“This is how messed up my head is. I know she hates me and I have to keep up my façade that I hate her, too. She’s the one I think about when I have something to tell someone. I have this warped fantasy that we could actually be friends.”
“So why can’t you be? Do you think you’re both too far gone down the path of cruel to ever be friends?”
My secret horribleness is eating me alive. “I don’t think she would ever be my friend for the things I’ve done. I know I’m going to Hell for it, but I thought it was the only way to get information out of her. Kit’s a good guy, and now I’ve made him into the bad guy and I know Riley will never forgive me if she ever found out that I set her up with my friend just to get information about her. It’s at the top of my all-time low moments.” Taking a deep breath, I feel surprisingly better. I thought I’d keep all those secrets to the grave and I feel lighter. There’s a lot to say about making an amends list or confessions.
Clara continues to stare out at the ocean when I think of another thing.
“Oh, and yeah, that day we met you, I took the spark plugs from her car in the hope that she’d either ask me to help or give her a lift home. That way, I could spend more time with her.”
Slowly, Clara turns her head to look at me. “You have done all these reproachable, heinous things to her and you thought she was going to want to spend time with you? I think she would choose prison before spending time with you. I’m going to have to change my approach with Riley. How you two are attracted to each other is beyond me. The relationship you both have is damaged. It’s toxic.”
“That’s right. I was morally flexible in what I thought was funny and attention-seeking. It delivered exactly what I wanted: Riley thinking of me. I just didn’t think of in what way she’d think about me. The negative. And with your help, we can have a better, stronger, positive, possibly even loving relationship. That was the old Harrison. I’m so ashamed of myself for behaving that way. I want a chance to make things right. To show her the way she should be treated. She can give me whatever she likes, I’m not going to stoop anymore.”
“Well, you have a fuck ton of penance to make up for. The fee for being a jerk is to keep showing her how you truly feel. What was she like when I left this morning?”
Delicious. “She was fine.”
“Really? Anything happen?” When I don’t answer her straight away, she tries again. “If something happened, I need to know. It would be easy for you both to give in to carnal urges. To jump straight into a sexual relationship which would be just as damaging as continuing with your old ways. There needs to be some time to get to know each other. I’m asking you, not only for your sake, but for Riley’s, to not enter into anything sexual if you are wanting something to last more than the two weeks that you’re here.”
This woman is batshit crazy with her fantasy-killing ways. I finally get my chance with Riley and our therapist cock blocks me.
“Mark my words,” she says. “You pursue something with Riley without taking the time to get to know her, the relationship will be destined for failure.”
I don’t want a doomed relationship with her. I don’t want any more negativity between us.
“And I’m all for honest, but you tell her what you’ve done with Kit, the damage will be irreparable. She might see the funny side about the photographers. Even some of the other things you’ve done, but that, no way. I just need to make a quick phone call. Can you give me five?”
Clara excuses herself, and after I get back to my trailer, I pull out my phone to kill two birds with one stone. I press the dial button, and Amy picks up before the second ring. The picture takes a few seconds to come into focus, and her mouth is moving. She looks like she’s screaming and calling out to people, I just can’t hear her.
“Amy, you have to press the mute button—”
“Oh my God, we are loving this. We have been taking it in turns to ring our friends and show them around. Everyone has been following your instructions, fifteen minutes each, give each other space to talk. We are so loving it. Thank you,” she says.
The package was two tablets, one to charge and the other to use to talk to their family and friends back home. That was one of the hardest things with my brother and me. I would be at home, wondering what he’s doing, how he’s going, and I then had limited time when we visited on the weekends to find out. Mum and Dad were always full of questions he seemed pained to answer, so I wanted to make sure I had fun with him. I guess that’s why I’m a goofball with the kids. It can wear even the strongest person down to be defined by their illness. I want them to remember the person they are and let them out.
“You are very welcome, and I hope it’s being well-received, not being too painful for the nurses.”
“So where are you? What are you doing?”
I tell her a little bit about the scenes I shot. “I’ll tell you but only because I know you are good at keeping my secrets.”
Amy moves around on the bed and tells me she’s all clear to hear it.
“We are shooting the honeymoon—”
Before I finish telling her, she screams, and a nurse rushes over to check on her. “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just go the best news. I promise not to say a word.”
“Alrighty, I have to finish up a meeting and I’ll give you guys a call the usual time.”
“Hang on. How’re things with Riley?”
It’s unsettling that I can speak freely to a sixteen-year-old rather than someone my own age about the woman who doesn’t even know she holds my heart.
“They are fine.”
“Fine? Still bottling up those truths, eh?”
I have regretted confiding in her all those months ago; Amy uses it against me every chance she gets. Through the front door of my trailer, I can see Clara is still on the phone. “I nearly kissed her.”
“Ah, that explains the goofy expression of love on your face.”
I nearly drop the phone. Is it that obvious? “How do you even know that?”
