Chapter 13 Miles
MILES
Ihead to the dining room. Before opening the door, I take a deep breath and square my shoulders. I can do this. I am a professional, and I’m not even that late.
I open the door. Snacks, cheese, crackers, coffee, and several bottles of wine, all of it untouched cover the table.
Everyone has a full water cup in front of them.
Ava is speaking. Sitting next to her is Thora Townsend, her silver hair pulled back in a tight French twist, an oversized cashmere cardigan wrapped around her thin torso.
Quite a change from the last time I saw her in Dior accepting her second Oscar.
Next to her is her assistant, a young man whose name I can’t recall at the moment.
We’ve only met a handful of times before.
The rest of the table is filled with various members of the crew, personal assistants, and, of course, Ty.
I wish Jake were here so I didn’t feel quite so on my own, and I probably wouldn’t have forgotten about this table read if he was.
I resist the urge to check my phone for any updates on his ETA.
It’s bad enough that I’m late… Late and scrolling mindlessly on my phone like some tone-deaf teenager is not a good look.
As I enter the room, Ava goes silent. Everyone looks up from their scripts and stares directly at me.
Natalie clears her throat. “So, what is it, Miles? You just hate table reads?”
“Sorry. I really thought this was scheduled for tomorrow. I hate to admit it, but I’m a little lost without my assistant.
” There is only one empty seat at the table, right next to Ty, a little placard with my name on it waiting for me to sit.
I look a few times in vain for another chair, but there is none. Can I stand?
“Have a seat. Join us,” Natalie says, clearly unimpressed with my excuse.
I’m kicking myself that I got the time of this table read mixed up in the first place. I’m usually really on top of all that—well, with Jake’s help. Maybe I rely on him more than I thought. Natalie and I go way back, but she is a professional first, friend second. I can tell she’s pissed.
I mouth, Sorry, at her, to which she just rolls her eyes and motions for me to sit.
Reluctantly, I take the seat next to Ty. Glancing over his shoulder, I see he’s on page seventeen. I pick up the script from the table and turn to the same page.
Ava reads, and I’m spellbound by the subtle approach she is taking with her character.
From what I’ve seen of her other films, I sort of expected an over-the-top performance, but her delivery is quiet, yet compelling.
I’m pulled in, and it makes the table read fly by. Except when I have to read with Ty.
Even his voice is grating. Too deep, like he’s trying to sound like Tom Waits or Ron Perlman or something.
Ridiculous, since I know for a fact his regular voice is much more nasally.
The tension at the table when we say our lines to each other is palpable.
We’re talking at each other, rather than having an actual conversation.
We’ve gotten through a good chunk of the script when Natalie stops me mid-sentence. “I think that’s good for now. Let’s call it a night, gang. I know it’s been a long day,”—she looks pointedly at me—“for most of us. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow at nine and discuss notes.”
There are nods around the table. Tomorrow. If there were a rock nearby, I’d kick it. Skye has a surprise adventure planned. We said tomorrow after my run. I’ll have to find her and see if we can do it in the afternoon.
Ava and Thora start chatting, their assistants following them out. I’m about to beeline for the door to find Skye when Natalie says, “Miles. Hang back a minute.”
My stomach plummets into my shoes.
“Oooh, someone is in trouble,” Ty sneers.
I grit my teeth so I don’t punch him in the face. I’m not a violent person, but something about Ty brings out a white-hot rage in me.
Once everyone leaves, Natalie silently opens one of the bottles of wine and pours herself a large glass.
The glug of the wine echoes off the stone floors, punctuating the silence between us.
I want to say something just to break the tension, but I also don’t want to speak first. She pours a second glass and hands it to me, still without a word.
Then she takes a seat closer to the fire.
She motions to the other chair. I sit and try to gauge exactly how screwed I am.
Is this booking the next flight and looking for a job in construction screwed?
Or just keep my head down the rest of my time here screwed?
Once we're both situated with our red wine, it feels slightly less like a summons to the principal's office—slightly being the operative word. Natalie finally breaks the silence.
“So, the table read just slipped your mind?”
“I thought it was the morning after you all arrived.”
