by E V Darcy
Benji sighed as he finally got them upright, and glanced around for Julian. It wasn’t like the bodyguard to not be present—especially if he knew his man had acquired booze from somewhere. Perhaps he hadn’t known.
‘Old McManaman had a cow, ee-aye-ee-aye-mooo… Sing with me Benji-ji, you know the words.’
‘Shame you don’t,’ the man muttered as he struggled to get Casey walking.
‘I heard that.’ Casey sighed dramatically as if he had all the weight in the world on his shoulders. He was going to miss all this when he moved to Montana.
‘Then don’t go,’ Benji said next to him.
‘Are you reading my mind, Ben?’
‘No, sir,’ the other man said with a huff. ‘You’re speaking all your thoughts. Why are you thinking of Montana when you work here? Bit of a commute.’
Casey shook his head. ‘Not anymore, Benny-boy, not anymore.’ He saw the younger man frown and laughed before he took his own weight upon his legs again and pulled away from the assistant. ‘They’re killing me off!’ he declared, throwing his arms wide and spinning around, face towards the sky. ‘The Powers That Be are getting rid of me! So, you see,’ he said as he came back to face the assistant. ‘I’m going to have to find something else to do because they made it clear that my career is over and done with.’
The other man stared at Casey with his mouth open, as he tried to take in what the star was telling him. ‘They’re killing— No, they can’t be! You carry this show.’
Casey snorted. ‘Try telling Them that.’ He suddenly felt himself sober up as reality crashed down again. He sat down on the steps of his trailer and wiped his hand down his face. ‘I need another drink.’
‘No you don’t,’ Benji said sitting next to him on the tiny steps. ‘Is that why you’re not on The After Show tonight?’ Casey frowned at the younger man. ‘Ah, you don’t know about that then.’
‘About what?’
‘Well, Tristan’s doing a live interview with Paige as part of the—’
‘Paige is interviewing him? Alone?’ Casey abruptly stood up.
‘No, in front of the crew and the live—’
‘Over my dead body!’ the man snapped and dashed off before Benji could stop him.
‘Fuck,’ the man said, before starting after him.
Paige took a deep, cleansing breath. She could do this. It wasn’t any different than normal—except it fucking was! A live broadcast! A fucking live broadcast. They’d been building up to this in preparation for the mid-season finale week and were kicking off the week-long specials with Legacy.
She’d been disappointed when she heard that Casey wouldn’t be joining Tristan on her couch this time. Not that Claudia hadn’t tried. The producer had loved his last appearance—or should she say the response to his last appearance—and had tried desperately to get him there that night, but someone above her had put a stop to it.
Of course, Paige only knew that piece of information as she’d overheard Claudia lamenting the hardship on her phone, while the other woman had picked at her salad one lunch break. It had made her wonder what the hell Casey had done to piss off the Network for them to put a blanket ban on him appearing anywhere. She’d seen the picture of his arrest in the paper a few weeks back before, but it had been a mistake on the police force’s part, and the star was now suing their asses over it. So, it couldn’t be that.
She’d thought it might have been the fight he’d had with Tristan on set just before it, but seeing as it was Tristan who had hit her and been defaming her character to anyone who’d listen, yet he was currently sitting on her couch waiting to promote the show, she didn’t think it was that either.
Maybe Casey just hadn’t wanted to do the show and had pulled a favour from someone up on high. Perhaps he just didn’t want to face her. After all, she’d got the message loud and clear after almost a month of complete and utter radio silence.
She’d been stupid to think he’d have come after her that day, to think that even if Julian had taken her home that evening, Casey would have come over later that night, or the next day. She’d allowed Julian in to check her apartment, had agreed to let him arrange for a security system to be fitted the next day, then had sat and waited for Casey.
She’d imaged him going into the bedroom she’d stayed in right after she’d left, finding the note and watching their baby on the TV before running out of the door… He’d drive over to her, run up the stairs and knock hell out of her door until she answered it.
