Chapter 2
Two
Sterling
I slam my trailer door, exhaustion heavy in me.
I’m having to travel more than I’d like to next month.
I’m running myself ragged over here with interviews and photoshoots.
I can’t even rewind in my usual way. No more going to clubs and engaging in random hookups with strangers.
No more going to my favorite bakery and sitting at the back table enjoying a handmade lemon-glazed pop tart.
I leave the studio and the cameras follow.
Here, they’re sure to get the best sides and version of me.
Not out there, though. There are no do-overs or makeup crews.
The last picture the paparazzi got of me was when I was on my way home from yoga.
I was in workout clothes, with sweat stains and my hair going in different directions.
I guess it’s better than the shot they got of me at the movies a few weeks ago, shoving popcorn into my mouth with butter dripping down my chin.
I take a deep breath, press my back to the door, and scream into my hands.
I need a vacation. Some time away from all of this.
I love being in front of a camera, but lately it hasn’t given me the adrenaline rush it used to.
I’m lacking something and I don’t know what.
There’s a need inside me that I can’t make sense of.
A knock has me jolting and spinning around.
I open the door and one of the production assistants is lifting a white bag between us.
“Lisa said to bring you this and to make sure you eat it.”
“What is it?” I eye the bag warily.
“A severed head.”
My eyes bulge and she laughs.
“Relax, it’s just a sandwich, chips, and a fruit cup.”
“Yum,” I say, faking enthusiasm.
She laughs. “If you want, I can try to get you something else before I head home.”
“Nah. I’ll be fine with my school lunch,” I deadpan, taking the bag from her hand, and she laughs again.
For a minute, I consider inviting her into my trailer and then shake off the idea.
“Never shit where you sleep,” my friend Luke always says.
I wish I would have followed that advice the last time I’d slept with a colleague.
“Anything else I can get you? A drink perhaps? Some brownies from the crafty?”
I take some time to think of my answer before finally saying, “No. I have plenty of drinks in my fridge. One of the other PAs made sure to restock it during filming.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That you will. Have a good night.” I glance at her badge. “Jodie.”
“You too, Mr. Maxwell.” She scurries away and I close the door, peeking into the bag with a curled-up nose.
If I never have to eat another sandwich in my life, it’ll be too soon.
I toss the bag onto the small table and grab a cold can of root beer from the mini fridge.
The first taste buzzes on my tongue and I swallow it back, my stomach aching with hunger.
Sighing, I look at the white bag again and snack on the barbecue chips as I scroll through my phone.
I read over the comments on a video I shared on IG of me in one of my outfit changes between sets.
They’re always a mixed bag. Ignoring the bad ones, I smile at the good ones, trying to make myself feel everything they say I am.
The hollowness in me only grows. I can’t make myself believe any of them.
The praises and compliments are nice, but they aren’t coming from the right person.
I don’t know who that would be, but I know it’s not any of them, or the director, or the other actors.
I reach into the chip bag again and my hand comes out empty.
Frowning and still hungry, I look in the fridge for any snacks, but all I find is one lousy string cheese. I lift it off the side rack and then put it back. Not only am I not in the mood for it, but I also know damn well it’s not going to help anything. I need real food.
I change into something more comfortable before exiting my trailer. A gust of heat hits me, and I hate how bad the humidity is here, never letting up even at night.
“Hey, Sterling,” another co-actor says, looking up at me from his script. “Hey, Cam.”
“Going for a late-night stroll? Don’t let Lisa catch you. You know how strict she is about us getting enough sleep before shooting in the morning.”
“I’m well aware.” This isn’t my first movie working with her, and as long as she keeps asking me to audition for the main protagonist in her horror flicks, it won’t be my last. I play the bad guy too well, and she knows it.
I have to question myself after every role too, especially when the dark, twisted thoughts take over.
Someone switched the prop for a real hacksaw last week, and I didn’t notice until I scraped it against the other actor’s skin.
