Bulletproof (3 page)

“Runner.”

“Yes, runner, gofer. Mr. McKinnon or I ask you for something and you go and get it, basically. You’ll be working for us first and foremost, but if we don’t need you, you’ll help the other runner with her stuff.”

I pressed my lips together, resisting my sarcastic reply of
sounds great
.

Instead, I pushed a smile over my lips and put on my perky voice. “Thank you so much. I would be honored to accept.”

“Great.” The girl sounded relieved. “That makes my day so much easier, thank you. To be honest, I thought you were a long shot, with your degree and everything. I thought you would have been snatched up by now.”

“Yeah, you’d be surprised how little a college education can sometimes mean. I know I am.”

“Well, look, I’m sorry I’m not calling to offer you more, but at least this is a foot in the door, right?”

“Absolutely. I’m excited about the opportunity to work for a TV show.”

The girl chuckled. “That’s the spirit. You can start tomorrow, right?”

“Uh, yes. Of course. I will absolutely be there.”

“Good. I’ll have a security pass couriered to you this afternoon, and we’ll see you at seven a.m. We’ll be on set tomorrow, so I’ll send directions with the pass. Just ask for me when you get here.”

“Thank you, Lisa, I appreciate this opportunity.”

“No problem. I’ll transfer you to Mr. McKinnon’s secretary so she can get your details.”

I couldn’t help a smile as I was transferred to the secretary to give her my address and social security number. She rattled off a bunch of instructions, which I scribbled down.

Hanging up the phone, I threw it onto my bed, raised my hands in the air and let out a squeal.

I had a job.

I had a freaking job!

Not necessarily the job I’d been hoping for, but it was a job!

CHAPTER TWO

SEAN

The alarm wouldn’t stop buzzing. With a groan, I reached out and slammed my palm over the clock. It blurped a couple of times and then went quiet. Sleep evaded me once more, draping over me like a warm blanket, until reality kicked in and I lurched out of bed.

Rubbing my eyes, I glanced at the clock and scrambled for my clothes. I was due at rehearsal in forty minutes. Damn snooze, why did they even invent that shit?

Throwing on a shirt, I grabbed my toothbrush and did a swift job of my teeth before buckling my belt, grabbing my unpacked bag from last night, and heading for my car. Sliding into the current love of my life, I tenderly ran my hands over the leather-clad steering wheel as the garage door ascended.

The engine of my red Camaro revved to life and I pulled onto the road, taking off toward Polychrome Studios. The set was about a twenty-minute drive away, but this was LA and traffic was at constant rush hour. Braking at the lights, I waited my turn, pumping up the volume so Pitbull’s beat reverberated through the car.

I tapped my thumb on the steering wheel as I went over my schedule for the day. Dance rehearsal was mainly for Ashlee’s benefit this morning. It was her character’s number, but I was going to be joining in for the second part of it, which probably meant I’d be filming most of the day. Man, it was gonna be a long one...again.

The light turned green, and I sped through the intersection. It was Thursday and I was dog-tired. Fourteen-hour days on set near killed me. If I didn’t love it so much, I’d beg Rhonda to find me an out. TV was so different than film. I was used to doing intense filming for shorter periods of time. Still long days, but long days week after week after week...they were hard. And this wasn’t just filming, either; this show involved dance rehearsals, singing practice and recording tracks in the sound studio as well. It was all good, but I was a busy man.

I turned down my music as the phone started ringing. Quickly plugging it in, I pressed the screen with a smile.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Morning, Sean baby. I just checking in with my boy.”

“He’s doing good.”

“You workin’ today?”

“Mama, I work every day.”

“Not Sunday though, right?”

I rolled my eyes. “Not Sunday.”

“Good, ’cause we getting together. It’s Jackson Five time.” I cringed the way all my siblings did when she referred to us that way. She thought it was cute. We all thought it was painful. Besides, it was hardly the Jackson Five anymore. With all the marriages and babies that had been happening in the past ten years, we were now a Jackson seventeen—my parents included. It was hardly a quiet get-together, but when was my family ever quiet? I grinned.

