Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
JOSH
Melanie hadn’t been kidding about wanting to get started. Once production planning was moving, it moved . A month of meetings blurred by and the filming schedule came together. Summer for pre-production, and fall and winter for principal photography in Calgary.
Back when he didn’t think Sirius Darker would ever get made, it had seemed like a good idea to write a winter script. A barren, icy landscape was the perfect backdrop for SD’s bleakness. After looking up Calgary winters, however, he regretted not adapting the movie’s setting to the fucking tropics.
Life in Vancouver was easy to put on hold. No pets to care for, no plants to water. He notified insurance companies, cancelled grocery deliveries, and, after very little debate, parked his car in the safety of his parents’ garage.
“Don’t worry, angel. I’ll be home before you know it,” he’d whispered as he draped the custom protective cover over her. No way the Bimmer was coming to Calgary. The junker Stephen drove was pitted with hail dents and rust spots.
He had a few things to put in his storage locker to make room for the renter he’d lined up for his condo. One of Stephen’s cousins had just broken up with her boyfriend and needed a place. Easy enough to help her out. Moving on after a breakup was a shitshow at the best of times. Plus, the cousin was far more responsible than Stephen was, and the roommate she’d brought with her was cute. Maybe he’d get her number when he got back. If the bedroom eyes the roommate had been giving him were any indication, that number would be in his phone the day he got back.
It was always nice to have a welcome home committee.
He sent a mass text to a group of friends to arrange a few get-togethers before he bounced from town. Then, a separate series of texts over the next few weeks, copied and pasted—no group text here—all saying a version of
Hey beautiful. Heading out of town for a while
Want to make sure I don’t forget you while I’m away?
His incoming messages folder gushed with declarations of how much he’d be missed, followed by invitations to see him that night. Or the next. Or the week following. He had a busy month in more ways than one, ending with the woman whose bed he was currently trying to extract himself from.
“You’re not going already, are you?” Emily cooed as he swung his legs off her bed. She stretched out, letting the sheet slide down and display her tits. “I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too, beautiful,” he mumbled, scanning the floor for his pants. The sheets clung to the sweat on the back of his knees, and he pulled himself free of the cheap satin. He stood, pulling up his boxer briefs and eyeing the time on her phone propped up on her nightstand.
Just enough light from the streetlamps filtered through the rain-splashed windows to give him the impression of where his clothes lay in piles on the floor. The vanilla-scented candle she always insisted on lighting had burned to halfway, its cloying perfume threatening to drop a headache on him. Her shiny pink lipstick pristine and foundation were flawless. How her makeup remained perfect after everything was a mystery. But it’s not like he’d kissed her mouth, and she didn’t give head. Or move around enough to get sweaty.
Maybe it wasn’t a mystery. The night was already slipping from his memory.
Frankly, none of the last several nights had been memorable, but he couldn’t muster up more than the barest enthusiasm for any of them.
His mind kept wandering back to Cass. Her smooth skin was like silk under his hand, the thick flesh of her thighs jiggling with his every thrust. How she bucked underneath him, her hair wild and her lipstick smeared across his face and dick. Her laugh that rang out when he teased her, letting her take his hand to pull him down the street to the next movie.
If half his thoughts were full of being with her, the other half was wrapped in why she’d stopped replying to his texts.
“I’m not gone forever. I’ll call you when I’m back in town.” He leaned back over to brush his mouth over her jaw, thought better of it, and ran his hands through his dishevelled hair. Emily didn’t love it when he left right away, but his flight was booked early the next morning, and he still needed to pack a carry-on. The majority of his stuff had been shipped ahead to the long-term rental waiting for him, but that didn’t mean he wanted to go eighteen hours without a toothbrush.
“Maybe I can come out and visit you for a weekend,” she said, walking her fingers up the plane of his hip to sneak under the hem of the shirt he’d pulled over his head.
“Probably not a good idea. I’ll be too busy, Em,” he said, wiggling out of reach and peering at the mess on the floor in a futile search for his pants.
Her hand froze mid-air. “Em?” she said, her voice turning icy.
