Acting Brave (Fenbrook Academy #3)

by Helena Newbury

  Dixon was beaming. “Nah, it looked great. Made it natural. You two work well together.” He was looking between Tyler and me. Tyler grinned modestly.

  I smiled myself, pleased. And then looked up and saw Ryan, glowering at me from the back of the room.

  Shit.

  Chapter 48

  Ryan

  O’Malley’s had been a cop bar as far back as anyone could remember, a place where you could go to bitch about your shift and City Hall and the public and everything else that only cops really understood. The brass stayed away so it was just beat cops.

  I’d arranged to meet Jasmine there. Sort of a cultural exchange, I guess. She’d shown me her world, and her friends, in Flicker. Now I was going to show her mine. Except that, since Hux dying, I hadn’t been around O’Malley’s all that much. I told myself that that was better than being around a bar too much, but I was still on edge. O’Malley’s used to feel like home, with its dark wood paneling and vintage jukebox. I’d used to be able to come there and know I’d find some guys from my shift. Now, with me off the force and barely around the station, I felt like an outsider.

  And the whole plan of Jasmine coming there? That had been hatched on the way to the studio, before the whole Tyler/Greg thing happened.

  Part of me thought that I was being stupid, getting jealous over it. It wasn’t real—I understood that. And yet...can you really say it isn’t a kiss, when, physically, it’s no different? It would still be his tongue playing with her lips, his hands on her body. Jasmine. My girlfriend.

  My girlfriend.

  Exactly what I’d dreamed of, for years, and now it had happened. And, almost immediately, her job was coming between us. What other guy has to put up with his girl kissing someone else?

  I looked around to see who was in. Charlie C, the littlest of the Charlies, was getting a beer at the bar. Hooper, an aging hippy who always took shit for driving too slow, was there. Julio, still wearing his dark hair slicked back and no doubt still trying to chat up every woman he met. There were a few others I recognized, but those three were the ones I knew well.

  I nursed my own beer as Charlie C came and sat down at my table. “Slumming it?” he asked. “There ain’t some Hollywood bar with fifty-buck cocktails you should be at?”

  “It’s just a TV show. Probably won’t even get picked up for a series,” I told him.

  Charlie grinned. “What about the redhead. You get a piece of that, yet?”

  I hadn’t told anyone about Jasmine and I going out. I stared at my beer, unsure what to say.

  “She get her clothes off, yet?” asked Charlie. “I was watching this show last night, all dragons and swords and shit, and there were titties everywhere. You should get on a show like that.”

  Hooper came over carrying some ridiculous organic, brewed-by-authentic-vegetarians microbrewery ale. I was surprised it wasn’t green. “What are we talking about?” he asked.

  “The redhead that’s with Ryan in the show,” Charlie told him.

  “Oh! Saw her at the station. Hot.”

  “That’s what I said,” said Charlie. “Hey Ryan, how much are we gonna get to see, when this thing hits the air? Underwear? Topless? Full frontal?”

  “Full frontal of who?” said Julio, sitting down. “This big lunk?”

  “Nah,” said Charlie. “The redhead.” He looked expectantly at me. “We see some skin, right?”

  “It’s all very...tasteful,” I said tightly. I could feel the anger building in my chest. When we’d done the bedroom scene, I’d been focused on trying to stop Jasmine discovering I was crazy about her. Now we were together...and suddenly, I was realizing that all these guys are going to see her, virtually naked. Hell, they’d shot it so that she looked completely naked.

  “But you must get to see more, right?” asked Charlie. “Like, the bits they edit out? The bits they can’t show on TV?” He leaned closer. “Do the carpets match the drapes or what?”

  I loved these guys. I’d backed them up and I’d had them back me up plenty of times. But right then, it hit me how raw they were, how…

  ...how much like cops they were. I winced.

  I’d always believed I never had a chance with Jasmine because I wasn’t in her social circles. Then I’d smashed down that wall and realized she wasn’t so different. But now I realized that maybe I’d changed, too. Maybe I’d become a little more like her. Because suddenly, I was looking at these guys and not liking what I saw.

