by Julie Jaret
“Um... was that...?” Natalie started.
“Yeah.” Sam rolled his eyes and led the way toward the trailer at the end of the row. It was twice the size of the others.
“I didn’t know she was in this movie.”
“She isn’t.”
“Why is she here?”
“She was supposed to have a cameo, but we didn’t need her anymore.” He stopped at the narrow steps and motioned for Natalie and her parents to go first. “Welcome, go on in.”
From the outside, the trailer was unimpressive. It was just bigger than the other trailers which were even less impressive.
“My goodness, this is lovely!” Her mother sounded as surprised as Natalie felt.
Filled with natural light, the interior was decked out with plush, modern furniture, sleek electronics, and a kitchenette stocked with baskets of fresh fruit, gourmet nuts and everything else a movie star might want to snack on.
“Thanks. They take good care of me.” He turned warm eyes on Natalie and sighed, “No pizza, though,”
She grinned at the memory of how much he enjoyed pizza. They declined his offer of snacks, and were chatting over bottles of water when someone knocked.
“Hey Sam, you in?”
He opened the door to a cute girl in her early twenties, with a clipboard in her hand, tattoos on her arms, and a walkie-talkie hooked on her baggy cargo pants. From her scraggly ponytail and all-business attitude, it was clear she wasn’t impressed by celebrity.
“Hey, Jessica. This is Natalie and her parents, Lorraine and Ed. Jessica’s our best PA -- production assistant.”
“Hi guys. Sam, they need you in wardrobe and they’re ready for Natalie in hair.”
Natalie bit her lip watching her parents trying not to stare at the girl’s tongue-piercing.
After making sure her parents were comfortable, Sam walked Natalie over to hair and makeup. Jessica would be back to take her parents to wardrobe in a little while.
The hairstylist was a friendly woman in her forties with colorful tattoos and more colorful hair. She shared the trailer with an adorably-pudgy, flamboyantly-gay makeup artist. Natalie asked about other movies they had worked on, and they shared entertaining stories about celebrities behaving badly. As they talked, the stylist worked Natalie’s dark hair into a beautiful up-do with flower-woven braids. She moved over to the makeup chair just before Sam’s male co-star showed up.
After all this time with Sam, she had forgotten what star-struck felt like. But when the still-gorgeous, fifty year-old movie star sat down next to her with a cup of Starbucks and a well-known squinty smile, all she could do was nod dumbly back.
A half-hour later, in heavy makeup with fake eyelashes, Natalie was being zipped into a beautiful, long-trained wedding gown.
“Are you sure I’m supposed to be wearing this?”
The woman who had introduced herself as “Wendy Wardrobe” tugged the sleeves and adjusted the shoulders. “Yep.”
“But I’m nobody. This dress is for someone with a part, right?”
“Just a cameo.” Then she added conspiratorially, “Thank god you’re the same size as The Bitch.”
Oh crap. Natalie had never been on an heiress’s shit list before, but she probably was, now.
Wendy Wardrobe shook out a long veil and continued, “We’re already behind schedule today because I had to let out Sam’s pants. Dunno where the man was the last three weeks, but I think all he did was eat.”
Eat and fuck, yeah.
Jessica the PA popped back in just as Wendy Wardrobe finished pinning the veil in place. The mirror in the wardrobe trailer sucked, so Natalie didn’t get to see how she looked in the stunning gown. But as they got in the plain white van which would take them to set, the burly, tatted, wiry-haired driver gave her a friendly smile. He looked like a scary biker, but his manner was all teddy-bear.
“Darlin’, if I wasn’t already married to the love of my life, I’d put a ring on you, myself.”
Natalie was still grinning when he helped her and the ginormous gown out of the van. She followed Jessica through the organized chaos, carefully stepping over cables and successfully avoiding smacking her head on any rigging.
