by Clara Leigh
Flicka: You’re insane. #Whathaveyoudonetomysweetandinnocentsister.
Flo: Murderlized her. 4. While banging Tyler at the same time.
Flicka: Nope! Nope. Just holy frickin’ nope.
Flo: How long until you’re home?
Flicka: 20 mins.
Flo: Awesome. Time to clean up, make pizza, and invite them both over.
She is insane, or else has been abducted by aliens and replaced.
Flicka: There’ll be more pizza if it’s just us.
Flo: You win. At least for now. Plus I’d have to get dressed and I wouldn’t know which T-shirt to put on.
Flicka: T-shirt?
Flo: I did tell you about them.
Flicka: What—did you dash straight out to the print store?
Flo: Yup. Pretty much. I’ll let you be #TeamWilde tonight if you like. Unless you’d prefer the #FuckChinchilla one?
-11-
Felicity Caine
In the end, I don’t call, and nor does Dare.
That’s what I tell Flo, anyway. The truth is that I take the battery out of my phone and stow it in the bottom of my sock drawer. It means I spend three weeks accidentally leaving my phone at home, but as Flo’s the only other person of interest who calls me, and she’s with me near 24/7, that’s not such a hardship. Of course, once filming starts and I’m away from her, I have to put the damn thing back together again.
Dare called. He called more than once, and not just at 4AM. Shit! What the hell am I supposed to say to him when we see one another? Somehow I don’t think he’s going to buy a “I lost my phone” story.
As it turns out, it isn’t something I have to worry about immediately. For the first thirteen days, Dare isn’t around. Considering it’s a relatively small crew and a miniscule cast—seven actors in total, his absence is particularly apparent. Speculation is rife regarding his absence. Theories are expounded. I’m asked multiple times for my opinion. “Don’t you have an insight, Flicka? You know him really well.”
I know him barely at all. So, I shake my head and repeat that fact over again while swallowing my guilt over the possibility that I might actually be responsible for his absenteeism. I half-expect Jason Jones to announce his part has been recast, except our director, once you get him on set, is all about the story and sod the industry politics and everything else. He’s not going to drop Dare Wilde in favour of someone with half his charisma.
On the plus side, Dare’s non-appearance makes it super easy to keep my nose clean enough to win Chinchilla approval. As to whether or not that’s a good or bad thing is still up for debate. Still, every day that passes and Dare remains absent is another day when I wonder if he’ll ever turn up, and another eighteen-hour day where I pretend I don’t have his number saved on my phone and hence the means of asking him when and if he’s going to arrive. Instead, I jolly along like everyone else waiting with bated breath for the moment when he does breeze in, while the decision over the future of the Caine Chronicles is also perpetually shifted into the future.
On that score, the more time that passes, the less sure I am that I want to go back for another season. Ah hell, who am I kidding? I’ve known from the start that I didn’t want to go back for more, it’s just that things will be infinitely easier if they decide it’s time for us to part ways than if Flo and I decide not to show up for work.
I push that possibility to the back of my mind. It’s a worry for another day. I’m here and focussed on making Accelerant the best film it can be for the next two and a half months.
“I suppose you’ve heard the big news,” Tyler says as he slides himself into the chair next to mine in the make-up trailer on day seventeen. It’s 5A.M. and I’m still yawning into a cup coffee. Jones, in addition to being a shit hot Hollywood superstar, is also a workaholic. We’re all expected to live and breathe this film, every waking moment of every single day. If the camera’s not rolling, then it’s fight training, scene and stunt rehearsals, or we’re being done over by the costume and make-up crew. “It seems Mr. Wilde is finally going to be joining us.”
“Yeah,” I drawl. “Show me the proof. We’ve been hearing that rumour from day one, and so far, all that’s materialised is his body double.” I’m slightly pissed that the rest of us don’t have doubles as I have bruises and strained muscles from yesterday’s flight scenes. I hate running. I’ll dance until I drop, but running… especially ahead of a vehicle with a camera mounted to it will never be a favoured form of exercise. At least I wasn’t forced to run while holding on to Tyler’s hand.
