44. Chapter Forty-Four
And the post on Instagram said, “Sebastian Yates is Penelope Mondragon’s newest crush when it comes to her characters. Who would be the perfect match?”
* * *
“This is the most asinine thing I’ve ever seen you do,” Sandra isn’t holding back. “You don’t go and fucking propose to her. This was for publicity. Where did you get it in your head to propose?”
Her cheeks are red and the cigarette she lit in my trailer is nearly gone because she’s taken such long drags from it. I don’t know how the woman hasn’t choked.
Loki has tucked himself in the back room on my bed, and I can’t blame him.
“You need to break it off,” she says before snuffing the cigarette out on the inside of a coffee mug by the sink.
“I don’t need to,” I argue back. “I love her. And no matter how this started, this is how it’s ending.”
“You’re fucking up your career!” she shouts again. “Charles Malloy wants you in this film. Olivia Chase!” She throws out the name and my stomach tightens.
“If he wants me in the film, then he’ll have to do it as my father-in-law. And I couldn’t give two shits about Olivia Chase.”
Sandra lifts her hands in the air. “Christina Malloy is disposable.”
That has me coming to my feet. “She’s not. And I won’t have you or her father talk about her like that. Christina is so much more than just a trinket to be danced around in front of a crowd for her parents’ amusement.”
I run my fingers through my hair, fully aware that they’re going to have to fix that before we begin filming again.
“You know, there are thousands of producers with big budgets. There are thousands more action scripts that I could read and produce my damn self. If he won’t have me, well, fuck him,” I shout.
“You’ve been working since you were fourteen. Do you want to give that all up?”
“You seriously think that some ensemble actor is worried he won’t ever work again because he married his co-star? Shit, Sandra, this is how legends are made. I have six more of these movies contracted. I have a fan event next month. These people want me. If I don’t get a fucking Charles Malloy film because I’m head over heels in love with his daughter, then I don’t need it.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”
Sandra picks up her bag and hikes it up on her shoulders. “Charles Malloy wants an answer by Friday. I’ll have the contracts in my office. If you want this, you lose her.”
“You’re the one that put us together,” I remind her.
“So that you could get this. You have it. Cut her loose.”
“I’ll let him know my decision by Friday.”
Sandra closes her eyes and takes in a deep breath. “Don’t give it all up for her, Graham. No woman is worth it.”
I’m still jittery from my conversation when I leave hair and makeup. I don’t understand the need for Christina and I to have acted on that stupid rumor and create some publicity stunt if it can’t work in the end. But then again, without the publicity stunt, we wouldn’t have each other. And without the publicity stunt, I wouldn’t have the opportunity to star in one of the biggest movies Charles Malloy ever produced.
I almost choke myself with my tie as I straighten it while walking to the set.
As I walk on set, I notice someone else is sitting in Christina’s chair. A woman with a notepad, and she’s writing things down.
Christina is running a scene with Justin Cartwright, who happens to play her assistant in this movie, but has been her love interest in the movies in which I’m not.
There’s a playfulness between them, and for the first time ever, it gnaws at me. When we were on set together, we’d say snide things and throw things at each other. Where in the hell did a rumor start that we were a couple? Watching her interact with Justin, and how easy she is with him, it would have made more sense to have them put together as a couple.
I wince at my own thoughts.
It’s my ring she’ll wear home. She’s my fiancée.
Christina notices me from the corner of her eye and turns her bright smile in my direction. She says something to Justin, but heads toward me. This is proof I can let these negative thoughts go.
She moves to me, rises on her toes, and kisses me. “Did you see who’s here?” she asks with a giddy giggle as she adjusts my tie, which I must have messed up on my walk.
“No. Who?”
She moves her eyes in the direction of her chair and the woman who is sitting in it. I study the woman for a moment.
“Is that Penelope Mondragon?” I ask.
The corners of Christina’s mouth turn up into an even wider smile. She maneuvers us so we are facing the other way.
“She’s watching me and taking notes. She introduced herself and told me that she’s writing a screenplay for me. For me,” she emphasizes.
“Honey, that’s wonderful.”
“It is. I mean, that’s all that’s been said. I haven’t heard anything else, but...” Christina draws in a breath, places her hands on my chest, and looks up into my eyes. “I’m going to get what I wanted. You’re going to get what you wanted. And we’re going to get each other. Who would have thought this was how this would all play out?”
“Who would have thought?” I repeat her sentiment, but without the same excitement.
“Let’s get ready, people,” Jean-Claude shouts and Christina steps back.
“We’re almost through this scene,” she says.
“Almost.”
“I’m going to take a moment and work up hating you,” she says with a wink. “I have to make it seem real now, don’t I?”
I nod and she walks away.
I suppose I could tell her that her father will only give me the movie if I dump her. That surely would make her loathe me again, wouldn’t it?
Justin moves in beside me and crosses his arms in front of him as he watches the crew assemble. “Everything okay?”
“Sure.”
“You and Christina seem happy. I didn’t think there’d be a day when she didn’t throw something at you,” he says with a laugh.
“Things change.”
“You saw Penelope Mondragon was here?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah. I saw.”
“Sebastian Yates,” he says the name, and it has me turning to look at him. “Mondragon is writing it for Christina and Sebastian Yates,” he clarifies.
I swallow hard. Sebastian Yates has stature like Brad Pitt or George Clooney. He’s got to be at least twenty-years older than Christina, too. Fuck!
I hate all of this. I get what I want. She gets what she wants. We lose each other—and she gets paired with Sebastian Yates.
“Let’s shoot this,” Jean-Claude yells.
I’d rather take my fiancée and run for the hills.