  “Show some respect,” I muttered.

  Charlie and Julio glanced at each other. Hooper looked bewildered. I knew why. Their conversation wasn’t so different from millions we’d had, before Jasmine. Women on TV and in movies, cheerleaders at football games, they were all somehow...not real. It was okay to letch over them and discuss them because it wasn’t like you’d ever meet them.

  “Who took a dump in your cornflakes?” asked Charlie. “They not payin’ you enough? Your trailer too small? Wrong kind of mineral water on the set?” The others laughed.

  “Maybe it’s him,” said Hooper wisely. “Do you get your clothes off in this thing?”

  I tried to think of an answer that wouldn’t involve lying. That was a mistake because my hesitation told them all they needed to know.

  This is the downside of having cops as friends. It’s difficult to keep anything from them.

  “Oh,” said Julio, nodding. “I get it. That’s why he wants us to respect naked actors.” He put on a mock-sympathetic face. “What’s the matter, pal? Was it cold in there?”

  Charlie leaned close. “Oh my God. Please say you whip it out on camera. Because I’m freeze-framing that motherfucker. That shit’s going up on the break room wall.”

  “I don’t get it out,” I grated. And then, because I’m a lousy liar anyway and I wanted to keep the conversation away from Jasmine, “I think you see my ass.”

  The table erupted into laughter. “No way!” said Charlie.

  I gave them all a glower, but I could feel my anger lifting a little. At least they weren’t discussing Jasmine.

  Then Hooper took a long swallow of his beer and said thoughtfully, “Wait. What kind of scene is it, that we see your rear? I mean, are you getting changed, or taking a shower, or what?”

  I felt myself flushing. “Why all the interest in my ass?”

  “Answer the question,” said Julio. “Why do you get naked?”

  I said nothing. A hush fell over the table as they got it.

  “Holy shit!” said Charlie. “Is it a sex scene?”

  “He’s meant to be with the redhead, right?” said Hooper, figuring it out.

  Charlie thumped both hands on the table, making beers jump and spill. “SAY IT’S THAT!” he yelled. “SAY IT’S WITH HER!”

  I sighed and nodded. The other guys all groaned with a mixture of awe and heartfelt frustration.

  “You lucky SOB,” said Julio.

  “What the hell?!” said Charlie. “You’re an actor for like a few weeks and you get to bang her?!”

  Hooper steepled his fingertips. “You are blessed,” he told me solemnly. “Truly blessed.”

  “I want to be an actor,” said Charlie. “Sign me up!”

  I sat back and just let them get it all out of their systems. I should have expected it, of course. I guess it had started to become normal to me, since I’d been working with Jasmine. I’d forgotten how crazy and unreal that world seemed to everyone else. Also, if I’m honest, I wasn’t beyond being a little bit proud. I mean, I had got to do a love scene with Jasmine. Terrifying as it had been, it had also been hot as hell.

  And that thought took me right back to Tyler and how he’d get to kiss Jasmine the next day. Would he really be professional about it? Or would he do what any guy would do and enjoy it?

  “So, seriously,” said Charlie, leaning forward again. “Do the carpets match the drapes? Because that’s been driving me crazy.”

  Instantly, the anger was back. How dare he be thinking like that about her? How
dare he be imagining her naked? I could feel the rage building and twisting, lashing around like a living thing.

  He’s just doing what all the guys watching at home are going to be doing. My stomach lurched and the anger burned brighter, hotter.

  “And nipples,” said Julio. “Because sometimes, chicks with big tits are all out of proportion, like they have these tiny little—”

  “Shut up!” I yelled, standing up. My thighs bumped the table and Julio’s beer tipped over. “Just shut up!”

  The whole bar turned to look at me.

  “What?” asked Charlie, shaken. “What’s the matter?”

  “Yeah,” said Jasmine, walking in behind him. What’s the matter?”