“It’s for real this time,” Tyler insists. “I’ve had it straight from the boss’s mouth.”
“Jace told you that Dare was going to be on set today?” My mouth is instantly dry, and my palms sweaty. I grab a bottle of water and down the lot in three gulps.
“No, he told Alfie. I just happened to overhear.”
Trisha, the student who just started to comb Tyler’s hair, squeaks like an overexcited guinea pig. Guess she’s a Wilde fan.
“Does that mean we’re moving on to the action sequences he has lines in?” I line pills along the surface of the counter before me. I need something to focus on that isn’t Dare Wilde and his imminent sexy-ass presence.
Tyler doesn’t answer for several long minutes while he’s sprayed and detangled. “I bet the whole atmosphere’s going to change the moment he gets here. Bastard probably thinks he can lord it over the rest of us.”
“I’m sure that’s not the case.” I leap to Dare’s defence. I literally can’t stop myself. Filming has been hard work but fun so far, and we’ve all been getting along really well. It’ll be a blow if Dare’s presence alters that. Really, there’s no reason why it should, besides any issues he might decide to have with me for blowing him off.
“I suppose you’re going to be pleased that he’s finally arriving, since you’re such good buddies.”
“Try not to be a jerk, Tyler.” He knows perfectly well that I have a ten-ton Chinchilla hanging over my head, and that if I so much as look at Dare the wrong way I’m going to end up looking like roadkill. “People will think you’re holding a grudge because you lost out to him on awards night.”
He cocks an eyebrow. It doesn’t quite arch, but I swear he’s been practicing the look in the mirror.
“I think I’m entitled to hold a grudge seeing how he stole my date and made out with her in front of the world wide press.”
“I didn’t make out with him,” I snap leaning forward in irritation.
Summer, the chief make-up artist, and the lady currently making me look more glamorous than anyone who rolled out of bed ten minutes ago ever has a right to be, shoves me back into the depths of the chair. “Keep still please. I’m not quite done with you yet. And I happen to agree that was a kiss, not making out. I hope you went back to his place afterward to see to the latter part.”
I gawp. Tyler makes a low groan that’s almost a growl, and Trisha shoots me a look so savage, I’m glad she’s not responsible for my hair, else I suspect I’d have none left.
“When a man like that offers you a night to remember, you snatch the opportunity with both hands,” Summer advises.
I decide she’s my new favourite friend, right while insisting, “There’s nothing between us.” I swallow a mouthful of too hot coffee and choke on it to mask the fact I’m lying. The tip of my nose turns pink every time I lie. I’m like the scarlet Pinocchio.
“I don’t see what’s so fucking special about him.” Tyler retreats to his chair again and broods in silence while he’s styled. His attention returns to me once he’s covered in a layer of 5 and 9. “What is all this shit you’re taking?” He reaches for one of the pills I have arranged before me. He’s been watching me swallow them for weeks, but I slap his hand before he can mess with the order. I don’t want his fingers all over something I’m planning on ingesting.
“Cod liver oil, evening primrose, ginseng, Echinacea, multivitamin, things to make me go, things to make
me not go.” I count out each little capsule of vitality. Then start washing them down with a wine-glass full of freshly squeezed orange juice. I savour each swallow, even the nasty, bitter tasting pills, because it’s the only sort of breakfast I’m used to. My diet has been rigorously controlled from day one of my career. It’s still rigorously controlled here, as in I eat whatever the catering team thrust at me between takes, and I fail to eat more often than not when we finish for the day because it’s way too late to be consuming calories, and besides if I’m eating, I’m wasting valuable sleep time.
“You know your manager’s not standing over you, right? You don’t have to take this crap.”
Nor do I have to take his.
“I’m good, thank you. Worry about your own insides.”
“Already did.” He pats his stomach. “Awesome bacon sandwich this morning, courtesy of the catering team. I mean truly spectacular.” He kisses his fingers, and Trisha smiles indulgently. I think she’s gooey over Tyler as well as Dare.
