthy rich and a duke become a pirate?"

  "Because the sea calls to him. It's his destiny." I was getting a little frustrated with Brittany's lack of understanding, and Tyler wasn't backing me up here.

  "Why not just be a sailor then? Why the need to rape and rob and murder?" Tyler asked. Not him, too.

  I opened my mouth indignantly, then shut it. I shook my head, composed myself, and replied. "Rafe does NOT rape, rob, or murder anyone. He has honor."

  "Olivia, do you know what a pirate is?" Tyler asked.

  "Yes, I do. Rafe is not the kind that commits dastardly deeds."

  "So he's a sailor," Brittany said.

  "It's sexier if he's a pirate. You guys clearly aren't fans of the genre."

  "Clearly not," Brittany said, rudely standing up. "Bye now. I have a party to get to."

  I looked at the clock. It was four in the afternoon. "Bye."

  We watched as Brittany walked out, lighting a cigarette in the hallway without a care in the world, and Tyler turned to me. "I was just messing with you by chiming in. I'll make sure to read some books in the genre. Maybe even yours."

  He winked and walked out of the room, leaving me to smile privately to myself. I was going to need to get a handle on the burgeoning crush that I had on the country's most eligible bachelor. That was a sobering thought. It was a fantasy to think that someone like Tyler would be into me in any real way. It would never happen in real life. Wasn't it so much nicer to live in a fantasy world, though?

  Chapter Six

  We'd gotten through the next couple of days of rehearsal, and everyone was gelling quite nicely. Watching Tyler act out Rafe's scenes was doing nothing to quell my crush on him, and I'd been actively fantasizing about him every night, and parts of every day. It was as if I'd made up the perfect man in my head and he'd come to life, almost daring me to act on the fantasy.

  Although rehearsals were captivating and career-affirming, Doug hadn't been lying about the long days. Our days could last up to twelve hours, a long workday that I wasn't used to. Though I was hardly the most hardworking person there, I was eagerly looking forward to the end of the workday on Friday. I pulled into the studio lot Friday morning at six-fifteen, an ungodly hour that I hadn't experienced since I was a senior in high school. I walked like a zombie to the front door of the stage and flashed my badge at Fred, the security guard, who nodded in acknowledgment and let me in.

  I bee-lined for the coffee bar that practically everyone congregated around in the morning, all equally tired from the week and ready for the weekend. Despite my fatigue and mushy pre-coffee brain, my heart still fluttered rapidly when Tyler appeared at my side. Perhaps coffee wasn't the best thing for my heart rate.

  "Hey. TGIF, amirite?" I mumbled, pouring myself a cup of the darkest coffee available, heart rate be damned.

  The corners of Tyler's mouth turned up. "You're right. You look like you could use about five shots of espresso."

  I grimaced. "Is that a compliment or an insult?"

  "Just an observation." Tyler knocked me on the chin gently. "Any plans for the weekend? Going to explore the City of Angels?"

  "The only thing I'm going to be exploring is the comforter on my hotel bed," I replied. Tyler's eyes flashed with interest, and I blushed. "Because I'm going to be sleeping. Alone. Nobody else is invited."

  "Pity," Tyler said, making my blush more prominent. "Don't worry. You'll get used to the long hours here. I'd advise against wasting your time sleeping instead of exploring though. Experience the town. See a show, go to a vegan cafe, become a Crip."

  "I think I’m more of a Blood," I said, making Tyler smile.

  "I'm just saying, when I first got here, I don't think I stopped exploring for like four months," Tyler said.

  "You and I clearly place different amounts of emphasis on th
e importance of sleep," I replied. We started walking together to the chairs that were set up so actors could sit between scenes, or crew members like Doug or me could sit while we watched. Tyler pulled a chair up for me, then sat down next to me.

  I turned my attention to the gathering crowd. Doug had just arrived, which was the unofficial signal that the day had begun. If you weren't here by the time Doug got there, you were sure to be the victim of a vicious glare, comments on your work ethic, and snarky reminders that the day starts at quarter to seven. Everyone was properly caffeinated now and gathered around for the morning round-up that Doug recited for us every day.

  "Man, Brittany's cutting it close," Tyler remarked, checking the clock on his cell phone.

  "She probably overslept." We both knew that by overslept, I meant that she was hungover from drinking too much the night before. Brittany was a hard partier, even on the weekdays after working twelve-hour days. She'd been hungover, crabby, and unfocused every day this week.

  "Yeah," Tyler agreed, though his tone wasn't very convincing. "I'm sure she'll be here any minute."

  We waited another half hour, throughout which Doug harrumphed about time wasters and shirking personal responsibilities. Doug eventually got tired of waiting and sent his assistant Dayna to retrieve Brittany from the hotel. Another hour went by, and by this time, Doug was in a full-blown rage. A harried Dayna finally returned, but she did not have Brittany in tow. I did not envy Dayna the tongue-lashing she was going to get when Doug realized she hadn't succeeded in bringing Brittany to set. She approached Doug with obvious trepidation and whispered something in his ear.

  "WHAT?!" he bellowed. He muttered something that I couldn't make out to Dayna and sent her scurrying back out the door of the stage.