Forever in Hollywood Read online

  “As long as you’re driving, lead the way.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He led the way out to a deep green Firebird, with a large flaming bird spreading its wings over the expanse of the hood. I climbed into the passenger seat and waited for him to start the engine. It was a vintage car with all new upholstery and, by the sound of it the engine, had been well cared for.

  “This is not a 1973 Super Duty?”

  “Little miss fish geek also knows her cars? Yes, she is.” He shrugged, feigning indifference, but I saw the pride in his eyes.

  “I know my classic American muscle cars. Where in the world did you get this?”

  “I had to have something to drive here. Picked her up at a salvage yard.”

  “This is not merely something to drive. You…did you rebuild it then?”

  “A friend and I did.” He shrugged again. I stared slack-jawed at him for a time. A man who knew what he was doing under the hood of a sports car was even more attractive.

  Riding in the vintage car, with the windows manually rolled down, feeling the wind in my face was nice. I sat enjoying the ride when he switched from the radio to the CD player. A familiar melody rang from the speakers; it was the song I tried to play on his guitar, days earlier.

  “Smashing Pumpkins?” I hadn’t heard the tune in ages. The guitar melody put a smile of contentment on my face. “This is my favorite CD from them. You know, I’ve bought it three times, but I still don’t own it.”

  “How’s that?” He kept his eyes on the road.

  “A friend borrowed it the first time and lost it. She apologetically replaced it, and someone stole the replacement out of my car. The third CD met the untimely death of someone’s ass cheek cracking it in two. After that, I gave up owning it.”

  “That’s a horrible fate to bestow on your CD. I hope you gave it a proper burial.” He chuckled, teasing. I smiled back. It was very easy to be around him, a natural feeling. There was no irritation when the conversation slipped into a long silence. It was comfortable, as if we had been friends since childhood, and it made me relax in a way I hadn’t been able to in a long time.

  Without thinking, I sang along with the chorus in a low voice. To my embarrassment, he heard me and cut the volume of the radio in half.

  “What? Turn it back up!” I shrieked, my cheeks burning with mortification. “I love this song.”

  “I want to hear you sing.”

  I shook my head, frantic. “No way, I sing like a crow.”

  “You do not, I heard you loud and clear, and it wasn’t half bad.”

  “Not half good either. I’m not singing unless you turn the music back up to drown me out,” I replied. He glanced over at me with a little pucker between his eyes.

  “The man that hath no music in himself, nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, is fit for treason.” He quoted Shakespeare again.

  “Indeed, but if you can’t hear the music over my poor attempt at singing, who is worse off, the treasonous man, or the one wanted for murdering a song?”

  He relented and turned the volume back up.

  After sitting in traffic for what seemed like an hour, we arrived in Culver City, at a rustic yet upscale looking pub. It wasn’t exactly what I would call a British pub, a lot of their menu items were too fancy for a pub, but they had fish and chips, so I was happy.

  The dimly lit bar was pretty crowded as a steady stream of patrons poured into the dining area. He opted to sit at the bar to avoid waiting for a table, and we ordered a couple of drinks.

  Andrew looked up at me after my stomach rumbled obnoxiously. With a smirk he said, “You should really let your stomach know that’s rude. We’re trying to have a conversation here, and it keeps interrupting.” He was always quick with the teasing comments. It made me wonder if he liked being around me for the pleasure of making fun of me.

  The bartender re-appeared with two drinks in-hand, a frothy beer and my vodka martini. “Are you eating tonight or just here for drinks?” she asked.

  “We’re eating,” Andrew told her and waved his hand in a gesture for me to order.

  “I’ll have fish and chips.”

  “And I’ll have the blue cheese burger.” She quickly jotted down our order and disappeared into the crowd.

  “I hope this pub is halfway decent. I’ve never eaten here, and I’d hate for my accent to cause you cravings you couldn’t satisfy.”

