Chapter 9
DANNY
As Anya had predicted, my father had boarded the first flight out of Paris the morning after his set visit and as his plane took off so did the weight crushing my shoulders.
Two weeks into filming and I’m finally settling into the role, the lines coming naturally to me and the character taking over the working part of my brain the second Gwen yells action. Every day, Anya appears outside my hotel with a hot black coffee in hand and croissant flakes dusting her shirt. I remember one morning, my previous assistant Eric had spilled ketchup from his breakfast sandwich on his shirt and I made him change before I could even look at him. But with Anya, I find myself itching to dust the crumbs from her clavicle with the tips of my fingers. Thankfully, I have resisted the urge so far.
When Anya stormed into my hotel room, practically joining me in the shower, I don’t know what came over me. It was the easiest thing in the world to flirt with her, tease her until that pretty blush spread across her cheeks. The minute the door had slammed behind her, I tried and failed to regret my actions, and only the cold water snapped me out of it.
Today, she’s leaning against the car as usual, coffee cups in hand. I take mine from her outstretched arm and slide inside. As soon as I settle in, I look over at Anya who has her nose buried in her phone.
“You’ll probably get twenty minutes before we have to get you to makeup.” She knows I need some time to relax before getting dressed up like a show pony. “So you can have some time to hide the horns before anyone important sees you.” She looks up and gestured to my hair and nonexistent devil horns, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Funny.” I deadpan, trying not to touch the top of my head.
She giggles and returns to her phone, “It’s the new guy’s first scene today, he plays Russell Jones. He’s ‘ Robert’s nemesis who wants to sabotage the plan .’”
“I have read the script, thanks,” I say dryly. “Who’s playing him?” I haven’t familiarized myself with the cast or crew list, and I obviously didn’t have any chemistry reads. Even for me that’s a rarity. The director usually pushes to get me to read with prospective cast — even when I’m a done deal. They like to make sure I have some spark with my co-stars. My father has already handled my scripts, my schedule, my measurements . I have no doubt that his word on casting was final and it didn’t matter if it worked for me.
If I’m being honest with myself, I can’t even bring myself to care. This ride is already on the tracks and it’s too late to get off now so I might as well get on with it. I know Anya, and Gwen and whoever is playing my scene the day of, and that’s enough.
“Callum McBride.”
I instantly stiffen. Callum McBride .
I haven’t seen him since the party at Cassie’s Malibu mansion. The night I punched him so hard he fell through a glass table dusted with coke and he cut my lip with his plated signet ring.
“That’s who’s playing Russell?” I ask quietly, my ears ringing.
Anya’s head snaps up. “Yeah, looks like a last minute casting.” She looks at me quizzically. “Is that a problem? Do you know him?”
I look at her incredulously. Sometimes it surprises me how little Anya knows about me. I’m so used to everyone knowing everything there is to know from Twitter or a vague blind item. Or at least thinking they know everything.
“We have…” Beef. “A history”
Anya nods and bites her lip. “Is it going to be a problem?”
I’m shaking my head before she’s finished talking and the lie tumbles out of my mouth without warning. “Nope.”
“Okay.” She looks skeptical.
“We’re here,” the driver announces, in accented English.
“ Merci , Jaques.” Before Anya has climbed out of the car, I’m already hustling to my trailer.
I feel Anya behind me but before she can step over the threshold I spin, “Twenty yeah?”
“Uh, yeah?”
I close the door in her face.
In the trailer I pull my phone out, dialing his number before I can talk myself out of it.
“McBride. Are you fucking kidding me?”
“It took you this long to notice?” The chuckle my father has at my expense makes my teeth grind. “Just what I thought, you have no care for the job at all—”
“Have you upgraded coke for crack? Why the hell did you think this was a good idea?” I spit.
“Listen,” Charles says, I can imagine his neck getting red. “It was a last minute addition and we’re announcing it this week. The buzz is going to be immense.”
“The only thing that’s going to be announced is my exit from this shitty little film.”
My father snorts, “You’ll do no such thing.”
“I’ll walk off right now.” Before I ever have to work with a snake like McBride.
“You leave now, don’t be surprised by tomorrow’s headlines.”
I pull the phone away from my ear, my fingers clutching it so hard it might snap in half. The thinly veiled threat makes my blood boil. I don’t even bother to ask what he’ll ‘leak’ to the tabloids. My father likes to use the threat of leaking stories to the press. It’s his way of keeping me in line. He can tell them anything and they’ll print it. Foursomes with escorts, destroying priceless artwork, selling meth to children. Even if I swear till I’m blue in the face that it’s all fake, no one will believe me and I’ll be slaughtered in the court of public opinion.