“You didn’t get my email yesterday changing it?”
I hadn’t checked my email. It feels odd that email even exists in these crumbling stone walls and wild landscape.
“It won’t happen again.”
She nods. “What’s the story with you and Ty?”
I take a sip of wine and look away. “No story.”
She puts her wine down on the small table next to her chair and crosses her arms. “Miles. Don’t bullshit me. You’re a good actor, but a terrible liar.”
I sigh. “Ty and I worked together before. We had some personal issues.”
Natalie shakes her head. “Look, if you don’t want to tell me, fine.
I’m not your therapist, I’m not your boarding school matron, and I’m definitely not your mother.
Right now, the bristling alpha positioning you two are doing could work on screen.
Just make it work for you, okay? Don’t let it make you lose sight of your character’s ultimate need. ”
I nod. “My character’s ultimate need.”
She stands, pours a little more wine into her glass, her nails clinking on the bottle, and says over her shoulder as she leaves the room, “Love.”
Natalie’s words rattle around in my head.
Love.
I put my wine on the table and go in search of Skye. I check the library where we almost shared a kiss yesterday, but it’s empty.
I head upstairs and turn in the direction I saw Skye go the other day.
The halls are dark and cold, probably a good ten degrees cooler than the other parts of the castle I’d been in.
I’m just about to turn back and try knocking on her bedroom door when a laugh echoes from somewhere down the hall, and then piano music plays.
Around the corner, light spills out of a large open door and, with it, the sound of voices.
When I walk into the room, Skye is sitting at the piano, her fingers poised on the keys, and Elsie is rolling on a large rug by the fireplace, laughing hysterically. Soft tears are running down Elsie’s face, and she’s trying to catch her breath. Skye is nodding and saying, “I know. I know.”
Their joy is infectious. I smile. “Looks like I found the party.”
Skye jumps with a yelp and accidentally bangs the keys. Elsie startles as well, the whiskey in her glass splashing out.
“Miles!” Elsie says, her arms flinging out wide. “Have some drink.” She whispers to Skye in a not quiet voice at all, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell him a thing. I won’t breathe a word. I’ll take it to my grave.”
Skye starts to laugh again, and they both say, “Grave,” in a fit of giggles.
“How much whiskey have you two had?” I ask, unable to hide my smile.
“We are grown women. We will not be shamed if we get a little—” Elsie stands, stumbles a moment, and then sits back down on the couch this time. “Okay, maybe a lot bit drunk.”
“Come on. Let’s get you two to bed.”
Skye nods and helps Elsie to her feet. They whisper together, this time quiet enough that I can’t hear.
“Okay,” Elsie says. “Let’s go.”
We drop Elsie off at her room first—hers is the first one to the left down the long hall where Skye’s and my rooms are. “You promise you’ll come to watch the filming.”
“Aye, and you’ll come to karaoke?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.” The two women embrace like they are lifelong friends, saying goodbye.
Skye seems less drunk than Elsie, but every now and then she stumbles, so I stay close just in case. “Do you play the piano?”
“A bit.”
Is there anything she can’t do? I smile. “Maybe you can play for me sometime?”
A mischievous smile flirts at the corner of Skye’s pink lips. “Maybe, if you’re good.”
I laugh, but the way she’s looking at me is making the chilly hallway suddenly very warm. I try to bring the conversation to a more neutral place. “I thought you and Elsie would get along.”
She nods. “She’s wonderful. So talented and smart. She’s going to give me notes on my project.”
“Oh, that’s great.” I’m a little jealous because I offered to read it, but of course, she would want the writer’s opinion. “About tomorrow, would it be okay if we rescheduled it for the afternoon? We have to finish the table read in the morning.”
When we get to her room, she walks in, leaving the door open, and goes to sit on the blue chair in the corner.
I linger at the door as she kicks off her shoes. “Will the afternoon work?”
“You don’t have to stand in the doorway. Come in.” She makes an exaggerated waving motion with her arm.
I step inside, but don’t want to make myself too comfortable. She’s been drinking, and I don’t want to cross any lines.
“Shut the door. You’re letting in the draft.”
