Accidental Action Star (4 page)

We four danced together until Garrett came down from an upstairs VIP room and hit on Marissa. Unlike Cal, Garrett kept his whole attention on her. When the next pop-rap mash-up song ended and rolled into an intense club beat, Garrett took Marissa’s hand and said to the rest of us, “We flew in delicacies from all over the world, to tempt the mortals into our lair.” He motioned up to the VIP room. “Chefs should find it intriguing, like tables set by gods awaiting your judgments. Want to come upstairs with me?”

Delicacies. Lair. VIPs. I wanted it all. Kate and I stepped forward at once, her shoulder bumped mine, and we said in unison, “Yes.”

Cal shrugged. “If it’s not from Louisiana, I wouldn’t call it a delicacy, but sure.”

Garrett, keeping a tight grip on Marissa, as if she’d bolt, led us to the stairs. People were calling Garrett’s name by this point and pushing into us to get to him. We sped up and the bouncer took charge.

The VIP room had curtained-off couches and a full bar. The music played on, but not as loud as downstairs. As lairs went, it had potential. The five of us joined two waitresses, several tall women who had to be models, the rock star known as Sax Grayson, and a movie star named Max Stone.

Max Stone.

Sax Grayson.

Garrett Campbell.

It was as if the posters in my dorm had gone live—and I was living in it.

Max looked at me and then away.

Curiosity stirred inside me. What did that mean? Was this because I’d bit him the last time I saw him? Or something else? I didn’t know the answer, but I knew I was going to find out.

One person stood in the way of me getting to Max—a model.

The tall brunette model matched him in height. She looked like a skank. Girls shouldn’t think of other girls by derivative names. But she wore slutty clothes—sluttier than ours. She sent come-hither looks to every guy in the room—waiters, the rock star, and Marissa’s guy Garrett. And worst of all, she had her arm around Max’s waist. Max, the guy I thought was hot. For those reasons, she qualified as a skank. And she had to go.

The quickest way to get a guy’s attention was to play up to another guy. I could hit on Cal, one of the waiters, or the rock star. I’d been told my best feature was my hair. I pulled it forward so the strands floated over my shoulder, landing right above my waist. I told my feet to walk toward any guy but Max.

Thirty seconds later, I stood beside Max as he swigged his beer. A greeting was the most effective pickup line anyone could use. A simple greeting. A hello. A hi. A howdy. I tilted my head back and looked into his golden eyes.

Nothing. I said nothing. The music boomed. The VIPs chit-chatted. My skin tingled, and I said nothing. We were having another silent standoff like the day we’d first met.  I hadn’t meant to start this. Say something.

Nothing.

Max smiled slowly. His smile said I’d speak first.

The brunette model turned her back on us and went over to the rock star. She knew how to play the game. Feign disinterest. Play it cool. I wasn’t cool. At this point, saying nothing had become my only strategy. Make Max speak first.

I waited.

His eyes glinted.

The dim lights in the room put us in a faux intimate atmosphere. It was just him and me like the first two stars appearing up in a night sky, alone in a vast universe. My skin prickled. Say nothing. Wait until he spoke.

My mouth opened. “You’re sparkling hot.”

He focused more intently on me if that were possible. “I’m what?”

“Sparkling hot. Like Edward, the vampire.”

His eyes widened. “No.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s not a thing we’re saying.”

I waved my phone at him and felt a small bit of euphoria. “Yeah. It is. I’m going to tweet it.” I pretended to type. “Saw Max, the sparkling hot actor, at the club.”

Max grabbed my wrist to stop the tweet. His fingers were warm and strong. My heart sped up. He smiled as if he knew my feelings. “Then what happened?”

“He said he’d pose for me.”

“No. He didn’t.”

“He kissed me.”

Max moved closer and lowered his head. His gaze was intent, a hunter making his move. I tingled in anticipation.

Sax rapped out a drumbeat, ruining the moment. “Let’s take the party out to the pier for a quick cruise. We’ve been cooped up inside too long.”

The model cocked her lean hips and shook her head in playful refusal, a tried and true trick to entice a guy. “Inside’s where it’s at.”

Sax paused and his eyes, lined with black eyeliner, flickered up. “I’ll let you drive my boat.”

The brunette flipped her hair. “I’ll go.”

