He could use that as a bargaining chip. 85k could cover 50% of the down payment for a studio in Morningside Heights. Who wouldn’t want to get a jump start on buying a house? And after running some numbers with Daniel, they’d discovered that even at ninety grand, she’d still be a bargain, compared to re-shooting the previous episodes.
Decisively, he knocked on her door, eyes to the ground. No hesitation. Episode 3 was going to be shot in a day which meant he was time strapped. Today was his last chance.
The hinges creaked and the knob turned.
“Not you again.” Wearing an annoyed expression, Bella folded her arms over her breasts. In shorts and a tank top, she looked much younger than she had in the morning.
“Hi.” He waved, relegating thoughts of her sexiness to the back of his mind. She was just an actress to him. Just an actress.
“How did you get my address?” she interrogated, but for some incomprehensible reason, didn’t slam the door in his face.
“Facebook,” Jamie replied.
She shoved the door wider, and he took the opportunity to move closer to her.
“I came up with a better offer. 85k for two months. Think about it. You could buy a house with that. Designer clothes, a new car.”
“First of all, who even wants to drive a car in New York? Second, do you actually think designer clothes will fit me?”
Pissed off, she stretched her neck.
“Then tell me what do you want. Give me something to work with here.” Jamie inched forward, taking one more small step into her space.
Her citrusy scent, filled his nose. Momentarily, he found himself wishing to sink deeper into that smell. With his face a slip away from hers, he couldn’t prevent his gaze from riding over her throat, to her breasts.
Disgusted by how low his intellect had sunk, Jamie peeled his attention away from her boobs. He didn’t want to become a pervert, although, in the interest of fairness, he had to mention that she had great assets.
“You can’t give me what I want,” she declared, but pulled back.
It was a subtle invitation and he took it.
Her place was neat, but that was pretty much all it was. Uninspiring, antiquated décor made her financial situation obvious—second-hand black leather couches, an IKEA queen bed, a couple of bright green chairs and a coffee table that was likely a hand-me-down from an aunt who’d lived in the eighties. Shelves flooded with crookedly-arranged books cast shadows over every wall. A lonely lamp glowed on a desk by the window, where a MacBook lay open, the screen powered off. Papers were spilled all around the silver laptop, books plopped over them.
Her nose shot to her shapeless black couch. Jamie assumed that was where she wanted him to sit.
“I can make you a higher offer—”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I don’t need money.” She shut him up with an irascible frown and tucked one leg over the other as she sat.
“Fine. You don’t want money. But there must be something you want.” He clicked his fingers. “You want a boyfriend, don’t you?”
Reading her this morning, he’d spotted that she carried the quiet desperation of a woman who’d been single for too long, and not by choice. While shopping, she’d been stealing glances at every young man at the supermarket, wilting when she saw a woman or a wedding band on him.
He could help her. He had connections in Hollywood with many single, equally desperate men.
“You can’t get me a boyfriend.” Hope glinted in her eyes, incongruous to her words.
“I can. I know plenty of men who’re single and work in media.” Luring her in, he widened his eyes.
She scoffed. “Men who work in the media industry are too picky because they’re around beautiful women all the time. I’d prefer a doctor or a shrink who deals with crazy people all day, because he’ll appreciate how healthy I am.”
“Doctor. No problem. I know a few doctors, too. Neurosurgeons, anesthetists...you got any preference?”
Bella stumbled over to the yellow loveseat, away from him. Yellow and black. Color coordination was definitely not one of her strengths. An interior designer would have a heart attack if they laid eyes on this.
“General medicine. If he’s too busy, he might not have time for me.”
“Deal. I’ll text you with the date?”
So far she’d been hesitant, but she clasped her palms and exhaled. “How soon?”
“You’re not going on any more set-ups.” Someone else emerged from the kitchen. Young as well, but she looked a lot different from Bella.
