by E V Darcy
‘No way, man,’ Tristan laughed, clapping the man on the shoulder as he swung his leg over the chair to take a seat. ‘She wanted it again this morning. Had to practically peel her off me when I dropped her off at lot thirteen.’
Casey was glad he had the script in front of his face when he heard that! Thirteen was where The After Show was filmed. There were other small shows filmed there too, but it was too much of a coincidence after seeing Tristan there on the Friday and overhearing him asking Paige out. Plus, the prick had said that part louder than the rest—he wanted Casey to hear, had probably seen his co-star hanging around in the wings waiting to speak to Paige after the recording.
Fuck.
He’d sworn to stay away from her after that morning in the hotel room. Seeing her the week before, lost in the belly of the Legacy studios, had ruined that resolution and he later found himself watching the recording session just to see how she did. And he’d actually been quite impressed. In fact, he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her throughout the filming process; she was lively, engaging, and knew her shows well enough to be able to go off on a tangent with a star and bring it all back together again enough to satisfy the writers.
She was also as beautiful as he remembered, and pregnancy seemed to be agreeing with her. He’d always thought it a myth, but she had a radiance, almost a glow. Her hair was thick, shiny, and tumbling about her shoulders in soft, luxurious waves, and her eyes sparkled when she turned them on him. She was a picture of health and it both settled and unsettled something within him, confusing him further.
The knowledge of her being laden with her ex’s child turned his stomach, yet he couldn’t help but think of how stunning it made her. He even found himself staring at that tiny bump that was beginning to show, wanting to run his hands over it, feel it, claim it as his so she could be hisp too—
He stopped that train of thought.
Again.
She wasn’t his, she would never be his. He wouldn’t allow it, not after her little attempt to ensnare him.
Fuck. Why couldn’t she have just been upfront about it before hand, talked to him, given him the chance to come to terms with it and to have made an informed decision, instead of trying to trap him?
Casey sighed as he put the script back on the table in front of him, idly flipping through it while the room resettled around him. He glanced superciliously at his co-star. He had to admit—begrudgingly—while Tristan might be a grade A dick, the guy was certainly a better catch. Tristan was a bigger name than Casey had ever been before the convention disaster, and the guy had greater career potential—although fuck knew why—Paige had certainly done well to snag him.
Casey tried to silently congratulate himself on avoiding the drama Paige would have undoubtedly brought into his life, once she decided he wasn’t enough, that she needed a Tristan on her arm rather than a Casey. He tried to pat himself on the back, but his arm didn’t want to cooperate.
‘I’m telling you,’ he overheard the other star saying, albeit a little more quietly to the guest star hanging on his every word. ‘The older ones are always so willing, and so passionate. Women hit their sexual peaks in their thirties, and trust me, she’s at her peak. Insatiable.’
Casey closed his eyes and counted to ten to stop himself reacting to Tristan’s words. He wasn’t sure if the younger man was deliberately trying to get to him, or if he genuinely was still that much of a child he thought locker room talk in a professional environment was acceptable.
‘And the fact she’s pregnant… Horny as hell. Had to beg her to go to—
‘Tristan,’ Casey finally snapped, a surge of anger causing the admonishment to fall from his lips. ‘We get it. You finally got your dick wet, and joined the big boys’ club. Now, shut up.’
The rest of the room fell deathly silent, all eyes turning to the pair sitting opposite one another at the table. Tristan made to say something in return when the director cut him off.
‘Casey’s right’—he shuffled his papers before putting them down, his hands resting over them—‘let’s get on with this.’
Casey opened his script again and bowed his head to take in the words, trying to calm the jealous rage was racing through his veins. He could feel the glare on the top of his head from the man across from him; he’d bet that the look he was receiving would only be rivalled by those of Medusa.
He scratched the top of his head with his middle finger.