By some unspoken group decision, all the VIPs headed toward the door and we went with them.

***

The wind carried the smell of the Pacific Ocean over the decks and blew the ends of the robe I wore over my borrowed pink bikini. Only Kate, Marissa, and I put robes over our swimsuits. It was cold out here at night. The models didn’t care; they wore their unmentionables instead of borrowing from the supply of suits on the boat. Though admittedly, the brunette’s gold bra covered as much as my bikini top. The design made me think of the website Justin favored when he was shopping for Lorene instead of working on his art projects. Stringed sequins floated down from the bra strap in swirls. It was not like a bra from the mall. I hadn’t learned the model’s name, but I’d eased up on thinking of her as
The Skank
because she’d dropped away from Max and attached herself to Cal.

The motion of the boat altered as the engines slowed.

“We’re dropping anchor any second.” Sax stared out at the darkness, and his face lit up. “I want in.” He sang a line about a fish and a hook and a girl that he took with perfect pitch.

Max put both hands on the rail, glanced at me and then out at the water. “This is not happening.”

The cool night air blew over me, and I covered my bare legs with the robe. “What’s not happening?”

Max hooked his finger in my knotted belt and tugged me in front of him. “You and me.”

A rush hit me. The wind whipped over us, freeing strands of my hair from its braid. I used the excuse of tucking my hair back before responding. I nodded toward the brunette who was pretending she wasn’t staring at us. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“No. I’ve been out with her twice, but we’re done. I don’t go out with girls more than twice.”

I narrowed my eyes, checking his face for sincerity. “You’re kidding.”

“No. They get ideas.”

Max needed training. These California girls had let him get away with far too much. I leaned back and braced against the solid hand rail. “By quitting early, you miss out.”

“You don’t have to wait for the third date to have sex.”

“OMG. I didn’t mean sex.” I lowered my voice. “You have sex by date two? Before you’re in a relationship with a girl?”

Max didn’t answer.

“Then you’ve never really loved.”

He flinched and squinted into the distance. “I have three rules.”

As little as he talked, I’d have thought he’d have only one. “Spill.”

Max took a swig of his beer and pointed the bottle at me. “No nice girls. No co-workers. No crazies.” He snapped his teeth, imitating a bite. I got the reference. “You hit each at 100% so I’m 300% sure we’re not hooking up.”

OMG. “And, I’m 300% sure you’re not majoring in math.” I ducked away and headed to the hot tub.

Max joined me, but he didn’t deviate from his plan. He didn’t hit on me. But he didn’t hit on anyone else either. Every time he caught my gaze, his eyes lingered. We stayed out until the orange and pink sunrise appeared, glowing against his skin. I wanted to draw it. I wanted to draw it against his skin.

***

I went back to the dorm to shower.

Eva clicked on her lamp. “Where’ve you been?” She sounded half asleep.

“I spent the night on a yacht—with movie stars, TV stars, and a rock star.”

“Liar.” She clicked her lamp off and rolled over. “Bring back leftovers next time you stay at your Mom’s.”

Neither of us had class so I tried not to wake her up again as I got ready for work. I made it to the studio in time to swing by the Art Department. I didn’t have a shift, but I wanted to talk with Archie about the
Dragon Night
artwork.

Archie lifted his head away from his computer monitor. He was working on the cartoon pixie project, something that always put him in a bad mood. He looked at me, taking in my dragging steps and clipped-up hair. “Late night?”

I grunted, an unladylike, displeased sound and stifled a yawn. I’d used concealer and eye drops; he shouldn’t be able to tell I was tired.

He unwrapped a breakfast burrito and bit down. Scrambled egg fell from the end of his burrito. Whichever food truck worker had made it hadn’t tucked the end in properly. And the tortilla was green—California. “Get those signatures yet?”

I worked my jaw and covered my yawn with one hand. “Not yet.”

Archie huffed and turned back to his project. “You ain’t getting a paying job here with that success rate.”

That woke me up. I’d seen their crap
Dragon Night
drawings. The fact that they weren’t approved yet wasn’t on me.  “Max said they were freaking pervy. He also said for you guys to give me a script so I can advise on adjustments.” I didn’t tell Archie how much of that was from me interpreting Max’s expression as opposed to Max actually saying it.

