by B. B. Hamel
I wake up early and roll out of bed. Our apartment isn’t the nicest thing in the world, but I like it enough. It’s basically a little bungalow at the edge of town. I head into the bathroom, do my usual morning routine, and find Laney already up, drinking coffee, and typing away.
“Your work ethic is inspiring,” I say to her, grinning.
“Gotta keep the grind going,” she says, a little bleary-eyed.
“Wait, did you sleep last night?” I cock my head at her.
She grins at me sheepishly and looks up from her screen. “How can you tell?”
“Well, the dead-eyed stare, the messy hair, and the general disheveled appearance kind of gives it away.”
She sighs and leans back, yawning. “I got sucked into this story and now I can’t stop.”
“What’s it about?” I ask.
“I think it might be the sequel to Brutally Dishonest. It’s about Brock Brockhard and his huge, ah, gun, you know.”
I grin at her. “Sure, I get it.”
“Anyway, he’s sent to deal with some Nazis down in South America, but when he gets there, he finds out that the conspiracy goes so much deeper.”
“Deeper how?” I ask. I’m already a fan. Nothing wrong with killing some Nazis.
“Aliens,” she says, her eyes a little wide.
“Laney,” I groan. “You can’t be serious.”
“Aliens,” she repeats. “Brock finds out that the Nazis are working with the aliens to overthrow the American government, but really, the aliens are just using the Nazis. They’ve already infiltrated the government to the highest level, and it’s up to Rick to root them out.”
I look at her for a second and decide just to be honest. “You need to sleep,” I say.
She frowns at me. “That bad?”
“Maybe,” I say. “I haven’t read it.”
“Damn.” She stretches and yawns again before shutting the laptop lid. “I probably should sleep. The aliens only appeared in the third act, which I started writing around three in the morning.”
I can’t help but laugh. Laney is always doing stuff like this, staying up too late and writing crazy scripts. Most of the time, I can convince her to make them a little more conventional, but every once in a while she writes a masterpiece and shops it around. Those don’t usually sell, but she has sold a few other movies.
Brutally Dishonest is her biggest though, and it’s looking like the budget is going to be huge.
I head into the kitchen and pour myself some coffee. At least she was nice enough to make some for me, too. I sip my mug and pause when I catch sight of the magazine on the kitchen table.
“Laney,” I call out, walking over to it and slowly picking it up. “What’s this doing here?”
“You’ll have to be more specific,” she answers from the other room.
I stare at his face, his handsome, familiar face, and I want to vomit. I hate seeing him around town. I hate how popular he is, how everyone knows his name. Women want to throw themselves at him, men want to be him. He’s a real action star and people love him.
But they don’t know Jackson like I do. He’s a liar, a filthy asshole, and a bastard. I don’t want to ever see him again, and yet now I can’t seem to freaking get away from his face.
I walk out into the living room, holding up the magazine. Laney looks up and grins at me. “Oh,” she says. “That.”
“Yes, this. Since when do you read this stuff?” It’s a gossip rag that basically writes about upcoming and in-production projects.
“Did you read that front cover?”
“No,” I admit. “You know this thing is wrong more often than it’s right.”
“It’s not wrong this time. Read it.”
I look down at the cover, and I think I have a heart attack.
“No,” I whisper.
“Oh yeah,” Laney says, sounding so excited. “I couldn’t believe it either when I first heard, but it’s true. I got the email last night. He signed the papers a couple days ago, and it’s official.”
“Shit,” I whisper to myself, and I feel like my whole life is crashing down.
In big, bold letters, the headline read, “Big Jackson Hendricks to star in Brutally Dishonest.”
“Isn’t he so hot?” Laney says to me. “I’m a little jealous. You’ll get to see him every day. You’ll be working pretty close with him. I’d give anything to get close to that guy.”
I drop the magazine and shake my head. “No, no, hell no, Laney,” I say. “I won’t work with that asshole, absolutely not.”
I storm away, back into my bedroom. I slam the door behind me and climb back into bed. I wrap the sheets around my head, but I know that won’t make a difference.
Jackson is going to star in Brutally Dishonest, and I’m going to have to see him every single day for the whole shoot. That could last months.
Laney doesn’t know. Nobody knows what he did to me. Nobody knows how we lived next to each other for years, grew up together, made promises to each other.
Nobody knows how he disappeared one day, leaving me brokenhearted, and never once answered a single letter I sent him.
I moved away, moved on, and thought I was over him. But now that he’s back, and in the freaking business no less, I can’t escape my feelings. I can’t escape the hurt, the anger, and yes, the desire that still lingers inside of me.
Having to work with him is like my biggest nightmare. He was the boy next door. He was the man I wanted to give myself to. He said I was too young, since he was older than me, but I just had to wait.
I was patient. I was waiting. We kissed, held hands, talked all day long about what we wanted to do when we got older.
And then he turned eighteen and he vanished.
Now I’m stuck with him. I can’t back out of this movie, despite my little meltdown. Laney has been really good to me and she’s helped me through some tough times over the years. I can’t turn my back on her now and not work on this. She’s my closet friend. Heck, she’s probably my only friend.
