“Miss Benson, it’s so wonderful to meet you,” Diana says, swinging her hazel eyes my way. “I’m terribly sorry for your loss. I’m sure you must be absolutely gutted by what happened to your sister.”
“Um. Thank you. Yeah,” I stammer, unsure of how to respond. Avery’s death is still so new that I’ve yet to learn what the protocol is for accepting peoples’ sympathies.
“Ms. Blake is waiting in her office,” Diana says to Jack, already bored with me. “You two can go right on in.”
“Thanks Di,” Jack replies, lightly touching her arm as we go. “See you around, OK?”
“I’ll hold you to that,” the woman winks back.
“You two go way back or something?” I mutter to Jack as we walk on. That was a pretty intimate little exchange between Jack and Diana, and I can’t help but be a little jealous.
“In a manner of speaking,” he smiles at me.
“Ugh,” I groan, shaking my head, “Don’t tell me you’ve become one of those gross Hollywood playboys who screws anything with a pulse?”
“What can I say?” Jack shrugs, “It comes with the territory. Being a famous actor comes with a lot of responsibilities.”
“Ah, yes,” I reply, “All the sex and adoration you can stand sounds like quite the taxing effort. How do you do it?”
“Very expensive alcohol helps,” Jack smiles as we draw up before the door to Miriam’s office. “OK,” he goes on, laying his hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eye, acting for the world like a boxing coach giving a pre-fight pep talk. “You’ve got this, Cal. Just be yourself, and she’ll love you. Ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I say.
“Good enough,” Jack replies, and pushes open the heavy door.
We step into a gaping corner office overlooking New York City. The impressive space is entirely white, and utterly spotless. But the most daunting aspect of all is the woman sitting behind the sleek granite desk in the center of the room.
Miriam Blake lies in wait for us like a big cat. She’s gorgeous, to be sure—stark white hair arranged into a perfect bun, an impeccable black blazer and pencil skirt, deep red lips and flawless skin that seems to have been lifted once or twice. I’d guess that she’s in her 50’s, though it’s impossible to say for sure. But beneath that well-kept, placid exterior, I can sense that there are sharp claws just waiting for a reason to strike. Her ice blue eyes flick up toward us as we step into her expansive lair.
I haven’t felt like this much of an impostor since my dreadful debutante days.
“Ms. Blake,” Jack says warmly, all easy confidence, “Thank you for taking the time to see us today.”
“Well. I wasn’t about to let you and some no-name costar trash my movie without my signing off on her,” Miriam snaps back, fixing her eyes on me. “You’re the new girl, I take it?”
“I’m Calista Benson, Callie for short,” I tell her, fighting like hell to keep the cheerful smile on my face, “Thank you so much for giving me this opportunity, Ms. Blake—”
“Why is she grinning at me like that?” Miriam asks, swinging her gaze over to Jack, “Is she simple or something?”
“Callie’s had a pretty long day so far,” Jack replies as I drop my smile, seething. “There’s a lot we have to catch her up on, but she’s handling it like a pro.”
“But you aren’t a pro, are you?” Miriam asks me, folding her arms.
“Pardon?” I ask, taken aback by the depth of her rudeness.
“You. Are not. A professional. Actress,” she drawls slowly, as if my IQ is hovering in the single digits.
“Not currently, no,” I inform her, “But I did study acting in college. I even did a few shows here in New York—”
“I really don’t give a damn,” she cuts me off, waving away my words like so many swarming gnats. “You look the part, that’s what’s important.”
I let out a snort of derisive laughter, and feel Jack’s body go stock still beside me. Miriam Blake raises a perfect, penciled-on eyebrow at me.
“Sorry,” I offer.
“Quite,” Miriam sighs, looking at me over steepled fingers. “Look, Calista. I’m going to be upfront with you. The only reason we’re giving you this role is because we can pass you off as your sister. Sorry about her passing, by the way. It must be very hard on you, what with the twin thing and all.”