“Because you’re beaming like you got some action or hope and I know there’s only one woman who can give you that look. Why didn’t you go for it?”
I give her a little shrug, and it’s only now that I realise why I didn’t. “The time wasn’t right. I have to make the right move at the right time.”
“I think that’s a mistake if you do.”
It’s my turn to arch my eyebrow. “You’re the second person to say that.”
“For good reason. Nothing long-term will come from this if you go lip-locking now.”
First cockblocked by my therapist and now a teen.
“Promise me,” she says.
I clench my teeth.
She urges me again, “Harrison. Promise me. You have to build up her trust. You’ve given her nothing to believe in so far.”
“How did you get so smart? It’s going to seriously damage my reputation when they find out I get relationship advice from a sixteen-year-old.”
“How did you get so clueless about this? And I’m sixteen and eleven months, thank you. Practically a woman. Set something up. Show her that you’re trying. Promise me.”
Letting out a huff, I give in. “Fine. I promise.”
“Great. Get to know the woman you love. I have to go. I’ll ring you at six-thirty tonight.”
“Okay, kiddo. Keep being the strongest girl I know. Love you and I’ll talk to you soon.”
I’ve known Amy for nearly two years. She’d been in the hospital for six months before I met her. By rights, someone so sick shouldn’t have survived. She’s seeing the last of her treatment out, and everything is looking great for a full recovery. Her mother told me that my time at the hospital was the only time Amy stopped crying. Hearing that changed my weekly visits to daily to get her through her treatment. She got better, but then it came back. I visited her every day and told her what we were working on in the hope that knowing the show’s secrets would somehow boost her up.
Amy’s mothe
r asked me to join her and her husband for the latest report on how her treatment is going, and it wasn’t the best news. She should have been home six months ago, but her bloodwork didn’t meet the standard. Hearing that news took me back to when I was twelve. Hearing my brother’s remission wasn’t happening was like a punch in the stomach a thousand times over. With Amy’s parents stunned into silence, I was the one firing off the questions. I was offering money. My own blood. Anything. Holding her in my arms as she sobbed on her bed ripped my heart apart.
“When will this nightmare end?” she asked as her parents consoled each other.
I wish I knew.
“Whatever happens, I’m going to be here. I’ll be here at six-thirty every night to make sure you’re okay.”
I’ve held up my end of the bargain. Rumours abounded when I implemented a no filming past six o’clock rule. Riley made the comment that I had to get home before my curfew, and I just never bothered to correct her. She gave up after a while when I led her along the wrong path that I was seeing someone, and she never bothered to ask again.
Shortly after hanging up from Amy, Clara comes back in my trailer while I’m mulling over her suggestions and instructions before seeking clarification. “So, when you say sexual, what exactly does that mean?”
“First base only.”
“For how long?”
Clara laughs and shakes her head. “Everyone always wants a time limit. You’ve been kissing her for the past two years.”
I shake my head. “No. I’ve been giving her my on-screen kiss. The Declan kiss. She’s not had a Harrison kiss before.”
“And you think Harrison’s kisses would be different?”
I know they would. “Yes.”
“There are definite sparks between you two, that’s undeniable. Riley is passionate, she’s aware of the affections of others. Tess, for instance.”
“Riley has nothing to worry about with that. After I got smashed by the eighth wave this morning, I twigged to the number of questions Tess was asking about Riley.”
“Ahh, so you have competition for Riley’s affections?”
“I don’t know if she swings that way.” The thought of Riley with another woman never entered my mind until now, and now, it’s my jealousy that’s being stoked by the poker.
“I’ve just spoken to Riley—”
I cut her off. “You didn’t tell her what I told you?”
“No. I will never discuss your private conversations. I just followed up on my talk with her this morning and advised her the same as I told you.”
I don’t like those words at all, and obviously, my face does nothing to hide that fact.
“Until you are both ready,” she says. “You’ll know when it’s right and not motivated by lust. It’s now up to you to be a man. A man would not use this secret information for gain. He would see this as an opportunity to strengthen her thoughts so she tells you what you want to hear herself.”
As much as I don’t want to agree, I do.
Eleven
Riley
Allan left my phone and a script for me detailing the wedding and honeymoon scenes to go over as he took Harrison away but left the torture goddess that is Skye to pluck every hair from my body. The woman is a sadist. Every time, without fail, she tells me, “This won’t hurt a bit” and, coupled with her narcissistic cackle, she applies hot wax to every part of my body before ripping it off. Surprisingly, the ankles are the killers. Those people who say you get used to it are damned liars.
I’ve been worried all day that Harrison overheard Clara. That would be catastrophic, and I’d never hear the end of it. There’s no way I’d be able to keep working with him. I’ve tried to stop it. My brain gets it, it’s my stupid heart that doesn’t catch the drift.