I can’t let her down. So I’m going to do this movie. I’m going to work with Jackson Hendricks. I’m going to relive that pain every single day during this shoot, all for a movie with a totally lame title.
This is going to be a lot harder than I could possibly have imagined.
3
Jackson
The first table reading is always a little uncomfortable.
When you shoot a big movie like this, you basically don’t know anybody. But you’re going to have to get close with everyone as quickly as possible. Everyone is a professional, but like with anything else, it takes a little while to feel out the people around you.
But this table reading, it’s uncomfortable to the next fucking level.
“Okay, Mr. Hendricks. Can you pick up from the top of the page?”
I look at Tara and I can feel everything I used to feel and more. The weight of the years, the time and the space that’s been between us for so long, it’s all there, crushing everything I want. She’s so grown up, so poised and beautiful, but she’s still that sixteen-year-old girl that I left behind.
I guess I’ve grown up, too.
“Take your shirt off. Go ahead. I won’t mind.”
She stares back at me and doesn’t blink. I know she recognizes me. I can see it in her gaze. She remembers the long nights sitting up on her daddy’s porch, talking about our lives, what we wanted from the future. She remembers the way it used to be between us. Even if she’s pretending that she doesn’t, I can see it.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I have to look away from Tara and over at Holly Hall. She’s tall, blonde, fit, and very pretty. She’s an up and coming star, just like me, and I suspect she’s doing this movie just for a quick buck. She’s playing my love interest in the film, and from the way she’s looking at me right now, she’s either a fantastic actress or she wants to make real life look like the movies.
“You know wha
t I’m saying, girl,” I grumble at her, reading from the script. My character, Brock Brockhard, is a CIA contracted hitman with a dark side and a desire for flesh.
“We’re on this mission together. One pinky out of line, and I’ll break it off.” Holly is playing Helga, the woman from the CIA assigned to make sure that Brock doesn’t get in too much trouble. Of course, she eventually gives herself to him, because women can’t resist a bad boy for long.
As I damn well know.
“All right, be like that. Sit over on that bed, pretend like I ain’t here. But tomorrow, I’ll kill for you, and afterward you won’t see me the same.” I’m trying to act my best, but I can’t help but glance at Tara. She’s watching me, not reading the script like she should be.
“That’s what you do. You’re a killer.”
“I’m a man. With fucking needs.”
“You think I care about that?”
“You will.” I pause for two beats. “You fucking will.”
“Very good!” Lionel, the German director guy cuts in, and the crowd claps. He has a splash of white hair on top of his gaunt, wrinkled face. He looks like he runs marathons for fun. I don’t know much about him, but I can already tell he’s going to be a pain in the ass to work with, and I bet this movie won’t be half bad.
“That’s lunch,” Tara calls out. “We’ll be back in an hour.”
The group stands up and starts to mill around. I stand and start toward Tara, but she walks off as fast as she can away from me, and I know I can’t chase her down. I watch her go with a slight frown, but I’m not making a scene on my first fucking day.
“Hey, that wasn’t too bad.”
I turn around and Holly is standing there, a pretty smile on her red lips. I don’t trust her, not one bit. I’ve seen what girls like her can do with just a smile.
“I think it won’t suck,” I say to her.
She laughs at my stupid joke. “That scene’s a little heavy-handed. But we can make it work. Just needs a little chemistry on screen, huh?”
“Yeah,” I grunt. “You’re right about that.”
She laughs and pats me on the arm. “Come on, let’s grab something to eat.”
“Sure,” I say. I glance around for Tara, but I can’t find her. Looks like I’m stuck with Holly for now.
Lunch passes quickly. Holly isn’t too high maintenance. She’s nice enough, not really my type, but I think she won’t be too difficult to work with at least. She can act, does her own stunts, and she’s not bad to look at. I’ll be able to handle her, at least.
We get back to work after eating. We read through the script, Lionel makes some comments, and Tara runs the whole thing more or less. She’s like the director’s right-hand lady, and she looks better every time I glance at her.
Her deep blue eyes strike me in a way no other woman has ever been able to before. And I’ve been with plenty of women. I’ve fucked my fair share of groupies and fame-seekers ever since my big movie came out, and plenty more before that, too. Not so much during my time overseas in the SEALs, but still. I’ve done pretty well for myself.
Tara is on a whole other level. Thick dark hair, deep blue eyes, smooth pale skin, gorgeous figure. She looks a little uptight, but I think that’s because she’s uncomfortable with me nearby.
I don’t blame her. She doesn’t know why I left, or at least I never told her. I never answered her letters, never made any attempt to contact her. Back then, I thought it would be better for both of us if I just disappeared.
It wasn’t, not at all. Not even fucking close. I thought about her every day those first few years. And slowly she faded, but she never went away.
When I got home, I tracked her down. I found out that she moved out to LA and so I moved out here too. That’s how I found myself in this crazy situation. I thought I’d become a stunt guy, earn some cash, get myself in good shape, and then look her up. Instead, I became a movie star.
My plan hasn’t changed, though. I’m still here to hunt her down and make her mine.