“Yes,” I reply, “It’s very—”
“We’ve already shot all the publicity material, you see,” Miriam goes on, bulldozing my reply, “It would be a shame to put those pretty pictures and pre-release marketing efforts to waste. Plus, the movie was green-lit with your sister as the love interest character. We don’t want to shake up the formula now and scare off any of the money. You understand.”
“Right. Of course,” I say tentatively.
“To be honest, Rosalie Danes isn’t much of a character in the first place,” Miriam informs me, “More set dressing than an actual human being. As long as you can show up and be a pretty face, you’ll be in the clear. We won’t really be needed any real acting from you or anything like that. So you should work out just fine.”
I stare at the head of Apollo Pictures, trying to figure out if she’s joking or not. But her cool, frank gaze looks all business to me. I don’t get it...I figured a woman CEO would be all about advocating for complex, honest female characters in her movies. Looks like I was very much mistaken, there.
“We’re ready to start shooting tomorrow, with your OK,” Jack jumps in.
“God yes, we’ve been derailed long enough,” Miriam says, exasperated, “What with all the fuss over the Avery situation—”
“You mean my sister’s death?” I cut her off, losing patience with her insensitivity.
“Of course. That situation,” she goes on, unfazed, “We’ve lost too much time already. Time to throw Miss Benson the Second into the deep end. I just hope she fares better than the first one.”
I gape at Miriam Blake, astonished by her utter lack of sensitivity. I thought movie people were supposed to be creative, expressive, and full of heart. But this woman is about as heartless as they come. I watch as she slides a contract across the desk toward me, holding out a pen.
“We just need you to sign off on this,” she tells me. “Jack’s filled you in on your salary, I assume? I know a million isn’t all that much, but it’s all we can spare.”
“It’s very generous,” I say through gritted teeth. I remind myself of all the plans I have for that money. All the wonderful things I’m going to do with it, all the lives I’m going to change with it.
“Hurry up and sign now,” Ms. Blake prompts me. “I’m expecting a call from Scorsese any minute.”
I glance at Jack, who gives me a subtle, encouraging nod. With as much dignity as I can muster, I walk up to Miriam Blake’s desk, take the pen out of her claw-like hand, and sign my name to the contract. Just like that, I’m in the movie business.
“I’m really going to give this my all, Ms. Blake,” I assure the studio head, swallowing my pride. “I won’t let you down, I promise.”
“Super,” she drawls, snatching the pen away, “Now if you two would excuse me. I’ve got a movie studio to run, here.”
Miriam Blake shoos us out of her office, and I have to fight from slamming the door on my way out. I rush past Diana as she waggles her fingers at Jack and all but dive into the elevator. I steam in silence as Jack and I ride back down to the ground floor.
“So,” Jack whistles, clapping me on the back, “I think that went really well!”
I stare at my old friend long and hard, glaring in heated silence as the elevator doors slide open once more. I walk out into the sunshine ahead of him, with one single thought rolling through my head:
I’ll show her.
Chapter Eleven
I stand under the stream of scorching hot water, letting the shower relax my tired muscles. It’s been another long day on set, grueling but rewarding. All I want to do is take a nice, lon
g shower and collapse into bed. This acting stuff is harder than it looks.
Just as I’m lathering up my body with sandalwood scented bodywash, a cool whisper of air glances against my back. A wicked grin spreads across my face as I hear a certain someone step into the shower behind me. Two strong hands land firmly on the points of my hips, rove over the smooth stretch of my stomach.
“Don’t you ever knock, Jack?” I ask, letting my head fall back against his firm chest as my voice bounces off the tiled walls.
“What, aren’t you happy to see me?” he murmurs, letting his full lips brush against the shell of my ear as his hands move upwards, cupping my sudsy breasts.
I let out a soft, sighing moan as Jack brushes his thumbs over my hard nipples. I’m a goner the second he touches me, as always. I press my back to his chest as he pinches those sensitive peaks, and find that they’re not the only things that are hard.
“Well, I see you’re happy to be here...” I laugh throatily, feeling an urgent need throbbing between my legs.
