Chapter 6 #3
I reared back and stared at him open-mouthed, my expression gradually morphing from stunned to murderous.
Pettiness and pranks were one thing, but this was a bridge too far.
A breeze kicked up, ruffling his professionally mussed blond strands before they settled right back into place.
The injustice of his dry, perfectly coiffed hair was the final straw.
“You know what would be great?” I said, the fury in my bloodstream reaching lethal levels. “If you could stop being such a dick,” I spat.
Ryder’s eyes widened in alarm, the smug smile dropping off his face.
That’s right, buddy, you pushed me too far this time.
“I don’t know what I did that made you decide to make my life a living hell, but I’m over it.
Got that? O-V-E-R.” I spelled out each letter, jabbing a stiff finger into his bare chest, which was much firmer than I expected.
It kind of hurt, actually. Another thing to be pissed at him about.
“I am done letting you bully me. I’m not gonna shake it off or pretend to ignore it anymore.
I have a breaking point, and we’re there. ”
Ryder’s face had drained of color, and it was then I noticed that everyone around us had gone silent, the usual buzz of the crew muted to an ominous hush.
I turned and saw Nate’s head popped up behind the camera, his expression appalled, and it was only then I realized: I’d forgotten to turn off my microphone.
Oh, shit.
My blood ran cold, then hot, the burn of shame surging through my veins.
The entire crew had heard my outburst. I watched Nate turn and say something to the assistant director, then stride purposefully across the sand toward us.
My stomach plunged as he approached, my legs quaking and unsteady—from cold or fear, I wasn’t sure which—while Ryder stood still as a statue next to me.
Nate addressed us in a low voice. “Let’s discuss this in my trailer.” His tone brooked no debate.
We followed him wordlessly, a pair of prisoners headed to the gallows.
Some of the crew avoided eye contact, pretending to be busy, while others stared at us owlishly, boring holes in our backs as we passed by.
This is so embarrassing. I felt unprofessional and childish, like a naughty kid being sent to time out.
I think the worst part was that it was such an unforced error.
I couldn’t have remembered to turn my mic off, really?
I couldn’t have waited until we were alone to tear him a new one?
If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve hatched my own retaliation plan instead of throwing a temper tantrum.
I didn’t usually let my emotions get the better of me like that.
Ryder was asking for it, sure, but I needed to get control of myself before I got booted off this film.
This was my big break, and I refused to let Ryder ruin it for me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
My only solace was that I managed to grab my robe while Ryder seemed to have forgotten he was clad in a pair of hot pants.
Objectifying him seemed like appropriate payback for intentionally inflicting frostbite, so I dropped back a step and finally got a good peek at his butt in those microshorts, and truly, it exceeded expectations.
His full, tight buns reminded me of the ripe, juicy peaches I saw spilling from every roadside farmstand in Seafolly. Finger-lickin’ good.
Once we were inside and Nate had shut the door, he turned to face us. He stared us down for a minute, stroking his mustache, letting us drown in our own flop sweat. “So, it appears we have a problem here. Either of you care to share what it’s about?”
I glanced at Ryder, and a rare unspoken agreement passed between us—neither of us wanted to throw the other under the bus.
“No one’s talking.” He sighed. “Look, I’ve noticed the tension between you two, but I haven’t cared to address it because, selfishly, I’m getting what I want on camera. I’d like to continue staying out of it, because if I have to get involved, that’s when things will get messy.”
He began to circle around us as he spoke, and I don’t know if he meant for it to be intimidating, but if he did, it worked.
“Just so there’s no confusion, messy is wasting the studio’s time and money by deliberately ruining takes.
Messy is causing a scene in front of the crew.
Messy is having to get legal involved in allegations of on-set bullying.
” He split a look between the two of us, the implication clear. “I don’t think any of us want messy.”
“So,” he said, stopping in front of us again with arms crossed, completing the “Daddy’s disappointed” vibe of this whole dressing-down.
“Since you’re both adults, I’m going to give you a chance to work this out yourselves.
But I want to make one thing clear. Whatever’s going on here”—he waved his finger back and forth between the two of us—“is not going to ruin my movie. Are we understood?”
We both nodded, chastened.
“Great.” He headed for the door, calling over his shoulder as he exited the trailer: “Don’t come out until you’ve worked it out.”