“I’ll be there. What should I bring?”

“Yourself.”

“Come on, let me bring something. That’s a lot of people you’ll be feeding.”

“We’ll be fine, don’t you worry about us.”

I rolled my eyes, irritated with this same argument. I was finally earning some decent cash and could actually afford to help them out, but they wouldn’t take it...but they couldn’t refuse if I just showed up with some sweetness, so I’d do that.

“Okay, fine. I’ll see you Sunday then.”

“Good boy. Now you go be my little superstar.”

“Love you, Mama.”

She hung up with her standard chuckle and I had to laugh too. She always thought her jokes were hilarious and the fact she did, made them so much funnier.

When I’d sat down and told my parents I’d signed on for the first season of
Superstar
, a musical TV series about a performing arts school, they had both jumped from their chairs and wrapped me in a hug. My dad had been a high school teacher for over thirty years, and my mama was the music in our house. The fact I was going to be playing the role of a dance teacher at a music school was like all their dreams for me coming true at the same time.

“I knew it. I knew one day you’d stop jumping out of windows and start using your real talents.” Mama had beamed.

It’d made the whole signing on thing way less scary. Rhonda had tried to persuade me against it. Polychrome was a small-time studio run by some eccentric billionaire named Donald McKinnon.
Superstar
was his son’s baby, and they were making it happen. Rhonda surmised that it was all to do with “who you know” and nothing to do with quality, but I held my ground. The pilot had been a big success, and the show had been picked up by CBS. Polychrome was hoping for a prime-time spot. I was confident they’d get it. The music, the script, the cast, the crew...they were all top-notch. We all felt like we were sitting on a goldmine. It was hard for Rhonda to argue that.

My phone began singing again and I raised my eyebrows.

“Speak of the devil.” I touched my screen. “Hey, Rhonda.”

“Are you nearly there?”

“Ten minutes away.”

“Okay, good. Your day’s pretty tight, but we need to schedule a meeting at some point. I've managed to score you a cologne ad and photo shoot.”

“Cologne, huh.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for your image. A sexy, nice-smelling man who can dance. It’s a total turn-on...and continues to add to your clean, nice-guy image.”

I stifled my groan and checked the road before taking the turn.

“Okay, whatever, Rhonda.”

“So, according to your schedule, you can fit me in for thirty minutes at 2:30. I’ll come to the set so you’re not wasting travel time or anything. I’ll see you then.”

She hung up before I could even say goodbye. I shook my head with a wry smile. She was a piece of work, that chick, but she was good for me. She’d worked closely with my publicist, Andrew, and helped the world see me in a different light after the Abigail debacle. She’d scored me numerous interviews and photo shoots that all promoted me as Mr. Nice Guy. She’d instructed me every step of the way through that whole mess, and I owed my career to her. It had been hell, but she’d dragged me through it, and I was once again able to walk out of my house without being attacked by hungry press and yelling reporters.

People were still chasing Abigail. I saw her images splashed all over the magazines. According to the headlines, the guy she’d cheated on me with was now cheating on her. She didn’t seem to care; she’d moved on to a rock star. I couldn’t remember his name, but all the pictures seemed pretty loved up. I was so glad not to be a part of it anymore.

Pulling into the lot, I flashed my pass to security and parked in my designated spot, trying to clear my mind before heading inside. I couldn’t bring any of that crap on set with me. I needed to focus. I needed to be Harley Barnes.

“Hey, Jax.” I waved at Ashlee as she skipped ahead of me into the large warehouse that had become the Franklyn Performing Arts School. Harley was a first-year teacher and had come into the show in the second episode. He was falling madly in love with the lead, a nineteen-year-old freshman named Sasha...played by the lovely Ashlee Johnston.

My character would spend most of the first season resisting her sweet, country charm. I was guessing the writers would have us together by the end of the season, but I wasn’t sure. Knowing them, they’d torture the audience until the last episode.