  ***

  She looked stunning. She looked so beautiful I could hardly speak. The dress she was in—some expensive, gray thing—was completely inappropriate for a down market bar but, being Jasmine, she pulled it off. It felt as if we were out of place, as if the whole bar better smarten itself up to come up to her standard—that’s how much presence she had.

  And then she introduced herself as my girlfriend and I felt about a thousand feet tall. Charlie didn’t manage to close his jaw for fully ten seconds.

  But something was different about her. There was none of that scared, traumatized woman I’d gradually been seeing more of. This was the old Jasmine, how she’d been before the TV show. Charming and funny and flirty.

  Flirty. She didn’t just say hi to Charlie and Hooper and Julio. She insisted on kissing each one on the cheek in a big, extravagant, actress way, a cloud of perfume and silken auburn hair. They all looked shell-shocked. Then she was racing off to the bar to replace Julio’s beer.

  Charlie kept looking between Jasmine, over at the bar, and me. His meaning was obvious: what the hell is she doing with you?!

  I shrugged and managed to smile.

  “Un-fucking-believable,” said Charlie.

  Jasmine brought over Julio’s beer. And then, instead of sitting down beside me, facing them, she sat between Charlie and Julio. I saw both of them instinctively glance down at her breasts—there was a lot of cleavage on display, in that dress.

  And then she started talking to them. Asking how long they’d been cops, where their beats were, what it was like. It wasn’t just small talk. She was flirting. She laughed at their lame jokes. She held their gaze for just a little too long. Was she trying to make me jealous?!

  If she was, then it was working. I wanted to scream at her. Why was she doing this?

  I didn’t understand it. Everything had been going so well until that day. Then the Tyler thing had happened and now this. Was she having second thoughts? Was she trying to break us up?

  I gritted my teeth, unsure of how many more seconds of it I could withstand. Jasmine, what the hell are you doing?!

  Chapter 49

  Jasmine

  One Hour Earlier

  When filming was finished for the day, I’d sought out Ryan and pulled him aside. He told me he was fine and that everything was okay between us. That he understood that I had to kiss Tyler, that it was part of the job. That it was no big deal.

  Yeah, right. He was jealous. I could see it all over his face.

  But tonight, I’d fix it. Tonight, I’d meet his friends and, whatever happened, I’d get on with them. After the disaster that had been Flicker, I wanted it to go perfectly.

  I had no idea where cops hung out and I suspected that the gray dress might be a little much. But better overdressed than underdressed. That was the Jasmine way—

  Wait, the Jasmine way?

  I’d slipped back into her, again. The whole thing with Tyler had put me right back into defensive mode.

  I took a long breath and steadied myself. I had to stop doing that—I’d promised Ryan. The idea of meeting complete strangers as Emma, though, was terrifying.

  As I was doing my hair, I heard Nick arrive home. He headed straight for the couch, so I grabbed my hair things and went in there with him so I could talk to him while I used the mirror in there. He looked peaky and nervous—not high, then. Most likely jonesing a little. Out of the two, that was probably better, for what I had in mind.

  “I was passing this church,” I began, “and they had a poster outside.”

  A lie. I’d had to google local meetings and then find one in walking distance.

  “I don’t need the twelve steps, Emma,” he said sullenly. “I’m doing just fine.”

  I met his eyes in the mirror. I could feel the anger starting to smolder inside me, now. “Really? Sleeping on your sister’s couch? Doing jobs for lowlifes? And don’t call me that.”

  We glared at each other. We’d argued plenty, as kids. But we’d also always been able to stick together.

  I sighed.

  “I’m trying to help,” I said, making my voice a little gentler. “Just try going to Narcotics Anonymous. One meeting. Get clean. I’ll help you. Even if it means you have to hunker down in bed for a week and miss work.”

  He shook his head bitterly. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine!”

  “Just get off my case! Jesus, so I’m using—so fucking what? You didn’t used to be so fucking pious.”

  I gaped at him. “You think I’m being—Nick, I got away from all that! You did, too! You even said you got clean.”

  “I did get clean! I even started a college course in cooking—I was going to get into catering!”