“You know bacon’s bad for you.”
“And,” he drawls and rolls his eyes. “This from the woman who risked mouth to mouth with a walking biohazard. How many tonsils had he already tangoed with that night before he got ‘round to tickling yours?”
“You’re gross,” I say, shoving him when he leans over to kiss me on the forehead. “And anyway, tongues weren’t involved.” Why does everyone think they were?
“Course not.” He squares off against his image in the mirror, as if he’s about to go Street Fighter on his own mug. Somehow, I don’t think it’s his own face he’s imagining rearranging. He’s been pissy about that kiss ever since it happened. What I can’t decide is whether he’s genuinely peeved that I kissed someone other than him, or whether it’s due to all the shitty questions he had heaped on him by the media. I don’t imagine it’s much fun being lined up for a showdown with the movie industry’s hottest property.
“Do you fancy a drink tonight after we wrap up?”
“Only if Jace calls time early.” Most nights the only thing I want to do when we wrap is collapse. I occasionally manage to postpone that inevitability long enough to call Flo and see how she’s getting along.
God, I miss my sister. We’ve never been apart for this amount of time before. It’s seriously weird not having her around. It means there’s no one on hand to have a conflab with about Dare’s imminent arrival and how I should play it.
Tyler gives me a weird look. I’m not sure whether to interpret it as “sleep is for idiots” or “what’s so special about bed—who the fuck have you got tied to yours?” I keep my lips clamped rather than risk a response. I might not have an actual person tied to my bed, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t indulged the odd fantasy about magically discovering Dare all spread out for me. There are things I’d like to do to that man, things I don’t really understand. I don’t even know where the ideas spring from. I do know I want to dance my fingertips all over his intricately inked skin, feel the thud of his heart beat against my palm, and hear him say my name again in the way that makes my toes curl.
Damn, I’m blushing so much it shows through the layer of expertly applied foundation.
Summer frowns, and then makes adjustments.
“One drink. Come on, Flicka. It’ll hardly kill you.”
“I need my sleep.”
“Bullshit,” he splutters into his clenched fist. “I bet you’d say yes if it was him.”
“Saying yes to him isn’t even an option.”
“But if it was…” He nods his head. “You’d be so fucking there…” He starts pacing, waggling his hands in the air before him like he’s a ham actor milking a giant cow.
The poor woman responsible for his appearance watches him in disbelief as he undoes all her expert grooming.
“He’ll sink you, Flick. You won’t have a career if you get your name associated with his.”
“Both your names are going to be appearing on billboards beside his,” Summer handily points out.
“That’s not what we’re talking about.” He rounds on me, turning my chair so that he can clamp his hands upon both arms and lean over me.
Summer “hmpfs” over the invasion of her work space; she can’t exactly apply lipstick when Tyler’s has his head in the way.
“Think about all the other women he’s co-starred with, Flick. Where are most of them now? None of them are exactly basking in the limelight. He kills careers. I’d hate for him to end yours right when you’re on the verge of being huge.”
From where I’m currently sitting, I’m not on the verge of anything besides a lawsuit. I’ve earned myself a bit of respite from the Chinchilla torture mill providing I’m on my best behaviour, but contractually I’m still theirs until they decide otherwise.
“He’s our co-star,” I say. “I intend to be polite and professional. I’ll extend him the same courtesy I show everyone else.”
“That’s good to know.” Dare’s presence in the doorway shocks the hell out of all three of us, but only Summer manages to contain her squeak of surprise. Tyler disguises his embarrassment with a cough, and he retreats to his own leather swivel chair, whereupon Trisha resumes her attack on his locks with the straightening irons. Meanwhile, I find myself watching Dare’s approach in the mirror.
