The Accidental Movie Star (12 page)

The coast lay outside the right window. The spectacular view sitting beside her captured her attention even more. She shifted against the leather cushion.

The driver’s voice came through the speaker. “I know a semi-private beach, if you guys want to get out for a bit.”

Caz looked at Ashley. When she nodded, he flipped the switch on the intercom. “Yeah, thanks.”

Not much later, the driver parked the limo at the edge of a sandy path; street lamps lit the trail with a circular glow every ten feet or so. “The pavement drops off about ten feet from the water.”

“Thanks.” She toed off her flats and Caz kicked off his topsiders. After rolling the hem of his pants, he took her hand and led her down the path.

Concrete brushed with sand turned to wooden planks. The sand shifted with each step, falling through the space between the planks. Then the walkway dropped away altogether and there was only loose and gritty sand under her feet until they reached the water’s edge. “The water is colder and clearer here than the Gulf of Mexico. But I still love Galveston.” Ashley tapped her foot against the packed wet sand, enjoying the sensation on the soles of her feet. “What’s an English beach like?”

“Colder than California and Texas. Cliffs. Different, but waves crash, and the salty fish smell’s the same.”

“So do you think you’ll do this forever?” Ashley waved in the air, so he’d know she meant the whole Hollywood thing.

“Can’t tell with this industry,” Caz said. “Popularity fades and careers end just like that.”

“Oh. No. You have one of those deep, rich voices. Actors with voices like yours have a long career if you want them. Plus, you’re exceptionally talented.”

“Thanks.” Caz’s voice sounded surprised. “You’re not usually so full of praise. Is it the champagne? If it was I can ask the driver to stop and purchase a case.”

Ashley laughed and rolled her eyes. “You don’t need my praise. You hear compliments all day from people who know what they’re talking about.” She looked out at distant lights on a ship. “You could do something else. Chuck all the fame and go to college?”

He kind of laughed in response.

“No really, why not? I mean, you’re great at the acting bit but you don’t seem to like the press part. They’re both important.”

“Since I was fourteen and my first indie film became a cult classic, no one has suggested I quit. Not once.”

Ashley rubbed her toe in the sand, admiring the pink polish against the beige granules. She dug a small trail. “I’m not suggesting you quit either. I just wondered. Plus, I’ve seen you reading literature; French literature. That would be interesting to study.”

“I like the characters. They’re different and fascinating. What they teach me enriches my roles.”

“So, no going off to college with me next year?” Ashley asked half in jest, feeling a little empty.

“I’ve thought about university but can’t get the time off.” He stared back up the hill. “The studio’s lined up years of projects and they’re pushing me to commit.”

Ashley nodded. She didn’t really know what to say. A lot of jobs depended on his acting. He brought in money. She’d heard that more than once while on set. She brushed her fingertips along his high cheekbones, near the dark circles she’d noticed under his eyes. “You look tired. How early do you get up for those martial arts sessions?”

“I’m fine.”

She stilled her hand. “What about a holiday?”

His voice brightened then dimmed. “I’d love one, but my agent says time off won’t work out production-wise. She calls it striking while the iron is hot.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “So what if the heat cooled some? You could still be successful with less crazed attention. Or, again, so what if the fame ended? You could do other stuff.”

Caz didn’t respond.

“When was your last real break?”

“For any real length of time? It was before I was fourteen, a trip to the continent, but the schedule’s fine. I’m fine.” Caz pointed up the beach. “Want to walk along the edge?”

“Nah, I’m going to sit over there and listen to the surf.” Ashley waved toward a bench near the path. “You go ahead.”

Caz dropped his arm around her shoulders. “I’ll go with you.” They trudged up the sandy incline to the bench. His arm slid from her shoulders to her waist. On the bench, he pulled her close, his left arm around her waist, his right going up to cup her face. His head angled toward hers.

The bright white light flashed, illuminating the night. Ashley tucked her face against Caz’s shoulder. Caz stood, his arm around her, tucking her against his side, shielding her from the camera.

The photographer, talking beneath the huge lens of a professional camera, said, “Evening, Mr. Thaymore, who’s your date? Does Petra know you’re cheating on her?”

Caz stiffened but ignored the reporter’s taunts. He grabbed her hand and they ran, as quick as the shifting sand would permit, back to the safety of the limo.

