by Clara Leigh
“What shit are we talking about, exactly? The press aren’t abreast of things, no one knows anything and nor are they going to. And should anyone make a big deal out of the fact she was seen exiting the building, you can tell them that you were having a conflab. You’re her director, after all.” I wink at him, just to piss him off. The scowl he throws back tells me exactly how much he hates being forced into the role of co-conspirator, but in this instance, he’s going to have to lump it and like it.
“Stay away from her, Dare.”
“No can do. We work together, remember.”
“Stay out of her trailer and make sure she doesn’t magically find her way into yours.”
“Okay,” I agree perfectly amiably, while shooting him a grin. “Is it okay if we hook up in yours?”
“Fuck you, Dare. Take this seriously. The shit that’ll erupt when Chinchilla get wind of this will make a job on a sewage farm smell appealing.”
“So keep your lips zipped,” I tell him, before performing said action. “No one needs to know anything.”
He huffs and tramps towards the door. “No, you keep your trousers zipped. I don’t care if she makes it ache so hard it’s at risk of dropping off, as long as it stays inside your pants and out of her mouth, pussy, and armpits. Got it!” He slams the door on the way out, which causes the whole trailer to shake.
Armpits! Armpits? If he’d said her arse or between her tits, fair enough, but I’m not even sure what my knob would be doing anywhere near her underarms. Is shagging someone there even a thing? I boot up the laptop to check it out, because… Well, because a man needs to know these things. I also file this little nugget of information away for the next time the topic of sex comes up and Jace feels like taking the moral high ground. He’s got nothing to stand on if this is what rocks his boat.
***
I thought the situation on set was difficult before, but with Jace being pissy, I’m forced to hone my espionage skills to the nth degree. Lookie mister director dude, see what an excellent action hero I’d make. See this torture I’m forced to endure. See my restraint. It’s not easy when all I want to do is pin her against the nearest large inanimate object, strip off her panties, and bury myself deep. Desk, wall, the side of the crane that’s holding camera four – actually, maybe inside the crane would be fun – I’m up for any of them. Hell, just give me some genuine one-on-one time when we can talk like ordinary folk. I’m sick of communicating in code.
Hastily blown kisses and hot looks is all we manage for the best part of a week. It’s fun at first, but hell… I just want to spend some time with the woman. What the hell is wrong with the two of us hanging out together around the set?
-27-
Felicity Caine
Being back on set is weird after the break. Even though everything rolls on much the same as before, nothing seems to happen as smoothly. For the first day or two, I accept that’s down to my nervousness. I’m on high alert 24/7, convinced a snapshot of Dare and I together will appear on someone’s Instagram feed. My tetchiness isn’t helped by Tyler’s disapproving older brother routine. It’s bad enough that I can’t be seen talking to Dare thanks to the stupid Chinchilla rules without Tyler tossing me angry looks every time I so much as glance in Dare’s direction.
We do manage to talk a little, but any sort of intimacy is next to impossible.
Matters take another nosedive on Tuesday afternoon when Tyler and I are put in the excruciating position of having to film intimate scenes together. It seems to take hours to perfect every single shot. Considering the end result according to the shooting script is a montage sequence involving no actual naughtiness, only the suggestions of it, the performance involves an awful lot of super close contact.
Having to kiss Tyler is just gross. That Dare’s watching from the shadows makes it even more hellish. I wish the scriptwriter hadn’t put in all this love triangle stuff. Really, we’d all – well, everyone except Tyler – be much happier if Dare and I could be all-out for one another instead. I actually think it would seriously add something to have me fall for the villain. It wouldn’t take much in terms of rewriting to turn him into an anti-hero.
“Ms. Caine, if you could at least try to look as if you’re into him and not about to tear his head off that would be marvellous.” Jace reaches skyward in exasperation, crushing a pair of invisible lemons.
I’m totally not into him. That’s the damn problem. I can’t help it if it shows. I’m an actress, not a miracle worker. And, I’m doing my best, but it’s not easy.