Sheesh, I’m not ready for this… for him. He’s achingly familiar, yet still practically a stranger to me. He’s dressed in an expensive suit today. Costume rather than his choice, I think. I guess he’s come straight from wardrobe. Our gazes lock and for a moment I can’t actually breathe. My skin tingles, as heat floods to the surface. I recall his taste, the smell of him, the way his lips were so soft and locked perfectly with mine. I remember how aroused he was back in the club and the shape of his cock behind his fly, along with every damn word he whispered to me at 4A.M.
Explicit details of our dealings flood my mind. We had sex. We may have been miles apart at the time, but fantasies were shared and orgasms resulted. I can’t meet his gaze, but at the same time I can’t help but lap up the vision of him.
Damn Chinchilla, do they have any concept what they’re demanding of me? I don’t know if I can be around this man and not react to him. It’s distinctly possible that time spent with him in the sack might even be worth the ensuing lawsuit.
Shit! I can’t be thinking like this.
Next time we meet a kiss won’t be enough. I’m going to suck your nipples and slide my big hands into your panties to make you feel good.
My body is wholly on board with that idea. My head, not so much. It seems to think that the best option is to scarper as fast as possible. If only that were an actual option.
“Does your professional courtesy extend to a welcome hug?” he asks, coming towards me.
I freeze.
“Good to know my favourite make-up artist is signed up for this madness,” Dare says, as he invades Summer’s work zone. He plants a kiss on her cheek.
“I have the camo cream all set for when Jace decides to hide your body art again.”
“Fun,” he quips, before returning his attention to me. “Hello Felicity.”
“Hi,” I squeak. How the hell do I keep this professional? Please don’t let him bring up my failure to answer or return his calls in public. Please, please, please don’t. “You’re finally here. We were beginning to think it was just a rumour that Jace hired you.”
“No sense in hanging around the set when my presence isn’t required.”
“Not if you can hang out in a variety of beds instead,” Tyler interjects.
Dare quirks his eyebrows in the direction of our co-star. “You really shouldn’t believe everything you read in the papers. Don’t you realise they’ll do anything to secure a sale?”
“You’re not dating Katie Frost?” I blurt.
“Nope.”
I can’t tell you how excited my insides get over the denial.
“Or Erin Baskerville?”
“Never met her.” His gaze locks w
ith mine, and I’m drawn in by the dark chocolate-brown swirl of his irises. Damn! I am in so much frickin’ trouble.
“And I suppose you didn’t get smashed on tequila and have a foursome with three girls called Brittany?”
“Hmm,” The corners of his mouth tease upwards ever so slightly. “Technically it was a fivesome, as Lorne was there, and one of the girls was called Sarah.”
The admission roles off his tongue so smoothly, I don’t know whether he’s being serious or not. I’m not even sure if it should matter. I blew him off weeks ago when I failed to return his call. He was under no obligation to keep himself available, just in case I grew a backbone and actually fucked Chinchilla, as Flo originally suggested I should.
“That’s sick, man.”
I put Tyler’s disgruntled remark down to sourness over the fact that as long as he’s stuck here, tequila and totty are off his agenda. I’m certainly not convinced he wouldn’t dive at the chance to party with several lovely ladies at once.
Dare chuckles, “Fuck me, you actually believe all that ‘Wilde by name, wild by nature crap.’ I don’t even like tequila. You know me, Flicka. I like a nice glass of amber smoke.”
“Talisker,” I croak.
“That’s the one.” He takes a seat in the chair next to mine. “I do have a new addiction though. It’s going to piss Jace off so much. You see, I’m totally supposed to stay clean and keep my nose out of trouble for the duration of the shoot. It’s just…I have a weakness.”
This time I know from the twinkle in his eyes that he’s not serious. I’m sure Tyler’s ears are already perking up expecting an admission of coke snorting or a heroin addiction that he can run off to Jace or the backers with so that they demand Dare’s removal.
“Cherry lips.” Dare waves a paper bag containing hundreds of the pucker-shaped jelly sweets under my nose. “Want one?”
I accept. It seems the path of least resistance. I remember my gran used to buy Flo and me mix-ups that came in a paper bag back before TV land hijacked our childhood. The little red treats taste exactly like my lip gloss.