Chapter 10

The love scene drew a large crowd. Ashley had read that they usually took place on a closed set in order to be sensitive to the actors. That wasn’t the case in warehouse 47. Petra Pelinski wasn’t a sensitive type of person. She’d walked around in red lingerie for two days now and seemed to prefer a large crowd.

Ashley had planned to skip out before they started shooting. She didn’t want to see Caz kiss Petra even though they were just acting.

His character had two sex scenes in the movie. One with Petra, whose character was a vixen about to betray him: a hook-up that was supposed to be rough and exciting. That moment would serve as a direct contrast with the tender scene he’d shoot with Lorene. The sex scene with Lorene would be filmed in candlelight in a floating, dreamy sequence. Memories of their romance would haunt his character throughout the film—his one true love killed because of the case he was investigating.

Lorene hadn’t shown up for work yet. The executives were getting anxious, according to Powder. The rumor mill said Lorene was jockeying for a larger paycheck. Recently, Lorene had spoken to the press about being unhappy with her role and with the script in general. Powder explained that those tactics were a way of negotiating for more money or a bigger part in a future film. When the studio gave in, Lorene would praise the film and the size of her role as loudly as anyone would listen. It was a tried and true Hollywood move.

The director adjusted a camera, then addressed Petra and Caz. “I want to see heat and passion between the vixen and the hero. Show me fire.”

Ashley jerked at the heavy cable. She didn’t want to watch Caz and Petra go for fire. She wanted to tack down this cable and leave. The cable resisted her pull, so she wiggled the end. How did these things get so entwined when they were just lying there? This was like dealing with necklaces in a jewelry box, if the necklaces weighed ten pounds each.

“They look so great together,” Olive said in an aside to Ashley. “So natural. I’m sure they’re really a couple and are keeping the romance secret.” Olive didn’t try to help adjust the cables. “I’m not supposed to say anything, but I can tell.”

Ashley looked between Caz and Petra. She couldn’t see the love. She yanked again.

The AD said, “Picture is up.”

Ashley knew she had to get out of there. She had to adjust this one last piece—tug, turn, shove. Ergh, how had it hooked in with the black one?

“Roll sound.”

Crap
. That meant sound recording had started. She had to stay.

Next, someone gave information about the take, “Sound speed, roll camera,” then “Speed.” The clapper guy called out, “Marker.”
Click
. The clapperboard shut. “Action.”

Don’t look
,
Ashley
told herself.

Caz’s character entered the room and found Petra’s character beside the bed in a negligee.

Ashley watched. She couldn’t help it.

Caz pulled his shirt from the waistband of his trousers while staring at the vixen. Loosening his buckle, he slipped his belt free and dropped it. His expression was angry and suspicious. Next, he jerked at the buttons on his shirt and yanked it off. Petra writhed on the bed while Caz undressed.

Ashley watched with a frown. People were right. When a love scene wasn’t on the big screen, and didn’t have music, the act didn’t look romantic at all. He seemed unhappy and Petra’s movements came off weird, like she was having a seizure.

A shirtless Caz leaned over Petra. Now that view was worth the price of a ticket. His hands were on either side of her head and only his lips touched her when they kissed. His head didn’t move much. Petra’s arms flew out beside her on the bed and she gyrated again, trying to keep as much of her body in the shot as possible.

“Cut.”

Immediately, Caz pulled back from Petra and looked at the director.

“That was super hot,” Olive said.

Ashley shot her a disbelieving look. If you’re going to suck up, at least praise something that was good, like Caz without a shirt,
wow.

“Let’s wrap for today,” the director said.

Ashley sighed, sorry to hear that. She knew they hadn’t gotten the shot, so that meant tomorrow would be day three of Petra wearing only a negligee and a toe ring. She tugged on the cable, and now that the urgency had been eliminated, it dropped right into place. Ashley kicked the compliant rope and stepped away.

The director huffed out a sigh, rubbed a hand across his forehead, and closed his eyes. Opening them, he said, “Writing, leads, let’s go look at the dailies.” The director caught sight of Ashley. “Bring coffee.”