“Please, Flicka. You’ve smouldered your way through a dozen spitfire scenes with Dare, I’m sure you can find a little bit of zest for this.”
The result is probably a shot of my tequila face. Not that I’ve tasted tequila, but this whole pseudo love scene is dire. The audience are never going to buy it. It’s obvious my character is in love with Dare’s. Even Tyler realises that.
“They’re all going to be spitting at their screens in anger right about now,” he moans under his breath as the clapperboard sounds the start of Take 57. I hear him. I don’t know if anyone else does. Hopefully the sound equipment didn’t pick up his mutterings or we’ll be performing Take 58 of this nonsense.
“I’m not seeing any heat, Mr. Beauford. Turn it up a little, if you could. You’ve been running around trying to save this woman’s life for the previous forty minutes of this movie. After all that effort, I think the audience would like to see some pay off.”
He does his utmost best to smoulder. I’m sure there are plenty of women out there who’ll appreciate it, I just don’t happen to be one of them.
“Passion!” Jace barks at us. Our director really isn’t a happy bunny. “Grab her attention. That’s it, now hold it, and whisper those sweet nothings.”
“Sorry I’m not Dare,” he mutters as his lips brush my cheek. “I know you’d much prefer to be making out with him. It’s where you were Friday and Saturday. Don’t even pretend otherwise.”
So much for sweet nothings.
“Is he really worth it, Flicka? Does he do it for you that much that it makes the sacrifice worth it, or are you just being bad because you’re pissed at Chinchilla for telling you he was off the menu?”
I’m not in a position to reply and he knows it. I’m supposed to be overwhelmed with passion. And unlike him, I’m facing the camera.
“Either way, I can’t believe you decided he’d be a fantastic first. The man’s a snake. Has he even spoken to you since you did the evil deed or has your glossy sheen worn off?”
I curl my fingers in his hair and firmly tug. Bastard deserves more, but kneeing him where it hurts will only prolong this nightmare. What I did is none of his concern, and his attempts to sow doubts in my head are plain mean. No, we haven’t exactly spent much time together since Saturday, but that’s not because Dare’s used me and cast me aside. It’s because he understands what it’ll mean for me if Chinchilla get wind of things. As for Tyler, I’m chalking this up to bitterness.
“Did he satisfy you, Flicka? Or was it all a bit of a let-down considering the hype?”
“And cut,” Jace yells. “That’s more like it!” He gives us a round of applause. “Okay people, let’s reset, and we’ll do another take. Camera two: if you can focus in more tightly on their profile. Three: I want a long shot of the bed as they’re coming towards it. Summer, You need to fix his hair.”
Summer bustles towards us with her caddy of brushes and quick fix products. I give her room to work and move over to where Dare is viewing the rushes alongside Jace.
Our director waggles a pointed finger at me. “Whatever the problem is between you and Mr. Beauford, you need to put it aside, Flicka. Your personal life has no place on my set. This take is better, but there’s still plenty of room for improvement.”
I can’t help but snatch a look at Dare, who offers me a pursed lipped smile of encouragement. “Put yourself in your character’s mind-set,” he advises. I guess after the number of lo
ve scenes he’s shot in his career, he’s a fair idea of how to tackle them. “Pull her on like a costume. You can do this.”
I can do it, but I don’t want to do it. I’d much rather be actually making out with him than simulating sex with Tyler.
“Big breath, pretend it’s the man of your dreams.”
Jace shakes his head at the pair of us.
Dare raises his hands. “What? I’m imparting acting advice. That’s allowed, remember.”
“Since when did you give a fig about what’s allowed?” He turns his head so that he can look at each of us in turn. “We need to push on from this scene. It’s taking too long, and I’ve a crowd of extras hanging around twiddling their thumbs. I don’t want to have to bring them back tomorrow. So, fuck what’s allowed. Do whatever it is that’s necessary to get through this.” He stalks off and goes to talk to one of the camera operators.
“Did he just instruct you to kiss me senseless or something? Cause permission or not, we can’t for no good reason.”