  I could hear the Chicago creeping back into my voice again. “Then what the fuck? Why would you go back to it?”

  I could see the frustration in his eyes, the self-loathing. “Because—Because…Jesus, you don’t know what it’s like, Emma! All the other people on that course were meant to be there! I was just faking it!”

  That stopped me cold. He’d been through the exact same thing I had, always doubting himself, always thinking he was the interloper. Except, where I’d had Karen and Nat and Clarissa, he’d only had drugs to turn to. “I do know what that’s like—” I started.

  But he interrupted. “Are you ashamed of me? Is that it? I wasn’t good enough for you, for two years, but then your conscience itched?”

  The anger flared up inside me and exploded. “I was trying to help you! I was worried about you!”

  “You weren’t so worried when you ran out on me!”

  The room went deathly quiet. I actually took a faltering step back.

  “I didn’t—it wasn’t like that!” I stuttered. I knew it was the addiction talking. I knew it was the need inside of him, making him lash out. But I could also feel that this was coming from way down deep, something he’d been bottling up for years.

  “You didn’t even leave me a note!” he yelled. His face was twisted, but not with anger. With remembered pain.

  “I—” What? I didn’t trust him? When I’d fled, he’d been doing jobs for my dad. He’d been as much a victim as me, but also closer to my dad than I’d ever been. I thought that if I stayed in contact with him, he might bring my dad to my door.

  Yes. I hadn’t trusted him. And now, looking at the hurt in his eyes, I could see how wrong I’d been. I’d been terrified and beaten and at the very limit of what my soul could take, but that didn’t change the fact I’d left him behind. I was his little sister, but I still should have taken better care of him.

  “Nick,” I said softly, all the anger gone from my voice, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  He just stared at me for a second, and I could see the tears forming in his eyes. And then he grabbed his jacket and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

  I sank to the couch. It suddenly hit me how much I’d messed up. How I’d been so scared, so focused on keeping myself safe from our dad, that I’d forgotten about what it must have been like for him. What had my dad done to him, when he discovered I’d gone? Beaten him, to try to find out where I was? Jesus.

  I wondered if he’d been telling the truth, when we met at the coffee shop, about being clean. Had he only sta
rted using again after he moved in with me? Had seeing me again reawakened all the old pain and resentment, and that had sent him back to the needle? Jesus, this is all my fault!

  And yet he’d chosen to move back in. It had been his idea. That meant there must be hope for us.

  I decided, right then. I wasn’t going to let the memories of my dad come between us anymore. When Nick returned, I’d apologize properly and try to patch things up between us. I’d explain about how scared I’d been, and that our dad had made me paranoid. And I’d tell him that he could stay in my apartment as long as he wanted, even if he was using. Because I wasn’t going to abandon him again.

  I called him, but he didn’t pick up. I left a message, apologizing, then texted for good measure.

  After that, all I could do was hope that he came back. And, in the meantime, I had to put on a brave face and meet Ryan’s friends.

  ***

  When the cab pulled up to the cop bar, I was a bag of nerves. Between the argument with Nick and stressing about the kiss with Tyler the next day, I was ready to turn around, go home, and hide beneath a blanket. But I wanted this to work. I wanted Ryan’s friends to like me.

  Then I got a look at the place. When he’d said cop bar, I hadn’t expected somewhere so down-market. My dress really was going to be completely out of place. And it felt uncomfortably close to—

  I froze as I pushed my way in through the door. The stained, lacquered tables. The wood paneling. It was almost an exact replica of the place my dad owned in Chicago.

  I could feel my legs going weak even as everyone turned to stare at the weird woman who’d just blundered in. And they were all cops. Every one of them. The enemy, always suspicious, ready to arrest you for breathing but always willing to take a bribe or look the other way when you needed them to protect you.

  I started to panic breathe. I couldn’t do this! I looked across the room and saw Ryan, sitting at a table with three other cops, all male. There was no way that Emma could just march up to them, in this bar, and introduce herself.