This redhead was stick-thin, tall, and belonged on the billboards. The strong cheekbones, the straight bridge of her nose that ended in a sharp tip, and her fashionably full mouth were all features of a perfect face. Photogenic. She could easily be a model.
Considering this was NYC, she probably was one.
“Remember, you’ve given up dating for a month.” She pierced Bella with a stony look.
Bella grunted.
Realizing that this redhead was someone who had some say in Bella’s decisions—maybe her sister—Jamie decided to change his tactics. Smiling at the redhead, he supplied her his business card.
“Hi, I’m Jamie. You are?”
Before the redhead could open her mouth, Bella swatted his arm away. “Sorry. She’s taken.”
Laughing, the redhead flipped her shampoo-commercial curls, “I’m Kat.” Then she passed a lighthearted smile to Bella. “And yes, I’m taken. But I don’t think you were hitting on me. Were you?”
“Not at all.” He gave a reassuring gesture to Bella, who hovered over him, suspicion dripping from her. “My interest was purely professional. You look like a model.”
Kat shook his hand. “I get that a lot. But I’m a reporter. I work for the New York Times.”
Possessively touching Bella’s head, that perfect mouth of hers curved. There was a suppressed warning in there that Jamie didn’t miss.
“Are you her sister?” he inquired, wondering if that was why she was being so protective.
“Friend. We’ve been friends since freshman year at NYU.”
So long-legs, model-face was also an NYU alum. Since a high school diploma was the highest qualification he held, Jamie admired people with the guts to complete college degrees. And if they’d survived graduate school? They were fuckin’ Joan of Arc in his book.
“You two seem tight. Can I ask you what would convince Bella to become an actress?”
“Why do you want her to be an actress? Did you audition or something, Bell?” Kat looked puzzled.
Bella bent her elbow and reached behind her back, touching the base of her neck. “Nope. I ran into him at Trader Joe’s this morning. His story is that one of the actresses on his show dropped out, and I look like her clone.”
“Oh, I see where this is going.” Kat’s gaze swung back to him and an eyebrow arched.
“For the record, an actress did actually injure her spine. That’s not a story. It’s a fact.”
“Whatever,” Bella dismissed. “The only reason I even believed you is because you wrote Love Me Like You Do.”
“You did? Really?” Kat clasped her hands at her throat. “Bella’s a huge fan.”
“She told me.” Jamie couldn’t help lighting up when he recalled that scene from this morning.
“Can I offer you some quinoa salad?” Kat asked.
“We should. He must be hungry.” Bella grabbed Kat’s arm and pulled her along to the kitchen. From her nervous energy, it looked like she wanted to talk to Kat about something. “We’ll be back, Jamie.”
Tapping his fingers, Jamie smiled and waited.
*
“So, what’s happening?” Kat whispered to Bella, while they pretended to find the quinoa salad in the fridge. “You’re flushed.”
“I didn’t expect him to show up so suddenly.” Pinching the back of her cottage cheese thighs, Bella cringed. “Oh God. Why did I have to pick today to wear these shorts? He probably sa
w all my cellulite.”
“He doesn’t look like he cares.” Kat threw a glance over Bella’s shoulder to Jamie.
“Of course he cares!” Bella dropped a spoon, to mask her loud voice.
“Even if he does, why does it matter? Are you falling—”
Holding an open palm up in a gesture of denial, Bella ejected a tsk. “No, he’s a Gemini. There’ll never be anything between us.”
Kat rolled her eyes. Not everybody could understand Bella’s obsession with sun signs, but she took her horoscope seriously.
Kat brushed her chin. “He’s offering you a good opportunity. Remember you were about to do something new? Acting’s a great hobby. And you’ll make more money than what you or I make annually.”
“Did you forget what happened to me in LA? I want to stay far, far away from the entertainment industry.”
“This is not LA. This is New York.” Pressing a hand on her head, Kat gave her an encouraging nod. “Besides, you were never an actress in LA.”
