Chapter 7 INT. GYMNASIUM
Chapter 7
INT. GYMNASIUM
“Again,” Cole demanded.
Ryan let loose another volley of flashing steel.
The stunt coordinator was about an inch shorter and substantially less bulky than Cole. He was all lean muscle, and Cole was more decorative brawn. But only one of them had done their homework—and for once, it wasn’t Ryan.
Cole had known Ryan for more than a decade, from when he’d gotten his start doing stunts and stand-in work for Cole. From a distance, they looked alike. Up close? Not so much. And with swords in their hands? Well, Cole suspected for once, he might be the better man.
The stunt coordinator struck, and Cole parried. Ryan lunged, and Cole parried again. When Ryan advanced a third time, it was with all the finesse of a child clutching a fake lightsaber. Cole just stepped out of the way. A feint from Cole, and Ryan fell for it—and almost tumbled to the ground. From there, it was easy to launch a riposte that had Ryan stumbling backward.
Through it all, Cole kept his knees bent, his joints loose. Leonard Pierce and Amin Cordova were teaching and choreographing the sword fighting and historical combat on Waverley , and they had emphasized that the real key was Cole’s stance and grip. There wasn’t going to be that much swordplay on the show, and the choreography wasn’t that complex. Cole didn’t have to be Errol Flynn—thank God. But he had to get the basics right, because that was how professionals spotted actors who were merely hacking away at each other.
Cole’s hack days were behind him.
“Ryan,” Leonard warned as Cole pressed his attack. “Cole looks great, but your stance sucks. You’re jerking around like Frankenstein.”
“Like a zombie,” Amin corrected. “A slow one. Keep the sword closer—it’s gotta be an extension of your arm.”
Ryan made an inarticulate gahhh that conveyed a full rainbow of profanity.
Cole continued to advance until Ryan stumbled backward in retreat and dropped the tip of his sword to the ground.
“Goddamn it, stop.” Ryan bent over, his hands on his hips, breathing hard.
“You yield?”
Ryan flipped Cole off.
“I think that makes five for me,” Cole said, mildly.
“I’m not even supposed to be doing this.”
The actor playing the British exciseman, and Cole’s soon-to-be on-screen sparring partner, had a cold, and Ryan was just filling in. So Ryan had a point, but Cole was still going to rub his superiority in.
“Nice work,” Leonard said with evident pride.
Cole had certainly put in the effort, the time.
“Pay attention to your footwork, though,” Amin warned. “You need better turnout.”
“Like a ballerina?”
“Exactly.”
Ryan had caught his breath. He straightened and glared at Leonard. “Why aren’t you or Amin doing this with him since Reynold is out?”
Cole was the him .
Leonard was struggling not to laugh. “Because we’re old men. And if you have to double for him in some of the shots—”
“I’m going to do all of my own shots,” Cole insisted.
“—then you have to be up to speed.”
“I hate all of you.” Ryan fumbled for his water bottle. “I never should have agreed to do this. Guns and bombs and planes are where I live. I’m not taking another project that’s not all guns and bombs and planes.”
Since it was clear they were done for the moment, Cole picked up his own water. “You’re just jealous because, for once, I’m better at something than you are.”
“Give me another few days, James, and I’ll kick your ass.” But it was an empty threat. Ryan didn’t have time for extra training. He had enough stuff to worry about with the coming shoot.
“I think we’re done for the day, gentlemen,” Cole said to Leonard and Amin. “See you tomorrow at ten?”
“We’ll bring the ballet barre.”
When they’d left, Cole slid down to sitting, leaning his back against the wall.
“You’ve worked your ass off,” Ryan said. “I’m impressed.”
From anyone else, this would have carried a rancid air of surprise. Cole, I can’t believe you worked so hard. But he’d known Ryan long enough—and had quite literally just kicked his butt several times in a row—so Cole wasn’t offended.
He took a long drag from his water bottle. “This one has gotta work. If it doesn’t—I don’t have many more in me.”
For years, Cole and Drew had made plans. Cole would take this part or meet that casting director, and it would lead to another part. Slowly, each of these moves would take him another rung up the ladder. When he got to the top, he’d be back where he was supposed to be. And he would’ve finally wiped the slate clean.
Not every step had been right. Some of the gambles hadn’t paid off. But in taking this part on Waverley , with how much time he was investing in it and how high profile it was, it was like going all in on a roulette spin.
