6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Alexander
Alexander watched the black car pull away with his wife and daughters inside it. For a second, he couldn’t move. Then he took two steps after them.
“Nicole!”
The car turned at the end of the lane and disappeared. He stopped in the middle of the pavement. Crew members moved around him, careful not to stare. He barely saw them. All he could see was Nicole’s face before the door closed.
She’d looked at him as if speaking one more word would hurt her.
He should’ve followed. He should’ve stopped the car and made her listen. Angela had kissed him. He hadn’t wanted it. He’d pulled away, rejected her, and ended it. Nicole knew him. Once he explained, she would understand.
Alexander reached inside his jacket for his phone. The pocket was empty. He checked the other side, then both trouser pockets. Nothing.
“Fuck.”
He pictured the phone on the cast dining table where he’d left it during the meal. He’d walked away to deal with Angela’s latest concern and hadn’t thought about it again.
Behind him, the trailer door opened. Angela came down the steps. Her arms were folded, and her face had settled into calm that made his anger rise again.
“Did she see everything?” she asked.
Alexander turned toward her. “You don’t get to ask about my wife.”
“I only wondered how bad this is going to become.”
“For you?”
“For the film.”
Of course.
“You kissed me without my consent, my wife saw us, and you’re worried about the film?” he asked, disbelief painting his features.
Angela stopped looking calm. “What do you want me to say? You rejected me. Very clearly.”
“I want you to understand what you did.”
“I understand that I was wrong about you,” she said carefully.
“That’s not an apology.”
“Would an apology help?” she asked. “Would Nicole believe it?”
“This isn’t about what Nicole believes from you.”
“If she comes after me or the production…”
“She isn’t like that,” Alexander deadpanned.
“You said I don’t know her.” Angela shrugged.
“You don’t.” Alexander stepped closer, then stopped himself before anger pulled him into her space. “But I do. Nicole won’t punish hundreds of people for what you chose to do.”
Angela studied him. “You really think this is only my choice?”
“The kiss was.”
“The rest wasn’t.”
He heard the echo of what she’d said inside. He was always at the studio. He never went home. He’d acted like a man with nothing waiting for him.
That didn’t make her kiss his fault. It didn’t make her description of him easy to dismiss either.
He wanted to tell her exactly what he thought of her.
He wanted her off his set, out of his movie, and nowhere near him again.
But Brittle depended on Angela. She’d made that fact clear whenever a costume, line, schedule, or director failed to please her.
She could threaten to walk away and create another expensive disaster even if the contract punished her for it.
Alexander couldn’t start that fight while Nicole was leaving the lot and he had no phone in his hand.
He forced his voice to remain level. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”
Angela’s eyebrows lifted. “Between you and your wife?”
“Between you and me. And yes, between Nicole and me.”
“I didn’t misunderstand what you said.”
“Good. Then you understand that you won’t touch me again.”
“I said I understood.”
“You also understand that whatever you believed was happening between us wasn’t real.”
Her mouth tightened. “You’ve made that painfully clear.”
“Then we’re done.”
“Are we?” She looked toward the lane where Nicole’s car had vanished. “Your wife might disagree.”
“I’ll straighten this out with my wife.”
“You seem very sure.”
“I know Nicole.”
Angela gave him a look he couldn’t read. “Apparently.”
His hands curled at his sides. “Don’t make this worse,” he told himself.
He’d kept solving one problem after another because every delay threatened the film.
Angela knew exactly how much the studio had riding on her.
He’d given her that power and kept rewarding her whenever she used it.
He could deal with that after he reached Nicole.
“I’ll leave you to practice your lines,” he said.
Angela let out a short laugh. “That’s very generous of you.”
Alexander walked away before anger destroyed the last of his control.
He crossed the space behind Stage Fourteen and headed toward the company meal area.
The main buffet had been cleared, but temporary tables still filled the tent.
A smaller section near the back held place cards for the principal cast. His phone lay beside his abandoned glass of water. Alexander grabbed it.
The screen showed missed calls from Nicole. More than he could take in at once. There were voicemails, text messages, and alerts from Vicky’s number too.
He opened Nicole’s messages first and listened to the voicemails.
“The girls are having a terrible day. They need you.”
“They won’t stop asking for you. Please call me.”
“Can you take even one hour away from work?”