“I don’t have any talent,” Bella retaliated.
“I think you do,” Kat said. “Besides, none of Bryan’s friends were talented, but they were all actresses, weren’t they?”
“You have a point there.”
“So do it. Or you’ll waste all summer getting depressed dating losers.”
“I might be on vacation, but I still have to write papers.” Bella tried not to think of that too much, because she had been slacking off on writing.
“You could write papers in your sleep.” Kat’s blue-green eyes glittered at her.
“I don’t know if I’d get along with the other actresses...”
“Come on. You know you want to do it.” Kat entwined her fingers with Bella’s.
They walked back to Jamie, who was still glued on the same spot and scanning her studio.
“Here.” Bella thrust the quinoa salad at him.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, but Jamie took it. He didn’t eat any, though. She didn’t expect him to.
“So what did you decide?” he quizzed.
“I’ll need to consider—”
“She’ll do it,” Kat butted in.
“I never said that!” Cheeks heating up, Bella snatched the remote from her couch and clenched it tight between her fingers.
“But you can’t refuse eighty-five thousand dollars.”
“Exactly,” Jamie chimed in, overjoyed that he had an ally. “With an option to make more next year when your contract comes up for renewal.”
“Shut up.” Bella squeezed her nose at him.
“So now that your mind’s made up, this is the studio’s address.” Another business card came her way. “We’ll sign the contract first thing tomorrow morning, and then you can get started with rehearsals. Bring your lawyer, if you have one.”
“I have one.” No, she didn’t, but she’d get one. “And he’s the best in the city. Coincidentally, he specializes in entertainment law.”
“Good for you.” Jamie waved goodbye to Kat and lowered his head close to her, whispering, “Nice meeting you, Kat.”
Kat covered her lips with her fingers, laughing. “Thanks.”
Bella sent her a distorted frown. Was Kat on her side or Jamie’s?
“Why did you tell him I wanted to do it?” was the first question she asked when Jamie was gone.
“Because you want to. I can see it on your face. Ever since he showed up, you’ve been excited and flushing non-stop. You want to be an actress, don’t you?”
Actually, the truth was that she found Jamie hot, and his presence excited her. But she was going to let Kat think that she wanted to be an actress. That was a more dignified reason to blush.
“Maybe. A little.”
“See?” Kat slipped her shoes back on. “And you’ll be on national television. How many people get a chance to be on TV?”
“Mmm.”
She hadn’t considered that. As much as she tried to hide and shy away, some part of her was desperate for attention. Part of her craved to be noticed, acknowledged, applauded.
She wanted to feel special. To feel like she had value.
And being in front of a camera...that would make her feel special.
*
“Okay. Cut,” Bruce screamed, bouncing off the director’s chair. “And that’s a wrap for today. Good job everyone.”
Bella let out all the air in her lungs, then some she’d been holding. It was done. Accomplished. Her first episode as Lucy Kowalski. She was officially an actress (part-time, anyway) starting today.
“So, how did I do?” She made eye contact with Jamie.
He’d been on the set the entire time the crew had been shooting, instructing her on what to do, correcting her body language, rewriting lines that weren’t funny enough in the middle of the scene and laughing at ones that were funny.
Drinking a bottle of Evian, Jamie said, “Better than I thought. Acting might be your life’s undiscovered calling.”
“I had to do re-do every scene five times,” she informed, not happy that she was so bad at this. She’d seriously underestimated how difficult it was to be an actress. After hearing ‘cut’ and ‘retake’ so many times, she was sure those words would be echoing in her dreams tonight.
“So did Catherine. That’s the way it is. Everybody makes mistakes on set.”
As if on cue, Catherine King, veteran actress and three-time Emmy winner, waved at Bella from three feet away. Not sure what to make of Catherine’s friendly gesture, Bella turned her head and bit her lip.
“Hey, Cathy.” Jamie motioned her over.
Bella started sweating when Catherine came over and stood beside her.