  If only he knew what kind of cravings he was causing. I decided to tease him back. This was something I was pretty good at back in my dating years.

  “Baby, you could never satisfy the cravings your sexy little accent gives me,” I purred and glanced up at him from under my eyelashes, pulling the flirtatious look from my rusty arsenal of female wiles.

  Raising a thick eyebrow, he leaned in closer. “Is that so, shall we try?” The corner of his lip twitched up and then back down quickly into a serious face as he tried to maintain composure. I saw his slip though and he knew it. We burst into laughter.

  My martini lasted the duration of dinner. I’d had enough alcohol the previous night to know I couldn’t handle a second drunken night. Andrew, on the other hand, drank three in the time it took me to finish one.

  When the check came, he snatched it off the table, put a bill inside, and handed it back to the waitress. I gave him a menacing glare. “What are you doing? What is my half?”

  “Oh sod off. When someone provides such good, fun company, one is only expected to pay for such company.”

  “That makes no sense. What am I, a companion prostitute? I can pay my half.”

  “Nonsense, and if you were a prostitute, there would be a lot of broke men in this town.” He shook his head, stuffed his wallet into his back pocket, and headed for the door. I gathered my purse and followed after him, shocked when he held the door for me. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t expecting him to have gentlemanly manners. As I passed, his fingertips pressed into the small of my back.

  “More like one starving, broke prostitute.” It was hard to ignore the placement of his hand.

  “You would not starve, I’d buy you dinner,” he said with a chuckle.

  ****

  The Firebird pulled into the hotel parking lot and Andrew cut the engine. He walked me to my room and turned to leave. I was really enjoying his company each night and the fact that he was being a gentleman made me adore him a little more.

  “Would you like to come in for a few, or do you need to get back?”

  “I’ll come in.” He looked delighted then sighed. “I really enjoy your company, did I tell you that already?”

  “I believe you mentioned it when you called me a prostitute.” I looked up and caught his gaze; his eyes really were the most intense shade of green. “Would you like a water or coffee? I have this stupendous little coffeepot for my morning pick-me-ups, and the hotel always supplies me with a few different flavors.”

  “Water would be fine.”

  I reached into the mini-fridge to grab a bottle. When I turned around to hand it to him, I realized he’d kicked off his boots and was leaning back against the pillows on the bed. His arms were folded behind his head. He looked like he belonged in a painting. I shouldn’t be thinking such things of him, I’d only recently come to terms with the fact that my marriage was over, and now I wanted to jump into something with my co-worker. On set romances rarely last or end well, and I valued his friendship more than a quick fling to ease our loneliness. I handed the water to him and sat at the foot of the bed.

  “What would you like to talk about?” I yawned even though I didn’t feel tired enough to make him leave.

  He pursed his lips in concentration for a moment before answering. “It’s too early for you to be doing that.”

  “I’m not tired. I think sitting on the bed just elicited an automatic response. Movie again?”

  “Sounds good.” He grabbed the remote and flipped on the television.

  I shimmied up to lean against the
headboard as he looked for something to watch. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember was being shaken…again. I really needed to stop falling asleep; this was so unlike me. I blamed the last time on having too much sake, but what could I blame it on this time?

  I rubbed my eyes trying to see clearly. “Hell, I fell asleep again? What time is it?”

  “Don’t be angry with me, please.”

  Why in the world would I be angry with him for my falling asleep? Sleep must have clouded my mind; I wasn’t comprehending.

  “It’s almost nine, I fell asleep, too,” he admitted with a sheepish grin.

  Nine? We didn’t get back to the hotel till after nine, how could it be nine? I looked over to see if my clock had stopped working. He read the confusion in my face.

  “Nine in the morning.”

  I gaped at him. Why would he joke about being morning? I hadn’t gotten a full night’s sleep yet. The window wasn’t dark though. Light peeked through the thick half-open drapes. Beams of light crept across the swirled pattern carpet almost reaching the bed.

