Chapter 19
NINETEEN
T he shooting schedule has gone from manageable to outright chaos.
The rest of the crew, those I’ve spoken to, are ready for anarchy. The under-the-breath whispers between the assistants and the camera crew are loud enough for me to catch, and pretending to ignore them is the real role of my lifetime.
I’m ready to get this movie in the rearview mirror and finish it. Fuck the release parties and fuck the promos that will come along with its completion.
Fuck everything because the worst part of this has been Marcus breathing down my neck the entire time. He’s gone from cold and dismissive to a full-on tyrant.
I’ve hated every second of filming since that day in the house when he called off our relationship.
What relationship ? The snide voice in my head is right, no matter how sick it makes me.
“I’m taking a break. I can’t keep working like this.” Staring at the floor, I push past him, and he crowds me against the side of the couch.
This set has become my prison. The hours have gotten insanely long, and whatever sleep I get is tormented by the same cruel monster who haunts me when I’m awake. I see his face everywhere with no reprieve.
“We don’t have time for you to take a break,” Marcus snaps, tearing after me. “We’re resetting for the scene.”
“Five minutes.”
Will tearing my hair out finally convince him I’m at my end? Breaking point, hell, this is worse.
“Five minutes, and I’m counting down,” he says like I should be grateful.
Grateful for whatever scraps he tosses me. Does Marcus expect me to start heeling when he snaps his fingers, too?
Or actually like the feeling of the leash?
The bastard literally presses his Apple watch and sets a timer. And this time, I have no doubt there will be serious consequences if I go even a second over.
You really are the monster you say you are .
I scurry over to the table housing the espresso machine and around the opposite side, hiding behind its bulk to catch my breath. I press a hand to my stomach and feel the swirl and gurgle of upset.
What the hell am I going to do? Surviving heartbreak is one thing, but having to work with the man every day? It’s salt in a gaping wound with no hope of healing.
This relationship, this film, this life aren’t working out the way I thought they would.
Even in my wildest fantasies, I never would have imagined this .
The timer goes off before I have a chance to do anything besides fight off a panic attack. It leaves me trembling, weak kneed, breathing hard.
Days blur into one another, and no matter how many hours I spend in front of the camera, it’s never done. The filming and the stress are intertwined. At night, I overthink and toss from one side to another.
During the day, I struggle not to lose my shit.
There’s no end to the torment of having to run through the lines time after time with Marcus watching me like a vulture. He’s a black cloud hanging over this production, and when I ask the others if this kind of schedule is normal, they always blow me off. They make up what sound like empty excuses.
I’m the newbie here; I get it.
They have their own lingo, which I’ve heard for most of my life but have never really been a part of, until now.
Still, it seems suspicious that they’re muttering around me, yet no one is willing to answer my questions. None of them are willing to explain why we’re killing ourselves to get this movie completed. The kind of talk where you walk into a room and know exactly who the subject is.
The girls playing Alicia’s friends stand together beside the set with me on the outskirts.
My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I jump at the surprise. “It’s like having a mini heart attack,” I mutter, reaching into my back pocket. An unfamiliar number lights up the screen. “Hello?”
“Empire Stone?”
The voice is just as unfamiliar as the number, and I quirk a brow. “Yes. Who is this?”
“I’m sorry. I realize I’m kind of a creeper in this case. It’s Jacob Kessler. We met at the viewing last week?”
My mind is a blur, and warmth spreads along my arms and legs. The film viewing…was it only last week?
The pieces are slow to click into place, and when they finally do, I smile. “Definite creeper vibe, Jacob. How did you get my number?”
I lean a hip against the wall to steady myself.
“I ran into your friend River at an opening for a café down in Santa Monica a few days ago. I convinced her to give it to me. Trust me, it took a lot of convincing on my part. She was reluctant to part with it. You’ve got a good buddy there,” Jacob says with a laugh.
“And yet she did part with it,” I reply.
“Aw, don’t be mad at her.”
I brush my hair out of my eyes. Something about his voice is oddly endearing. “Maybe I should be mad at you instead?”
“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t be upset with either of us. Anyway, I’m calling to see if you’d like to meet up. Chat about a few scripts I’ve got in place that I think you may find interesting.”
I purse my lips. “Would this be a date?”
Automatically, I want to say no. No , because I’ve given away my heart, and I don’t feel like a single person yet, even with all the bullshit going on. Like it would be some sort of mistake or cheating to even consider meeting with another man.
I’m clearly out of my mind.
I’m living in a delusion which, instead of helping me, keeps me shackled to the past.
Marcus has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. With him being distant and overbearing at the same time…why not go out with Jacob? I need to breathe. I need to resurface from the nightmare of this movie and talk about something that isn’t it or Marcus.