Fuck. He mentally scrolled through the texts he sent that afternoon. “Sorry, beautiful, I know that,” he lied smoothly. Who was it? Madelyn? No, Vanya! Almost a hundred percent sure it was Vanya. He scanned the room for a trinket or embossed photo frame with a name, or even an initial to tip him off. Ninety per cent sure it was Vanya.
Eighty percent sure.
“I’m just thinking about a note I need to send to a woman named Emily I work with before tomorrow morning. So rude of me to be thinking about that right now. But that’s what I mean. I’m not going to have the attention to lavish on you that you deserve.”
She apparently bought the line, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he spotted a notebook with a stylized “V” on the cover. Ninety-nine percent sure it was Vanya.
“You’re right, I deserve all of you,” probably Vanya pouted playfully, before turning more serious. “I’ve been thinking. I want to see more of you when you get back, not less. Promise to call me when you’re in town?”
And that would be that. One more contact out of his list.
He’d been clear he was only looking for something casual. No time, no interest, and no appetite for anything serious. Vanya had been on board when they started hooking up last year after meeting at her friend’s gallery opening—or was it hers?—and she’d invited him into her bed after the second drink. They’d met up five, maybe six times since, and always at her place.
Too bad she wanted to change the rules. He wouldn’t lead her on, but he sure as hell wasn’t breaking things off right after leaving her bed. Even he wasn’t that much of a piece of shit. Usually.
He swiped his thumb along her jaw and let her press a kiss to his thumb tip. “I’ll send you a text.”
The parched air attacked his skins as soon as he stepped out of the arrivals gate. Back home the wind had heft, humidity. Here, every drop of moisture had evaporated the second he exited the plane.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me we were shooting in a fucking desert?” he grumbled, stripping his jacket the moment he closed the door of the town car the studio sent.
Stephen ignored him, reciting the address to the driver with a series of preferred directions, and tugged at the wrinkles in his shirt. “We should get there with plenty of time. I promised Westy I’d call her and Brynne in when everyone arrived.”
They still wanted to make an entrance, even if they weren’t in the room. “We literally booked the call at their convenience. Westy’s the one who wanted to start filming a winter movie in the summer.”
“We’re not shooting for months, although you never know when we might get surprise snow.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Nope.” Stephen rolled up his sleeves and turned his face to bask in the sun pouring in through the open windows. “Man, it’s good to be home.”
“Home’s a ninety-minute flight away. You could go back every once in a while and stop eating all my food.”
“Nah. You’d miss me too much.”
“Doubt it.”
“You finally going to add me to your DND list?”
Josh hissed out a pained sigh. When—no, if —any emergencies happened during filming, Stephen would need full, immediate access to him. “Yes,” he said grudgingly.
“Oh sweetheart, I love this new step in our relationship.”
“Fuck off.”
A series of chirps pinged Josh’s phone as he flicked it off airplane mode, adding Stephen’s contact info to his short emergency list. After a quick reply to his mom and swiping a few conversations with women into the trash without reading, a twinge of disappointment plucked at his ribs. Nothing. He didn’t expect anything from Cass anymore. It had been weeks since she’d replied to his texts, his last one being
Heading out of town for a bit
You should call me sometime
If he found out she’d been in Van while he was away, he’d bust down a wall.
Or maybe not. He thought they’d had fun. Trading movie recs and spicy pics, more of the former than the latter. No more of her morning selfies with her giant fancy coffees and sweet smile. Or that one pic where she’d had her curls held back with a scarf like a fifties movie star. Too fucking cute.
For some reason, she’d ghosted. Who knew why. Maybe she got bored. Maybe she got a boyfriend.
Josh scowled at his phone one last time before shoving it in his pocket.
The town car zipped through the mid-morning traffic on unfamiliar streets. The city was still a black box. He’d been out once for a meeting, flying home the same evening. Seen photos of location checks, but not enough to get a feel for the place. He felt like he was going in blind.
It was a good fucking thing he trusted Stephen.
Between landing and the team-lead production meeting starting in an hour, there was no time to stop at their rental apartments. The car dropped them in front of what passed for a heritage building in the west. A brick building still shy of a hundred years old. The scaffolding affixed to the front showed renovations underway.
Great. Now they’d have to deal with construction noise during production meetings.