Looking around, she tried to find Sam among the hundreds of people milling around, half of whom looked like wedding guests. The rest were easily identified as film crew by the walkie-talkies clipped to their belts. Some were moving lights and other equipment, others checked settings on enormous cameras or recording devices; a bunch more rushed around purposefully with multicolored rolls of tape hanging from their belts. She noticed a number of baseball caps and t-shirts emblazoned with Hostile Takeover and Hostile Takeover 2, as well as various other movies and television shows.
They navigated their way to what Jessica called “Video Village,” which turned out to be just a half-dozen directors chairs facing a bank of video monitors. Sam wasn’t there, but her parents were seated in two of the chairs, watching with interest as a few crew members with headphones around their necks conferred over script pages. Someone in wardrobe had dressed her father in a tux and her mother in a simple chiffon gown. Her mother’s hair had been teased into a larger-than-usual helmet, and Natalie would’ve sworn her father was wearing blush.
“You two look great. Have you seen Sam?”
“Not yet,” her mother answered, then sighed, “How beautiful you look. I wish they didn’t make me leave my phone in the trailer. Who knows if I’ll ever see you in a wedding gown again?”
One of the headphone-wearing men disengaged from the others and introduced himself as the assistant director. He explained that the scene they were about to shoot was an outdoor wedding attacked by gunfire, then quickly ran down the major beats before calling everyone for a run-through.
Minutes later, Ian, the director started singing the Wedding March (“Dunnnn dun-dun-dun... Dunnnn DUN-dun-DUN...”), which was the cue for Natalie’s father to walk her down the aisle since there was no actual music playing. She scanned the rows of “wedding guests,” looking for Sam.
And then she spotted him, waiting at the altar. Her “groom,” gorgeous in his wedding tux. His eyes crinkled when they met hers and his smile made all her girl-parts wish they would be having a real wedding night.
“Gunshots!” Ian yelled. “Father of the bride, stagger to your left, you’re hit in the shoulder. Bride, you stumble forward, shot in the back. You start to fall…”
Natalie did her best with the directions as Sam raced up the aisle and caught her. He lowered her gently to his lap, and stared down at her with deep brown eyes filled with love. Her breath hitched before she remembered he was acting.
Ian called, “Good, now kiss the bride...”
And Sam did. And it was soul-searing.
He pressed those world-famous, fantasy-inspiring, panty-melting lips to hers, and Natalie kissed him back with everything she felt but couldn’t and wouldn’t say. She pulled him closer, starved for him, missing him already even though he wasn’t leaving for a couple more days.
“CUT!”
Oops.
Ian chuckled, “I know he’s a stud, but if his kiss brings you back to life, we don’t have a movie. A little less tongue next time please, and everybody back to one!”
Sam set her on her feet and waved off cheers and catcalls with a deep-dimpled grin. “That’s not gonna keep you off the media’s radar,” he murmured against her ear before heading back to the altar. The film crew rushed around, getting ready to run it again.
The still photographer lowered her camera and gave her some sort of “You go, girl” hand gesture. Natalie only hoped the thick makeup they’d spackled her with was hiding her red face.
As they waited on their marks, her father frowned down at her. “Some things never change,” he muttered.
After running through the scene a few times (a process which took almost every remaining hour of daylight), Natalie and Sam found themselves alone in his trailer when her parents were taken back to w
ardrobe. The moment the door shut behind them, he locked it and pulled her to him by her waist, cinched even smaller than usual by the corseted gown.
Chapter Twenty
HE KISSED HER softly, a whispered brush of his lips on hers.
“You look beautiful. Even with the bloody hole in your gut.” After a few takes, the effects guy had rigged a little bag of fake blood to burst under the wedding dress. “Did you have fun?”
Natalie slid her hands down the front of Sam’s tuxedo, ignoring the “blood” that had gotten on his white shirt when he held his dying bride. “Yeah. I liked watching you work.”
“I liked having you here.” He nuzzled her neck. “Wish we had time before they take you back to wardrobe. I was hoping we’d get to christen the trailer.”
“What? You’ve never christened a trailer?”
“Not since I got the big one.”
