Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CLOVER
We’re silent as we make our way through the building.
The hallways are lined with posters from Starlight Studios films throughout the years.
Framed pictures of some of Hollywood’s most famous celebrities at various red carpet events also cover the walls, a reminder to anyone who walks here that Starlight Studios is one of the top players in the industry.
I’d expected Roman to say something as we started our walk, but apparently, despite the fact that he’s a prolific shit-talker, he’s clearly run out of things to say.
The silence stretches awkwardly between us.
When I realize I can hear myself breathing, I resign myself to needing to be the one to initiate a conversation.
As much as I dislike Roman, I dislike silence even more.
We walk past a framed photo of Deacon Everett shaking hands with a former president. I gesture to the picture.
“So... Deacon seems... intense.” Perhaps not my most eloquent moment, but maybe it’ll get the conversation flowing.
Roman gives a noise of disapproval and nothing else.
Okay, I guess the silence continues. A minute later we’re at the back door of the building.
“You know, for a tour guide you’re pretty quiet,” I mutter.
Roman stops walking and gives me side eye.
“Zero stars, would not recommend,” I continue.
“Oh, really?”
“You’re going to have to work harder for those stars,” I sigh.
Roman clocks me with a withering glare. “Over to your left, you’ll see Warehouse A, where they’re currently working on the production of Under Violet Skies, starring James Everett, Branson Sullivan, and Ava Anders,” he says, putting on a voice that sounds frighteningly like a tour guide.
“Further behind Warehouse A, we have B, C, and D. You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure out what the names of the two warehouses behind D are. ”
I ignore the jibe. “Where will we be filming?”
“B.”
“What’s that way?”
“More administrative buildings,” he answers.
I’m struck in that moment how strange it must’ve been to effectively grow up at a film studio.
He must know this place like the back of his hand.
Chancing a quick look down at his right hand, I see the compass tattooed there.
I wonder what compelled him to get it, and what else he has inked on his body. His stupidly attractive body.
We walk silently beside one another, and as people pass, many of them stop to say hi to Roman, or wave and smile at him as we go by.
He seems well known and liked here on the studio lot, which, to be honest, aggravates me more.
Why did I have to get the jackass version of him and all these other people get the nice one?
He smiles and waves back at everyone and acts like the perfect little studio darling.
When I study him smiling and waving at a passing group of crew members, I notice the smile falters a little.
It’s still there, but there’s something that looks almost hollow about it.
But then again, I’m probably reading way too much into this seeing as I only met the guy yesterday.
We round the corner and step into a more secluded space where a beautiful water fountain comes into view.
The sound of splashing fills the air, with water shooting up the center of the fountain in a series of rings.
Walking over to the ledge, my fingers brush where the clear water flows down over the infinity pool style design.
Glimmering tiles make up the fountain’s surface, and when I look closely, I can see that there are gemstones in many of them, giving the fountain an extra magical quality. Looking down at the ring of tiles surrounding the fountain, I see the names of Starlight films inscribed on them.
I drum the surface of the water absentmindedly before turning to see Roman looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
I don’t bother explaining to him that it’s something I always need to do.
If I see water, I need to go touch it. Maybe it’s like some weird form of grounding for me.
The look he’s giving me makes me feel about two feet tall.
He might’ve seemed sweet with everyone else, but just like that, the wall’s back up and he’s being a jerk again. It’s like Jackass and Hyde over here.
Clearing my throat and pulling my hand from the fountain, I face him and purse my lips. “What is it you wanted to discuss?”.
“Figured I’d give you the opportunity to apologize,” he says smugly. Apologize…? For what? I shake my head in confusion. When it’s clear I’m still not catching on, he continues. “For the slap.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Playing it cool today with him has been hard enough after overhearing all the shit he had to say about me, and now he has the nerve to tell me that I owe him an apology? I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to punch someone in the face so badly.
A noise of disbelief leaves my mouth, and I will my hands not to make good on my desire to give him a sequel to the first slap. It takes everything in me to keep some composure and not resort to telling him where to go and what to do when he gets there.