“Maybe I should offer to show Tyler how it’s done.”
“It’d still be him I’d have to simulate sex with afterwards.”
“Okay.” He squeezes my hand. “Then just do it like last time, only with more passion and less aggression.”
“You’d better tell Tyler to keep his lips zipped then. Pulling his hair was minor compared to what I wanted to do.”
Summer, I see, is nearly finished repairing the damage my grip did to Tyler’s locks.
Dare rubs his hand across this morning’s stubble, and huffs, “What did he say?”
I shrug. “Just a bunch of stuff that he knew would piss me off.” I hang my head and look at the floor. It’s too hard to look Dare and not reveal how I feel about him, and Tyler has his beady eyes on us even if no one else has. “Telling me I’m an idiot for choosing you and acting the rebel.”
“He’s looking out for you,” Dare generously suggests. “You have to admit; I don’t have a great reputation.”
I nod. “That’s not you though. Not the real you.”
“Tyler doesn’t know that, and nor does anybody else. I don’t much want them to either. It’s easier if everyone just carries on believing everything they say about me in the papers.”
I don’t exactly understand his logic, but I accept it. What I don’t accept is that Tyler’s behaviour is meant to be supportive. If he was a true friend, he would support my decisions not ridicule them. Why is it so difficult for him to be pleased that I’ve found someone whose presence alone makes me happy?
“Listen, I think I’ve found a way that we can spend some time together. Jorge has said he’ll supervise us running through tomorrow’s stunts again. We can practice falling onto the crash mats together. I know it’s not an ideal date, but it’d be something.”
I think he wants time with me as much as I want to spend time alone with him. “Sounds fun.”
His all-too-rarely-seen dimple flashes in his cheek. “After Jace’s done with us for the day. That’s an incentive to get this scene done, right?”
“Yeah, but I still think it would be much easier if they just changed the script so that it was you I had to make out with.”
“Believe me, I tried to twist Alfie’s arm into rewriting things a little, but he wasn’t having it.”
“Time people, let’s get rolling again,” Jason shouts. “Tyler, Flicka, positions please.”
I groan, then pull my shoulders back and fix on a smile. Dare’s hot breath tickles my ear as he leans over to whisper to me. “Think of me, won’t you? It’s murder standing here watching him grope you and claim all your kisses when I can’t claim a single one.”
Dare Wilde is jealous. A smile springs across my face, drawing my lips wide apart. I know I’m a fool to do it, but the magnetism between us is so strong that it’s impossible to resist. I turn and stretch up on tiptoes, eyes closed, tingling in anticipation over the magic that’ll flow between us when our lips meet, but instead of Dare’s mouth meeting mine, his grip closes tight around my forearm.
“Visitors,” he hisses, and I know simply from his tone of voice they’re not of the friendly variety. “You’d best get back to Tyler. If they insist on speaking to you, don’t take any shit.”
“Yeah, I’ll try not to.”
Steve Dandy and the other guy he’s brought along from Chinchilla allow us to finish the scene before interrupting proceedings. We get it done in two more takes. I close my eyes and pretend it’s Dare. I know it’s not. Tyler doesn’t smell or feel right, and his body is all the wrong shape, but it makes for something convincing enough for Jace.
I don’t catch the second Chinchilla suit’s name. It doesn’t seem overly important since it’s obvious that Dandy’s running the show. Poor Jace is fuming when they drag me off to his office for a little catch-up chat. His production schedule has to be so buggered up by now, that it’ll be a miracle if we complete on time and within budget. I see even longer working days materialising on the horizon. In some ways I guess that’s a good thing. It’s certainly no fun sitting alone in my trailer all evening knowing Dare’s only a few short steps away, but as inaccessible to me as if we had an entire ocean between us. On the other hand, the human body can only endure so much exertion before it requires a rest.
I brace myself before I walk into the office, and fix on my favourite artificial grin. It’s the one I developed for Chinchilla and have been fine tuning for the last ten years. It’s all teeth, and joy and helpfulness. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” I wait a moment, then ask, “Is it okay if I sit?”
