Suddenly, his eyes met hers. An unreadable emotion crossed his face, breaking through his stoicism. It lasted for only briefly, but long enough to make her heart beat at a fevered pace.
Beth panicked and tried to avert her gaze, but was unsuccessful. He had pulled her far too deep under his spell. She was wondering if he felt the same delightful electricity surging between them as she did when his eyebrows furrowed and he abruptly looked away.
The air rushed out of Beth’s lungs.
Olivia nudged her in the ribs. “Hello, earth to Beth.”
She looked at her friend sheepishly. “What?”
“I’ve been trying to get your attention,” Olivia explained. “It looked like you were off in la-la land.”
Beth couldn’t help herself. She glanced at the mystery man again.
Olivia followed her gaze.
“Oh, he’s cute,” she whispered. “But my goodness, his attire leaves something to be desired. What did he do, roll out of bed and just happen to stumble onto a movie set?”
Connie glanced back and forth between Beth and Olivia. “What are you two talking about?”
Olivia pointed in the mystery man’s direction. “Him.”
Beth swatted her hand down. “Liv, don’t do that. He might see you!”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Relax. He’s talking to that crewmember. He isn’t even looking this way.”
“That’s Aidan Evans,” Connie said. “He’s a Method actor from New York City. He trained at the Actors Studio.” The phrases Method actor and Actors Studio spewed from her lips with distaste.
Beth guessed that Aidan recently signed with the studio like she did because she didn’t recognize his name or face. She was, however, aware of the famed Actors Studio in New York City. She had heard about it many times from Diane and Wade at Schwab’s. It was a very prestigious organization and members had to audition in order to get in. If Aidan trained there, she assumed he was very talented.
From what Beth understood, Method acting was a technique where actors tapped into past emotions created from their own personal experiences, and incorporated them into their characters in order to provide an authentic performance, thereby, treating their characters as an extension of themselves instead of just make-believe roles. The sophistication of Method acting awed her now that she was entering into the movie industry, but she felt she would never have the ability to do anything like that herself.
“The story I heard,” Connie continued, inspecting her red-polished fingernails, “is that Aidan was performing in some play on Broadway and Preston Adams—have you heard of him? He’s a director. Anyway, he asked him to come out to Hollywood to star in his new picture, Spike Rollins.
“Spike Rollins?” Beth shrugged. “I’ve never heard of it.”
“The film is based on a best-selling novel. Mr. Mertz bought the rights to turn it into a motion picture,” Connie explained. “Once Preston Adams came onboard the project six months ago, an extensive search was launched all over Hollywood and New York to find the perfect actor to play the main character. It’s the role of a lifetime.
“Every young actor in Hollywood tried to snag the part. This Aidan guy got it without even having to audition.” Connie huffed. “Can you believe it? He bypassed Starlight Studios’ most famous leading men!”
“What’s the book about?” Olivia asked.
“The story is about a young man who joins a gang and commits criminal acts, despite the fact that it’s out of character for him, in order to raise money for his brother’s life-saving heart operation,” Connie replied. “They wanted an actor who looked a little rough around the edges, yet someone who was talented enough to portray the character in such a way to gain sympathy from the audience.
“Apparently, this Aidan fellow,” Connie nudged her chin in the Method actor’s direction, “was the perfect man for the part. Although if you ask me, they should’ve gone for someone much more … refined. He rides around Los Angeles on a motorcycle, for goodness’ sake. He doesn’t even have an agent, and to top it all off, he refused to sign the standard seven-year studio contract.”
Beth’s eyes widened. “Is that even possible?”
“Usually not, but Preston has such control over this film and such faith in Aidan that, apparently, he convinced Mr. Mertz to let him do the movie anyway.”
“You don’t seem too impressed with him,” Olivia remarked. “Have you met him?”
Connie shook her head. “I don’t need to. Method actors and actresses think they’re better than all of the manufactured Hollywood stars. I bet Aidan is no different. If you ask me, we’re just as talented as they are. Who cares if we didn’t train in New York City at the Actors Studio? After awhile, they all end up out here in California making motion pictures, anyway.”