“Sure,” I find myself saying. “Where would you like to meet? Things are a little crazy right now, but I’ll carve out time for you.”
“I’m flattered.” Jacob’s voice rumbles through me, and the sensation is not unpleasant. “And appreciative.”
I’m not sure why he wants to spend time with me. Then my memory snags on a word. Scripts . He wants to talk business.
It makes agreeing to a meet up a little easier to swallow and the pressure in my chest a bit easier to bear.
Our shooting schedule for Friday gives me a small break around midafternoon because most of the scenes involve Greg and not me. Since he’s semi back in action, it makes sense.
I can’t be away for more than a couple of hours, and rather than taking the driver Marcus hired, I sneak off set in an Uber.
There’s a thrill bubbling in my blood.
Does a date automatically get better if it’s covert? Illicit?
I prattle off the address to the driver, reminding him where we’re going, my knee bobbing up and down once more. Why the eff should I be nervous?
It’s just a date. There’s literally no reason for me to check my reflection in the window, fluffing my hair, only to tamp it down again. I run a hand down my blouse, pushing up the girls, groaning, and drawing my shirt up to cover the display.
Nervous?
An understatement.
The coffee place is one I’ve been to before, one I know where to go and where to park. This time of day, the streets are packed, lined with cars. People need their caffeine fix, and none of them bat an eye at me when I hop out of the Uber.
Jacob, on the other hand, draws a crowd.
He meets me outside the door with two burly bodyguards in tow, and his smile lights up the street when he sees me coming toward him.
“You look stunning, Empire.” He leans down for a swift hug, his fingers brushing the hem of my emerald-green tank top.
“Thanks,” I murmur. “So do you.”
Shit, do I have to be so awkward?
“I mean, not stunning. You look good. Better than good.” I fumble, still not making any sense.
Rather than looking at me sideways, Jacob laughs, and his bodyguards open the door for us. “I’m taking it as a huge compliment.”
His blue-tone shirt brings out the colors of his eyes, and his hair is pristine, styled in such a way that no single hair moves out of place despite the breeze. Several women suck in a breath when we get inside, and one even squeals in delight.
His presence causes a wave of attention to ripple out from us.
But Jacob’s attention remains on me. He goes so far as to pull out a seat for me, the table hidden behind a row of plants.
“I came here a month ago, I think. With River.”
“She’s the one who recommended it. Said the staff is really nice and the drinks are delicious. I hope you don’t mind. I got here a little early and took the liberty of ordering.”
Right on time, the server places two drinks in front of us, both with matching designs in the foam on the top.
“That’s really sweet of you.”
“River said you loved lattes. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I appreciate it.” The first sip has me grimacing.
Jacob notices immediately. “What’s the matter?”
The matter? Whole milk instead of almond. I wave him away even though the thought of dairy twists my stomach in preparation for the worst—something I definitely don’t want to endure in front of someone like Jacob.
“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”
The same damn thing happened to me last time. Is this place cursed? Or…I’m cursed.
Jacob’s expression drops. “Shit, I’m so sorry. I forgot to tell them you’re dairy-free. She specifically said almond milk, and I forgot.”
River told him? “It’s really no trouble! Don’t worry about it.”
He’s already waving to bring the server back to rectify his mistake. With a round of apologies, she grabs my drink, promising to be back soon.
“It’s really no trouble.” My protests are ignored.
Jacob gawks at me. “Trouble? You can’t have dairy. The mistake is mine, and it’s no trouble. I’ll remember next time.”
“Oh, really?” A laugh escapes me automatically. “You think there’s going to be a next time?”
“I’m sure hoping there will be.”
He soothes me with the kind of surface-skimming conversation that flows naturally, and when the server deposits my new almond milk latte, along with another apology, I’m in a much better mood.
The first sip has me swooning, and I shoot him a grateful smile over the rim.
“Better?” Jacob asks.
“So much better, thank you. You didn’t need to make a big deal out of it. I would have been fine.”
I catch myself shuffling, doing the dance I learned to do more often than not. The dance where I tap my way toward being small to avoid confrontation and making other people uncomfortable.
Jacob’s smile is sweet and understanding. The exact opposite of Marcus.
“Nothing is going to get done by being too accommodating. You only end up hurting yourself in the long run.” He leans forward on the table. “It’s something I’ve learned the hard way. There’s a difference between standing up for yourself and letting people run all over you when it’s not warranted.”
“I guess it’s a lesson I haven’t learned yet.” I cradle the cup in my palms.
“One day.” His optimism is overwhelming in the best kind of way. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering why I wanted to take you out.”