A perky young woman who introduced herself as Bex the PA, bounced out of the front doors to lead them to the meeting room, pointing out Josh’s office and Melanie’s corner suite as she led them down the hall. He glanced in as they passed by. He wouldn’t argue for the bigger space, even if she’d rarely be here. There’d be other battles he’d need to fight.
He hadn’t argued for much after he’d gotten what he wanted. The most important thing was that he was directing. He could work his way around everything else. Melanie got who she wanted for casting, because of course she did. Hiring Stephen as his first AD meant he didn’t have his usual production coordinator. The entire grip and electrical department were based in Calgary. Location scouts, too, obviously. Plus, props and costume and everything else the storm of emails had covered in the weeks since he negotiated the deal to get him out here.
He and Melanie had spent enough time together hammering out every detail of the next several months that Josh knew what she wanted from makeup to set design. Hell, he could probably name her brand of tampons.
Of course, Melanie insisted Brynne have the lead role. Good thing he had gender-flipped the main characters. Brynne would never accept another arm-candy role, and she pulled enough star power that, save the most misogynistic “fans,” movie goers would laud, or at least tolerate, the changes. He hoped.
Miraculously, film rights for the novel hadn’t been secured, and the author had been so passive through initial negotiations that Josh had quietly asked her who her representation was. When she replied she didn’t know she’d needed one, Josh sent her the names of a few contacts. Negotiations were rougher after that, but fuck if he would let someone get creamed from lack of savvy. Josh had combed through the contract for a day and a half after the studio’s lawyers had their fingerprints on it and found a few loose ends to tie up before he’d given the go-ahead for the final sign off.
Dozens of people had their fingerprints on his baby before a second of film had been shot.
“Look at you, being a team player,” Stephen said, beaming like a proud dad. Josh scowled in return.
Josh claimed a seat in the empty meeting room, facing the door, ready to stare down anyone sauntering in after the scheduled start time. He scoured the agenda: twelve people, and not a single one was early for their first in-person meeting. A bunch of people he didn’t know and therefore didn’t trust, but Stephen knew Terry from when he worked here early in his career, and Josh trusted Stephen, so by proxy …
“Chill, dude,” Stephen said, fidgeting with his pen and snatching glances at the door.
Josh grabbed the uncapped pen out of Stephen’s hand before he was able to absently draw blue streaks through his beard. “Then show me what chill behaviour looks like.”
Everyone thought that film was this loosey-goosey, artistic, temperamental shitshow that ran on whims and muses. Well, it kind of ran on muses. But it also ran on the hard work of dozens—if not hundreds—of people, all pulling together in one direction. And it worked better when the pulling all happened at the same time.
People bumped into the room, trading greetings and hugs as they took their seats, and when the door opened next, a lyrical laugh from down the hall pattered over his skin like a spring rain.
The sound washed over him. He knew lots of people with lots of laughs, but something about that pure voice tugged at his memory and sent an eruption of goosebumps over his torso as he tried to place it.
Just as the door was closing, it wrenched open with a gangly, balding man standing back to let a short, curvy woman in first, with a gorgeous mess of curls and the most kissable lips he’d ever seen.
Make that the most kissable lips he’d ever kissed.
Sweet holy hell. He glanced down at the names making up his design team, and the scowl melted from his face.
Cassidy St. Claire.
Cass was his head of costume.
Of course he’d looked up everyone on IMDb, but very few of the crew had photos attached to their profiles. Melanie had overridden his longtime costume collaborator, so he’d poured over the long list of St. Claire’s work and became slightly less pissy with the quality of her resume. Hell, he’d swapped emails with her on wardrobe direction for weeks, and she hadn’t said a thing. Not like he would have connected the Cassidy St. Claire signing off on correspondence to the Cass Spectacular Tits saved in his phone.
He’d have blamed it on being busy, getting everything ready, but that was no reason not to know everything happening on set. He always knew everything on set, just not much about the women he slept with. And this woman was good luck. Not only had they had volcanic sex that night, but Melanie had asked him about his script the morning after they’d hooked up.
Definitely good luck. But terrible timing.
He’d have to listen to that laugh, smell her hair when she bent close, see those inviting curves that begged for his hands to run over them. Like she’d begged him to do that night. He rubbed a thumb over the angle of his jaw, the memory of where she’d run her tongue, and that sharp inhalation after he’d slid inside her. His dick twitched, and he shut down the train of thought.