“Yes, you do have a big one,” she said with a straight face, before succumbing to a giggle-snort.
He grinned and kissed her again, longer and hotter and deeper. She savored the taste of his mouth, the feel of his tongue against hers. Big, warm hands slid up and over the tight bodice of the gown. Trailing soft lips across her cheek, he worked his fingers under her deep, square neckline, finding and teasing a nipple. He nibbled from her jaw, down her neck, and licked into her cleavage (which was created by the dress, since Mother Nature didn’t see fit to give her any).
Natalie uncurled her fists from his lapels, dug her hands into his hair and pulled his delicious mouth back to hers.
He kissed her as desperately as she needed him to. At a break for air, he rested his forehead against hers and gasped, “Come to Italy with me.”
Um, what?
“You know I can’t do that.”
“I know the reasons you think you can’t do it are bullshit.”
She backed away from him. “What are you talking about? I’m about to be made a partner. An achievement I’ve worked toward for almost a decade.”
“I know.” He started toying with a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger so she was forced to move closer to him.
Two could play the hurt and manipulation game.
“As much as I enjoy fucking you, that partnership is what I want more than anything.” He’d wound enough of her hair on his finger that they would have been nose-to-nose by now, if he weren’t half a foot taller than she.
He scowled. “Yeah. That’s the part that’s bullshit.” He ground his hips against her, his dick hard enough to punctuate his statement through the voluminous gown.
She slid a bold hand over the bulge in his tuxedo pants and unzipped him. “Y’know, we can have fast, angry sex without you actually pissing me off. I can fake the angry part.”
“I can’t,” he snapped, and effortlessly threw her down on the little kitchenette table, knocking a couple fruit baskets to the floor in the process. Tossing the heavy, beaded skirt and frothy crinoline out of his way (so she had to push them off her face), he tugged her ass right to the edge of the low table and pulled her panties aside. The swollen head of his cock nudged her entrance and found her more than ready. He held the backs of her knees and slammed in to the hilt.
The trailer rocked and Natalie hoped the table was bolted down well. Sam gripped her so tightly she knew she’d be bruised later -- inside and out -- as he reared back and fucked into her again.
And again.
And--
Knock-knock. “Sam, it’s Ed. Have you seen Natalie?”
Fuck!
In a heartbeat, Sam pulled out, zipped up and helped her down from the table. She shook out the dress and rushed to the bathroom. Behind her, she heard him open the door and step out.
“Hi. Yeah, she wanted to wash off some of the makeup. She’ll be out in a minute.” The door clicked shut behind him.
To Natalie’s immense satisfaction, he sounded tense and breathless. She did her best to make herself look less just-fucked, and washed off some of the makeup, per Sam’s fib. On her way to the door, she spotted a script on a side table titled: HOSTILE TAKEOVER 4. She frowned, disappointed in him. None of my business if he wants to waste his life doing something he hates.
She opened the door to find Sam, her parents, and a bunch of crew members chatting in small groups, winding down from the day. Her father was droning on about Georgia State tax credits for film production. Sam had been listening politely, but a muscle ticked in his jaw from the effort. Her mother, as usual, listened quietly, expressionless, probably not understanding a damn word that was said.
Her father interrupted himself. “Well, if it isn’t Miss Center of Attention.”
Natalie forced a smile, wishing he hadn’t all but yelled that. She felt Sam watching her, but couldn’t look at him.
“Mr. Danmore was kind enough to invite us here today, and you all but attacked him while he was working.” The conversations around them quieted as her father went on. “You embarrassed him and made a fool of yourself. I’d say you owe him an apology.”
She couldn’t speak past the sudden lump in her throat.
“Back off, Ed. It’s okay. She did nothing wrong.”
“You don’t have to defend her. Natalie was being Natalie. I’m just sorry for the disruption earlier.”
Sam gave low chuckle. “She’s welcome to disrupt me like that anytime she wants.” The guys in the crowd that had gathered murmured good-natured agreement.