Cole had gotten up off the dirt before. But if this one didn’t work, he didn’t have the energy for yet another backup plan.
It was this or nothing.
Ryan watched Cole steadily. They’d known each other long enough and liked each other well enough that Cole didn’t have to explain all that to him.
“It’s going to work,” the stunt coordinator said. “This show ... it’s a phenomenon.”
“That’s what Tasha said.”
And the reason that Tasha had agreed to take the part of Effie.
Cole carefully trained his attention on a piece of fluff on the floor halfway across the studio. “You working with Tasha on her riding?”
Effie, meaning Tasha, didn’t have many stunts. The character’s badassery came from not compromising. Since Tasha had spent most of her career literally kicking butt, this was going to be a change of pace for her.
But it also meant that she and Ryan weren’t working together much—which was a shame.
“Yeah. But she already rides well.”
The unspoken part was that Ryan thought Tasha did everything well.
Cole had never once doubted the guy’s feelings for Tasha. It was in Ryan’s face every time he looked at her. It was in his hands when he’d touch her in the course of his job. It was in how his voice changed when he spoke to or about her.
“You think it’s finally time to say something?”
“About?”
“You being in love with her.”
Ryan scowled. “What?”
“Come on, man. It’s me .”
A few seconds passed. Then a few dozen more.
“She doesn’t want to hear that from me,” he finally said.
Cole wasn’t surprised Ryan wouldn’t try to deny it—his feelings for Tasha were sort of undeniable. But Cole was surprised to have a fact so obvious, if silent, be open for discussion at last.
If Cole’s own love life was shoved to the back burner, Tasha’s was frozen. Her few relationships had the cadence of high school love affairs, but Cole supposed that made sense. For all that she might be in her thirties, Tasha had devoted about as much time to herself as a sixteen-year-old.
“Besides,” Ryan said, “during her last riding lesson, she was pissed because I wouldn’t let her canter. I told her she was going to have to use a stunt double for that part.”
“Yeah, she hasn’t heard no a lot. Actually, that’s not true.” Few people’s lives had been as limited as Tasha’s and yet as privileged. She’d grown up in a solid platinum cage, and everyone had wanted to point and laugh. “But she doesn’t like feeling as if anyone is trying to control her, even if your motives are good.”
“I just want her to be safe.”
“I’m not her dad. I can’t give you permission.”
Ryan flicked a quick glance at Cole. “But she cares about your opinion more than she does her father’s.”
“Her dad’s a schmuck.” Tasha’s father had been Beth Russell’s second and briefest marriage. He was a record producer without much talent, except when it came to ignoring his kids—at that, he was basically a prodigy. Beth Russell might be an unpredictable addict, but at least she loved Tasha even if she lacked the emotional range to truly be there for her.
“The thing about Tasha is she’s strong until she’s not,” Cole explained. “And when she needs you to step in, it’s going to happen all at once. She’ll be fine, and then she’ll need a break, and there’s no space in between.”
Ryan had to suspect some of it. There’d been enough stories about Beth Russell’s stints in rehab, and for all the complete crap written about the family, some of them were true. But Tasha was going to have to sort that out for Ryan—Cole wasn’t going to do it.
“You sure do know her well.” Ryan knotted his hands together and turned his scowl on Cole. “The reason why all her relationships fail—it’s not you, is it?”
“It’s never been like that.” That was a game they only played for the press. They’d never tried to deceive people who really knew them. “Her relationships fail because she goes after assholes. She thinks a man wanting to use her is the same as him needing her.”
“I don’t want to use her, and I don’t need her. I want her. Just her.” Ryan spoke with such conviction, his words could almost be inside a Valentine’s card.
“Well, she’s not going to know what to do with that.”
“And so we’re back where we started. No, I won’t be saying anything to her.”
The man loved Tasha, and Cole would be willing to bet that she loved him back, but no one would say it.
Words—they were hard.
And fair enough! Cole would much rather spend a few hours fencing than talk about his feelings.
Cole got to his feet and rolled his shoulders. For all that he’d stretched and done cardio this morning, he was still sore. But even feeling every day of his forty-one years, he was still in better shape than Ryan.
When it came to his body, Cole was a master. Give him a grueling exercise plan to follow, or a set of detailed ancient fencing figures to memorize, and he was happy as a clam. Working hard, staying disciplined, putting in the hours: that was the path Cole knew, the place where he felt confident.
