Chapter 32
MICAH
The morning interview was supposed to be a softball. Puff piece stuff. The kind of press where you smile, say the right things about how amazing the cast and crew are, and move on with your day. I’d done a hundred of these. They were practically scripted.
Half the battle with any production was the hype. We had to get the audience excited. The buzz before the movie ever hit post was what got us across the finish line. It decided how many theaters we opened in. Merchandise. Advertising.
So, I had to sit for these silly interviews.
The interviewer was a woman named Maureen something from one of those entertainment outlets that blurred together after a while.
Pleasant smile, perfect hair, the kind of energy that suggested she’d had three espressos before sunrise.
She’d set up in one of the hotel’s smaller conference rooms, her camera crew arranged in a semicircle while Jack and I sat in matching armchairs that looked way more comfortable than they actually were.
“So tell me, what’s it been like filming in paradise?” Maureen asked.
I launched into the standard response. The beauty of the location.
The challenges of shooting on sand. The incredible work ethic of the crew despite the heat and humidity.
Jack jumped in with some story about almost stepping on a jellyfish during one of the beach sequences, which may or may not have actually happened. The guy loved embellishing.
“The footage we’ve captured here is going to blow people away,” I said, steering back to the movie.
“Hawaii gives us this contrast between the beauty of the setting and the darkness of the story. Elena’s world looks perfect on the surface, but underneath, everything’s falling apart.
The islands capture that duality perfectly. ”
Maureen nodded, scribbling something on her notepad. “And, Jack, how has it been working with Micah as a director? This is your first collaboration.”
“Amazing,” Jack said, flashing that movie-star grin. “Micah’s a genius. Seriously. The way he sees a scene before anyone else, the way he gets performances out of people is next level. I’ve worked with a lot of directors, and he’s one of the best.”
I tried not to look surprised. That was actually a genuine compliment, which wasn’t Jack’s usual style. Someone must have given him a script because I knew that didn’t come from him.
“High praise,” Maureen said. “Now, I have to ask about the elephant in the room.” She paused dramatically, like she was about to break some huge story. “The kissing scandal. Those photos that had everyone talking for weeks. What was it like when that all came out?”
I laughed, keeping it easy and relaxed. This was the part we’d prepped for. The part where we acknowledged the chaos and moved on.
“Honestly, it shows how talented our wardrobe and makeup teams are,” I said.
“If people couldn’t tell Chantilly and Grace apart, that’s a testament to the incredible work being done behind the scenes.
Chantilly was a great sport about stepping in for that scene, and I’m just glad we’ve cleared the air.
The truth is out there now, and everyone can move on. ”
“It was wild,” Jack agreed, nodding along. “My wife looked so good in that wig. I didn’t even recognize her at first when I saw those photos. Had to do a double take.”
Maureen laughed politely. “And Grace Stone—she must have been relieved when the truth finally came out.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “She handled the whole situation with incredible grace. Pun intended.” I smiled, hoping that would wrap up this line of questioning.
Jack shifted in his chair. “Yeah, especially since you and Grace are together now. Must’ve been awkward having everyone think she was kissing me when she’s actually with you.”
The words hit me like a bucket of ice water.
My eyes went wide. My jaw literally dropped. I turned to look at Jack. I was pretty sure my expression screamed what the fuck is wrong with you louder than any words could have.
He just sat there, completely oblivious, like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of a press interview. Good God, the man was a fucking idiot.
Maureen’s eyes lit up like Christmas had come early. “I’m sorry, did you say?—”
“Okay!” I clapped my hands together. “I think that’s about all the time we have. We need to get back to making a movie. Final day of shooting and all that. Thank you so much for your time, Maureen. This was great.”
I was already standing and moving toward the door. If there was ever fleeing, this was it.
“Wait!” Maureen called out.
“Really appreciate you coming out. The crew will show you out. Thanks again!”
I hauled Jack into the hallway and closed the door behind us.
“What the hell was that?” I hissed, keeping my voice low even though I wanted to scream.
Jack blinked at me, genuinely confused. “What?”
“You just told a reporter that Grace and I are together!”
He looked confused. “Aren’t you?”
“Why would you think that?”
It was a rhetorical question. I knew how. Full Monty yesterday left little room for misinterpretation.
“Chantilly told me.” He shrugged like we were discussing the weather.
“And you didn’t think maybe that was information you should keep to yourself?”
Jack’s brow furrowed, like I was the one being unreasonable. “I thought everyone knew. Chantilly said it was an open secret.”