I grinned, relishing the anticipation that would build throughout the season.

So far, Harley and Sasha had stuck with flirty hellos and sweet conversation. Sasha’s dance for this episode was pretty much an
I want you
proclamation for Harley, but he’d have to resist her. I could almost hear the audience groaning with the sweet agony of it all.

Walking out of the sunlight, I made my way down the corridor to my dressing room. I didn’t need to change for another couple of hours; I wasn’t due in makeup until nine. Pulling off my jeans, I yanked a pair of sweats from my bag and pulled them on for warm-ups and rehearsal, discarding my T-shirt for a plain black tank. Isabella ran a tight dance ship, and she made us work those routines hard. This week’s episode had a big dance number at the end, which was kind of tricky. I was enjoying the challenge, in spite of the long rehearsal hours.

Stepping out of my room, I ambled down the corridor, noticing the crew setting up for filming.

“You think I give a shit it’s your first day? This isn’t rocket science. Figure it out and get moving,” Travis barked from his chair.

His spindly finger pointed at a tall, blonde woman. There was something familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it. She scuttled out of view before I could catch a proper look at her face. Poor thing. She must be the new runner. The last one had quit on Tuesday, slammed down her clipboard and stormed out in tears. Travis was a hard man to work for, I wouldn’t deny that. He was pretty good with the cast, but the director and crew had the patience of saints. He’d gone through two runners already since filming began. I didn’t know how Lisa handled him. I wondered how long this one would last.

She came back into view before I turned the corner, her head held high, her expression calm as she approached Travis. He glanced at the paperwork she held out to him before snatching it from her hand.

“Thank you,” he mumbled.

“Welcome.” There was a commanding strength to her voice that appealed to me and stirred the whisper of a memory in my brain.

I’d met that girl before.

But where?

And damn, did I want to meet her again.

“Hurry up, Jax, or we’ll be late.” Ashlee shuffled past me, grabbing my hand and yanking me toward the dance studio.

We scuttled down the hallway together and slipped in just as Isabella was starting her warm-ups. She grinned as I walked through the door and gave me a wink. I smiled back at my long-time friend and got ready to work.

This day would be huge, and I didn’t really need the distraction of some leggy blonde. Although, I did have to admit that before the day was out, I was going to talk to the new runner, and no amount of workload would stop that from happening.

CHAPTER THREE

MORGAN

Frazzled. That was one word I could think of.

Inept was another.

Flustered. Out of my depth. Struggling to stay calm. Indignant.

Yes, those were all ways of describing how I felt as I hurried off set for my ten-minute break. It took me less than thirty minutes to figure out why the last runner quit. It was because she was working for the world’s biggest asshole. People said Travis McKinnon had a brilliant mind, I really wasn’t sure. All I knew for certain was that manners and respect were pretty damn low on his list of priorities.

I huffed as I pulled out my drink bottle, suddenly wishing I was a smoker. Standing in the California sun and taking a sweet drag on a cigarette sounded like perfection right now. I shoved on my shades and leaned against the outside of the warehouse.

It was only ten o’clock. Ten! I still had at least seven hours, if not more, to go. Could I do it? Could I then come back tomorrow and the next day to be yelled at by some skinny guy with long, floppy hair and the reverence of most of the cast?

That was what I couldn’t figure out. He was nice to them! Treated them like freaking royalty. Maybe he was one of those eccentric artsy types, constant angst perched on his shoulder...and he saved it all up for his poor little gofer.

Well you know what, there was nothing poor about me and damned if I was going to let him ruin the only job I’d managed to score. I could take it. He was just some weedy prick with a big mouth. I’d dated worse in high school. I could do this.

Glancing at my watch, I decided to return early from my break, to prove I wasn’t scared of his sorry ass. With my chin high, I stepped back inside. Walking past the coffee machine, I closed my eyes and drew in a breath. Like the guy needed more caffeine, but it was a gesture.