He screamed and held his hand to the long scratch while jumping away from me.
Lisa was furious, running around the studio like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to find the person responsible.
It wasn’t the first time that’s happened either, and now I hope for each weapon I pick up to be real.
It’s not normal to think that way, and it’s not normal to sneak into the prop room to smell the blood on the blade either.
I shake off my thoughts, walking to the crafty area, scoping out the snack options.
They’re pretty scarce since they’ve been sitting out all day.
Two oranges sit on the edge of the table and I pocket one, then I toss some crackers, cheese, and salami on a plate.
I add apple slices and grapes. I’m not sure any of this is going to cut it, but I don’t have a lot of options right now.
I’m way too tired to drive, and my manager doesn’t want me leaving without a bodyguard.
Not that I don’t do it anyway, but there are too many witnesses around and everyone is ready to gossip about something. I pick a grape from my plate and pop it into my mouth. A delivery man walks by, being escorted by a guard, and a whiff of what smells like cheese pizza hits my nose.
“Who’s that for?” I ask no one in particular, and someone nearby shrugs their shoulders.
Setting down my plate, I follow the mesmerizing scent to one of the back rooms, where the cameraman from earlier takes the boxes from the delivery guy and hands him a tip.
“Thanks, man,” Hayden says. His name is Hayden, and I remembered that easily for some reason. I’m usually horrible with names, but his kept playing in my head like a mantra. That smile kept randomly showing up too, during breaks and clothing changes.
“So, you’re the one who got the pizza.”
“I am,” he says, gripping the two boxes tighter to his body. “I’m unfortunately stuck here working late.”
“I’m not supposed to have pizza.” I slump my shoulders, jutting my bottom lip out.
“Why not? On some special diet?”
“Yeah. It’s one of Lisa’s stipulations. She makes all of us eat the same thing.”
“Yeah, she runs a tight ship. That’s for sure.”
“You’re lucky.”
“Am I?” He arches a brow, setting the food on a nearby table and standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame.
“Yup. You get to eat whatever and whenever you want. I’m supposed to be cut off after eight p.m.”
He glances at his watch. “It’s ten minutes until nine.”
“Yeah.” I suck in a breath when he pulls out a stick of cheese bread from the smaller box. “That smells really good.”
He laughs, placing more food on a paper plate from the crafty station and sits down in front of a blank monitor screen. “You sure you can’t break the rules a little?”
“Pretty sure.” My stomach growls and I can almost taste the cheese melting on his tongue.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He cups his mouth with his hand.
I scrub the back of my neck, licking my lips, and he moans around his next bite.
“I . . . I’m not sure any more delivery guys will be willing to come back so late.”
“Probably not, but you’re welcome to have some of mine. I can never finish a whole pizza by myself, so you’d actually save me from wasting food.”
“I really shouldn’t.” I perch myself on the edge of the table, tugging the corner of my lip with my teeth.
“It’ll be our little secret, I promise. Besides . . .” He waves a slice of pizza in the air, the savory scent slapping at my nostrils. “You don’t want to go to sleep on an empty stomach anyway.”
“What makes you think I haven’t eaten yet?”
“I can hear that stomach of yours talking from over here, and I also saw the turkey clubs they were serving to everyone else today. I wouldn’t eat that shit either. The bread looked dry and the cheese looked like cardboard. Pretty sure they use the vegan stuff.”
“They do.” I huff out a laugh. “Why are you here so late anyway?”
“I could ask you the same thing. Aren’t you usually booked at some fancy schmancy hotel.”
“It’s not that fancy,” I push out, scooting back on the table, my eyes going from him to the food and back to him.
“A lot fancier than mine.” He snags a bite of his slice and spins from side to side in his chair. “But unfortunately, I had to fill in for someone last minute today, so it put me behind on other work I had to get done.”