  “We’ll have some explaining to do if someone recognizes my car. Not to mention, we’re going to be late for the morning briefing.”

  Panic swept over me as the reality of what he said set in. “Oh crap!” I jumped up out of bed. The smell of his cologne lingered heavy on my clothes and skin.

  “Don’t worry, no one ever gets to those meetings on time.”

  “But I smell like you, I have to take a shower.” I sniffed my shoulder and inwardly my mind screamed at me to skip the shower so I could continue to smell like him all day.

  “Make it quick, and don’t wash your hair. You’re supposed to be there in ten minutes.”

  I stared at him wide-eyed.

  “Go!” he barked.

  I jumped into action while Andrew sat in the bed rubbing his temples with his hands. I stumbled to the closet and pulled out some clean clothes. The hot water did nothing to slow me down like it usually would. I was in and out of the shower in five minutes. As I was toweling off, the room door slammed shut. Andrew must have left.

  It was strange how the thought of him leaving made me feel. It was like I was a child and someone stole my candy bar.

  Before I had time to dress, I heard someone shuffling around in the next room. I craned my head around the bathroom door and saw Andrew seated at the small table inhaling a muffin.

  “I grabbed a few things from the breakfast bar downstairs. Do you like milk in your coffee?”

  “Black, and thank you for the muffin.” I eyed the fluffy topped breakfast treat as I buttoned my jeans and threw on a pair of sandals.

  “You’re welcome. Eat in your car.” He shoved the blueberry muffin in my hand and nudged me to the door.

  “Wait, wait I have to get my script and my purse. You’re very pushy.” I fumbled around with the large script trying to find a way to hold everything. He sighed and took the muffin and milk out of my hands.

  “Better? Let’s go.” He walked me down to my rental car. When I was seated inside and my hands were free, he handed my breakfast back to me. “See you on set later.”

  I made a small, disgruntled sound as the engine purred to life. What’s the point of seeing you on set if you’re going to ignore me? He was sauntering over to his car already. I took one last appreciative look before shifting the car into gear and speeding off.

  Chapter Seven

  I arrived as the director was calling the meeting to order. The stunt coordinator joined him to explain the agenda for the following week. I slid into the back of the room and stood against the door. There were a bunch of new faces in the room clustered by the breakfast table making it pretty easy to sneak in unnoticed.

  We received safety instructions for the choreographed fight scenes that would be filmed Monday and Tuesday.

  “I know most of you have worked with me before.” The coordinator directed his speech toward the back of the room where I was standing. “But I want everyone involved in stunts the next few days to be here.”

  We would be given a lesson in the proper way to fall. Some of us would even be rigged up to harnesses and pulled back off our feet to simulate being hit by an explosion.

  The meeting ended and as everyone was exiting, Billy caught up with me. “Running late this morning, huh?” he said in what sounded like an accusing tone.

  What Andrew said earlier screamed in my head: We’re going to have some explaining to do if someone recognizes my car still here. Panic welled in my stomach churning the half-digested muffin. I knew he had seen Andrew’s car, plus he’d seen Andrew standing at my door two nights ago. Worst of all, he knew I was married. If he thought what any normal person would, I was being painted as a cheating whore in his head right now. I squared my shoulders ready to defend myself.

  “Scared of our kiss scene so you’re trying to play sick, aren’t you?”

  Relief flooded through my body. “No, I forgot to set my alarm last night and overslept. Are you ready for our scene?” We walked together to a new soundstage discussing how we wanted to play our roles.

  Assembled once again, in a barren quarter of Stage 6, we were all taught the basic craft of a stuntman.

  “Fold your body, do not just fall flat,” the stunt coordinator barked through his dark brown beard. A dark haired woman standing next to him demonstrated by falling to the side. Slightly bending her knees, her legs touched the ground first, followed by her flank and lastly her torso. “Doing it this way will alleviate the hard impact since you are essentially easing yourself down.”