But if his mouth was involved, he felt ... stumble-tongued. Incapable. He was grateful to Maggie for the care she was showing him and the rest of the cast, but their sessions left him feeling more naked than naked. Who knew that talking about your feelings was more exposing than taking off your pants?
Not wanting to argue, Cole hoisted his bag onto his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
He wove through the tangle of studios and rehearsal spaces. Stopping in the breezeway, he dug around in his bag for his phone.
At the door. Where are you? he texted his driver.
Outside, the sky was the color of wet concrete, and gusty winds had the trees undulating like waves. They appeared to be seconds away from a storm.
His phone dinged with a reply from his driver: Two minutes away.
Cole answered an email from Drew about a script he’d sent him, and he was still looking at his phone when the lightning hit. The screen reflected the bolt, and the thunder was still echoing in his ears when he raised his head. The flash and the crash had been almost simultaneous.
He was turning toward the door when someone barreled through it and into him. Cole wrapped his arms around the figure so he didn’t go over backward, and it was only when she tipped her chin back that he realized it was Maggie.
Cole was holding Maggie.
Her eyes went wide. At the short distance, the irises were very green around the rim of her pupils, an herbal eclipse. Her mouth dropped open, and her lips were flushed a deep shade of rose. She was slim, pressed against him, and her body seemed to be holding most of the energy on earth. Or maybe that was just the rushing of his own pulse.
“Oof?” It came out like a question.
Was that an oof? Or was it something else?
Cole was dizzy, and it wasn’t the proximity of the lightning and the smell of the rain that had just started to come down outside.
It was entirely the woman in his arms.
Her hands, which had been raised to push the door open, flattened against his chest, and Cole found himself staring down at them. The neat curve of each nail, the soft pink of the cuticles, the architecture of her fingers. It was as if he’d never seen hands before. As if no one had.
“Oof,” he repeated, but the sound was gibberish.
Maybe it was the only way to describe the stew of things he was feeling. Attraction, yes, but also just bone-deep concern. And relief that she wasn’t out in the storm. And ... tenderness. Maggie made his insides into a honeycomb, gooey and buzzing.
He raised his gaze to meet hers. Maggie’s breathing was shallow, each inhale a tiny sip, and her expression was so confused.
Probably because he was cradling her like a doofus.
Cole raised his hands from where they had been clenched on her back and took a few steps away from her. It didn’t help. He still felt all golden and glittery.
“Sorry,” he said. “I was trying not to—sorry. Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Maggie shook her head. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m the one who ran into you. I wasn’t even looking. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hate lightning. It’s like a top-five fear for me.”
Her smile was grateful. “I’m not too fond of it either. It started to feel like it was about to storm when I was walking toward the Tube station. Then the temperature dropped, and I could smell the rain, and I decided to turn around. The last few feet, the hair was starting to stand up on the back of my neck. I knew I was in trouble.”
Cole almost hauled her back into his arms. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket instead. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Me too.” She wiped at her eyes. “That was not what I was expecting this afternoon.”
“Did you have a session with Tasha? I thought she was with wardrobe.” If Tasha was going to meet with Maggie again, he really ought to be there, if only to protect Maggie.
“Leanne and Owen,” she explained. “Wedding-night choreography.”
“Our jobs are so weird.”
Lightning split the sky again, and Maggie tugged her coat around herself. “I may just spend the night here. Seems safer.”
“My driver’s on the way. I’m happy to drop you at the hotel. And he’ll wait for us until the lightning passes. We don’t have to rush out in”—a bolt of electricity cracked the sky again—“that.”
“Thank you, I’d appreciate it. I don’t normally mind the Tube. I like it, actually, but ... maybe not today.”
“I’ll give you my number. We can carpool every day.”
Maggie’s answering smile was soft, but it wasn’t directed at him. Instead, she’d turned her attention to the toes of her shoes. “You’re very sweet to offer, but I’m okay.”
Is she declining the carpooling, my number—or both?
Cole knew it was safer, more professional, for her to pass. Because the things he’d felt when he’d held her, they’d been dangerous. Just as he wouldn’t want to take a stroll outside right now, it would be risky for him to draw Maggie closer ... even if he wanted to.
Maybe he’d developed some respect for Ryan’s position. Sometimes, it was smarter to keep your mouth shut.