17
‘—And now we’re joined by both stars of Legacy, the new upcoming show on the Network, Casey McManaman and Tristan Swift. Gentleman, it’s a—’
‘Cut!’ the director said in Paige’s ear piece, surprising her. ‘You said their names in the wrong order.’
‘What?’ she asked as she gazed up at the recording booth above the set. ‘I said it alphabetically. Does it actually matter?’
‘Of course, it does—Tristan is number one on the Legacy call sheet.’
‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Paige frowned at the man’s words before glancing at the two stars seated on the sofa, who didn’t seem at all fazsed by the interruption to the recording so soon. But as Casey caught her eye, he leaned across the arm of the sofa and quietly enquired, ‘What’s the matter?’
Paige had felt a thrill of delight when Casey had arrived before Tristan—not that she’d expected the other man to be on time—and he had chosen to sit closest to her. She’d watched with held breath as he approached the set, stepped up to her chair and—without even a moment of consideration—sat next to her.
She hadn’t spoken to him since her first day on The After Show, and she’d been counting down the days until she’d be able to get the two men on her couch—although not in the way she’d have liked. There were no camera’s involved in that way… Unless Casey was up for that, of course.
‘Paige?’ he said a little louder. She blinked, snapping herself out of her daydream and refocusing on the man at her side. She covered her microphone and leaned across to the two actors as the director ranted on in her ear.
‘He’s complaining I got your names in the wrong order. Apparently, Tristan, you’re number one on the call sheet, whatever that means.’
Casey sat back at her words, his spine ramrod straight and shoulders squared. Tristan’s reaction couldn’t have been more opposite, his general smile turned into an amused grin as he flopped back against the comfortable pillows adorning the sofa.
‘That’s what he’s complaining about?’ Paige nodded to her friend but glanced back to Casey, whose face had gone from welcoming to cold. ‘Let him go first, I’m not bothered.’
‘No.’ Paige moved back slightly at the venom Casey managed to inject into the single word. He shifted uncomfortably on his seat at her surprised gaze, his cheeks reddening under the scrutiny or embarrassment of the situation. Was it really such a big deal to actors? Was the call sheet position that significant?
‘I mean,’ Casey corrected himself. ‘He’s right. The director. Tristan goes first.’
Paige blinked and looked between Casey and the recording booth, the recording booth and Tristan, then finally back to Casey.
‘Get on with it!’ the director snapped.
She took a deep breath and fixed her smile to her face again, but this time it didn’t feel as genuine. Some of the shine of the moment was gone.
‘And now we’re joined by both stars of Legacy, the new upcoming show on the Network, Tristan Swift and Casey McManaman. Gentleman, it’s a pleasure to have you both here.’
‘Thanks,’ Casey said, his shoulders still squared and stiff. There was no warmth in his voice. She was definitely adding this call sheet thing to her list of things to understand in the industry.
‘Anytime,’ Tristan replied. The two looked polar opposites—Tristan’s smile was wide and genuine and Paige wondered if he was even aware there was anything uncomfortable in the air. Or perhaps he did and just wasn’t at all bothered by it. He did seem rather laid back about l
ife.
‘You’ve been filming Legacy since the end of July and we’re expecting the premier episode next month, a little later in the year than premiers usually happen—’
‘Yeah,’ Tristan interrupted with a sigh catching her off guard. She forced her smile to brighten with interest and sat back to listen to what he had to say. The director didn’t protest so she assumed he was fine with the question being cut short. It seemed like the courtesy to Tristan didn’t just extend to punctuality and call sheets. ‘There were so many changes made, with Casey joining us, that filming was delayed by a few weeks, which pushed everything back.’
Paige caught the frown that threatened to fall across her face at Tristan’s casual comment—he made it sound as if Casey himself was the reason for the changes. She bit her lip to stop herself responding without thinking, but Casey saved her the need.
‘Yes, when the original person cast to play Hunter dropped out at the last minute, it was quite fortuitous I was available.’ Casey clarified Tristan’s point. ‘Had Destiny not been postponed as it had been, there would have been a longer delay.’
