Chapter 14
Cal
The first week of filming When I’m in Your Arms was the busiest and most stressful experience Cal had had in a long time. It was even worse than the film he’d done about a ship captain lost at sea. The seasickness from that experience had nearly brought him to his knees.
But shortly after filming began for the musical, dance rehearsals started up again. And then singing rehearsals began. Cal voiced some concern about doing his own singing.
“Does Ezra want me to still be a box office commodity when this picture is released?” he asked irritably.
“Your voice is fine,” the vocal coach repeated for the fifth time. “It’s homey. Unpretentious. Relatable.”
Mr. Price was considerably less complimentary. Dance rehearsals had moved to the end of the day, which was just as well as Cal ended up all sweaty and out of breath by the end. Morgan remained impossibly cool and easygoing, despite the increasing level of difficulty of the dances.
Cal didn’t like to admit that part of the reason he was finding everything so stressful was that he had to do it all in front of Morgan.
There were times during filming when Morgan looked at Cal like he was some kind of miracle.
Cal inevitably lost every line in his head when that happened.
Even worse, he didn’t want those expressions of wonder to end.
He might have chalked it up to remarkably good acting abilities, but the expressions were fleeting and felt almost like a secret between them.
No matter how many times Director King had them redo the scenes, that particular glimmer in Morgan’s eye remained unpredictable.
Cal found himself searching for it with every take.
After a full week of filming, Cal trudged into the music department to record the vocals.
If he were honest with himself, he’d recognize that, as overwhelming as the whole experience of filming the musical was, he was no longer tired in the same way.
The project was challenging and terrifying in ways he’d never expected.
It was almost…exciting. And then adding the winsome Morgan into the mix, he’d be a liar if he didn’t confess to looking forward to his work.
The recording booths in the music department were tucked into the back of the building.
The booths were varying sizes in order to fit as much as a quartet of singers and as few as a soloist. Cal stood in a smaller one the size of a closet, with his palms sweaty and his heart racing.
The headphones around his ears were snug and he couldn’t tell if the headache he was beginning to feel was due to the tightness of the headphones or the early hour of the day.
There was a second pair of headphones hanging off the music stand, but they looked even smaller than the ones he was wearing.
The space was so quiet that Cal felt intensely vulnerable.
The sound producer spoke into a microphone that connected to the booth.
“Ready when you are, Mr. Campbell.”
He gave a shaky nod. Music filtered into the headphones and Cal stared at his sheet music, willing himself to remember everything the vocal coach had taught him. The fact that he made it through the entire song was something of a miracle.
“That was great, Mr. Campbell! Let’s run it again, shall we?”
After about seven takes of the same song, they moved on to the second one. It was over an hour before Cal was joined by his co-star.
Morgan slid into the booth with him, looking around with his usual curiosity. He examined the second pair of headphones with interest before putting them on.
“It’s so quiet,” he said to Cal in a hushed voice.
Cal nodded, distracted by the other man’s closeness.
They were standing so near each other that he could smell Morgan’s aftershave and soap.
They’d stood close on set plenty of times, but being surrounded by bright lights and the flurry of activity and bustling noise of an active set diverted his attention.
Now, standing in the tiny space, Cal could only stare at the man next to him.
Morgan was as unbothered as he’d been by anything else the studio had thrown at him.
His hands were steady as he flipped through the sheet music he’d read a million times.
They’d been given the glossy new copies that would be sold at music stores after the movie was out—there was even a picture of a couple dancing on the cover.
A slight smile formed on Morgan’s lips as he looked out the window at the sound producer.
“Ready, gentlemen?” the producer asked.
Morgan looked up at him and Cal found himself noticing how long the other man’s eyelashes were.
“Ready, sir?” Morgan asked.
Cal collected himself, cleared his throat, and nodded.
If he’d thought singing by himself felt vulnerable, it was nothing to singing alone with Morgan.
The other man wasn’t much of a singer either, which was something of a relief.
But when he glanced up at Cal and gave him another one of his encouraging smiles midway through the song, Cal nearly forgot the lyrics.
When they were done recording, Morgan set his headphones back on the stand. “This is so neat. I never knew the vocals were recorded separately like this. I wonder if they’d let me listen to it.”
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Cal said as coolly as he could, smoothing a hand down the front of his suit and working to gather up his usual calm. “Would you like to join me for lunch in the commissary?”
Morgan grinned and nodded.
They found a table in the corner of the cafeteria and Cal tried to relax into the companionable silence. They had another full afternoon of filming ahead of them, followed by more dance rehearsals.
“How are you liking it?” Cal asked.
Morgan blinked at him. “The food? It’s pretty good, I guess. I’ve always liked fried chicken. Not as good as what I’m used to back home, though.”
Cal chuckled. “I meant filming.”
“Oh!” Morgan’s cheeks pinked up adorably. “I like it. It’s interesting. I’m never bored.”
Cal took a good look at the man sitting next to him, happily eating his fill, cheerful no matter how many times they had to retake scenes.
He thought about what Morgan had told him at the Pink Peacock and revealed during his interview with Joan Dupree.
The young man was accustomed to getting by with precious little.
He’d lived off of canned beans for who knows how long.
To him, this was a job like any other. And he liked it because he wasn’t bored.
Cal felt a sudden wash of shame. He’d been griping about this assignment from the jump. How had he forgotten how lucky he was?
“Everything okay, sir?”
“Sure, I’m fine. Lost in thought, I guess.”
Morgan smiled at him with understanding. “How does this picture compare to the ones you’re used to doing?”
“As you said, never bored.”
Morgan’s smile grew.
Fred plopped himself into one of the empty seats. “My, aren’t you two cozy?”
Cal rolled his eyes and took an irritable bite of his own fried chicken.
“I haven’t seen you in a dog’s age, boss.”
“That’s what happens when I’m working, Fred.”
“Well, your outfit for tonight is pressed and laid out on your bed. Edie told me to make sure you’re there.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Edie’s party tonight.”
Cal groaned. “I’d forgotten about that. I don’t think I’ll make it.”
Fred tsked. “Your funeral.” He looked at Morgan. “She told me to tell you there’d be dancing.”
Morgan looked at Fred with bewilderment. “What?”
“Edie wanted you to come tonight, too.”
Morgan looked at Cal and then said, “Well, if Mr. Campbell isn’t going, I don’t think I’ll go either. I won’t know anyone.”
Fred gave Cal a pointed look.
Edie’s parties were the stuff of legend.
The brightest and most beautiful that Hollywood had to offer gathered at her mansion to swim, dance, drink…
and more often than not, sneak away into unlit corners and unlocked bedrooms. They were raucous and wild and Cal absolutely detested the idea of Morgan stepping into that environment.
He could well imagine the young man enjoying the dancing or the pool—in fact, Cal very much wanted to be there to watch him enjoy those things—but the prospect of Morgan enjoying the darkened corners and unmade beds made him ill.
Then he thought about the Powells’ party. I can handle myself, Morgan had insisted.
Was it right for Cal to reject the invitation when he knew Morgan might enjoy himself if he went? He had a right to enjoy the delights of Hollywood, as much as Cal might dislike the idea. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his face.
“Oh, all right,” he said. “Tell Edie we’ll be there. I’ll pick you up and we can go together,” he added to Morgan.
Morgan smiled. “Swell.”