“My dazzling personality, of course,” I reply dryly.
His laugh helps put me even further at ease. There are no pretenses with Jacob. I don’t know him well, but he strikes me as the kind of man who lets you see exactly what you’re going to get with him.
“Yes, always. Not to mention your smile.” He offers the compliment easily. “It stuck with me for days.” His eyes go serious for a moment before he continues, “I’m glad you agreed to meet me. I wasn’t sure if you’d come alone or bring your manager.”
My back straightens at the mention. “He doesn’t control my movements.” Liar . “I was happy to spend time with you.”
Jacob instantly relaxes. “Good. I’m pretty sure I told you about a script on the phone, right?”
I bob my head, doing my best to forget about his mention of Marcus and what it does to me. Because now that he’s been introduced to the conversation, he’s slithered underneath my skin. “You did.”
“Well, I thought of you immediately. The second my agent pushed this project, I knew exactly who would be the right fit to play my scene partner.”
Tension tightens my muscles to the point of pain. There’s no reason for me to react this way, but I can’t help but remember when Marcus shoved the script for my current project at me, claiming I’d be the perfect fit. My gut reaction is stress and worry.
I force all of it aside because Jacob isn’t doing any of those things yet
“What kind of project?”
“I know you’re currently working on your only full-length motion picture, but this one…is gonna be good. Let’s call it a fluffy kind of piece, Christmastime romance and the power of true love. A little cutesy, but the writing is killer, and the banter is fire. It’s set in New York City. I have the script with me if you’d like to read more about it, but I didn’t want you to feel like this was forced.”
I’m grateful to stay seated because I lose my footing. Jacob thought about me for a Christmas fluff piece?
Me?
I barely think of myself in those ways anymore. Once, sure, back before—
I blow out a breath and say, “I appreciate that.”
“I’m known to be an accommodating man. Not like I lead with it, but I want you to feel comfortable with me. Friends first, coworkers later. If you agree.”
“Well, then, yes, I’d love to see it.”
If I close my eyes, I might imagine he’s right, that we’re just two buddies out for a cup of coffee and a chat. He gives off the same energy as River when she’s got a new book she can’t wait to share.
The entire thing is…normal. Good. The kind of interaction I want to have with a cute boy who interests me. There is nothing complicated or assuming about Jacob. Nothing confusing to shake me and make me question myself and where I stand.
Which in itself mystifies me.
Being with Marcus is hot and consuming. I get hungry looking at him, and it’s hard to breathe when he’s around. He takes up all the space in a room, and I’m drawn to him on every single level. When we’re together, we’re animals, too desirous for one another to come up for air; we’d rather drown.
Jacob is the complete opposite.
Even when he grabs the script from his messenger bag and teases me with the handoff, our hands brushing together, being with him is soft and relaxing. There’s no need to be on guard waiting for things to change. Waiting for him to decide to go cold after he’s been hot for too long.
“Hey.” Jacob lightly touches his hand to mine where I’ve stilled with my fingers on the corner of the first page. “Don’t feel like there’s any pressure for you to agree to this. Just because I think you’d do a great job doesn’t mean it’s a fit for you, and if you aren’t interested or you don’t have the time, tell me. Okay?”
He makes it easy to say no, which is something I’ve struggled with for too long. “You’re sweet,” I say.
“Thank you.”
He pauses there, neither of us willing to break the contact, and in the next beat, he slowly withdraws, but his smile stays with me.
What should I do?
The words blur on the page. I’m torn in two different directions, conflict my companion as I attempt to read. The synopsis is interesting—what I actually absorb from it.
“What does your schedule look like right now?” Jacob asks.
“Pure chaos,” I answer with a small glance up. “It seems like we’re being pushed to finish this shoot in record time. Is that normal? Working almost twenty-four hours a day?”
“Sometimes,” he answers honestly. “It depends on the director.”
“In this case, I think it’s the producer.” It’s an under-the-breath grumble he catches.
Jacob tilts his head to the side and stares at me. “Some of them are known to be hard-asses. You’re going to need some time to decompress after it, I’m sure. Maybe a few weeks luxuriating at a spa or something. I remember after my first picture, I had to take a long break between projects.”
“When does production want to start on this one?” I tap the top page.
“In a couple months. It would give you some time to decompress. Maybe put those beautiful feet up somewhere? You deserve a break.”
I chuckle, lips pursed. This feels…like a soft kind of flirtation. Almost as though Jacob is dipping his foot in the water to see how I react, whether I’m open to those things or not.
It feels so damn good to have a man show interest in me.
An available man, I correct, one who isn’t emotionally shut down. And rather than dissuade him, I flirt back.