Even though the older woman played her mother in the show, she didn’t look that old. In fact, nobody would ever be able to tell that she was over sixty. Her skin was tight and youthful, her hair a uniform blonde. It was Botox and hair coloring, but it looked natural on her.
“Hi. I’m Bella,” Bella introduced herself nervously, for the tenth time.
“I remember.” Catherine brushed her fingers over her temples. “Good work today.”
Bella’s throat went dry, so she grabbed a bottle of water from a table nearby where there were a few of them.
Jamie’s hands crawled into his jeans pocket, and his eyes shot to Catherine. “You did a great job, too. I was worried when we had to change your scene three times.”
Catherine shrugged. “I’m glad Martina’s role got sorted out. Daniel was really worried about it. You found a good replacement, too.”
“She’s better looking than Martina, isn’t she?” With a flirtatious twist of his lips, he angled his head at Bella.
Bella dunked a gulp of mineral water into her mouth, which ended up spilling onto her clothes and soaking the V-neck T-shirt. Shoot.
A sliver of a laugh came out of Catherine’s throat. “Better change out of that.”
“Yeah. We just found you. We can’t have you falling sick,” Jamie added, with a click of his fingers.
Bella made a face at him and walked to the dressing room so she could slip into a dry T-shirt.
Inside, Rosie was fussing with her makeup, her reflection taking over the big mirror on the dresser framed by lights. Rosie was one of her co-stars and for some reason, Bella had a feeling she didn’t like her.
“Hi.” Bella gave her a friendly smile, which Rosie ignored.
Something stuck to her palms as she pulled out her T-shirt from her purse. Gooey and black, she noticed that it was all over her tee, running across it in lengthwise lines.
Holding up her ruined pink tee, she turned to Rosie. “What happened here? Who did this?”
Rosie inched up her shoulders and shrugged. “Oops. Mascara accident.”
She made an X with her legs by moving one sleek, bony leg in front of the other.
“But how did mascara get on my T-shirt?” Bella almost knew the answer.
“I put it there.”
Bella’s stomach rumbled, and
a shiver dashed up her spine when Rosie latched the door and assembled her features into a dark expression. Coming. It was coming.
“Why?”
Rosie flicked her forehead with her nails.
“Because I want you to leave.” Hate sputtered in Rosie’s voice. “Go back to whichever Burger King you crawled out from. You don’t belong here.”
“I don’t understand,” Bella said.
The atmosphere in the room had tipped towards scary.
You should never have agreed to do this. How can you be so stupid? She’s right. You don’t belong in here. Get out of here.
“Look here. I waitressed for six years, dropped out of high school, made ends meet doing crappy parts, just so I could get a good role. So how can somebody as fat and lazy as you just waltz in and steal the most coveted role? You don’t deserve to be here. You shouldn’t be here. It’s not fair.” Rosie’s anger rose in a crescendo. So did her volume.
“Excuse me?” Shocked, that was the best Bella could muster.
“You can’t get anything right in one take, you keep stammering on your lines, nobody in the cast likes you.”
Bella dug her nails into the heel of her palms, but there was no avoiding the spiraling unease in her abdomen. All the awful, demeaning words she’d heard from Bryan’s friends danced around her, too loud to bury.
Six years had passed, but she was still the same Bella who couldn’t fit in anywhere.
But one thing had changed.
She’d learned to stand up for herself.
Bella put her foot down—both literally and figuratively. “You’re the one who needs to get out. This is my dressing room.”
Completely ignoring her, Rosie whined, “Tell Jamie you can’t do the show anymore.”
“I can’t. I won’t.”
Although, she was sorely tempted to. But Rosie didn’t have to know that.
“Do it! I don’t want to see your face around anymore!” Rosie screamed.
“You can’t tell me what to do.” Bella gnashed her teeth. “And grow up already. The world’s not fair. If you can’t stand me, that’s your problem, not mine.”
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