The romantic in her had then imagined him sweeping her into his arms, claiming her lips in a kiss and the two of them riding off into the sunset together. Or at least, into her bedroom and screwing like they needed it in order to stay alive.
The reality was, she’d sat up until the early hours and then gone to bed, alone, and cried herself to sleep. Her dreams of the three of them being a family unit, or at least her hopes of Casey wanting to get to know Blue even if he didn’t want her, were completely dashed.
She sighed, earning herself a tut in her ear from the director in the booth above them. She scratched her cheek with her middle finger.
‘…Five… four… three…’ Someone counted her in and she pasted her brightest smile to her face.
‘Go—Good evening’—she internally cursed herself for the little nervous stumbled—‘and welcome to a very special edition of The After Show. This week we’re coming at you live each evening to discuss the mid-season endings of our favourite shows. We’ll be taking your questions via Twitter and Facebook…’ she continued, remembering her training with the autocue she’d had, keeping her pace steady and clear.
‘And I’m pretty sure that after that episode tonight’—the one in which Casey’s character had the amazing cliff-hanger—‘we’re all throwing things around the room demanding to know right now what’s going to happen. Luckily, we’re joined by Tristan Swift to try and answer the questions you pose. Tristan.’ She turned to face the man next to her and prayed her smile didn’t look like the grimace it wanted to be.
This was the first time she’d had to face him since he’d assaulted her, and she hadn’t been looking forward to it one bit. She had tried to protest, and while Claudia had backed her up, the best the producer had been able to do was ensure a member of security would be near her at all times.
‘Paige.’ He nodded back and she knew there was no way on this earth the fans weren’t going to pick up on the iciness between them.
‘So that was a pretty dramatic episode,’ she said. ‘How did it feel to come face-to-face with the killer?’
Tristan started his usual waffling ramblings that often made no sense, and while the camera was on him, Paige took the chance to glance down at the tablet in her hand. It had been connected to their social media accounts and they were actually allowing her to pick and choose the comments to read out and the questions she’d ask.
She bit back a smile as she saw the fans already questioning why Casey wasn’t on the couch with Tristan. The director spoke in her ear and she popped her head up, tilted to one side, and nodded encouragingly just as the camera pinged back to her.
‘Wow,’ she said, having only caught the part she needed, the tail end of his waffle. ‘Pretty dramatic stuff! We have a question, already, from @DestinyFan; they ask, How did it feel to watch your partner being shot? A good question.’ She smiled at the camera before turning back to Tristan. ‘Did you and Casey have to get into a certain frame of mind to do that scene?’
More questions and comments pinged up on her screen, as Tristan spewed bullshit about what he and Casey had apparently done to prepare. She knew for a fact—courtesy of Ben—that the two of them had stopped talking completely between filming scenes. The only time they spoke to one another was through scripted dialogue—when Tristan could remember it.
She had to bite back a laugh as one of the Tweeters stated how little chemistry there was between Tristan and Paige, and that Pacey was their OtP! That garnered a lot of likes very q
uickly. She itched to reply, just to say ditto. She pondered how she could get away with doing it when—
‘—can’t go in there!’
‘I’m on the bloody show too! I should be in there!’
Paige froze and Tristan’s words dried up in his mouth as the two turned towards the screen that blocked off the rear studio door. No one was supposed to come in or out during filming, but the screen acted as a light blocker just in case there was ever a real need for the door to open.
‘What in God’s name is going on?’ the director shouted in her earpiece, but Paige couldn’t answer as Casey raced around the screen, evading whoever had tried to stop him from entering.
He ran through the throng of surprised cameramen, past the two assistants and straight up to her chair, stopping just within shot of the cameras. Her breath caught in her throat as she realised this was the first time she’d seen him in weeks.
‘Casey?’ She had no idea what the hell she was supposed to do, and the director asking her questions in her ear wasn’t helping the matter. ‘What are you doing?’ Paige hissed.
