Scared Scriptless

by Alison Sweeney

  Wesley and Buttercup take off into the Fire Swamp, and I manage to set aside my insecurities until almost the end of the movie, when there’s a knock at my door.

  “I’ll give you one guess.” I open it to Adam, who comes bearing gifts: a bag from the liquor store down the street and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers.

  “What is all this?” I ask after he gives me a quick smack on the lips and then heads to the kitchen.

  “I’m making you a new fruity cocktail to try. And I snuck those flowers from the after-party. That’s basically what these events are… drinks and pretty flower arrangements. I figure we could do a dress rehearsal here, and then next time you’ll come with me.”

  It’s such a sweet gesture. I don’t have the heart to tell him that if being by his side doesn’t do the trick, liquid courage isn’t enough to get me onto that red carpet. And I know he sees me as this strong chick. I’m pretty sure any how-to relationship book would advise against me admitting how insecure I feel at this stage of our… whatever this is.

  “What were you watching?” he asks from the kitchen. I hear the blender.

  “Oh, nothing.” I switch off the TV, suddenly not wanting to reveal my childhood obsession with the silly romantic movie. I head into the kitchen. “You’re out early, aren’t you? I would’ve thought the party would be just gearing up.”

  “It is, but I know you have to get up early, and I wanted to have a drink with you before you go to sleep.”

  “You’re going back?” I watch him expertly pour the frozen concoction into a glass (with umbrella). I see rinsed raspberries lined up next to the sink, so I’m less suspicious of the pink color.

  “Delicious,” I admit after the first sip. He smiles and opens a beer for himself. We toast. “Thank you. But you didn’t have to come here just for one drink. You’re right, I’m probably going to bed soon anyway.”

  “After your show?” he asks again casually.

  “Yes,” I answer vaguely. “So, was the movie good?”

  “Yeah, my buddy was fantastic. It’s his first leading role. And he totally nailed it.” He sits on my kitchen stool. “So much of the special effects were done with green screen. That has to be so hard, acting in a vacuum like that.” We spend the next forty minutes talking about everything from work to Wrong Doctor gossip. This is what I like best about my relationship with Adam: It’s so easy. When it’s just the two of us, we can chat about work or not. We can talk about politics or the weather, and it seems so honest and natural. Once he gets me going on a subject, I’m not thinking about his status, or my career, or any other stupid reason I shouldn’t be with him. It just feels right.

  I regret making the slurping noise in my straw that calls attention to the fact that I’ve finished my cocktail. He looks at it and then me, and reluctantly swallows the last of his beer before recycling his bottle and rinsing out my glass. He already cleaned my blender and put it away. Another habit he has that makes it easy to forget he’s #3 on the call sheet now; #1 is, of course, Billy Fox and #2 is Alice (the female lead). But for Adam to jump to #3 in one season… he’s a big deal on the show now.

  “I gotta go, babe, but are you free Saturday? My buddy was telling me about this fantastic café on the boardwalk in Venice. Apparently they have an amazing brunch.”

  “Yeah. Sounds great. I’d love that.”

  He comes over and wraps me in a hug. “And I’m on set all day tomorrow, you know… so we can eat lunch together in my trailer… just the two of us…” He kisses my forehead, which makes me feel as warm and fuzzy as my slippers.

  “Adam, I can’t let…”

  “It’s your lunch break, too, Maddy.”

  “I know, but people will know… and I’m not ready for that.”

  He pulls away so he can look me in my eye. “How long are we going to pretend we’re not together?”

  “I don’t know. But if you want to eat with Frank, Stella, and me at catering, I would love that. We’ll make brunch our next date, okay? Just text me the address of the place and I’ll see you there on Saturday.”

  “First of all, I don’t need to tell you the address because I’m picking you up, you crazy girl.” He rests his hands on either side of the counter I’m sitting on, so he’s right in front of me. “Second, I know why you don’t want to tell anyone at work, but come on… rules were made to be broken, right? No one is going to give you a hard time for breaking Rule #1, I promise. And third…” Adam caught a glimpse of my spiral notebook the other day, and he’s been doing this list thing ever since. It kills me.