He had one priority right now, and it wasn’t chasing after a woman.Not even this one.
He dragged his gaze up to her face. Of all the things she looked—nervous, embarrassed, hesitant—surprised wasn’t one of them as her eyes met his, then shifted, and her face lit up.
“Stephen!” Cass threw her arms around his friend, who scooped her in a bear hug that swept her feet off the ground.
The fuck? Something acidic flickered through his gut. Obviously not jealousy. He was just pissed that the meeting was delayed. That was it. They were starting in two minutes and Cass was busy squeezing the life out of his friend.
Stephen released her roughly with an oof and a broad grin. “Cassie! It’s been way too long! ”
Cassie? For fuck’s sake.
“Ten years.” Cass finally stepped back, shooting a glance at Josh, and her smile morphed from open to awkward. She dipped her head in greeting as she sat on the other side of the long table, a few chairs down. Far enough that they wouldn’t be locking eyes every two seconds; close enough that it didn’t look like she was avoiding him. She tucked a rogue curl behind her ear, resuming her conversation with the gangly man she’d walked in with and a pretty woman with teal hair he vaguely recognized.
Oh, shit. That was Cass’s friend.
Small world.
Josh leaned over to Stephen and whispered behind his hand, “Our head of costume is the woman I told you about from the film fest.”
Stephen tore his eyes from the woman with the teal hair. “What?”
“Cass and I have met,” Josh said, loading the last word with as much weight as he could muster.
His friend closed his eyes. “Fucking hell, dude. Why am I not surprised?” He sighed. “Shit is about to get complicated.”
“Thank you for that astute observation.”
Josh pulled up Melanie and Brynne on the monitor, still back in Vancouver, and started the meeting. They went around the room, Josh giving the same benign nod at Cass’s intro as he did the others as they made introductions, her friend Libby looking much paler and quieter than the feisty person he had met outside the theatre.
Storyboards and design elements were presented. They talked vision, about how they were going to turn the sci-fi epic with a trilogy’s worth of pages into a single film that was Arrival -meets- Contact . With less than half the budget of either.
It was the largest budget he’d ever had, by an order of magnitude, but he still wanted fifteen million more dollars. Better yet, twenty-five million more.
And the team was strong. Lots of experience pulled from Melanie’s contacts, and the people who the union had insisted work on the project had solid portfolios. Cass included. Josh felt a slight unclenching until Cass spoke up.
“I saw the inspiration art Melanie shared, but this script is so character focused, I think we need a different look for costume.” Cass pulled up a series of sketches and photos of cosplayers from conventions over the years.
And a link to fan art Josh had shared on an SD forum years ago. The digitized watercolours were attributed to dr-rykoff-xxx69—he cringed at his sixteen-year-old self for that embarrassing handle—and any moisture in his mouth evaporated. She couldn’t have known the fan art was his. How did she find this, and where was she going with it? He held his breath as she continued.
“This is the kind of dedication these fans have. They love this story. The die-hards will be furious either way, but since we already switched to a female lead, I think we lean into her power, and strip away artifice. Plus,” she continued, smiling at Terry as she pulled her mock-ups out of her design folder, “it’ll save money.”
Damn if it wasn’t the exact look he had been too afraid to bring up with Melanie. Worried he’d already stuck his neck out enough getting the director role, he’d swallowed every creative idea she’d thrown his way.
But not Cass. It was like she had dumped out the contents of his brain and picked out all the rationale he couldn’t put into words. And then levelled it up.
“Realism on Earth,” Cass said, flipping through each design mock-up, “and dirty, near future sci-fi for interstellar travel.”
Josh jumped to agree. “She’s right. This isn’t a space opera.”
Or at least it shouldn’t be.
Melanie narrowed her eyes as she studied the muted design specs in front of her, unmoving.
“Plus, fans will clamour to cosplay these two at all the Cons.” Cass continued, “These costumes will be around for years. We can tap into the maker community and release DIY tutorials. It’s built in buzz.”
A gleam flared in Brynne’s eyes, and she nodded once. Melanie glanced off screen. “Okay.”