An unexpected call from Clara just as Teagan the stylist arrives has me sweating bullets. “Why are you telling me that I can’t do anything sexual with him?” I whisper-yell into the phone while running down the steps of the cabin to gain some privacy. “We are so not on that page.” Then it hits me, and I stop dead in the driveway. “He overheard me, didn’t he? Shit.” I double over and struggle to breathe.
“I’m not going to lie to you, he overheard some parts. You two have more in common than you think. I can tell you’re freaking out. You don’t need to freak out.”
Freak out? Freak out! I’m about to pack my shit and hit the road.
“I think you’re on the right track with making that roast,” she says. “It will be a great icebreaker. Tonight’s homework is going to change.”
The homework was to write down all the things that frustrate me about Harrison. I’d already started my list with my ultimate grievance. I hate that I love you and you will never know. The new homework is to have an hour of appreciation. Get used to hearing nice things about each other. Some homework.
“If something happens, it is not to progress past kissing. Understand?” she asks.
I ask, “Why would he kiss me?” right when Teagan comes out onto the veranda and calls my name.
“Come on,” Teagan says. “I have to be back on set in three hours, and it takes me two just to drive there.”
“I have to go, Clara. This is a mess. He heard me.” My nerves are in tatters. I feel sick knowing that he knows. How am I going to look him in the eye? Just deny. Deny that he heard me wrong. Shit.
“What’s wrong?” Teagan asks. Teagan is one of the people I trust on the show. If she didn’t like me, she wouldn’t pick out the perfect clothes for me. “Harrison?”
Ha! “Urgh. When is it never about Harrison?”
“When are you two going to just shag and get it over and done with?”
Horrified at her statement, I instantly need to know more. “What?”
“Oh, please. We have never seen a better pairing. You play this love-hate game the best. Everyone’s too busy looking at you, no one even noticed that Samantha and Dylan have been dating for months.”
Samantha and Dylan play the awfully named Jack and Jill. “They are?”
Teagan nods. “You let me down. I had money that you and Harrison would be first.”
“You’re betting on us?” I don’t even bother to censor my volume.
Teagan doesn’t look remotely concerned as she crosses the room and opens the large dress bag and pulls out a white dress. “I have my money on him making the first move.”
It takes a few seconds for her comments to sink in. “Hang on. Why would he make the first move? He hates me. Like with the passion reserved for cockroaches. No one loves them except for exterminators.”
“Methinks you’re confusing hate with something else.”
“I’m on the receiving end of his comments. There’s no confusing his dislike for me.”
“You don’t see what we see.”
“So what do you have for me to try on?” Give me something to distract my mind.
In the next half an hour, I try on the wardrobe Jordan’s going to wear for the drive to their honeymoon. Teagan holds out a dress for me to step into.
“I had three choices. Producers chose this one.”
I could tell why. It’s perfect for the character. She’s plain in her tastes, like me. The white lace shift dress is exactly what you’d see for a beach wedding. Teagan has always managed to hook me up with the best clothes for functions and award parties. She works fast to raise the hem and make sure the bust sits right. When I catch her checking her watch for the fourth time, I bite. “Got a hot date?”
“No. I should have been on the road three minutes ago but I’m not going to be able to travel back with the dress and I don’t trust all the little fashionistas enough to not ruin it on the day. I’ll be able to do these alterations for you at home and make sure you look perfect. It’s your wedding day after all.”
“Tell them I was being a pain in the arse about the dress but you managed to avoid the shit storm. No one would question that.” I’m realising my bad behaviour has become expected.
> The sound of a throat clearing startles me, and I turn to see an unnerved Harrison in the doorway.
Thank God we’d stopped talking about him so he couldn’t overhear another conversation.
“Should be done soon. How was it? So they finally went with the wedding?” Harrison asks.
“Just in time. I need a male opinion,” Teagan announces as she directs me to my room.
Closing the door, I pick up a lace number that’s actually a body suit. Making sure its sitting properly, I check the front and the back in the mirror. Now that I’ve been vetoed to not try or even discuss anything with Harrison, I’m as flustered as he looks. When I step out of the room, I can see they are both in the kitchen. Harrison with his head in the fridge and Teagan is leaning on the breakfast bar. Clearing my throat, I bite my lip to stop myself from laughing when I hear a groaning sound when Teagan asks him what does he think?
“Nuh. That’s not the one. If it doesn’t make his heart stop or his shorts look like a pitched tent when he sees you, it’s not going to make the viewer want to be you. Next.”
In the time I’ve been standing there, Harrison hasn’t even shut the door to the fridge.
“You might want to close that?” I call to him.
“Huh?” He can’t seem to lift his eyes higher than my chest.
I repeat as I walk back towards my room, “You might want to close that?”
“My mouth?”
Again, I don’t fight the laugh. “The fridge.”
“Roast.”
Narrowing my eyes, I lean in and move my ear in his direction. “Are you only going to speak to me in single words?”
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