  But now there’s silence.

  “Third?” I prompt, baiting him a little.

  “Third…” He hesitates. He doesn’t have a third.

  “Third…” He grins. “So, I’ll get to do this whenever I want.” And he kisses me slowly, deeply. Those kisses that make me forget my own name.

  It’s this good night kiss I’m thinking of the next day on set when Frank catches me staring off into space.

  “What’s going on with you, Maddy? You’ve been in la-la land all week.”

  “No, I haven’t…,” I begin to defend myself.

  “This is the second time today I’ve caught a line change in rehearsal that wasn’t marked in your script. You don’t make mistakes. Ever. I’m worried.”

  “God, I’m sorry. Thank you for covering my ass.” I’m so glad Frank is keeping this conversation in low tones, but it’s no less embarrassing to be caught. “I’m just exhausted working two gigs. Thank God WD wraps next week.”

  “Hey, don’t get me wrong. Part of me is grateful for any sign that you’re not actually a cyborg.” Which gets the laugh it’s intended to and lets me know I’m off the hook a bit with him… as long as I pull it together.

  My phone lights up and when I see the number, I smile involuntarily, causing Frank to give me another quizzical look as he walks away.

  AD: I’ll pick you up at 10?

  I look at Adam across the set. He’s sitting in his set chair, looking through his sides with his phone casually in one hand.

  Me: That sounds perfect. Can’t wait.

  He reads my text and replies, no change in expression.

  AD: Me too. I love hearing you laugh. Looking forward to the real thing—not just an emoticon.

  I know if there were a script for this moment, it would have me get up from my chair in video village, walk over to him, and kiss him in front of everyone to declare myself. But I don’t. I just put my phone down and make 100 percent sure that I don’t make any more mistakes at work. I know Adam sees this as just an insecurity. But it’s more than that; I have to be smart about my career, my reputation. I’ve worked too hard to have this entire crew dismiss me as just another notch in a celebrity bedpost. With a deep breath, I acknowledge that it’s just going to take time. But for now, I gotta admit, the stolen kisses, these secret moments, are pretty hot.

  Scene 002

  Ext. Pacific Coast Highway—morning

  It’s a brilliant Saturday morning in LA, bright, crisp, and not a cloud in the sky. I feel like Adam and I are on a soundstage as we drive down the Pacific Coast Highway to Venice—it’s almost too perfect.

  “Beautiful morning, huh?” he asks with an easy smile. It’s nice to see him clean-shaven, and without the bruises and scars that are part of his character on The Wrong Doctor. I almost forgot what he looks like without fake blood dripping from his hairline.

  “I was just thinking that!” I say with a giddy rush.

  Completing the perfect picture this morning is the fact that there are so few cars on the road. Still, it was a trek for Adam to come all the way to Studio City to pick me up. Usually people in LA just meet up, since everything is so spread out.

  “You know, you didn’t have to come get me. I can drive myself.”

  “I wanted to do it,” he replies simply.

  “Well, thank you.” I smile at him, holding my hair back as the ocean breeze whips through the open windows.

>   “You’re welcome.”

  We park at a lot along the beach and walk the length of the boardwalk to the restaurant, holding hands the whole way.

  Adam orders a very healthy egg-white omelet with fruit and spelt bread. If I had to take my shirt off on camera, I would probably eat like that too.

  “I’ll have the egg sandwich.” I hand back the menu. What can I say? He’s on camera, not me.

  “So I can’t believe we’re filming the finale this week,” I say.

  “Hogan’s crazy. I mean, you have to be crazy to think up a cliff-hanger like that.” We’re both speaking in low tones, as we don’t want anyone to overhear the story plot points.

  “But it’s a good crazy. Don’t you think? I mean, the fans are going to be flipping out, dying to find out what happens next.”

  “Well, I’m happy for what it means for my character,” Adam says. “I’m grateful that my role is growing.”

