Chapter 4 #2
“First of many,” Bella says. Her comforting smile flicks toward me. I know what she’s saying: if you get along with Haley, there’s a career in this for you, too.
Fuck, this is an incredible opportunity.
A whiff of rotten seaweed hits my nose, and I suppress a shudder. I don’t know how I’ll make this work, but I will.
“Oh, I’ve totally not introduced myself,” Haley says. She reaches out a gloved hand, and I match her gentle grip. “I’m Haley O’Hare.”
“Good name for a star.”
Her blush deepens, eyes widening. “You really think so? To be entirely honest, I auditioned to be one of the henchmen… hench-women? Hench-people?” There’s something real and charming about Haley’s bashful awkwardness that Christine’s humble brags totally lack.
“A feature set is a lot to adjust to.”
“We’re nearly done though, shouldn’t I have adjusted already?”
“Cut yourself some slack. We’re just here to have some fun and follow directions.”
I tilt the last statement toward Bella, who nods approvingly.
“You’ve been in a feature film before?” Haley asks, hopeful. I never thought I’d have a star looking up to me, but, well, here we are.
I nod. “As a hench-person. So, I can tell you have good taste.”
She giggles, then covers her mouth. “Sorry, I’m so awkward. I promise I’m not usually like this.”
“What happened to Alanna would rattle anyone,” I offer. “I don’t want you to feel like I’m here to replace her. The show goes on, but we take care of our own, y’know?”
Haley’s expression softens, and she relaxes a bit. “Yeah… I’m just so worried for her.”
“I can tell you from experience, she’ll be alright. She’s pissed as hell, I’m sure. Already sick of being doctored. But stunt people are tough. She’ll bounce back one way or another.”
“Well said.” Bella puts a hand on my shoulder, and it’s my turn to blush.
Fuck, I still can’t believe I’m here working with the Bella Zepper.
Camera and lighting assistants move in around us, adjusting the scaffolding to prepare for the next shot.
“What’s up next?” I ask. This question, at least, is fair game; I’m not expected to know the production schedule already.
“Melinoe has to get up off the ground,” Haley says with a hint of wryness. “I think I can manage this one, though.”
A production assistant, a plump woman with a clipboard, calls from nearby, “Haley? Makeup’s ready for you!”
“Oh, gotta go get covered in dirt. See you soon, Mylo!” She gives an awkward little wave, then scurries over to the assistant. They chatter, voices trailing away.
“Anything I can get you?” asks another assistant, a young Māori local.
“Oh, no, nothing. I’m just fine. Or—well, sorry, if it’s not too much trouble, I could use some more water.”
“Here you go.” The assistant grins and offers me the fresh bottle that was already in his hand.
“Oh, thank you.” I hope he’s that good at anticipating needs and he didn’t give me the bottle he’d gotten for himself.
“No worries.” He nods and disappears into the bustling set.
I turn back to Bella, taking a breath to say something—then a too-familiar voice shatters my thoughts.
“So this is my new punching bag?”
Her scent hits me like a rogue wave, and nausea churns at my core. Alphas usually smell unpleasant to me—a side effect of my suppressant drugs—but this is on a whole other level.
I’m nothing if not an expert at performing under immense strain and discomfort. Still, summoning a smile remains beyond me, so I settle for a calm expression and force my gaze up to meet Christine’s. And up. And up. Fuck, she’s tall.
The sun catches her hair, revealing its natural silver-blue sheen.
Her too-blue eyes glitter with mirth. I’m sure she thinks she’s hilarious.
“You ready for a punching bag that punches back?”
Christine laughs, flashing the pointed canines that I’m sure she’s never once considered hiding. “Good find, Bella.”
I accept her offered handshake, gritting my teeth at her bone-crushing grip. Whether she’s showing off or ready to brush it off as ‘I just don’t know my own strength,’ I’m equally unimpressed.
“Christine Evansworth, at your service. You can call me Tee,” she says.
“Mylo.” It takes all my willpower to keep the bite out of my tone. As she releases my hand, I stuff it in my pocket to hide the way I wipe my palm.
“Looking forward to working with you.”
Wariness crackles down my spine. My precautions to hide my omega status are watertight, especially with my off-label suppressant dose nearly eliminating my scent. There’s no chance a beta would clock me. An alpha, on the other hand… and after a long day of sparring and sweating…
I shove the fear away, like I always do. I’ll figure it out.
“Same,” I reply.
“Alanna left big shoes to fill. You sure you’re up to the task?”
I’ll do my best, is what I should say. The response is written deep in my muscle memory. It’s the one promise a stunt person can keep.
Instead, what comes out is, “Not a doubt.”
There’s a spark in Christine’s piercing blue eyes, and the corner of her mouth pulls into a smirk. “Now, that’s the spirit. I’d love to stay and get a taste, but I’d better go prep for the next shot.”
Bella nods. “We’ll catch you tonight after wrap, at least go through some of the basics.”
“Sure thing. See you around, Mai Tai.”
My brain short-circuits. What did she just call me?
I can only watch as she turns and heads back toward the makeup tent, calling out, “Who’s got my triple espresso? Momma needs her caffeine.”
Bella chuckles. “A nickname already. She likes you.”
Someone like that doesn’t like anyone. She just likes to toy with them. I keep my commentary to myself, turning my attention back to Bella and forcing myself to focus.
Fortunately, Bella’s presence has naturally drawn in Gabriel, her assistant stunt coordinator.
Gabriel is a broad-shouldered Black man with a kind smile, taller than me but not nearly as tall as Christine. He looks to be in his early forties. “You must be Mylo. I’m Gabriel,” he says, vowels lilting with a light French-ish accent. Haitian, maybe?
“Guilty as charged. Great to meet you.”
“Thank you for coming out here on such short notice,” Gabriel says. “I know the schedule is tight, but we want you to be as comfortable as possible.”
I nod. “The honor’s all mine. If Bella Zepper trusts you, I trust you.”
Bella chuckles. “No pressure, huh?”
“She’s the best of the best,” Gabriel says, beaming. “Taught me everything I know.”
“But not everything I know,” Bella teases.
“As you keep reminding me. Every day I say, woman! Tell me your secrets!” Gabriel nudges Bella’s shoulder with a playful shake.
Bella smiles and shrugs. “You’re on your way, Gabriel. The stunt today looked fantastic. Five takes though? Poor Haley’s half-traumatized.”
Gabriel raises a hand. “Hey, unless one of your secrets is how to control the wind, it was the best that could be done. Of course it behaves as soon as you walk onto set. Or maybe it’s Mylo here that’s our luck charm.” He turns to me, inviting me into the conversation.
“I hope so. Sounds like you all need some better luck.”
Gabriel’s expression edges toward solemn. “Truly. I’ll walk you through all our rigs when we cross that bridge. Anything you want adjusted, you let me know.”
Bella cuts in, “Don’t feel like it’s your fault, Gabriel. The buck stops with me.”
“We all know what we’re signing up for,” I offer. “If there wasn’t any risk, I’d doubt we’d like the job so much.”
Gabriel cracks a smile. “Ey, you can say that again. Crazy lot.”
I’m sure Gabriel is speaking from experience; it’s basically a rule that all stunt coordinators are former stunt people. It’s hard to trust someone who hasn’t put their own life on the line.
“Anyway,” Gabriel continues, “welcome aboard. Anything you don’t want to bother Bella with, you bring to me. I want to know if you sneeze funny. Got it?”
I nod as Bella shakes her head. “Oh, come on, you can talk to me too.”