Her father’s laugh was thick with condescension as he held up a hand. “Don’t say that out loud -- she’s got a history. You don’t know my daughter.”
“Do you know your daughter?” Sam yelled. The crew hanging around was smart enough to walk away.
Kill me now... Natalie didn’t know which of them was embarrassing her more. And her mother was no help, watching the conversation volley with as much emotional investment as if it were televised ping-pong.
Her father turned to her with a look of disgust she hadn’t seen on his face since the morning he bailed her out of jail all those years ago. “Ah. Of course. You were holed-up with a movie star for three weeks. I should’ve expected it.”
“Dad, I worked from home the entire--”
“You haven’t changed a bit. You never will.”
Sam exploded, “For fuck’s sake, Ed! She’s spent the last decade working her ass off to earn your respect. You’re not an idiot. How can you not see that?”
“Sam, stop! You’re not helping.” Natalie glared at him and his dark eyes glittered back.
Her father was silent a moment, then nodded. “On the contrary. Sam has helped me see the situation much more clearly.” He looked at Natalie. “The partnership will go to Jeff.”
Before she could pull a response from the cyclone of suck roiling in her skull, Sam went all action-hero-foils-the-bad-guy-with-a-smart-ass-rejoinder. “The prick who tried to blackmail your daughter with an embarrassing video? That Jeff?”
Her mother gasped.
Oh, look. Mom’s awake.
Her father cleared his throat and looked at the ground near Natalie’s feet. “Is that true?”
She glowered at Sam and bit out, “Yes. I went out with Jeff once when I was at a low point. It was a mistake. He took advantage of the situation.” Admitting that was mortifying, but also freeing. But mostly mortifying.
“I appreciate your bringing this to my attention. Obviously, an individual who would engage in such behavior is not someone I’d want as a business partner.” He must’ve noticed Natalie’s sigh of relief, because he added, “I was referring to both you and Jeff. We’ll have to terminate him, which is regrettable. You will remain an associate, indefinitely. The firm can’t afford a partner who would be irresponsible enough to put herself in such a compromising position.”
Natalie snapped. “Really, Dad? What would you have done in my place? I’ve been working so hard for so long, and this guy shows up out of nowhere and passes me. I only went out with him to try to figure out how he got so far up your ass! Wa
s it just the golf? Or maybe you both went to the same fucking barber or something. I hope it’s not that he’s got a dick and I don’t, ‘cause I’ve seen his dick and it is not partnership material. But none of it even matters, now, since he’s fired and I quit.”
Her father looked stunned. Sam was quiet. For a long moment, the only sound was Natalie catching her breath.
Then her mother sighed. “God, Edmund. How can you accuse Natalie of not changing, when you’re still the same judgmental schmuck you’ve always been?”
Natalie had never heard her mother -- or anyone else -- speak to her father like that. She expected his face to redden and the veins in his neck to pop. Instead, he shrank a little, then cleared his throat and looked Natalie in the eye.
“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling like this. Meet me in my office tomorrow morning to discuss how we might put partnership back on the table one day.”
She shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe.”
There was nothing more to be said on the subject. They had driven separate cars that morning, so after an awkward goodbye-and-thanks-again to Sam, Natalie’s parents left without her.
She and Sam were silent as they walked to the wardrobe trailer to change back into street clothes. He didn’t try to hold her hand or anything and it made her feel worse, although she told herself she wouldn’t have let him touch her, anyway. He had left things in her car when they arrived that morning, since they planned to go to his apartment together when they wrapped for the day.
A lot had happened since they made that plan.
Sam finally broke the silence after the production van dropped them off near her car.
“Nat... I’m sorry--”
“Forget it.” Angry tears threatened. She blinked and pretended she wasn’t upset about the wrong thing.
“Y’know what? I lied. I’m not sorry. You didn’t want that partnership, anyway.”
She stopped beside the car and turned to him. “Like hell I didn’t! Do you think I busted my ass all these years for fun?”
He rubbed a fingertip over his lips and considered her a moment. “Are you the same person you were when you were twenty?”