“Places, please,” Mr. Masters announced.
Beth frowned. She wanted to know more about Aidan.
Connie patted her forearm. “This is the real deal now, honey. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”
Beth stole another glance at Aidan. He was still talking to the crewmember. She wished he’d leave before filming because she felt nervous already and knew his piercing gaze wouldn’t help matters. Not that Aidan would want to look at her or anything. Then there was the fact that he was trained in the Method and she was a novice performer.
As Beth reached her mark by the fireplace amongst a sea of other extras posing as party guests, Aidan shook the crewmember’s hand. Much to her dismay, instead of leaving, he pulled up a chair and sat down facing the set. He slouched in his seat and stared right at her.
She should have felt intimidated, but instead, her body pulsated. These feelings were foreign to her, not to mention absurd and very inappropriate. She didn’t even know him!
A makeup lady approached and patted down Beth’s face, breaking her standoff with Aidan. Her cheeks felt so red she was certain even the heaviest foundation couldn’t help her. Desperate for a distraction, she looked at Olivia, who gave her the thumbs-up sign. Beth smiled meekly, trying to ignore the delightful way her skin tingled. She didn’t need to look at Aidan to know his gaze was still fixated on her.
“We’re rollin’ in two minutes!” the director announced.
A stagehand handed Beth a cigarette.
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What’s this for?”
The young man smirked. “You smoke it.”
She rolled her eyes. “What I mean is—I don’t smoke.”
“Doll, you’re an actress. Pretend you’ve been smoking for years.” He walked away before she could respond.
Beth eyed the cigarette curiously. Despite the popularity of smoking, it just didn’t appeal to her. However, the stagehand was right. She was an actress, and if a cigarette was part of her character, then she had to make the best of the situation.
It wasn’t like it would kill her.
A nearby male extra offered her a light and she graciously accepted.
Holding the lit cigarette in her trembling hand, she waited for Mr. Masters’ signal.
“And … roll ’em!”
The piano player began his song and Connie and Felix argued.
Beth leaned up against the fireplace, choosing to focus on the back of the piano player’s head while nonchalantly following the fight so she wouldn’t miss her cue. Attempting to look as though she knew what she was doing, she took a puff on her cigarette. As the smoke filled her lungs, her eyes widened and she doubled over with retching coughs.
“Cut!” the director hollered. “Kid, what the hell are you doing?”
“I—I’m sorry, sir.” Beth thumped her hand against her chest, desperate to breathe clearly again. “I’ve never smoked before. I was given this cigarette and—”
“And you thought you would ruin the scene?” Mr. Masters’ eyes flashed with anger.
“No, sir, that’s not it at all.” Her coughs finally abated. “I just—it was an accident!” Beth glanced around the set. All eyes were on her. Connie offered a s
ympathetic smile, which eased only some of her humiliation. She couldn’t believe she’d single-handedly stopped the entire scene when she didn’t even have an important part.
Mr. Masters sneered. “Do you realize we have to start the scene all over again, just because of you?”
Beth panicked and did the wrong thing. She looked at Aidan. The blood drained from her face when she found him staring at her and smirking. Annoyance triumphed over her embarrassment. Connie was right. The Method actor with the beautiful face, perfect physique, and passionate gaze was nothing but an arrogant know-it-all. With a scowl, she focused back on Mr. Masters.
“Kid, if this cigarette is going to mess up the shot, ditch it. Don’t waste our time.”
Beth’s cheeks flushed with the return of her humiliation. “Yes, sir.”
The stagehand returned. He snatched the cigarette from her and placed it between his lips.
“Why waste it?” He winked at her and walked away.
“Problem solved,” Mr. Masters growled. “Now, can we try this again and properly this time? We’re running behind schedule.”
Tears stung Beth’s eyes as memories of her screen test and the ill-mannered Kenneth Locke flooded her mind. Somehow, she steeled herself, refusing to cry in front of everyone and embarrassing herself further. Exhaling a shaky breath, she focused on a small white marble elephant statue sitting on the fireplace mantle. She deemed it the perfect distraction.