Skye is taking off her sweater, revealing a threadbare white tank top, her black bra visible underneath.
My heart is in my throat. I want to reach out and touch her.
I want to run my hands along the soft fabric of that top.
I want to pull it up over her head and bury myself in her neck, then work my way down.
“Miles, will you shut the door?”
I swallow hard. “I should go. Let you rest.”
Skye walks over and stops just short of pressing her body against mine. She swings the door shut behind me. Her face is so close to mine. She smells like a fancy cocktail, notes of lavender and whiskey. She says in a whisper, her lips almost touching mine, “It lets in the cold.”
Her blue eyes are searching my face, and I can’t find my voice.
She puts her arms around my neck, and my hands find her waist instinctively.
I want to kiss her—God, do I want to kiss her.
But it wouldn’t be right. I don’t want our first kiss to be a hazy memory for her because she was two sheets to the wind.
I want her full consent, and I want us both to remember it for the rest of our lives—or at the very least, the next day.
She leans in, and I ignore every fiber of my being telling me to pull her in closer. Instead, I push her away.
“Skye, we shouldn’t. You’ve been drinking.”
She waves a hand at me. “Pssh. Drinking schminking.”
I laugh. “Drinking schminking, huh?”
She smiles and shrugs as she sits on the bed and starts taking off her socks. “When did you stop reading your fan mail?”
I shake my head. “You’re really interested in fan mail, huh?”
“Research for my book. When did you stop reading them?”
Searching back, I try to remember. “I must’ve been twenty or so.”
She nods and starts to unbutton her pants. “Do you remember any of them?”
Raising my eyes to the ceiling so I’m not outright staring at her, I think back. “I saved some. There were a couple I used to reread. Actually, one was from Scotland…” My heart beats fast. It couldn’t be. “I could have Jake send them.”
When she stands, her pants fall to the floor, revealing black underwear and long legs. “No. You don’t need to do that.”
“Okay.” I try to focus, get back on topic, peel my eyes away from her thighs. “Tomorrow afternoon, then, for our adventure.”
I say a quick goodnight, knowing the more she takes off, the harder it’ll be for me to leave. Leaning against her shut door, I try to catch my breath.
Tomorrow.
I can kiss her tomorrow.
I did the right thing. Only, I’m not supposed to kiss her at all. I’m supposed to be just friends with her so I can keep my job. This role could really put me back on track: more awards, fewer memes.
And what about all the fan mail stuff? I need to call Jake.
The bathroom door opens, and Ava walks out, a small towel wrapped around her. What is with the half-naked women everywhere tonight? I move away from Skye’s door like it’s electrified and am about to duck into my room when Ava spots me.
“Miles.”
I give a half wave. “Goodnight, Ava.”
She pads over lightly, her satin slippers smacking against the stone floor. “Wait.”
I freeze, my hand halfway to my doorknob. I don’t want to wait. I want to try to call Jake. Then go to bed and dream about Skye’s arms around my neck until I fall asleep. But I already started this whole production on the wrong foot, so I turn to her and put on a large smile. “What’s up?”
“Where were you this morning? I thought we agreed to talk more about that thing.”
Thing? I have no idea what she’s talking about. “I’ve taken up running again. I’m trying to get out there every morning around six-ish. You know, stay in shape.”
“Running?” She looks deep in thought before she smiles. “Okay. That’ll work.”
“Work?”
“Right. My process, you know? Getting close with each other so it translates on screen.”
“We can be running buddies, then.”
I’m on the phone dialing Jake before the door is completely shut.
“What’s up?”
“You know that little box I have where I keep letters and trinkets and things?”
“You have a box of trinkets?”
I sigh. He doesn’t know about the box. It’s not like we go through it together while wearing face masks and drinking wine. “I think it’s in the closet. Can you look for it?”
“Sure. I’m out at dinner right now.”
“It’s no hurry. Just let me know when you find it.”
“Sure thing.”
I lie on my bed, my mind a mess. Trying my hardest to run lines to put myself to sleep, but my mind keeps wandering to Skye. She wanted to kiss me. She wanted me to stay. I can still smell her lavender scent in the air.