Archie guffawed. “Script? Advise? You?” He gestured to the sink. “Stick to cleaning paint brushes.”

Add paint solvent to my headache? No way. “Wish I could, but I work at
Scoop Out
today. Rehearsals, you know.”

Archie glanced at the sink, wearing a pout. He appeared so disgruntled, I bet he and Justin had done something to the water. Maybe he’d taped the spray nozzle so he’d soak me or he’d loosened the bolts so it would fall apart again. I stalked over to Justin’s desk. 

“Morning, Justin.”

“Did you see…” Justin blushed. “Her?” He whispered the last word.

“See who?” I knew who.

Justin rubbed his soul patch. “Lorene Dailer. At Warehouse 47. My ‘Where’s Lorene’ app says she’s been there all week.”

“Your stalker app? How’s that even legal?”

“It just is, okay.” Justin motioned to his computer monitor. “Come look at these bras.” He eyed my chest. “You’re a girl. Which one would Lorene want?”

Images of bras appeared on screen: diamond bras, golden bras, silver bras.

He was such a stalker-perv, but a harmless one. Like Lorene wanted to receive a bra from a fan. “I’m too tired for this, Justin. You’re a talented, good-looking guy. Get a haircut. Get a new shirt. Shave. Introduce yourself. You’re her co-worker, not a loon off the street. Take your shot.”

Justin gaped at me, at a total loss over my suggestion.

I ran a hand through my hair and stole a pencil to twist it up. “Sorry. I’m just tired. Admire her from afar if you want. I’m just saying you should go for it.” I turned to leave.

“Wait.” Justin passed me a script. The cover read
Dragon Night
. “Read it. It’s good.”

Satisfaction and eagerness fought my tiredness. With a script, I could really contribute to the process. “Thanks.”

“Sure. We’ve got a few weeks to get those forms signed anyway.”

That gave me several weeks to find out what Max wanted.

Justin pointed to the break room. “There’s donuts in the back.”

“Thanks.” I went over and grabbed a glazed one, hoping the sugar rush would last through my
Scoop Out
shift.

***

All the contestants worked quietly at their stations. Will was always quiet, and the rest of them were exhausted after last night. Marissa scooped pineapple into small wedges and dusted each one with cinnamon. “So you like him?”

“Max?”

“No. The other hot movie star you’re hanging out with.” Marissa rolled her green eyes. “Yes. Max. What’s he like?”

“Silent.”

“Silent as in no thoughts? Or silent as in deep?” She held up a pineapple like a crystal ball. “Mulling all the wrongs of the world and counting all the ways he admires you?” The fruit rolled off her fingers and hit the cookie sheet, cracking. Marissa cursed and tossed it into the discard plate.

I snatched the piece up. The cinnamon made it yum. I chewed and considered her question. “Silent like he’s thinking of a strategy for destroying the Art Department. I guess he’s given them some suggestions for a script and they can’t execute them.” I reached for another pineapple and held it up for an extra sprinkle of cinnamon. Marissa complied. I envisioned Max taking out Archie and Justin with Kung Foo moves. “Let’s face it. Max against the Art Department. It wouldn’t exactly be a fair fight.”

“I don’t know. I’ve met some pretty dark artists.”

“Archie and Justin don’t qualify as dark. Or deep.” I wiped my hands and checked the clock. The minute hand hadn’t moved since the last time I’d checked. “I’m so tired.”

“Go sleep in the break room. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thanks.” I went to the break room and slumped in one of the chairs. The back was hard and the table was cold. None of it was conducive to napping. I reached for my bag and took out the
Dragon Night
script. Justin had pinned copies of the Art Department’s crude sketches inside. They were too naked, and they lacked magic. I hadn’t read a word of the script, and I knew that much.

I used a pencil and adjusted the hero’s costume. I added a shirt, a cape, and mystical elements everywhere. Not bad. I yawned and my eyelids threatened to close. I blinked them open and put my head down on the cold surface. Tomorrow’s my first rehearsal.  I should call and see if there’s anything I needed to do to prepare. Too tired…

***

According to my call sheet, today was my first rehearsal on
Time Kick.
I hovered between nervous and excited. I’d helped out enough on Mom’s show to know how often scenes got cut, even whole parts. My unlikely role would likely be cut in one editing pass, so I needed to calm down. This was just a first meet anyway.