Chapter 3
Chapter Three
ROMAN
“You’re dragging ass today,” I tease as I smack my older brother on the shoulder. “Is this what happens when you’re north of thirty?”
“That’s because I got here and started running half an hour before you, shithead,” James huffs as he turns down the speed on the treadmill. He’s right, but it’s fun to give him a little hell. “And you can report back to me in two years…”
“First one to hit the one-mile mark buys the other a drink later?” I offer. James doesn’t drink, but he’ll humor me. “I’ll even buy you a fruity little mocktail with one of those drink umbrellas if you win.”
James looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Between all the training you’ve been doing and the fact that you stopped smoking, you’re going to wipe the floor with me. As if I’m taking those odds.”
It’s true; I’m in the best shape of my life for this role. One benefit and drawback of playing a superhero means I basically live part time at the gym.
“In that case, how about you just agree to buy me a beer later?” I smile before cranking up the speed on my treadmill.
Starting off with some sprints and cardio work has been one of my favorite parts of training for this new role.
If I’m alone, it means I get to zone out and run to music, but if I’ve got someone joining me for a session, it’s a good chance to catch up.
My siblings join me from time to time – I know James is busy with his own filming schedule right now and all the work he’s doing with trying to get a bigger role at Starlight Studios, but he’s squeezing in a workout today.
“If you’re lonely, just say so, Roman,” James teases as he continues to slow his pace to a walk. “Heard about the recasting shit today. I’m sorry, man.”
I grimace as the burning starts in my lungs and legs. “Not much I can do about it,” I push out between breaths.
“Better now than a few weeks out from filming.” James takes a swig from his water bottle.
He’s not wrong. At least this happened at the beginning of the casting process.
I know Arnold and the studio want to get the leads cast first and then everyone else.
Once that happens, it’ll be a few months before we begin actually filming.
“It’s still annoying though,” James adds.
“That’s showbiz, baby,” I grimace. “You off to England for filming soon?”
James nods, catching his breath.
“How are things going with Kat?”
James is currently duking it out with Deacon trying to avoid signing a PR relationship contract himself.
Turns out his co-star is a real piece of work, and not only that, but he’s fallen for someone else and doesn’t want the contract to get in the way of that.
Which, fair enough. I hope he gets a chance to give things a go with this girl he’s interested in – he’s down bad.
“I’m working on figuring something out,” he says. Effectively closing the conversation. “Quit yapping and get back to work,” he adds, knocking up my speed a few points. I curse and work my legs faster. No pain, no gain.
After heading to the gym and getting in a good workout, my muscles are screaming and exhausted, but my brain is racing. Refusing to let go of the names Bill mentioned for the chemistry read. While normally I like to go into these things relatively unbiased, my curiosity gets the better of me.
Sitting back at the marble kitchen island in my penthouse, I search the name Vivian Treadway on my phone. I can’t be sure whether I’ve heard her name before, but when I flip through various articles and her IMDb page, I’m satisfied that she could bring some public interest to the movie.
It looks like she’s famous for some show that ran on a cable network for the last two years.
She’s been photographed on various red carpets, and no mug shots have come up yet, so I’ll take that as a win.
It also doesn’t hurt that she’s a blonde who’s incredibly easy on the eyes.
Shouldn’t be hard to have chemistry with someone who looks like that.
I continue to flip through articles as I eat my prepackaged, protein-heavy dinner straight from the plastic container it arrived in. Chewing mindlessly and swallowing without tasting, I type out the other name into my phone.
Clover Daly.
Instantly, Google spits back a “Did you mean Chloe Day?” which is never a great sign. I hit “ignore” and push past to see whatever results are waiting. Immediately I recognize a photo that pops up; it’s a still shot taken from a commercial that I and millions of other Angelenos are familiar with.
A stupid, fucking eczema cream commercial. I immediately remember it because it was notably annoying. The kind of ad that makes you roll your eyes. The kind that makes thirty seconds feel like an hour. That makes you regret having cable TV, or any program that doesn’t allow you to skip ads.
There’s a YouTube link, and because I’m apparently a masochist, I click it. The commercial opens with an overly serious voiceover, and ridiculous shots in the background of the poor girl, Clover, looking absolutely distraught and hiding in a darkened room.
She looks like she’s hiding from a captor, for fuck’s sake.
Delicately, she lifts her shirt sleeve to reveal a painful-looking rash on her arm before dissolving into a fit of tears.
I’ll admit it; it’s her job to sell the cream, and she’s doing a good job of it.
I feel bad for her, even though I know that’s all the work of a makeup team, and her arm underneath it is fine.
It transitions to a medical office where she’s making the heartbreaking confession to her physician about this skin condition.
The doctor gives her a reassuring smile and places a comforting hand on her back, and I know it’s totally benign, but something about it all grosses me out.
He looks like a creep. Guy’s probably played a sex offender on some criminal re-enactment show. Certainly looks the type.
Then the commercial cuts to Clover after presumably a few weeks or months.
She’s now taking a walk in the sun with some friends and wearing a short-sleeved shirt that reveals her rash has long disappeared.
A montage of her doing various outdoor activities, from lounging on the beach to gardening, is shown while tons of fine print flies across the bottom of the screen as the narrator does their best job to sound chipper despite warning you about potential side effects that range from mild discomfort to thoughts of death. Doesn’t that sound lovely?
Finally, Clover faces the camera and gives a beaming smile.
It makes my heart stutter for a second. By this point I’d normally be looking down at my phone, or I’d have fucked off to grab a beer or something.
This is my first time seeing the very last bit of the commercial.
She’s so sincere, so happy, that I find myself drawn in, and wanting to hear what she has to say despite myself.
“Talk to your doctor about Amidoxin, today,” she says melodically before the video ends.
“Oh, fuck off,” I growl before navigating to her IMDb page. Surely there’s got to be something else on here. She has to have done more than this asinine commercial. I need her to have done more than that.
Unfortunately, she has very few titles attached to her name.
I scroll and search, but all I’m seeing are two credits.
They’re both indie movies that I haven’t even heard of.
She was a supporting actor in one, and in the other, at least it looks like she was the lead.
I groan and run my hand through my hair.
Vivian bringing some public interest and potential audience members to the project? I can work with that. Clover bringing absolutely nothing to the table except that stupidly annoying commercial? That’s useless to me.
I don’t want to carry the entire project. I also don’t want people to look at the poster and go, “Hey, is that the eczema cream girl?” Fuck. Pair that with her overall lack of experience? She’ll probably be following me around like a lost little puppy dog.
I scroll back up to see her headshot, where a set of piercing sea-green eyes meets mine.
Her plush lips are twisted into a slight smile that’s both infuriating and inviting.
It’s like she’s smirking at the fact that I find her undeniably beautiful even though I already irrationally dislike the woman.
Her long red hair hangs in loose waves around the creamy skin of her bare shoulders.
Is her hair even half as soft as it looks?
With a clatter, I drop my phone a few inches onto the kitchen island.
Fuck that. I will not be thinking about her in that way.
Because while she may be beautiful, I refuse to acknowledge the possibility that she’ll be my co-star in this movie.
There’s no way – it’ll have to be Vivian Treadway.
She and I will have chemistry together, I know it.