“It wasn’t open! It wasn’t even a secret because we were keeping it private!” I pressed my palms against my eyes, trying to think. “Do you have any idea what you just did?”
“I mean, it’s not that big a deal, right? People date on set all the time.”
I stared at him. This man had been in the industry for two decades. He’d been through more scandals than I could count. And he genuinely didn’t understand why this was a problem.
“I have to get to set,” I muttered.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I found Toby in the lobby twenty minutes later, his eyes wide with his phone clutched in both hands like a lifeline.
“I know,” I said before he could speak. “I know.”
“It’s everywhere,” he said. “Twitter’s going crazy. Entertainment Tonight already put out a breaking news alert. TMZ is running with it as their lead story.”
“How bad?”
Toby winced. “Bad. People are already speculating about when it started. Whether she got the role because of the relationship. The usual stuff.”
The usual stuff. Like it was routine for your entire career to implode before breakfast.
“Where’s Grace?”
“Makeup trailer. I don’t think she’s seen it yet.”
I had to tell her. Before she found out from someone else. Before she saw the headlines and thought I’d betrayed her trust.
“Vans are ready,” he said. “We need to go.”
The final day of shooting in Hawaii was supposed to be triumphant. The culmination of weeks of hard work, stunning footage, and a crew that had pulled together despite every obstacle thrown at them.
Instead, it felt like a funeral march.
By the time we reached the location, the story had spread everywhere. My phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since we left the hotel. Texts from my father. From Carol at the studio. From people I hadn’t talked to in years, all suddenly very interested in my personal life.
I shoved my phone into my pocket and tried to focus on the work. We had eight setups to get through today. Eight crucial scenes that would make or break the third act. I didn’t have time for this bullshit.
But the bullshit was everywhere.
I felt the whispers the moment I stepped onto the beach. Crew members who’d been chatting went quiet when I walked past. Eyes darted away. Conversations resumed in hushed tones once they thought I was out of earshot.
They were talking about us. About me and Grace.
Speculating about when it started, how long it had been going on, whether I’d cast her because I wanted to sleep with her.
Or if we’d been sleeping together and that was how she’d gotten the part.
She was unknown and suddenly she was starring opposite Jack Montana.
It pissed me off.
Grace had earned this role. She’d fought for it, bled for it, delivered performances that had blown me away day after day. And now all of that was going to be overshadowed by gossip and innuendo.
I spotted her trailer across the beach, door firmly closed. She’d been in there since we arrived. Hiding. I didn’t blame her.
Every instinct screamed at me to go to her. I wanted to tell her we’d figure this out together. But I couldn’t. Not with every eye on set tracking my movements. Not when going to her trailer would just feed the fire.
So I did the only thing I could do. I worked.
“Let’s get the first setup ready,” I called out, my voice steadier than I felt. “We’re burning daylight.”
The crew snapped into motion, grateful for the direction. Activity was good. Activity meant we could all pretend everything was normal.
Toby appeared at my elbow, tablet in hand. “Grace’s call time is in twenty minutes. Should I send someone to get her?”
“Have Patty do it. Keep it routine.”
He nodded and disappeared.
The morning crawled by. We shot around Grace for the first hour, getting coverage of Buzz and some of the supporting cast. Every setup felt like it took twice as long as it should. The energy was off. Everyone was distracted, sneaking glances at their phones between takes.
When Grace finally emerged from her trailer, my heart clenched.
She looked perfect. Hair and makeup flawless, costume pristine. The consummate professional. But I could see the tension in her shoulders, the tightness around her eyes. She was holding herself together by sheer force of will.
Our eyes met across the beach.
I gave her a small nod. Professional. Distant. She nodded back and walked to her mark. The second I called it, she disappeared back to her trailer.
Lunch was a disaster.
The catering tent, usually buzzing with conversation and laughter, felt muted. People clustered in small groups, whispering. When I walked in, the volume dropped noticeably.
Grace was nowhere to be seen. Patty told me she was eating in her trailer.
I grabbed a plate I had no intention of finishing and sat at an empty table, staring at my phone. The headlines had multiplied. Opinion pieces were already being written. Twitter was having a field day.
Some people were defending Grace, but they were drowned out by the noise. The speculation. The ugly assumptions.
My father had left three voicemails that I deleted without listening to.
All I cared about was Grace, alone in her trailer, probably reading the same horrible comments I was reading. She was probably regretting ever getting involved with me.
We pushed through setup after setup, everyone operating on autopilot. Any time Grace was on set, I saw the crew watching. Waiting. Looking for evidence to support whatever narrative they’d already constructed in their heads.
Which meant I had to completely ignore her.