I figured he probably took it black...you know, to match his soul. Walking back on set with as much confidence as I could, I approached him quietly and waited for him to finish chatting to Conway, the director, before handing him the mug.

“What’s that?” He frowned.

“Coffee. Black. I don’t know if you like it that way or not, but if you don’t, you’ll have to let me know.”

He gave me a long, hard look, which I decided to meet head-on.

“I like my coffee black, so if you don’t want it.” I drew the cup away from him, but he paused my action with a slight smirk.

“Hand it over.” I gave it to him with a sickly sweet smile that he saw straight through. His smirk grew an inch before he turned back to Lisa and started barking out new instructions. He sipped his coffee and threw me one more glare.

“You’re welcome.” I tipped my head and looked over the schedule for the rest of the day.

Sasha would be dancing her scene in about five minutes and would be joined by Harley at the end of the song.

Harley as in Sean Jaxon. I had nearly died when I read that the night before. I’d stayed up until midnight, researching everything I could about the show. There really wasn’t much. It didn’t go to air for another three weeks and promos were only just starting, but IMDb had a cast list up already and Sean was on it. Sean. If McKinnon didn’t yell me off the set to do some menial task in the next hour or so, I’d see Sean!

Not that he’d remember me or anything, but just seeing him in the flesh once more would be a trip.

I couldn’t believe he took this role. Was it because of what I said to him?

I shook my head. As if!

But maybe...

From the glimpse I’d seen of the day’s script, I knew that Sasha was in love with Harley, a young teacher at the school, and she was trying to woo the reluctant twenty-two-year-old into a relationship.

Ashlee walked into the room, looking gorgeous in dancing leggings, a baggy sweater, and bare feet. Her dark hair was pulled back into a loose messy bun, strands of hair flying free. She looked almost ethereal as she stepped under the lights. The makeup artist studied her and moved forward to pat some extra powder on her nose while the lighting guys moved around her.

Conway called out instructions, looking over the cameraman’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s good. Just like that.” He held up his hands and stepped toward Ashlee and a redheaded woman who looked to be around my age. “Okay, my darling Ashlee, this is the dance of the episode. You get me?”

She nodded with a sweet smile.

“I need you to pour everything into it. Harley is watching Sasha through the glass and although she’s pretending she doesn’t know it, she actually does. You are wooing him with this number, and we need every move to be a sensual caress to the camera.”

The lady beside her nodded and caught Ashlee’s eye. “So those sweeping arm movements just before the bridge, make sure you really extend on those.” The woman did the moves, looking like a pro. I couldn’t take my eyes off her body as it twisted gracefully. “And make sure your eyes really smolder, when you cross for the crouch. You need to look at that glass. You’re calling him to you, like a siren.”

Ashlee crouched, following the well-practiced step, her lithe body stretching out across the floor before swiftly rising like a feline killer.

“But remember, you’re still that sweet country girl at heart. We don’t want your moves to be sexy like Violet’s and Kristina’s; they need to have a purity to them.”

The girls both nodded and Ashlee drew in a breath. “Okay, do you want me singing with this take, or am I just mouthing the words this time?”

“Let’s try you singing along with the recording to see what it looks like, and then we can drop it on extra takes if we need to.”

“Sounds good.”

Conway smiled at Ashlee, patting her shoulder before turning back for his chair. Travis nodded his approval at Conway before throwing his nearly-empty coffee mug at me as he passed. Thankfully I caught it without spilling any on myself. I pulled a Kleenex from my pocket and wiped the drips on the floor.

“Okay, ready on set! And action.”

The song “Clarity” by Zedd began playing, the soft piano music quickly building as Ashlee’s recorded voice boomed through the speakers. She sounded so good. Her head tipped back as she sung the lyrics with her recording, her body moving like flowing liquid over the dance space...and then the beat kicked in. Her body shifted from flowing water to pounding raindrops, her movements punchy and strong. I couldn’t take my gaze off her. She was totally pulling off the smoky-eye effect and my insides surged with her. I could feel each move as if it were my own. The choreography was beautiful, the movements a stunning combination of sharp and fluid.