“Places, everyone. Roll ’em!”
The piano player commenced his tune. Now that Beth’s hands were unoccupied, she felt awkward standing on her mark and doing nothing but staring at the decor. As she scanned the fireplace, she came up with an idea. She picked the elephant statue up off the mantle and admired the craftsmanship. The figurine slipped from her sweaty hand and landed on the carpet.
“Cut! Cut! Cut!”
Felix threw his hands up in the air. “Not again.”
Mr. Masters stormed the set. “What the hell is your problem, little girl?”
Beth cowered from him. Unlike during her experience with Mr. Locke, Nathan wasn’t present to intercede.
“Answer me. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I didn’t know what to do with my hands.” Her reply was a trembling whisper.
“You didn’t know what to do with your hands?” The veins in his forehead bulged. “Who the fuck cares? No one will notice you, anyway.”
Beth looked to her feet. She felt as though the hot stage lights were aimed solely at her, illuminating her inadequacies and conjuring up feelings of pity and scorn from the people around her.
Mr. Masters snatched the elephant statue off the floor and placed it back on the mantle.
“Can someone get her a fucking glass to hold or something?” he said, and stalked off to his original position beside the main camera.
Another stagehand arrived and gave Beth a half-filled wine goblet. The liquid teetered just shy of the brim in her shaking hand. Judging from the scent wafting up from the glass, it contained apple juice and not alcohol.
Beth glanced at Olivia, and then caught sight of Aidan. He stood in front of his chair in a defensive stance, glaring at Mr. Masters. She drew in a sharp breath, shocked by the hatred in his eyes. Finally, the tension eased from his body and he dropped back into his seat with hunched shoulders.
Connie approached Beth, drawing her attention.
“Don’t let Carter get to you. You’re doing fine.” She flashed an encouraging smile and walked back to her mark.
Takes three, four, and five halted for various reasons, thankfully, none of which had anything to do with Beth. The third take, Connie’s assistant had to tame her hair, the fourth take, Felix complained that an extra blocked his light, and the fifth time, Connie fumbled one of her lines. However, Mr. Masters did not once raise his voice to Connie as he did with Beth. He smiled sweetly and assured her that the next take would be the one.
The camera rolled for the sixth time. After Connie tossed her drink in Felix’s face and stormed off, Beth strode over to the piano as required.
“Cut and print!”
Warmth fanned across Beth’s face as she caught Aidan staring at her again. She set down her glass and tried not to focus on the fullness of his lips or the way his arm muscles engaged as his hands gripped the armrests on either side of him. After all, she was angry with him and his smug attitude.
She walked off the set and joined Olivia and Connie in their usual spot, trying her best to ignore the pull she felt toward him. The feat proved to be impossible. The overpowering sensuality that flowed from every inch of him weaved an intricate web of passion and pleasure, binding her to him beyond all comprehensible measure.
Thankfully, Connie didn’t broach the subject of Beth’s miserable performance during the first few takes, so she didn’t have to relive the embarrassment. She conversed with her friends until one of Connie’s assistants called her to her dressing room to prepare for another scene with Felix, in which the extras were not needed.
Connie shook Beth’s hand and then Olivia’s, telling them both how much she enjoyed spending time with them. For such a famous, beautiful woman, Connie’s lack of pretentiousness still baffled Beth. She was grateful to have found a friend in the industry, and one as nice as the actress.
“Would you girls like to join me at Romanoff’s tonight?” Connie asked, indicating to her assistants that she would be with them in a moment. “I’m meeting my beau, Matthew, there at seven o’clock. It’s a pretty happening place, especially on a Friday evening.”
Beth felt nervous about hob-knobbing with Hollywood’s elite at one of the swankiest joints in town. “Connie, I don’t know…”
“Of course, we would.” Olivia caught Beth’s eye, silently pleading with her not to argue.
Connie’s face brightened. “Great!”