“Not as happy as you’re about to be...” he growls, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me as his free hand skirts down my torso, down between my already quivering thighs.
I plant my hands against the shower wall, bracing myself for what’s to come. The hard length of his cock brushes along my sex, pressing firmly against me as it throbs insistently. I glance over my shoulder at Jack, drinking in the sight of him towering over me. Water runs in rivulets down his muscular chest, his dark hair is pushed back from his burning blue eyes, gleaming with want.
My eyes flutter closed as I feel his fingers glide along the length of my slit, parting my pink lips as they move. Deeper and deeper he strokes me with every pass. A keen, delicious pressure starts to build in my core, and I know only one thing will satisfy it.
“Oh, god yes...” I groan, as Jack presses two fingers to my aching clit, tracing long, slow circles around my tender flesh.
“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, rolling my clit in his capable fingers as his grip tightens around my waist. Deep shockwaves of sensation spread through my body, desire pooling inside of me like a cup ready to run over.
I arch my back as he bears down on me, his cock rock hard against my body. As I feel myself hurtling toward the cliff’s edge of bliss, I align myself with that long, stiff rod, ready to thrust myself back against him, taking him all the way inside—
“Dozing off on your very first day?” Jack laughs, his voice cutting straight through my light slumber, jostling me from my dream.
“Huh? What?” I bumble, sitting up like a bolt and looking around wildly.
I’m sitting in the hair and makeup trailer, getting beautified for my very first day of shooting City in Red. It was only yesterday that I was put through the makeover ringer, not to mention my tense first meeting with Miriam Blake. And despite my exhaustion by day’s end, I was barely able to sleep a wink from nervous excitement. Add to that a 6 a.m. call time and you’ve got yourself one sleepy actress. I didn’t even realize I’d dozed off, though the steamy sex dream probably should have tipped me off. I suppose I was enjoying the dream so much that I hoped it was actually real. I avert my eyes from Jack’s handsome face, praying that he can’t read my mind right now.
“Way to be a professional, Cal,” Jack teases me, sinking down in the next chair to get styled himself.
You have no idea, I think to myself.
“It’s OK. I just had her in hot rollers anyway,” my modelesque stylist Parker says, appearing behind me in the well-lit makeup mirror. “No harm in a little extra beauty sleep, god only knows.”
“I didn’t sleep through anything important, did I?” I ask nervously, examining my heavily made up face in the mirror. I’ve still barely adjusted to my new look, let alone my new job. I don’t have the first idea what’s expected of me on set.
“Nah. The writers were just going over some last minute edits,” Jack replies, handing me a small packet of pages, “Here’s the rewrite of today’s scene, by the way.”
“Rewrite?” I groan, flipping through the script, “I only just memorized the version you gave me yesterday...”
“What can I tell you?” Jack shrugs, “That’s the way it goes.”
I quickly read through the new version of the script, focusing on the scenes I’m in. My heart nearly bursts out of my chest as I get the gist of what we’re shooting today.
“Jack!” I hiss, trying to keep still as Parker un-rolls my hair. “This is a love scene!”
“No shit,” my costar cackles, swinging his feet up onto the counter as another stylist fixes his hair. “You’re playing my love interest, Cal. Hence the love scenes.”
“No, but I mean...this is a love scene,” I insist, starting at him through the mirror. “Like...a steamy one.”
“What’s the matter?” Jack shoots back with a grin, “Were you hoping for a sexier actor to make out with onscreen? I don’t make the cut?”
I bite my lip and turn back to the script, hoping that my blush isn’t too visible under all this makeup. The scene we’re shooting in a few moments time is a big confrontation between our characters that unravels into a passionate romp in the sack. Why didn’t it occur to me that I’d be sucking face with Jackson Cole for most of this shoot? My character, Rosalie Danes, only exists for him to make out with. Which is a whole other issue, now that I think of it...
“Is there a reason why Rosalie has nothing to do in this movie?” I ask Jack coolly, daring to meet his gaze again. “Other than fawn over your character, I mean?”