  “Vying for number one on the call sheet, huh?” I tease him, but I know Hogan was very impressed with Adam’s work this year, which is why he is getting even more airtime and an important story line in season three.

  He laughs. “Yeah, I want to knock that Fox down a peg. If not on the call sheet, then at least on the tennis courts. We’re playing next week—wanna come?”

  “Winner gets the trailer with the stove? I still can’t get over that.” I can’t even imagine how intense a tennis match between those two would be.

  “You know I don’t really care about that stuff, right?” Adam suddenly turns serious.

  “What stuff?” I ask, thrown.

  “Who’s number one on the call sheet, who has the bigger trailer. How many Twitter followers I have. That stuff really doesn’t matter to me.”

  “I didn’t mean to undermine it. I know it all matters to your career.” I match his tone.

  “Yeah, it does, which is why I do it. I understand how important the fans are, and how lucky I am to have fans. But I also don’t think it means more than it does. I do this because I love acting. I’m not in this for the celebrity of it.” The server brings us our dishes, and Adam stops to give her his attention. “Thank you,” he says with a smile. I see her blush as she walks away. That’s the effect he has on women. He seems oblivious to it now, but I know he’s not. I’ve seen him turn on the charm when it suits him.

  “I just wanted you to know that.” His focus completely returns to me, making me feel hot under the collar.

  I dig into my egg sandwich, ready to lighten the mood. You can’t take anything seriously with yolk on your fingers.

  “So, thanks to you, I’m back to watching Days again. I’ve been DVRing it ever since that day I saw your last episode.”

  “So you’re watching even though I’m gone?” he teases, mock-offended.

  “Well, truth is, I was a big fan in college. My friends and I used to plan our classes around it. Our favorite character was always Kate. What’s she really like?”

  “She’s awesome. Funny and cool. Die-hard David Bowie fan. I got along well with everyone on the set. The crew is amazing, hardworking. The actors all come to set prepared to do the work—well, the ones who last do.”

  We sit for a second, eating, before he asks, “Why’d you stop watching?”

  “What? Days? Oh… I don’t know. I guess after a couple years of juggling that and working on sets, I got out of the habit. And working behind the scenes, it’s harder to suspend disbelief.”

  “Yeah?” He somehow reads on my face that there’s more.

  “Well, yeah, like reading romance novels. I guess I outgrew it.”

  “Oh yeah. You don’t like romance, I forgot. You like reality.”

  “Exactly.” My hopeless romantic status is not something I like to cop to.

  He leaves a couple twenties on the table when he sees that I’ve finished and we head out of the café toward the beach. We take off our shoes, and the warm sand feels amazing.

  “So, what movie were you watching when I came over after the premiere the other night?”

  Thrown by the question, I can’t think of a lie quick enough. “Um… what?” Now it’s become a thing. It would be too embarrassing for him to catch me after all my talk about preferring realistic fiction over ridiculous over-the-top romance.

  “Just curious, Ms. I Hate Romance. What were you watching?”

  I get a sneaking suspicion he somehow knows. But how could he? I had the DVD paused on the shot after Buttercup and Wesley disappear into the quicksand. Unless he knew that movie by heart, no way would he recognize it from that.

  “Nothing. New subject.”

  He smiles. “As you wish.” He takes off, pulling his shirt over his head while running toward the surf. I take off after him. I can’t help but laugh. I love that he knows the movie so well. And turning the famous line back on me? It melts my heart. So of course I have to splash him to get even until we are both soaking wet.

  He ends the water fight by picking me up and gently dumping me on the dry, hot sand. He uses his dry shirt to wipe the sand from my face and then tosses it aside. I sigh and enjoy the warm sun and Adam’s nearness. I am trying to soak in this rare moment of true relaxation, for once not worrying about expectations, or what Adam is thinking, or who else can see us. I’m enjoying the peace, especially since it’s probably my last for a while—Monday is my first day reporting to work at our new offices for Never Cry Wolf. It’s exciting and terrifying. I take another deep breath and nuzzle farther into Adam’s chest and then… Whap. A Frisbee tags me right in the shoulder.