***

This was her first time in the viewing room. The miniature theater had about twenty seats, a large screen; and it was the first one she’d been in that didn’t smell like popcorn. The lights dimmed and an image appeared, cued up to the bedroom scene. Frozen on screen, Caz and Petra appeared beautiful together, like something out of a high-end cologne advertisement.

Tomorrow when he rolled around on the sheets, she planned to ask him to whisper the name of some fancy perfume, in an intent rush, just to make her laugh. Ashley passed out coffee while the team discussed the short soundless scene. When the clips ended, the lights rose.

“Opinions,” the director said.

The AD stared at his computer tablet and poised his fingers above the screen to record notes.

Caz said, “My character wouldn’t sleep with her.”

“I know what guys are like,” Petra said. “Your character’s a guy. I’m a super hot vixen, so he’d sleep with me. In fact, I’m surprised the sex doesn’t happen more often throughout the script. When I was in —”

“At this point in the investigation, he suspects her of killing his true love,” Caz said. “He wouldn’t do it.”

“This scene got moved,” the screenwriter said. “It’s not my fault the sex now falls at the end of the investigation. It was supposed to happen earlier.”

The director looked at Ashley. “You’re part of our target audience. Opinion.”

Surprised at being asked, Ashley tilted her head and assessed the image again. “Well, Caz looks great with his shirt off, so it’d be a shame to lose that scene, but that kiss was so not hot.”

“I wrote the scene hot.” The writer sounded defensive.

The director nodded. “PA, go to Research and ask them for some romantic DVDs. Mark the scenes and get them to Caspian tomorrow.” The director turned to the AD, who made notes. “We’ll shoot the car chase next instead, rework the schedule.” The director turned to Caz. “Watch the DVDs and we’ll reshoot Thursday. I’ll make a decision then.”

“The PA will help me with the scene?” Caz said, in a way that wasn’t really a question.

“Yes.” Turning to Ashley, the director commanded, “Show Caspian how to kiss.”

Chapter 11

Slipping out of the viewing room, Ashley rubbed her hands over her arms and walked down the hall. The outrage on Caz’s face had been funny,
but show Caz how to kiss?
Was the director kidding? She bet no one over at the Fry Hut was being asked to give kissing lessons as part of their job. Then again, Marissa did have a pervy new manager while Irina was on her big Italian vacation.

Caz caught up to her halfway down the hall. “What time do you want to come over tomorrow?”

Continuing down the empty corridor, Ashley rubbed her arms again and without looking at him, said, “Mmm, I don’t know.”

Caz put a hand on her arm to still her. “Why are you so reluctant? It’s just a kiss.”

Ashley leaned against the wall. His hand remained on her arm and she said, “I know.” She shrugged then met his gaze. “I don’t know. I’m not an actress, so I guess I just like the thought that if a guy is going to kiss me, it’s me he’s kissing.”

Caz let go of her arm and slid his hand around to the back of her waist. Her eyes flew up to his. Threading his other hand through the back of her hair, Caz leaned forward, close enough that she could smell his cologne, and whispered, “Thanks for helping me, Ashley.” Then he tilted his head and lightly kissed her mouth.

Caz’s lips were warm and gentle and then gone.

Ashley relaxed against the wall and she smiled up at him. He was right. This would be fine. “Yeah, I’ll bring dinner.” She winked at him. “You’re not a lost cause. You can probably be taught how to kiss.” She straightened away from the wall and moved to leave.

Caz tightened his grip in her hair, stilling her. His eyes brightened with intent and his mouth lowered again. This kiss was firmer. His mouth parted hers. She could taste him, tea and warmth and something decidedly Caz. His jaw was rough against her soft skin, exciting.

She moved her hands to the back of his head and lifted to her tiptoes so she could press closer. Her knees weakened, and he moved her back against the wall. Following her, he leaned his body into hers. Teeth, tongue, lips moved, draining her of all thoughts. Her right hand slid down his back, feeling the unyielding muscles she admired. Her left hand threaded into his silky hair.

His fingers slid under the back of her T-shirt and rubbed lightly at the skin of her waist. She made a muffled sound against his mouth and pressed closer. The sensations were amazing, wicked. She bit down lightly on his bottom lip then soothed it with her tongue. Vaguely in the back of her head, she heard the screening door open, but the information didn’t stop her from kissing Caz. She didn’t stop until she heard the director’s praise.