‘I’m here to— to—’ He looked around the studio as if realising for the first time where he was.
‘Casey, I think you need to go,’ Tristan said as he stepped towards the star, which anyone in the room could have told him was not a good idea. It jarred Casey back to the situation at hand; his shoulders squared, his back straightened and his gaze snapped back to his co-star.
‘Not while you’re around, you dick.’
Two security officers came into the room and headed towards them. Paige held her hand out to hold them off. She didn’t want the world to see Casey being dragged off set. It was bad enough they were bearing witness to this meltdown, because there was no way Claudia was going to let director dick cut to commercial on this fiasco.
Well, at least their ratings would go through the roof, she sighed.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Tristan threw back at him, making Casey snort.
‘Seriously? You have to ask that?’
‘Casey,’ Paige’s voice pleaded next to him—she didn’t want her dirty laundry airing in public. She reached up and gently touched his arm, trying to get his attention back on her, to get him to turn and face her. ‘Please—’
‘No,’ the star’s voice was firm, but his face softened as he looked down at her. ‘He shouldn’t be here. He hurt you, Kitten.’ He reached out and cupped her face in his hand, and she instantly pressed into his touch. God, how she had missed him.
‘I know, I know,’ she murmured pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. His touch settled and soothed her; she wanted his arms wrapped around her, holding her close to him, never letting her go again. She couldn’t admit it out loud, but she felt safer with him present than with all the other people there.
‘I won’t let him touch you again,’ he said as he bent his head towards hers, pressing their foreheads together. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding him close to her, and she sighed as his arms slipped around her hips… Until she inhaled and almost choked on the smell of alcohol on his breath. Christ, he smelt like a brewery.
‘You’re drunk.’ It wasn’t even a question. She tried to step out of his arms; unsure of how he’d react to anything she said or did in such a situation. She had Blue to think about.
‘Casey, you should go, I don’t want them to—’
‘To what?’ he snapped, standing upright again, taking his own step back from her. ‘You don’t want them to fire me? Too late, I already got my marching orders.’ Paige couldn’t help the gasp of shock and disbelief that left her lips at that titbit. She glanced towards Tristan who looked just as surprised.
‘They’re what?’ the other actor asked.
‘They’re killing me off, writing me out, permanently. Apparently.’ Casey turned his attention to Tristan, leaving Paige to stand with her mouth gaping.
The Network would be shooting themselves in the foot if they got rid of Casey. The fans adored him as Hunter, and every time she searched and compared preferences for the two leads on social media, she found almost all of the hype was around Casey’s character. The Network could easily write out Tristan’s part. It wasn’t that Tristan was a poor actor—hell if he was, he wouldn’t be where he was today—it was that the character just wasn’t written as well as Hunter.
And Casey was also a better actor!
‘—Even though he’s the one who hit you’—Casey’s words snapped Paige back to attention—‘and the one who started a fight with me, who dragged your name through the mud by telling everyone you were sleeping with him when you weren’t’—he poked the other man in the chest with each point he made—‘I’m the one they’re getting rid of.’
‘Casey!’ she snapped, marching to him. The bastard! She hadn’t wanted the world and its dog to know what had happened that day. Even if Tristan deserved to have his name dragged through the mud, she didn’t want to be invited to anyone’s pity party!
‘You’re right,’ Tristan tried to interject. ‘I shouldn’t have done any of that, and I should never have lost my temper with Paige, and I certainly shouldn’t have struck her—Paige, I am so very, very sorry—’
‘Oh, no,’ Casey interrupted him, stepping even closer to the man, and Paige cringed as he tried to get in the taller actor’s face. ‘You don’t get to walk away from all the crap you pulled. That false drug report has ruined me—why the hell did you do that?’
‘What? That wasn’t me!’ Tristan said, stepping back. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you—’
‘Really, so you and I engage in fisticuffs one day, and then next day it’s just a coincidence that I’m pulled over and arrested for suspected possession with intent to distribute?’