The only free seat is the one behind Jace’s desk, so I take that one. It reassures me to have a slab of wood between me and these sharks.
“We’ve been hearing some disturbing rumours about you, Miss Caine.”
“About me?” I frown deeply as if I’m oblivious to what they might be. “While I’ve been filming?” I layer perplexity into my tone. If they say it’s something off set, then I’ll know that Dare and I were spotted together in London. It can’t be anything anyone’s seen on set as we’ve been super careful about our interactions. The most intimate thing that’s happened between us was when Dare had to grab hold of me yesterday in order to stop me toppling over the edge of a CGI cliff. The actual drop was all of five inches. “What is it I’m supposed to have done?”
“I don’t know that there’s been any one particular incident. It’s more of a general concern. Rumours abound that your relationship with Mr. Wilde hasn’t been entirely professional of late.”
Oh really? “In what sense hasn’t it been professional? We get along. We respect one another as fellow actors. And we’re polite and friendly to one another in the manner of acquaintances.”
Whoever the goddamned snitch is, I’m going to throttle them, or maybe hit them really hard with a pointy-heeled shoe.
“It’s implied your relationship is somewhat deeper than that of mere acquaintances.”
“And there are specific incidents to back this accusation up?”
Surprisingly, the request for examples seems to have them flummoxed. Dandy shuffles some papers he finds on Jace’s desk, and the other guy starts fiddling with his shirt collar. In the end, he’s the one who speaks.
“Well, it’s not that there’s anything specific, Miss Caine – Felicity. It’s more of a public perception concern. Our core viewers are somewhat perplexed as to your role in this movie, and what it means for your future with Chinchilla. They’re concerned about the grittier, racier angle you appear to be taking.”
Bollocks they are! There’s no actual issue here. They’re just fishing for dirt, putting the pressure on in case I feel the need to confess any minor indiscretion so that they can then reiterate the dire consequences of such actions. “I’m only following the script, gentlemen. Chinchilla saw the script before they agreed to me taking the role. Any issues about it ought to be raised with Jason Jones, not me.” As for this being a concern amongst Chinchilla viewers – ha ha,
yeah that’s a good one! I doubt very much that they think about my future career at all. Too much crap of their own to fog up their thoughts than to waste time speculating about the future of a girl they don’t even know.
“I’m a little confused here,” I confess. “What is it exactly that you want me to do?”
Steve Dandy immediately comes alive. He uncoils from his crossed arms, crossed legs position and rises so that he fills the cluttered office with his presence. “You need to distance yourself from Mr. Wilde, make sure there’s absolutely no question in peoples’ minds that you are co-stars and nothing more, not friends, not lovers, not anything.” He drums each pertinent point out by hitting his palm with his fist. “We’ve discussed this both in house and with your representatives, and we’ve all agreed it would be best if you took an active interest in somebody else. I’m sure you’ll recall this was an idea we voiced back at the initial meeting.”
I inwardly groan. Yeah, I’ve not forgotten. “You’ve all decided. Don’t I get a say?”
He blinks ever so slowly at me. “Tyler Beauford would seem to be the ideal candidate. As such we’ve arranged for the two of you to have dinner together this evening. It’s a nice place, country pub, not too far from here, classy, you’ll like it.”
I hate it already. “I’m scheduled to be filming until late this evening.”
Dandy paces over the worn carpet tiles, his hands clasped in the small of his back. “There’ll be no problem with that. Things are easily rearranged. We’ll sort everything out with Mr. Jones. I’m sure it’ll be a relief to enjoy some quality downtime for both you and Tyler.”
“Actually, we just had the weekend off.”
His crocodile smile doesn’t waiver. Nor do I believe for a second they’re sending us out for a quiet meal. I’ll lay money on there being at least one journalist who just happens to be out for dinner at the same place. This is a publicity stunt and yet another attempt to manipulate my image and bend me to their will.