Settling for the most diplomatic response I can, I respond through gritted teeth. “As if.”
He raises his eyebrows, and it’s clear he wasn’t expecting that answer. “Oh?”
Now I’m really going to lose it.
“Why the hell should I apologize when you were practically begging for it with all the shit you were saying during the read?” I hiss, remembering how he whispered those taunts between takes. What kind of person does that?
“If I remember correctly, what I said to you during the read ended up helping you give your best performance,” he says with a cocky smile.
“How typical, a man trying to take credit for something a woman did on her own,” I mutter as I look to the sky, silently pleading for patience from whatever deity resides there. “You didn’t do anything, Roman. My achievements are mine.”
He rolls his eyes and leans against the bench in front of the fountain. His casual posture and nonchalance is pissing me off, so I go ahead and don’t leave well enough alone.
“But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Roman has gone still. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.
“You’re not stupid, pretty boy, you know exactly what it means.”
“No, I want to hear you say it. If you’re going to talk shit, at least have the balls to say it to my face,” he says, stepping closer to me and looking down at me in a way that has my fight or flight ready to go.
“You are the walking, talking definition of hypocrisy.” I could laugh, or cry, or both over how ridiculous this situation is.
“When the fuck have I been a hypocrite?” He’s raising his voice now. My temper feels like kindling, and his voice is the flame. I’m about to light this guy up if this guy doesn’t watch it.
“You want me to say it to your face?” I ask, putting emphasis on the last part of the sentence.
“Congratulations, you heard what I said. Do you want a gold medal?” This fucker.
“You know what I want? I want you to just shut up and recognize how privileged you are. You’re a nepo baby.
If your last name wasn’t Everett, you wouldn’t get even half the opportunities you’ve had.
You owe everything you’ve got to that name, so don’t you dare tell me I haven’t earned my success when you have no idea what it’s like to actually earn it,” I seethe.
My breath is coming quickly, and my limbs are shaky.
Part of me wants to stop, but now that I’ve started, I’m like a kettle with all the steam pouring out in a high-pitched scream. There’s no stopping this. I’m too angry, I’m too keyed up, and Roman did this to me.
Roman looks like he’s got another snarky comment loaded up, so I cut him off before he gets a chance to start.
“And while we’re on the subject of hypocrisy, the fact that you’re telling me I should say something to your face is a joke, Roman, a fucking joke.” My hands are waving around wildly now to illustrate how much of a fucking joke it is.
“Well, go ahead and let me in on it, Sparky,” he growls.
I ignore the taunt of the new nickname and steamroll ahead, refusing to back down now. “I heard you.” Disgust paints my voice.
“Heard me what? You’re going to need to use descriptive words.”
“Don’t play dumb, Roman. I heard you at the chemistry read. ‘She’s going to be a waste of our time… she brings nothing…’ does any of that ring a bell?”
Roman looks angry for a moment, but I can see when the realization dawns on his face. He has the good sense to look slightly remorseful, but I don’t care, I light into him anyways.
“So yeah, congratulations to me,” I quote his earlier words to toss back into his face. “I heard you, and yeah, I’ll take that gold medal if it’s still up for grabs.”
His expression turns cold, any sign of regret gone. “Jesus Christ, are you done yet?”
“Yes... No... I don’t know, but you’re pissing me off. If anyone owes someone an apology, it’s you.” My thoughts are frenzied.
He’s quiet for a minute, and the only sound I hear is the thundering of my heart. “So let’s get this straight. You eavesdropped on a private conversation, and you want an apology because your feelings got hurt by the consequences of your own actions?” He scoffs.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. Leave it to you to sail completely past the point.
” It’s becoming increasingly clear that we’re heading nowhere with this.
I want to be away from him before I really do slap him again.
“You know what? I’m done with this conversation.
” I don’t give him time to respond, and turn on my heels to head toward where the parking lot is.
“Can’t finish what you start?” Roman calls after me.
I don’t bother to turn and face him. “Finish this,” I say, flipping him the bird as I walk away.