“That blows. Lisa likes her actors to sleep on set. It’s another one of her—”
“Stipulations,” he finishes for me, using air quotes, and with a wide smile on his face.
He has a really nice smile. It definitely adds to his already good looks.
He’s not classically handsome, but more so in this rugged, unique kind of way.
His nose is curved a little to the left, almost as if he’s had his fair share of broken noses.
Was it from sports, a traumatic childhood, or bad fights?
Why do I suddenly want to know more about him?
“Exactly.” I give in, pulling back the top of the pizza box.
“Finally deciding to take a walk on the wild side, huh?”
I shrug, tearing a small piece of one slice. “Maybe a tiny stroll.”
Practically inhaling the bite I take, I go in for a little more, and he laughs as I devour everything but the crust.
“That escalated quickly.”
“Lisa’s going to kill me when she finds out.”
“If,” he says, getting up and circling around me to shut the door. “If she finds out.”
I smile, grabbing a breadstick. “I like the sound of that if.”
“You know there are chairs you can sit in, right?” He nudges his head at where I’m wiggling my ass closer to the pizza box.
“Yeah. I guess I thought I’d be less likely to eat any of the food you were offering if I didn’t sit in a chair.”
“How’s that working for ya?” He smirks, lowering himself back into his chair.
“Not very well, but also pretty damn well because fuck, this pizza is good.”
He stifles a laugh. “It is, isn’t it? Straight from the best pizza joint in town.”
I eye the name on the box, not recognizing it. “They’ll definitely have a return customer in me.”
“They don’t usually deliver this far out, but I happen to know the owner really well and he handmakes the dough using his very own special recipe.”
“Yeah?” No idea why, but a tinge of jealousy twists in my stomach. I barely know this guy.
“He’s my brother.”
“Oh.” Something settles inside me, and it’s weird because I never should have been bothered by him talking so fondly of someone to begin with. “So does that mean you get free pizza all the time?”
“Hardly. He doesn’t give any special treatment to family or friends. Everyone’s seen as a customer when it involves his hard work.”
I smile at that, licking sauce from my hand. “Makes sense. Give too many handouts and people start taking advantage.”
“Yeah, and I like supporting him anyway. He was the only one who supported me while I was in film school. Everyone else made jokes about me ending up as waiter or working at a drive-through.”
I roll my eyes. “I bet they all feel pretty stupid now that you have your name attached to so many major motion pictures.”
“Eh, if they did, I wouldn’t know. All that negative energy put a wedge between so many of my relationships that I haven’t spoken to many of my family members or friends in years.”
“That sucks. I’m not close to my family either, and don’t really have time for friends. The only one I keep in contact with is my old best friend from middle school.”
“One solid person in your life is better than a dozen people who are ready to see you fail at any given moment.”
“That’s true, and it’s hard to trust people these days. I never know who’s genuine and who’s just trying to use me.”
His expression softens. “Well, if you ever need someone to talk to who’s always willing to share his pizza, I’ll be around a while.”
“Thanks,” I say without missing a beat. “I better get back to my trailer in case Lisa has someone keeping tabs on me.”
His lips twitch at the corners. “Hopefully you’ll sleep better now that your stomach is happy.”
“Hopefully not too well.” I stand from the table and toss my trash in the closest bin. “Night, camera guy.”
“Did someone forget my name?”
“No. I remember it very well, Hayden,” I say, stepping closer to the door. “I just happen to like the name camera guy.”
A chuckle slips from his shining lips. “It does have a certain ring to it, and it beats being called, ‘Hey, you with the camera.’”
I bite back a laugh. “See you tomorrow, and thanks again for the pizza, camera guy Hayden.”
“Night, movie star,” he mocks, and I laugh, my stomach rumbling as I leave the room to go back to my trailer.
I finish off my root beer before tucking myself under the covers of the stiff bed.
Closing my eyes, Hayden pops into my head again, and I expect him to fade away once sleep finally takes me, but instead he follows me into my dreams.