Olivia thanked her profusely for inviting them while Beth hoped the night would progress smoothly and they wouldn’t stand out negatively. During their conversation, she could’ve sworn Aidan was still staring at her, but she didn’t dare to look at him to confirm her suspicions. She didn’t want to come across as too forward, or worse, a floozy.
“Constance, darling.” Mr. Masters’ voice was sickly sweet.
Connie rolled her eyes before turning to greet him.
“You were wonderful, just wonderful,” the director said, completely ignoring Olivia and Beth.
“Thank you, Carter,” Connie replied. “You know I always enjoy working with you.”
Beth did her best to smother her smile.
Mr. Masters departed and Connie left for her dressing room.
“See you at Romanoff’s, tonight at seven.” She waved to Beth and Olivia before disappearing from the set.
Giving in to temptation, Beth looked over at Aidan. She was dismayed to discover he was no longer in his usual spot. As she scanned the soundstage, she caught a glimpse of the brooding Method actor retreating into the shadows, a smoldering cigarette dangling from his downturned lips.
Chapter Twelve
Aidan Evans gritted his teeth as he stared out the tinted back window of his limousine. He had a new Triumph motorcycle at his rented Hollywood apartment, which his Starlight Studios advance paid for, yet Mr. Mertz refused to let him ride it during filming due to insurance reasons.
The studio boss assigned a chauffeur to drive him to and from the studio, but that didn’t stop him from riding his motorcycle around town at night. Aidan wasn’t a stranger to motorbikes, having pulled his first one from a local junkyard at the age of fifteen and fixing it up himself. He had driven several models since, but none as impressive as his new Triumph.
“Damn Mertz and his rules,” he muttered as the limousine drove through the studio’s main gates.
A few minutes later, the car parked outside a soundstage marked with the number seven.
The driver opened Aidan’s door and gestured to the building. “Here you are, Mr. Evans.”
Aidan glared
at him. “Will ya stop calling me Mr. Evans?”
The chauffeur looked at him curiously but didn’t say anything.
Aidan slid across the back seat and exited the vehicle, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the blazing California sun. The warm weather tricked people into believing that Hollywood was the happiest place on Earth, but he wasn’t so easily fooled.
Eight o’clock in the morning was too early for him to report to work. Back in New York, he hid in his small apartment during the day with the blinds drawn, listening to classical music or reading. He left only for his matinee and evening performances on Broadway or the Actors Studio’s biweekly workshops.
Even on a nice day, Manhattan wasn’t as sunny as Los Angeles. New Yorkers were miserable and didn’t pretend otherwise. Aidan liked that about them. In his opinion, Hollywood consisted of a bunch of fake smiles and fake emotions, not just on movie sets, but everywhere. That was another thing he missed about New York. At the Actors Studio, emotions were real. There were no characters to play. Actors dug deep into their life experiences and revealed extensions of themselves to their audience.
The artistic side of Aidan accepted the lead role in Spike Rollins, overpowering his gut instinct, which told him to ignore the offer. There wasn’t a day that passed since he landed in L.A. he didn’t regret his decision. He remained on the project only because Spike was a character with depth, and ultimately, his love for acting and his respect for the film’s director, Preston Adams, trumped his disdain for Hollywood. Aidan also related to Spike Rollins. He understood Spike’s rebellion and the desperate journey he undertook to save his brother’s life.
As great as the movie was, his role came with a price. If Aidan could’ve done the film in New York with the people he was used to working with, he would’ve harbored no reservations about the project, whatsoever. As he’d learned early on in life, every good thing had its trade off. He just had to deal with it—but that didn’t mean he would conform to Hollywood’s rules.
Aidan began by refusing to sign the standard Starlight Studios’ seven-year contract because he didn’t want Mr. Mertz in control of his career. He knew plenty of guys from the Actors Studio who were lured out to Hollywood with promises of Tennessee Williams screen adaptations and George Stevens pictures, only to end up starring in swash-buckling pirate movies without their shirts on. He didn’t want to meet the same fate. Plain and simple, he didn’t trust Mr. Mertz at all. He did, however, concede to joining the Screen Actors’ Union, as it was required for any actor wishing to star in a lead film role.
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