“I think that’s an overstatement,” Jack says, unconcerned, “She’s got plenty to do.”
“Every other one of my lines is, ‘Oh Joel!’” I point out, “The most exciting thing she does is get held at gunpoint by the villain. And that’s only to give your character something to get all emotional about.”
Parker stifles a snicker, “She has a point, Mr. Cole...” he says.
“Take it up with the writers,” Jack says, waving my concerns away, “I’m just a poor dumb actor, remember?”
“Oh, right,” I reply, rolling my eyes, “You just totally spearheaded this project from the very start. But, sure. Dumb actor. My mistake.”
“Don’t blow my cover,” Jack grins, “It’s a whole lot easier, just being a pretty face. Once you show people what you’re capable of, they start expecting things from you.”
“God forbid,” I laugh, as Parker puts the finishing touches on my hair.
Before we can say another word, Penelope Barker bustles into the trailer, laden with coffee cups as usual.
“Good morning!” she sings, handing me a steaming hot cup of joe. “They’re ready for you two on set just as soon as you’re in costume.”
“Already?” I yelp, “I’ve barely had a chance to look over the script.”
“Callie, it’s fine,” Jack says smoothly, his styling completed in about a tenth of the time mine took, “There are barely any lines in what we’re shooting today. Least of all for you.”
“Cool. I think,” I mutter, standing up and following Jack over to wardrobe.
I have to admit, my reservations are momentarily forgotten as I feast my eyes on the racks of killer costumes I get to wear during this shoot. Structured ‘50s-style dresses, fur coats, diamond necklaces, and lacy lingerie, complete with garters and black-seamed stockings. Of course. I’m going to be spending a significant amount of this movie running around in nothing but my lingerie. Thank god yesterday’s makeover included a bikini wax.
In no time at all, Jack and I are outfitted in our vintage attire. I nearly pass out when I see him in costume for the first time. The man can fill out a suit, that’s for sure. But as overcome as I am with admiration for his sexy movie star look, that’s not what strikes me most of all in this moment. Seeing him on a movie set, confident and sure, running the place...what I feel above all is pride. Despite his golden boy status in high school, his home was as much of a nightmare as mines was.
He broke away from his emotionally withdrawn, abusive parents, and made a whole new life for himself. None of this was handed to him. He earned it all.
“What’re you starting at?” Jack laughs, catching me drinking in the sight of him, “Don’t you like my suit, Cal?”
“Just thinking about how far you’ve come since your Romeo and Juliet days,” I grin, accepting the arm he offers me now.
“You don’t look too shabby yourself,” he tells me, checking out my slinky black dress and string of diamonds as he leads me onto set. “Ready to get all hot and heavy with me?”
You bet your fine ass I am, I think to myself, biting my tongue as we approach the movie’s director, Rupert Davies.
Best known for his action movies, Rupert Davies is a barrel-chested bear of a man, with a bushy gray beard and a love of baseball caps and graphic tee shirts.
“You must be Callie!” he crows as we approach, giving my hand a vigorous shake.
“That I am. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Davies,” I reply, smiling.
“Call me Rupert, please,” he laughs, “You’re a vision! And you also happen to be saving our asses, so thanks for jumping on board.”
“Happy to,” I smile, trying to get a read on the director. He seems to be equal parts teddy bear and dirty old man. Either way, harmless enough.
“OK then!” he beams, rubbing his hands together, “Let’s dive right in with you two.”
Jack and I step around the cameras and onto the movie set. My heart starts beating a mile a minute as I look around the space. This bit of the set is supposed to be the apartment of Joel Brennan, the former detective Jack’s playing. My character, Rosalie Danes, is the sister of a man who’s been wrongfully accused of a string of murders, and is about to be executed. In this scene, she’s come to Joel Brennan’s apartment to try and persuade him to help her brother, by any means necessary.
And in the case of this scene, those means are pretty much her T and A.
“How’re you feeling?” Jack asks, taking my hand as the film crew bustles around us, getting ready to start.
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