‘I’m telling you, I didn’t do that!’
And Paige believed him. Although he’d been a dick behind her back, she knew a lot about Tristan’s past, his family, his friends, where he’d come from and what he’d had to overcome to get to where he was. The fight was certainly Tristan’s way of dealing with things, but the call to the cops for anonymous revenge wasn’t Tristan.
Paige stepped between the pair and tried once more to call Casey’s attention to her. But he brushed her off and he stepped around her to face Tristan again.
‘Well something’s going on, Tristan, because that doesn’t just happen from nowhere!’ he snorted. ‘And something is going on with you! No one gets away with as much as you do on filming; all the cuts and retakes we have to go through, the lines you miss, the fact you’re always fucking late— No one I’ve ever worked with has gotten away with as much shit as you do, and th—’
‘I’m dyslexic!’ Tristan finally snapped, stepping up to Casey. Wait, what? Paige’s mind faltered on that little revelation. That wasn’t something he’d confessed to her during their friendship. ‘That’s why I mess up my lines so much—I struggle to read them initially, so I remember them jumbled. It’s why I have a permanent assistant on set.’
Casey fell silent as he assessed the other man. ‘Bullshit,’ he finally called.
‘No,’ the other man shook his head. ‘I’m deadly serious.’
Casey narrowed his eyes. ‘But if you have this much trouble on all your shows, how the—’
‘I don’t,’ Tristan said with defeat. He collapsed back on the couch with defeat. ‘I just… Dude, you’re awesome when it comes to filming. You know your lines perfectly. Hit your mark all the freaking time, can keep a straight face when everything’s going wrong, and, hell, you just become the freaking character—how you’ve not been getting lead roles or movies, I don’t know.’
Paige watched Casey’s drunk mind try and process everything Tristan had just said. It made sense. Casey had pulled out more than his A-game for Legacy. She’d noticed it right away, such a contrast to how he had appeared on other shows—which had only made her go and watch his other shows more closely. She’d been stunned to realise he played his roles perfectly, he knew he wasn’t the
star of the show and didn’t play it as if he was.
‘I thought they were going to fire me,’ the man said quietly, stopping Paige’s train of thought. ‘I was trying to be like you.’ Tristan looked up at Casey. ‘I thought if I was more like you, with wild stories of my sexual escapades to share and divulge—’
‘I never do that.’ Casey blinked down at the man. ‘The stories you read come from women who merely use me to get five minutes of fame. And even if I did, it still wouldn’t excuse you for striking Paige—you hurt her, and I can never forgive you for putting her and our daughter at risk.’
Paige stood with her mouth open as she realised Casey had just announced to the world that he was the father of her child. And then a flash of anger seared through her.
‘How dare you!’ Paige said, grabbing his arm and turning him to face her. ‘You walk in here after nearly two months of ignoring me, acting all holier-than-thou, as if you’ve done no wrong. Yet you find out you’re the father of my baby and you don’t contact me at all—’
‘You’re the one who left that night!’ he protested.
‘You didn’t realise Blue was yours until Marc spelt it out for you! You thought I’d gone back to Daniel! You thought Blue was his and I was trying to pass her off as yours! You branded me a gold-digging charlatan in your mind. You think so low of women, you lumped me in with all the women who’ve cashed in on their time with you. When you found out Blue was yours, you should have come after me on your fucking knees!’
At least he had the decency to look guilty.
‘You know what,’ she said, unhooking her mic and popping out her earpiece. ‘I’m done. I’m fed up of his Hollywood bullshit. I’m fed up of macho men trying to pee around me—metaphorically. I’m out of here.’
She didn’t care if they fired her ass, too, she needed to get away from all the testosterone around the place. She was fed up of being some weak little thing, that all the men seemed to need to support, to stand up for her. She’d come out to LA with the intent of being amazing on her own—she was going to turn that from intent to fact.