  He had us spread out and fold ourselves, like the demonstration. It was much easier than I anticipated and didn’t hurt a bit.

  “Good, if you can do it on cement, you can certainly do it in grass next week, but if at any point you’re uncomfortable let me, or the director know right away so we can bring in someone to perform for you.”

  I kept a watchful eye out for Andrew, wondering if he would know where to go since we were in a different sound stage, all the while watching the fight choreographer’s assistant. She moved around the set like a ballet dancer, pivoting and twirling on her toes. They had another think coming if they thought I’d be able to do some of those moves she showed us. I couldn’t dance.

  Next, it was time for the harness lessons, which began with a trust exercise. One by one we were subjected to falling backward into our spotter’s arms. After a successful fall, we would be secured to a harness to experience the sensation of flying through the air backward for several feet before landing on what the stunt coordinator introduced as an airbag. It simply looked like a full-sized mattress.

  My respiration increased drastically as they secured me to the harness for my turn at being blown up by cannon fire.

  “Relax.” The coordinator placed a large square hand on my shoulder. Each knuckle joint had a thick tuft of dark hair over it. “Remember, you’ll feel two tugs on the rope. When you feel the first tug, go limp. A limp body will land softer.”

  “One, two…” I counted down waiting to feel the tug of the small cable attached to the harness around my hips. It all happened much faster than I anticipated. As I felt the first tug and my mind was reacting to fall limp, the second tug pulled me off my feet and I landed with an audible thud onto the airbag.

  “Did you feel that?” The stunt coordinator came running over to me. “If you don’t go limp, you’re going to be in pain. I think it’s best if you have a stuntwoman perform this for you.”

  “No, I want to do it. Please give me another try.” My voice cracked as I fought back tears of failure and the stabbing pain in my upper neck. On my second attempt, I fared much better and the coordinator actually applauded. I was so euphoric the pain in my neck ceased to exist for a time.

  Andrew arrived on set an hour later, still wearing the clothes he had on this morning.

  Today he gave me a brief nod of recognition. Although I would have preferred one of the crooked smiles that I loved f
rom him, it was a step in the right direction. I put his greeting out of my mind and concentrated on remembering my safety instructions.

  By the end of our training session, I was getting rather sore. Not wanting to miss out on a free stunt lesson, I’d volunteered to participate in some hand-to-hand combat training. Even though it was mock fighting, I took several direct hits because of my bad reflexes. Combined with the sensation of the neck pain settling in, my enthusiasm for combat and stunt training was waning.

  ****

  Andrew didn’t ask if he could come over, but I was hoping he’d call when I got back to the hotel. I set my phone out on the table for easy access in case he did. How absurd for me to be doing this. Am I really waiting around for a phone call like a silly teenager? I wanted to go soak my sore muscles in a nice hot bath but I didn’t want to miss his call so I delayed the soak.

  Unanswered emails were piling up, so I passed the time responding to them. It was only mid-afternoon; surely he would call once he finally made it home and changed. If he didn’t, then maybe I would finally get some touristy things done. Even if I had to brave the streets alone.

  One of the perks of being an adult was independence, and a car was the ultimate independence. I’ve had to remind myself of this for years. It was the only way I’d get behind the driver’s seat.

  The muscle in my right shoulder spasmed. Filming an epic was much more exhausting than I’d anticipated.

  If Andrew hadn’t called by the time I was done, I would give up on the idea of him coming over tonight. I went to the round table and flipped open my laptop. I started by reading all the e-mails that were backlogged in my inbox, trashing a large portion of junk-mail.

  One of the emails mentioned Jocelyn, my childhood best friend with whom I’d lost touch. She married a creep whom I dated briefly before her. When he became possessive I broke it off, but he wouldn’t let go. Eventually I filed a restraining order, and he started dating my best friend. Because of him, Jocelyn and I had a falling out. Feeling lonely and a bit nostalgic for our lost friendship, I decided to send her an email tonight.