  “OW!” I flinch and grab my arm.

  “You okay?” Adam kisses my shoulder and moves my hand away to examine the mark. He rubs it quickly, taking the sting away.

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Growing up with two brothers, it takes more than a Frisbee to bring me down.

  Adam grabs the Frisbee and looks to throw it back, but the group that it apparently belongs to is already descending on us.

  “See, I told you it’s him.” One teenage girl nudges her friend, unsubtly. Her friend giggles but just stares mutely.

  “Hey, sorry about that,” says one of the boys they’re with. “The wind carried it off.”

  “Yeah, it caught the wind. Sorry,” says the other boy. They’re both looking at me while the girls make googly eyes at Adam. Boy #2 asks casually, “Are you on TV too?”

  “Me? No.” I laugh awkwardly as they don’t even try to hide their unimpressed faces. The know-it-all girl speaks up. “But you’re on Days of Our Lives, right? You’re Adam Devin.”

  “Yeah, that’s me,” Adam offers gracefully.

  “Can we get a picture with you?” The girl whips her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket like it’s noon at the OK Corral.

  “Of course.” Adam poses with the girl while the other one snaps the picture, and then they switch positions and cameras. We wait while still-silent girl pulls her legit camera out of her bag, and finds focus, adjusts for the sun. She must be in a photography class in school. She’s still fiddling with the settings when Adam catches my eye and we exchange a silent laugh.

  “Hey, would you mind taking one of all of us?” the girls ask me after they’ve finished their individuals. What is this, a photo shoot?

  “Um, actually, we’re on a date…” Adam steps in, but I know he doesn’t want to leave them with a bad impression, and neither do I.

  “No, it’s all right. I’ll take it. I’m sorry I’m soaking wet… if you don’t mind…” I brush as much sand off my hands as I can before taking the camera.

  “Oh, I don’t mind at all.” She hands it to me with only the briefest hesitation. “Come on, everyone, get on this side so you don’t block the light.” Suddenly Silent Girl is a director. She gets everyone exactly as she wants and I take the picture. She’s right, though; it’s a great shot, the surf and sand in the background. And then right before the preview image disappears from the screen, I notice that both girls had put their hands on Adam’s chest right before
I snapped the picture. I look up to see that Adam has detached himself from the bikini-clad girls, as smoothly as possible. The boys have grabbed the Frisbee, done with this celebrity stuff, and are gone. So the girls have no choice but to reluctantly follow.

  “Does that happen a lot?” I gesture to his chest, which he’s now covering with his shirt.

  “What?” he asks, buttoning up.

  “Girls copping a feel every chance they get?” I ask as casually as I can, but he must know the answer is important to me.

  “Well, I mean, yeah, it happens. Once in a while.” He takes my hand and we start heading back to the car. “But it doesn’t mean anything.” He stops in his tracks and pulls me in to his chest. “You know that, right? This,” he says, kissing me on the lips. “This means something to me.” He kisses me right there in broad daylight, and I can’t resist kissing him back with everything I’ve got.

  Scene 003

  Int. Wolf production offices—day

  It’s all I can do not to gasp out loud taking in the gorgeous, top-of-the-line, brand-new edit bays that Ed Greenling is showing me. All this is for Never Cry Wolf? I feel so outclassed as I look at all the fancy equipment. Two young editors are flipping through footage, headphones on, completely ignoring the tour that is going on behind them.

  “This is, as you can see, all brand-new equipment, and I found these editors at USC film school. They’re geniuses. Never Cry Wolf is going to get nothing but the best.”

  “Spared no expense?” I say, stealing the line from the tour in the beginning of Jurassic Park. I really can’t believe that this is all for me… well, not for me, but for Never Cry Wolf. Twenty minutes into my first official day at my new office, and I am already pinching myself. Hogan is finding us space at HCP, but Ed insisted that we make our home here rather than cram into a conference room while we wait. He has dedicated space right smack dab in the center of the Outdoor Network headquarters.