Oh! She hadn’t realised there’d been another actor lined up to play Casey’s character. She, like the rest of the Destiny fan base, had assumed Legacy had been thrown together to cover for her favourite show being canned.
She leaned forward with genuine interest at that titbit, her voice eager when she asked, ‘So really, there might not even have been a show—this year at least—had Destiny not stopped filming?’
‘It would have got done,’ Tristan said with a wave of his hand as if the idea of replacing one of the leads was a trivial matter. ‘There were a number of actors ready to step in, Casey was just there first.’
Paige’s mouth dropped a little at the comment, surprised by Tristan’s blasé attitude towards the casting of his partner on the show. She narrowed her eyes at the man. As sweet and lovely as he was to her off camera, she wasn’t letting him get away with treating Casey so unthoughtfully. It made her wonder what their relationship was like on set.
‘You mean, Casey was the first and foremost choice from a selection of fine actors who were also eager to be part of Legacy?’ Paige tried.
‘If you like.’ Paige looked at Casey, whose cheeks had turned red. He didn’t return her gaze; instead, he glared at the floor as if that offended him, rather than his co-star’s words. ‘It also didn’t hurt that he’d just survived that convention disaster,’ Tristan added.
Paige couldn’t help the little sound of disbelief that came from her mouth at his audacity. She glanced towards the director up in his booth. ‘Maybe we should rephrase this? You make it sound as if Casey didn’t earn the role—’
‘No, keep going,’ the director’s voice immediately interrupted. He sounded like he was enjoying what he was hearing.
‘But—’ she tried to protest, glancing at Casey.
‘Keep going!’
Paige bit her lip and turned back to the actors, her eyes lingering on Casey before darting to Tristan and back again.
‘Paige, questions,’ the director snapped in her ear. She nodded and glanced down at the question cards in her hand. They were blank, merely a prop for her to hold, to help hide her growing bump. The bastard director hadn’t wanted her burgeoning stomach to become the audiences hot talking point. She hadn’t resented the cards as much as she did at that moment, as she quickly shuffled through them.
‘Paige!’
She shook her head, jiggling her curls a little as she plastered her smile back on her face. Fine, they wanted questions, she’d give them questions.
‘That’s right,’ she began, smile wide on her face—hoping it didn’t look too self-satisfied—as she turned her attention to Casey. ‘You returned back to work almost immediately, Casey. Six… seven weeks isn’t that long a time to recover from what we went through; do you think it’s changed your outlook on work?’
The man blinked and turned back to her with a frown marring his forehead—it wasn’t one of the pre-agreed questions, but she didn’t give a damn. If they were willing to let Tristan do his own thing, then they’d have to put up with her doing her own thing. They could fire her ass later if they wanted! And from her director’s irate voice ranting in her ear, she imagined that was a very real possibility.
‘I guess,’ Casey began slowly, glancing from her to the camera and back again. ‘The Network was very good to ensure I had any help I needed after I—we—were rescued. I now have access to a shrink on set, especially after we began filming the earlier scenes for the first two episodes.’
‘Why the first two?’ she asked tilting her head. She was genuinely interested, but she remembered what she’d been taught about looking engaging; apparently, it helped the audience to respond correctly, as if they needed the direction. She knew fandom, and the fans were going to be glued to this disaster of an interview if they sent it out like this.
‘Well’—he shifted in his seat again, but held her gaze—‘in the first episode we meet the two leads and find out why they’re set on ending the legacy of the most prolific serial killer in the States. Let’s just say the situation we see Hunter in was a little reminiscent of recent events.’