Josh released a pent-up breath. Holy shit. Melanie was on board with Cass’s ideas.
Maybe she was bringing good luck here, too.
When the meeting wrapped, Cass lingered, fussing with her bag until the last person filtered out of the room. She stopped fiddling enough to stare up at the light fixtures.
“So, this is awkward,” she said.
Maybe she had been telling the truth, that she didn’t do that a lot. One-night stands. Swapping nudes. He’d run into hookups outside the bedroom more times than could realistically be left to chance and had navigated his share of fully clothed conversations after swapping orgasms.
Cass, apparently, had not. Her flushed cheeks and nervous tics hadn’t subsided, though she was clearly trying to stay cool.
“Doesn’t need to be awkward,” he said. “We had a fantastic night?—”
“We did.” Cass perked up, wringing her hands. “You know, I was thinking?—”
“—and we get to work together on a fantastic project. We had a great night, and I’m glad we had it. We’re professionals. I don’t see a problem working together.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders dropped and her face lost some of its glow. “Good. I thought it might be weird. Having seen each other naked and all.” The spots of colour high on her cheeks deepened. “And that’s how you make it weird.”
A huff of laughter escaped his throat before he could shut it down. He’d missed that unfiltered personality. Something funny and disarming came out of her mouth at the most unexpected times.
“We’re probably going to have a few weird moments, but we got along great then,” he said, determined to put her at ease, “and who knows, it might help us work better together now.”
“We really did. I hope we still do.” She bobbed her head, her mass of curls bouncing alongside her round cheeks. “ Oblivion . I looked it up when I got back. You did everything yourself.”
He had. Every mistake was his. The continuity errors. The jilted performance he barely coaxed out of the lead actor. At least six minutes could have been cut. He crossed his arms. “It was a piece of shit.”
“It was really good.”
“The festival should never have accepted it.”
“The vetting for that festival is stringent. You should be proud.”
He pressed his lips into a thin line. He didn’t need her sucking up, but her comment didn’t have the usual sycophantic reek. And she had said she’d liked it months ago, even before she knew it was his project. “It needed a lot of work. It wasn’t perfect. It needed?—”
“It needed an editor, a budget, and good wardrobe, and now you have those.”
That he did. Even today’s meeting with the team was putting his fears at rest. He let a half-grin creep onto his mouth. “Careful, now I just have a budget for lens flare,” he said wryly. “Might still be amateur hour here.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, smiling. “Plus, I’ll design such a gorgeous wardrobe you won’t need to resort to gimmicks.”
“Gimmicks? You offend me.”
“I don’t believe that, either. I think you like it when I tell you what I think.”
His smile spread to match hers. Yeah, they’d work together just fine. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “Looking forward to working with you.”
“Same.” She closed her eyes and looked like she was psyching herself up. “Um, if you haven’t already, I’d really appreciate it if you deleted our chat thread,” she said in a quiet voice.
Josh didn’t need to blush. Cass was going red enough for both of them. He couldn’t blame her for not wanting intimate photos in the hands of someone she was working with. “Of course,” he said gently. “Do you want to see me do it?”
“Thanks, but I don’t need to watch. I trust you.”
That felt good. Unearned, but good. He’d delete the thread later, when she wouldn’t see herself saved as Cass Spectacular Tits in his contacts. Cass Head of Costume was more appropriate for a strictly working relationship, anyway. “I’ll see you first thing tomorrow.”
“Raya’s useless here.” Josh scowled down at the app and scrolled … for nothing. He’d received an invite for the exclusive dating app years ago but had never used it. Never needed to. But here in Calgary, with no one he knew in town, he was still out of luck, and Raya’s list of locals was so thin it was virtually non-existent.
For the best, really. Focussing on the production and all.
“Does poor Josh need to use Tinder like a peasant?” Stephen mocked, turning the car into the underground parking garage of the long-term rental Terry had secured for the out-of-towners. “Those fuckers better not have given us a shared wall. I don’t want to listen to your?—”
“Life changing lessons on how to please a woman?” Josh checked their apartment units. Nine-oh-eight and eight-oh-eight. Lucky numbers. He’d have to call his grandmother and let her know. “I’m right below you. Take off your fucking boots when you’re home.”