I looked past Ashlee and spotted her choreographer, her face beaming as she watched her dance come together. I made a mental note to find her later and tell her how impressed I was. I spent hours choreographing stuff as a kid. I dreamed of doing it for a job one day, but that dream died when Mom walked her selfish butt out the door. I became a mother then to a scared little ten-year-old who wouldn’t have coped with my heavy dance schedule. I gave it all up in one fell swoop. The only time I choreographed after that was with Ella and Jody when we goofed around in the summer holidays, pretending we were professional dancers. Those times hurt, but I didn’t want to let my sisters down, so I’d pretended the pain didn’t ricochet through me each time I came up with a good move.

Squeezing the clipboard to my chest, I stood there until Conway yelled, “Cut!” and snuck away before anyone noticed me just standing there doing nothing.

*****

My feet were killing me by lunchtime. I had spent the last two hours running errands, making phone calls, and delivering all manner of things from Gatorade to a box of batteries. I shuffled to the cafeteria, grabbing a tired-looking sandwich off the tray and scoffing it down. I didn’t really feel like it, but I had to keep my energy up; I still had half a day to go.

Reaching for a bottle of cold water, I spun around to find a seat and smacked into the redhead I wanted to congratulate.

“Oh, sorry.” I smiled.

“No problem.” She grinned up at me before stretching out her hand. “Isabella Fontaine.”

“Hi, I’m Morgan.”

“Welcome to the crazy house.”

I chuckled.

“And good luck.” Her eyebrows rose, sending me a message that was not hard to decode.

“I can make it.”

“Let’s hope so.” She shook her head and went to step away, but I stopped her with my arm.

“I just wanted to compliment you on your amazing choreography for ‘Clarity’. I only saw the first part, but it was brilliant; you really captured the song.”

“Thank you.” Her sparkling smile reminded me of Jody. “You a dancer too?”

I opened my mouth to say yes, but settled for a shrug instead. “I did a little when I was a kid.”

“Why’d you give it up?”

“Life got in the way.”

Isabella’s petite nose wrinkled. “I can’t imagine life ever getting in the way of dancing. Life is one big dance.”

“Yeah.” I had to nod, because I used to believe that with every fiber of my being. “I mean, I still love it. I just...don’t study it anymore.”

She quietly considered me, obviously trying to decipher my answer. I looked away from her and cleared my throat. “Anyway, I should probably get back.”

“You know, if you want, you’re welcome to come to our rehearsals in the morning.”

“Me?” I pointed at my chest.

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Some of the spare crew sometimes join in at the back, just for some exercise. You look like you could probably keep up.”

I grinned. “That could be cool.”

“Could be?” She pulled a face. “It’s freaking awesome.”

“Okay then.” I grinned. “Sounds like fun. What time do you start?”

“Around seven-thirty.”

I tipped my head with a resigned frown. “I start at seven.”

“That’s okay. I get here at six. We can do our own little pre-rehearsal before the cast gets here...if you’re up for it.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “Yeah.”

Why? Why was I saying yes to this?

Because I couldn’t stop myself. Because the idea of starting my day with dancing was so damn appealing, refusal wasn’t even an option. Nerves zinged through me as I unscrewed my water bottle. I was insane. I was exhausted after half a day of work, and now I wanted to start an hour earlier with a dance session?

The phone Lisa had handed me that morning beeped.

Get your butt back to set. I want a turkey sandwich on rye. Make sure it’s fresh!

I held my sigh in check as I headed toward the catering area. “I gotta go. It was nice meeting you, Isabella.”

“You too, and if you can sneak back on set soon, you might be able to catch the rest of ‘Clarity’. They’re doing close-ups after lunch.”

“I’ll try. If I can sneak away.”

“Don’t let that jackass boss you around too much. He might be brilliant, but he’s still just a guy.”

I grinned. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

“Oh we’re gonna be good friends, I can already tell.” She winked at me and for the first time since arriving on set, my smile actually felt genuine.