I grit my teeth. “Tell him to keep his mouth shut. He does his lines and he fucks off. I will not put up with this bullshit.”
“Do I look like that pretty little babysitter of yours?” Charles asks. “The day to day has no interest to me. Grow up and do the job you’re being paid to do, Daniel.”
I pull the phone away before I have to hear that man hang up on me. I pace the small length of my trailer, making the room shake with each heavy step.
My fingers hover over the call button, but I don’t click. Sitting on the couch, I contemplate calling. I know if I speak to Pip my anger will just send her spiraling and she’ll either panic or cry. Neither of those options are particularly appealing.
I could just not mention it to her. What is she even going to do about it anyway? She’s in New York in fittings all week, she might not even hear when it comes out in the press. I could call her later, when I have the time to sit and talk through it with her, hopefully with a cold beer in my hand and Callum McBride off my set.
Taking a deep breath, I steel my nerves. If I don’t tell her as soon as I know, she’ll be more upset later finding out I kept it from her.
Me: Callum McBride is in this.
Pip must have her phone in her hand because her text bubble appears immediately. It keeps disappearing, a clear sign she doesn’t know what to say.
Pip: Did you know?
Me: I just found out. Charles is behind it.
The bubbles again.
Pip: Don’t do anything stupid.
I won’t do anything he doesn’t do , I think to myself.
Me: I won’t.
Pip: Don’t make it a thing.
Me: I’m going to speak with Gwen and get him kicked off.
Pip: I guess Charles thinks the attention will help revenue, right?
Me: Pretty much
Pip takes so long to reply I think she must have left her phone.
Pip: I want this to go well for you Danny. If this helps the film and helps YOU, I will live with it. I won’t even be involved really. I just need you to keep cool about it.
Me: Pip, I can’t keep cool around that prick
Pip: You’ll have to.
Me: I’ve got to go, they need me over here.
I throw my phone with frustration, taking a deep breath.
Fuck this, I don’t care what Pip or my father says, I’m not having that man on my set. Just thinking of last year, when I held my little sister as she sobbed over that piece of shit, makes my decision final. No, he’s not staying.
I fly out the door and down the metal stairs, nearly plowing into Anya as she clutches my daily sides in her hand.
“Hey, I was just bringing these—” I storm past her. “Where are you going?”
I ignore her and hear her footsteps keeping up with me. She doesn’t even know where we’re going but it feels almost like she’s got my back.
I storm up to the production truck and swing the door open without knocking.
Gwen, Michael, and Rachel sit around desks, littered with paper and half-eaten breakfasts.
“Danny?” Gwen asks, startled. Anya slips in behind me and quickly closes the door from prying eyes.
“Callum McBride.” My jaw hurts from how tightly it’s clenched. “I won’t work with him. If you keep him, I’m walking.”
They all glance at each other warily.
Gwen starts uneasily. “Look, I know you two don’t have…the easiest of relationships.”
I scoff and cross my arms across my chest.
“But it looks really good for our backers.” My father more like. “The buzz—”
“If I hear one more word about the fucking buzz I will throw something.”
Rachel pipes up, “At the end of the day, he’s signed his contract and we’ve already started shooting studio shots back in the UK. The only way he’ll get out is if he leaves voluntarily, and from what he’s said that doesn’t seem likely.”
“Then I’m out,” I say. “Burn my contract right now. I don’t give a shit.”
“Your father—”
“I don’t give a fuck about my father! Hang him for all I care.” My arms spread wide nearly touching the sides of the cramped production truck. Anya is pressed against the door of the trailer, her eyes wide and shocked, her eyelashes brushing those damn freckles. I must look like a madman. I blink, her wide eyes arresting me in my tracks. I take a calming breath and turn around.
Before I can speak, Michael says “Your contract is ironclad. You’re not getting out of it.”
“I’m sure my lawyers would have something to say about that.”
“We’d sue you for breach of contract.”
“I’ll sue you for dangerous working practices.” It’s only a matter of time before McBride’s poison seeps through the set.
“You’re not here to have an opinion on who we hire. Your job is to show up and read lines.”
I huff a sarcastic laugh, “Well, you can get anyone to do that. I can’t hear any more of this,” I turn and storm out the trailer. “Anya, get the car.”
“Danny.” I hear Gwen call behind me. I don’t care.