“If I wanted to be told how to live, I’d have moved back in with my parents while we were here.”
The neighbourhood seemed fine enough. Just outside of the city’s tiny downtown, the fully furnished apartment was by far the nicest accommodations a studio had ever put him up in. Modern appliances he wouldn’t use, with sleek chrome finish on everything. Grey walls and dark faux hardwoods, the spare furniture selected to coordinate without looking too matchy-matchy. The designer must have gotten a discount. The same set up could be seen through the windows of the neighbouring suites.
Stephen exited the elevator on Josh’s floor, following him to his eighth-floor apartment.
“Aren’t you going to, I don’t know, go home?” Josh said, turning the key in the lock.
“Later.” Stephen toed off his shoes and pushed past him. He dropped onto the rental’s couch and kicked his socked feet up on the coffee table. “So, Cass, huh?”
Josh deposited his bags in the tidy bedroom and crashed on the other end of the couch. “Yep.”
“And?”
“She stuck around after the meeting, and we talked. Didn’t dance around it. We agreed we can leave it in the past and be strictly professional.”
“Really? You talked about her for weeks after she left. I don’t think you talked about anyone you’d hooked up with. Ever.”
He didn’t. Not usually.
But Cass was different. Funny as hell. Great taste in movies. Gorgeous and sweet.
And his head of costume. Fuck.
Josh rolled his shoulders under his tee shirt. “We had a good time. We hung out. Once. I’m keeping her at arm’s length.”
“Uh-huh. Well, you’re pretty good at keeping people from getting too close. Maybe you didn’t like her that much. You didn’t bother to find out her last name or where she lived when you hooked up.”
He tried. The offer to fly her out was genuine, but she didn’t give it to him. Maybe she was the one who wanted to keep things casual. Josh shrugged it off.
Stephen kicked up to leave, but hesitated in the doorway. “Listen. I’ve known Cassie for a long time. She’s a sweetheart. Don’t mess around with her, okay?”
“I’ll be too busy to even think about anything other than this movie.”
“Good.” Stephen stepped into his shoes without doing up the laces. “And about the film? Don’t worry. I’ve got your back.”
It wasn’t home, but it was for now. He already missed his walls, bronze so dark they were almost black. The botanical mural he’d painted over the course of a year, with each fiddlehead fern and palm frond painstakingly placed. The expanse of wall in front of him was a blank canvas, waiting for something to fill it. The studio would lose the damage deposit, but that sounded like a them problem.
Josh chucked his phone onto his rental’s couch and sunk back onto its tightly woven tweed, scrubbing a hand over his patchy stubble. He hadn’t been lying earlier. He did think he and Cass would work well together. Even before they fell into bed, they’d had a good time. The most fun he’d had in ages, arguing about every detail about the films. If he hadn’t wanted to put his hands on her so badly, he would have talked with her all night.
It had been a pleasant surprise to see her come through the door, even if she looked like she was seconds from dying from embarrassment.
Go figure. The one person he knew in town was the one person he couldn’t hookup with. It might be nice to have a friend in town. Nice change from his usual relationship status. And they could argue about other things without landing up naked.
Lots of people in the industry mixed business with pleasure. Lead actors entering liaison, stunt coordinators falling for each other, the director screwing a production assistant. Or a handful of production assistants .
That wasn’t his style. One poorly ended fuck buddy arrangement on set was enough. The only drama he wanted to be responsible for was on the other side of the camera, so not having a rotation of women here to dip his dick into was a blessing. He needed to focus. No room for mistakes. Melanie might not fire him from the project if he screwed this up, but she’d never work with him again.
More than that, Sirius Darker was too important to him to fuck it up.
No, his energy was needed on set, not trying to get laid. Especially not with someone he worked with, even if they’d sparked so hot they set the night on fire. Her round ass fitting perfectly in his hands, every curve softening against all his hard parts.
He willed himself not to take a final look at her gorgeous body when he pulled up their chat to delete the thread. For good measure, he cleared the cache, to remove temptation.
No rule against thinking about her, but he’d be too busy for anything other than pulling this movie together over the next several months.
Come to think of it, it was probably a good thing they had already slept together. Otherwise, he might be distracted wondering what it would be like to have her underneath him.
Good thing he got her out of his system already.