11 #2
“Perhaps Cassia took a pre-sex jaunt over to her local day spa,” Nava suggested, sarcasm limning every syllable.
“No doubt.” Still grinning, Maria tapped her chin with a long forefinger. “If Cassia asked nicely, I bet Venus would Bedazzle
her snippa too. I’m certain sequins would please viewers.”
That Swedish word, he didn’t know. But he had a really, really good guess.
After a quiet snicker, Nava sobered. “What do you want us to say to them?”
“You already know.” Maria cast an apologetic glance at the producer and director. “They won’t be happy, and I’m sorry you’ll
have to deal with that.”
“As long as you’re fine, we are too.” Ramón didn’t appear bothered by the prospect of the showrunners’ ire. “We’ll gladly
tell them you refused their request.”
Only it wasn’t really a request. It was an order. They all knew it.
That said, Ron and R.J. didn’t have much power over her at this point. In reality, Peter wasn’t sure they’d ever had any power over her.
“If they want to fire me, locate a last-minute body double, transport her to a desolate Irish island, teach her the choreography,
and reshoot a good chunk of a crucial scene with her, they can have at it.” Maria tipped her head in faux-contemplation. “They’re
already running late and over budget, though, as usual, and this is the final scene in the entire show that involves me, so
doing all that for a bit of anachronistic armpit waxing seems kind of self-defeating, doesn’t it?”
It was just hair. It would regrow. Literally every other actor he’d met over the course of two decades in Hollywood would promptly break out a razor in this situation, and most of the women would be waxed smooth already, no instructions necessary. But Maria’s body belonged to Maria and Maria alone.
The stakes were much lower than in their first season together, of course, but...
Peter cleared his throat. “If Pippi walks, I walk.”
Ramón and Nava turned to him in unison. The warmth in their eyes flooded him from the chest outward. And Maria’s smile—
Fuck, Maria’s smile.
“Really?” A jar of sill suddenly appeared in her palm, and she brandished it an inch from his nose. “You’re going to taint your lovely gesture of
solidarity by calling me Pippi, asshole?”
He shifted uncomfortably, and not because of the herring. “We both know it’s too late to fire us, so it’s more an empty gesture
than a lovely one.”
Sure, the showrunners could still badmouth him, but he now had years of high-profile, critically respected, leading-man work
on his résumé, as well as a handful of awards and many, many more fans than before. His career might not be bulletproof, but
it could take a few hits.
He also suspected this little incident would be the least of Ron and R.J.’s worries once Gates ’s disastrous final season aired. And when their reputation tanked, so would their influence in the industry, so the risk
to Peter’s own reputation was minimal.
Besides, when it came to a woman like Maria, a smart man kept his blue cupboard as pristine as possible.
“It’s not empty to me, Peter,” she said with sweet sincerity. “Thank you.”
The tips of his ears were on fire, and he was pretty sure that feeling in his chest was indigestion, because heartburn sounded
about right.
Ramón thumped both actors on their shoulders. “I’ll go tell Ron and R.J. It may take them a while to swallow their egos and admit defeat, so keep warm and relax until we get back.”
As he and Nava left, a faint line appeared between Maria’s brows. “I hope this doesn’t cost you any future roles.”
Her jar of herring had disappeared... somewhere. Which was quite a trick, given what she was—or, more precisely, wasn’t—wearing.
“I’ll be fine.” He waved that concern aside. “Speaking of future roles, what do you have lined up?”
As her good friend, he should have asked long ago. But he hadn’t mustered the courage before now, because the knowledge would
make their impending separation feel more real to him, their time together more finite.
Then again, she hadn’t asked him either. Hmmm.
“I have a few offers and some possible auditions waiting for me back in LA.” With her thumbnail, she scraped away a little
spot from Jeanine’s counter, eyes affixed to her task. “I’m still considering them and making up my mind about my next step.”
Well, that was vague as hell, especially for the Baroness of Bluntness.
“I assume you’re seeing your family soon. I know you miss them.”
Hopefully the visit wouldn’t stretch too long, because he’d intended to use their brief gap between projects, while they were
both in LA, to woo her. He also wanted to show her the house he’d bought with his Gates earnings, since it was his pride and joy. The touchstone he used to reaffirm everything he’d achieved, as well as everything
he’d left behind forever.
He could stay patient, though. He’d already waited years. And now that she’d be living in California, they had time to settle
things between them.
She nodded. “Unless shooting runs long, I’m flying to Stockholm this weekend.”
So soon. So goddamn soon .
Fuck patience. He wasn’t ready to be parted from her. Not yet.
“Right.” If he traveled to Sweden while she was visiting her family and spent a few days with her there, would she welcome
his presence? Or consider it an intrusion?
“What about you?” she asked, finally looking up at him. “Do you have something lined up?”
“I’m in the same position as you, mostly.” He lifted a shoulder. “I have a few minor jobs booked, but I haven’t decided on
my next big project. I figured that could wait until we finished filming.”
She made a sort of noncommittal hum. “I see.”
Her gaze was oddly watchful, and he couldn’t quite read her expression.
Of course, he could just ask . “Maria, you seem—”
Just then, the door to the trailer opened once more. This time, without an angry thud.
“Turns out, they didn’t have time to wallow in pettiness. They’re too busy dealing with all the other shit that’s going wrong.”
Nava didn’t even make it fully inside the door before she began talking. “Maria, you’re good to go. They’re pissed, obviously,
but there’s not much they can do about it at the moment. Peter, we made the executive decision not to mention your willingness
to walk away unless it proved necessary, and it didn’t. Your name didn’t come up at all, so you can relax too.”
Maybe it made him a coward, but he couldn’t help his small sigh of relief.
The curve of Maria’s lips turned smugly triumphant, and she raised her hand for a high-five with Nava, then Ramón, which they
returned with enthusiasm.
Then she leaned toward Peter and raised her hand again, but not for a high-five. To clasp his own hand palm-to-palm, their elbows bent, as if they were confirming a sacred vow with a ceremonial handshake.
“And that’s how solidarity works, Peter.” She winked at him. “Welcome to unfettered socialism, you utter skitstovel .”
He snorted. And in perfect accord, they smiled at each other.