3. Aspen
Chapter 3
Aspen
D espite arriving at the studio twenty-five minutes early for Golden Hour ’s first table read, I’ve dawdled away the extra time by playing Sudoku on my phone, trying to calm my nerves. But, of course, the attempt at distraction has only worsened my anxiety, and now, hands cold and shaking, I only have five minutes to make my way inside before I’m officially late. And I can’t be late because I have to make a good impression on my castmates, including Grey Aldridge himself.
Jesus, no pressure or anything.
Ignoring my hammering heart, I pull down the sun visor and flip open the small vanity mirror. My face is flushed with color, betraying my nerves. Hopefully, everyone will think it’s flushed because I rushed to get here, running a little late because I’m laid back—not because I’ve been sitting in the parking lot for twenty minutes trying to build up the courage to go inside.
I close the mirror and turn off the engine. It’s now or never. As I step out of the car, I glance up at the mammoth building looming over me, its silvery facade casting a cold, impersonal shadow. I take a deep breath and head for the entrance.
“Miss Jordan.” The security officer nods as I step inside, recognizing me instantly. “Here’s your badge. Head up to the eighth floor and the receptionist will lead you from there.”
“Thank you,” I say, before stepping into the elevator and being whisked upward.
The doors open to a large, open space sparsely populated with armchairs and coffee tables and lined with frosted glass offices and large windows around the perimeter.
“Right this way, Miss Jordan,” a pretty brunette in red stilettos says as she leads me to a large conference room.
The second I enter the room all heads turn toward me as I’m apparently the last one here. My eyes find Jack Mack at the head of the table, giving me a warm smile, before landing on Grey Aldridge for the first time. He shoots me an easy grin from where he sits, reclining casually in his chair. He’s dangerously attractive, the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome, and I avert my eyes before I can flush even deeper.
I take the only remaining seat, the one to Jack’s right, across from Grey, who’s sitting on Jack’s left.
“All right.” Jack claps his hands together. “Now that we’re all here, I want to start by thanking you all for choosing to trust your talents with me. I’m beyond excited to get started on this project, something I’ve been working on behind the scenes for the past year. Grey and Aspen”—he looks at each of us in turn—“I especially want to thank the two of you. You were my muses while I wrote this screenplay, and I’m thrilled that both of you accepted my offer to star in the film. It’s unreal, and I’m incredibly grateful to you both.”
“We’re the grateful ones,” says Grey in that deep tenor women go wild for. “It’s an honor to be here, Jack.” And how did I never realize he’s actually British? I just assumed it was an accent he put on for James Bond. I feel like an idiot.
“Yes, a huge honor,” I echo Grey.
“Thank you, guys, I really appreciate it,” Jack answers, as though he’s not the most sought-after screenwriter on the market. Not to mention his skill at directing and producing—Phaedra was right, if Jack Mack’s name is on a film, it's practically guaranteed to be a massive hit, both at the box office and with critics.
Maybe that’s why I’m feeling some imposter syndrome sitting here. Or maybe it’s the Academy Award-winning, James Bond-playing, two-time Sexiest Man Alive recipient across from me. Or maybe it's just my general anxiety problem.
“…any problems or questions with the script?” I tune back in to hear Jack saying.
“I was actually curious about something,” I say, after a beat of silence. Everyone looks at me and I regret speaking up immediately, but I can’t take it back now.
“Ask away,” Jack answers.
The film’s basic plot revolves around a famous actress (Rosie, AKA me) who reaches her breaking point with fame and decides to completely transform her look, disguising herself as a normal girl. Meanwhile, a male journalist (Declan, AKA Grey) rescues a heavily intoxicated girl from a club and lets her sleep on his couch to prevent anyone with nefarious intentions from taking advantage of her. In the morning light, he realizes that the girl asleep on his couch bears a striking resemblance to the missing actress who has set the world abuzz. So he decides to spend the week living out her whims with her all across LA, covertly capturing her experiences on camera. He plans to sell the photos to the highest bidder, completely betraying her trust. But by the end of the week, he’s fallen hard for her and changes his mind, deleting all the footage. It ends in a happily ever after.
“I know there are a few points in the script where Rosie looks around, a little paranoid that she’ll be caught. But in general, she isn’t super worried about it, right? I mean, she doesn’t seem to have any qualms about being in crowds of people, despite being a household name.”
“Right. I think that since her long red hair was so intricately tied to her image, she doesn’t think people will notice her with short blonde hair. So she’s not worried about it in general, she only gets paranoid when something happens to spur that, like when a stranger holds eye contact for too long, or does a double take, or pulls out a phone or something. But she’s right, nobody except Declan identifies her with such a drastic hair change.”
“Perfect, thank you,” I say, jotting down a note in my script.
“I’ve got something too,” Grey pipes up, throwing up two fingers in the casual, uniquely male version of raising one’s hand.
“Hit me.” Jack smiles.
“So my character, Declan, is planning on exposing Rosie for the famous actress she is, but then has a change of heart and decides not to.”
“Exactly,” confirms Jack.
“At what point does he have that change of heart?”
“Pinpointing exactly when that happens is tough,” Jack responds. “When I wrote it, I thought it was during the beach scene when he sees Rosie so carefree and happy. But it might play out differently on screen. Honestly, I give you some discretion with that, Grey. I think anytime during their boardwalk-slash-beach day would be fitting.”
“Great, thanks.” Grey nods, also making a note on his script.
The other cast members ask a few more questions before we jump into the table read. I find myself surprised at how much Grey’s talent shines through, even during a simple table read.
At the halfway point, we stop for a ten-minute break.
“Grey,” I say, catching him on the way out. He turns and fixes his dark stare on me. Wow. I momentarily lose my train of thought.
“Yes?” he prompts, a corner of his mouth lifting into an amused smirk.
“I just wanted to officially introduce myself. I’m Aspen Jordan.” I extend my hand. He shakes it with a powerful grip.
“I know who you are. I’m Grey Aldridge.”
“I know who you are too.” I laugh awkwardly. “I’m excited to work on this film with you for the next few months,” I continue. “Maybe sometime we could go for a walk or get coffee or something before shooting starts. You know, to get to know each other better,” I suggest. I was so close to my fellow Fairview Ridge cast members that hardly knowing my costar is a foreign feeling.
His eyebrows raise in surprise. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Jordan. I’m sure we’ll get to know plenty of each other throughout the next few months without any of that.”
I don’t know what I was expecting him to say, but it wasn’t that. Before I can gather my faculties enough to give him a response, or even close my gaping mouth, he walks off, patting my shoulder patronizingly as he goes.