The final message matched the first and made the request painfully plain.
“The girls need you. Can you take even one hour away from work? Please call me.”
One hour. Nicole hadn’t asked him to abandon the production. She hadn’t demanded that he cancel the day or come home and repair a month of absence at once. She’d asked for one hour.
He could hear the meal tent around him again. Crew members talking, dishes being stacked, a cart moving past outside.
His daughters had begged him to come get them while his phone sat forgotten on a table.
He’d been a short walk away, listening to Angela complain about the production.
Nicole had finally given up waiting for an answer and brought Prim and Rose to him herself.
They hadn’t wanted an expensive day out or another toy. They’d wanted him to answer.
Rose had asked for the bear voice. Prim had reminded him about their bedtime song. He’d promised both, then failed so completely that Nicole had loaded two sobbing children into a car and driven across Los Angeles to find him.
He’d left a note on his pillow after breaking the promise. A few lines about an emergency and how much he loved them. He’d written the words before returning to the place that kept him from proving any of that to them.
Alexander knew how much he loved his daughters. He would’ve sworn it on his life. Prim knew that the boss could say stop. She was three, and she’d seen the choice more clearly than he had. Prim’s question outside the trailer returned with brutal force.
“Do you live here?”
He’d told her no. She’d answered with the truth.
“You don’t be there.”
Alexander pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead. He needed to call Nicole. Before he could tap on her name, Vicky’s missed messages caught his eye. She was saying that doctors were still testing her. He called her.
Vicky answered after several rings. “Alexander? I’m sorry. I was trying to–”
“Where are you?”
“Still at the hospital. They haven’t told me much yet, but I have my laptop, and I can–”
“No.”
She went quiet.
“No laptop,” Alexander said. “No emails. No calls.”
“But Nicole tried to reach you. I saw her calls after–”
“I know. I found my phone.”
“I should’ve told someone to find you.”
“You were having a medical emergency.”
“I still should’ve–”
“Stop.” His tone softened. “Vicky, none of this is your fault.”
She let out a tired breath. “Is Nicole all right?”
“No.” The answer hurt. “The girls aren’t either.”
“Oh, God. What happened?”
He couldn’t say it aloud. Not here. Not to Vicky. “Something I need to fix,” he said instead.
“Do you need me to call anyone?”
“I need you to turn off your phone and rest.”
“Alexander–”
“Let the doctors take care of you. Work can wait. I have everything covered.”
The words left his mouth before he heard the sick joke in them.
Work can wait. He could say that to Vicky without hesitation.
He could protect her from Cohan Studios and tell her that her health mattered more than the calls and emails piling up around her.
Nicole had asked him to make work wait for one bedtime.
He’d promised. Then he’d sent Vicky to tell her he wasn’t coming.
“Are you sure?” Vicky asked.
“Yes.”
“The revised schedule still needs approval, and there are messages from business affairs.”
“They can go to someone else.”
“You usually want–”
“Not today.”
Vicky was silent for a moment. “All right.”
Alexander looked around the half-cleared tent.
Vicky usually knew where he was before he did.
She tracked every meeting, moved every call, and reminded him of anything that existed outside the problem directly in front of him.
When she was absent, he’d left his phone on a table and become unreachable to his wife.
That wasn’t Vicky’s failure. He’d made his personal life another part of her job, then expected the system to work even while she was in hospital.
“Promise me you’ll turn it off,” he said.
“I promise,” Vicky said reluctantly.
“Good. Let me know what the doctors say when you’re ready. Not before.”
“I will.” Her voice softened. “I hope Nicole’s okay.”
“So do I.”
He ended the call knowing he had nothing covered.
Alexander called Nicole. The call went to voicemail.
“Nicole, please call me. I’m leaving soon. I’ll come home, and we’ll talk. I swear to you, whatever you think you saw, Angela kissed me. I didn’t want her. I pulled away.”
He stopped. “Whatever you think you saw” sounded insulting. Nicole had been standing under the window with her phone. She’d seen enough to walk away.
“I’m sorry. Just call me,” he added.
He ended the message and went to his office.
Some decisions still required answers, but he handled only the ones that would stop the production if nobody answered.
He sent the rest to other executives and told the team not to expect him back that evening.
The work took longer than he wanted and less time than he’d once believed possible.