The read-through goes well for the rest of the day and when it’s over, everyone stands around the table and talks about the movie. Normally the cast and crew would go out and celebrate a little bit, do some of that team bonding bullshit. I’ll go if everyone else does, but I have something more important to do first.
Tara is busy picking up the scripts and cleaning up, and I leave her alone for now. I chat with one of the lighting guys, a decent dude named Paul. After about ten minutes, I spot Tara alone toward the back of the stage, putting the scripts away in a locked safe.
“Excuse me,” I say to Paul. “Catch you later.”
“Yeah, man. Come out with us tonight. Crew’s getting together.”
“Will do. Send me the details.” I nod and stalk away before I can give him my number.
I feel bad, but I’m in a hurry. Tara’s back is to me and she’s alone. I can’t let this opportunity pass.
My heart is hammering as I approach her from behind. I love her ass and her hips. She’s grown into a fucking woman. I can’t help but think about the big promise I made to her all those years ago.
I told her I’d take her virginity. I promised her, over and over again, that I’d do it. She was beautiful, even back then, but I was a stupid kid. I thought we should wait, at least until she was eighteen. I didn’t want her to regret anything since I was older than her.
That was fucking dumb. I should have taken what I wanted back then, but I was a kid. I won’t make that same mistake again.
I stop a few feet from her. “Tara,” I say.
She doesn’t jump. She just puts the scripts down and turns to face me. She looks up at me, her deep blue eyes piercing into mine. I’m almost a foot taller than her, but in my mind, she’s a giant.
“I guess I should say ‘welcome home,’ but you’ve been back for a while. And we’re not home.”
I smile a little bit at that. “You can say it anyway.”
“Welcome home, asshole.”
That makes me grin. She’s always been a little spitfire. “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah, I bet. I was wondering if you even recognized me.”
“I recognized you the second I saw you.”
“Funny. Since you haven’t tried to talk to me in what, over ten years?”
“Twelve years,” I say softly. “It’s been twelve years since we last saw each other.”
“We were kids back then,” she says, staring up at me.
“Yeah, we were. You haven’t changed.”
She smiles a little bit, just a little bit. “You have.”
“Really?” I grin and look down. “I got a little bigger.”
“You always were huge,” she says, shaking her head. “No, it’s the way you carry yourself.”
“Oh yeah? How do I carry myself?”
“Like you own the world.” She smirks at me and I laugh.
“Believe me, I don’t feel that way.”
“I bet you do. You’re a big movie star now.”
I grin at her. I expected her to act this way, honestly. Frankly, I would have been disappointed if she didn’t give me shit.
“I’m a minor movie star,” I correct her. “You haven’t done so bad for yourself, I hear.”
“I’m a career script girl.”
“You’ve done good work on some big movies.”
She hesitates. “How do you know that?”
I grin at her again. “Might have done a little research.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Of course you did. You knew I’d be working this movie, didn’t you?”
“I knew,” I admit. “Why do you think I took it? It’s not exactly the next enormous blockbuster.”
She stares at me, surprise clear on her face. “You took this movie to see me? You could have just called.”
“You wouldn’t have answered.” I step toward her, heart hammering fast. “This way, you have to see me, whether you want to or not.”
She hesitates again and for a second, I think she’s going to step closer to me. I can see that old look in her face, that desire and need and pure lust. I may be a big, filthy bastard, but I know this woman. I know what she wants. I know how she thinks.
“Yeah, well, I don’t. You should’ve just called.” She storms past me, walking quickly back toward the group.
I let her go. I won’t let her see the momentary hurt on my face. I’m not a pussy, so I get over it fast. I couldn’t have expected more from her. I broke her heart, disappeared, and didn’t call. For all she knew, I was dead. And now I just show back up in her life, forcing her to be near me.
No, I knew she’d be angry, but still. I was hoping there’d be something… and there will be. Sooner or later, she’ll feel it again. Or she already feels it, and she’ll let herself embrace it.
I came here for this. All told, that wasn’t so bad. I’m not going to give up on her, not by a long shot.
Hell, maybe this’ll be more fun.
I always did like a fucking challenge.
4
Tara
I knew this was going to suck. I just didn’t know exactly how much until one week passes and I already want to quit.
It’s not that Jackson is being obnoxious. In fact, after that first conversation at the table reading, he actually backed off a little bit. He still gives me these looks that make my entire spine shiver, but he’s not coming up to me and trying to talk to me.
Which maybe is even a little worse, because now he’s spending most of his time with his coworkers and the crew. Everyone loves Jackson on set. He’s charming, funny, attractive, and a hard worker. There’s no bullshit with Jackson, which is actually surprising. Most Hollywood guys come with huge egos, but not Jackson. He works his ass off to get every single shot right the way Lionel wants it.
And he’s actually pretty good. I knew he could act a little bit based on his last movie, but I hadn’t seen him in person yet. Jackson is actually a talented actor working with limited material. I mean, he’s an action star, so there’s always going to be a little bit of leeway there, but he doesn’t need it. Jackson is a talented man, which I’ve known for a very long time.