‘Oh.’ Paige exhaled as she realised what he was saying. ‘It was like being back in the hotel?’ Casey nodded. ‘Wow, I can’t even—’ She cut her own sentence off as she stared at him, wondering how the hell he had managed to do something even remotely akin to what they’d endured. Paige found that even now, she found it difficult to be in small spaces. She refused to get into any elevators—minus the night she’d spent with Casey at the hotel—and had taken to showers rather than baths. Her apartment—as small as it was—was open plan, with large windows that looked out across a park. She needed to feel space around her.
‘Hey,’ Casey’s voice cut through her thoughts. She blinked down at his hand over hers. She’d done it again; she’d blanked out, retreated into her mind. ‘You okay?’ his voice was soft, tender, something she missed hearing so damn much—especially in the dark blanket of the night.
‘How did you cope?’ she asked, her voice small and timid. Why could he be so brave, when she couldn’t? Why was he okay, when she still had occasional nightmares?
‘I didn’t on the first day,’ he said, giving her hand a squeeze. ‘Nor the second. On the third, the director was ready to send the script back for a rewrite, or ask for someone else to play Hunter. So, they sent the shrink in and he worked with me. The first scene you see me in is what gave me so much trouble.’
‘Why?’ she asked with bated breath. She leaned towards him more, practically sitting on the edge of her seat, wanting to know what he’d gone through without her.
‘Hunter’s trapped in an old duct system,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘With old-fashioned fancy vents letting in the light. They had three versions, an open-sided one they could do profile shots in, an open-topped one for top-down filming and an enclosed one, but open at the feet for perspective shots.
‘No matter which one it was, I kept having panic attacks, before even getting inside them. Then I finally managed to get in and then I’d freak out—I broke at least two sets.’ He huffed a small laugh at the memory, and Paige couldn’t help but return his smile with her own, squeezing his hand reassuringly. She wanted to throw her arms around him, hold him close, comfort him the way she knew he could comfort her. Oh, how she he wanted him to comfort her, hold her, make love to her…
‘Finally, the quack they sent got me through. They make sure he’s on set all the time now, but especially whenever those types of scenes are set up.’
‘Are they set up often?’ she asked, almost frightened of the answer. ‘Do you’—she licked her lips—‘Do you have to go through that a lot?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not like the first few. But there are other things that can trigger me; a small set, a lift, things like that. It’s just easier with the doc around.’
‘I’m glad they’re looking a
fter you,’ she said, smiling at the star. She felt her chest swell when he returned her smile.
‘Why? Would you take them to task for me, Kitten?’
‘Yes,’ she said without hesitation, almost breathlessly as he turned his roguish smile on her, the one that made his eyes twinkle with that gleam of boyish mischief.
‘Maybe I should call you Lioness instead of Kitten?’
‘What the fuck—’ She dropped his hand, turning her head away with a wince and falling back against the seat; her director was screaming in her earpiece. Her fingers scrambled to pull the little device from her ear as she glanced up at the booth where he was arguing with someone, seemingly Claudia, the biggest producer of the show. But Claudia didn’t look the slightest bit moved.
‘What’s got him so worked up?’ she asked to no one in particular as she glanced around the set, remembering where she was. Being captured by Casey’s gaze she’d forgotten about the cameras filming, about Tristan next to him, and the crew watching…
Finally, the director threw his hands in the air and marched towards the window overlooking them. He pressed the speaker button and his voice came over the air. ‘We’ll cut to a break there. Let’s reset for a return.’
The floor crew rushed around them trying to get them back into positions, hooked up, under the correct light, and so forth. When the sound guy popped her earpiece back in, the director’s voice was immediately there.
‘No more stunts like that,’ he said, and she knew he was pissed off. ‘Stick to the rest of the questions you were set. Understood?’
She gazed down at her blank cards and nodded her head, but allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
‘That was an excellent set,’ Tristan said, giving Paige his knee-weakening smile. Paige hated that he was able to turn her legs to jelly with just that grin, to heat her cheeks with a wink, wet her panties with a look. She cursed her libido at the best of times; pregnancy was doing her no favours in that department. She’d worn out two sets of batteries that month alone!