Blurred Boundaries

Copyright © December 2014, Lori Crawford

Cover art by Valerie Tibbs © December 2014

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.

Preacher’s Kid Productions

Santa Monica, CA 90405

www.preacherskidproductions.com

This is for all my television writing peers out there. 
Madelynn Amalfitano, Ada Chin, Kathleen Cromie, Dedi Felman, Lorelei Ignas, Brittney Jeng, Craig LaMarsh, Joey Mascio, Marisa Tam, Eva Taylor, Alex Vaz.
I appreciate all of you for pushing me to be a better writer and opening up avenues I had no idea even existed. Every single one of you is priceless.

Big thanks to the folks who’ve been so generous with their time, advice and encouragement.
Karen Barna, Brian Fagan, Sharline Liu, Far Shariat, Lena Waithe, Speed Weed, Heather Zuhlke.
You guys are amazing in your generosity.

“Well you know. Since I’m about to get fired — from my dream job no less — I think I’m gonna need a rain check.” Tamara Keller cut the engine of her rental car and stared at the white trailer with its signature blue accents that was parked perpendicular to her space. Her target’s name was on a laminated sheet posted on the door so she knew she was staking out the correct talent trailer. At the moment, all three trailers appeared to be empty, which meant they were all on set. That was kind of where she was supposed to be, but the way she’d been summoned to location made her think that she needed to first get some things straight with the star who’d pitched a fit over his role for the week.

“I really don’t think they’re issuing rain checks so you have to come.” Vivian’s voice through the car’s speakers jolted Tam away from the black hole of self-pity into which she had been about to leap. “We only get one twenty-year class reunion and this is it. Don’t you want to get caught up with everybody and see what they’re doing these days?”

Tam smirked. “Says the woman who refuses to get a Facebook account because she’s actively trying to keep high school in the past. I’m already caught up with everybody and I live two thousand miles away.”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is a one-time, in-and-out deal. Besides…” Tam could totally picture Vivian’s pouty face as she continued. “…it’s been forever since we’ve seen you. Come home and visit us.”

A wave of nostalgia swept over Tam. It was true. She hadn’t been home since she’d buried her father. Now that both her parents were gone, Iowa just didn’t seem like home anymore. Without them tying her to the area, she didn’t feel there was much reason to return. She was a California girl now. Iowa was just the place she was from.

Before she could get sucked down that rabbit hole of despair, she caught sight of her prey. Tam’s eyes followed him from the moment he stepped outside the stage door and tracked him all the way to his trailer. He was alone. Perfect.

To date, she’d only seen the man on television screens. She’d be the first to admit that he had charisma for days and style to boot. Even from across the parking lot, she admired the way the wind added a sexy muss to his short jet black hair, and good God, she loved a five o’clock shadow. When combined with his piercing blue eyes, he became all kinds of lethal.

Those qualities were also a big part of the reason this show had kept afloat beyond its first season and was on the brink of being picked up for season three. Nope. Tam was not the only resident of Evan Josephs’ town of Crushville. However, she was the only one whose career was being held hostage in his little diva grip.

Tam narrowed her eyes and watched him climb inside his trailer and close the door. Well. She’d just see about that. This show had been her first staffing opportunity, and she wasn’t about to go down without one heck of a fight.

“Tam? Tamara! Are you listening to me?” Vivian’s voice snapped Tam out of her thoughts.

“Actually? No. I just caught sight of Evan. I gotta go.”

“Give him hell. That asshole done messed with the wrong girl now.”

Tam grinned at her friend’s support. “Thanks.”

“But try not to get fired and end up blackballed forever in Hollywood, thus ending your entire career before it even starts.”

Tam sighed and rolled her eyes at Vivian’s chipper tone. “Thanks for ruining that moment.”

“Anytime! Love you.”

“Love you, too.” Tam disconnected and stared at the trailer a moment longer. She may as well get this over with. She took one last fortifying breath before grabbing her laptop bag in a death grip and climbing from the car.

Tam gave herself a little pep talk as she strode across the parking lot toward the trailer. She was here to solve a problem and had been well paid for her solution. That the guy didn’t like her solution was his problem. She didn’t appreciate his outright refusal to cooperate and being summoned from halfway across the country to rework things on the fly made her livid. The fact that she’d been bummed out when she learned that she wouldn’t be allowed to travel to the location during the shoot was now so far beside the point that it had passed up moot long ago.

The heat of anger flushed her face quite well by the time she reached his trailer. The Atlanta humidity wasn’t helping things. Beads of sweat dotted her forehead, making the cool image she wished to project a pipe dream. The last thing she needed was a reputation of being difficult. Or worse yet, bad at her job. Still, the things he’d reportedly said about her work went way beyond unflattering to downright mean. If he hated her sensibilities so much, why bother making her fly all the way out here to fix things? Especially since Gavin, who was much higher up the food chain, was already on the scene.

Tam raised her fist and knocked on the trailer door with a whole lot more force than she’d intended. So much for her not-difficult reputation. The pounding was enough to shock her out of her anger, so she was able to get her wits together. She closed her eyes and took a breath. She needed to find a calm place before confronting the man.

The faint click of the door was all the warning she got before Evan pushed it open and she found herself staring at his chest and couldn’t find enough incentive to look up to compensate for their height difference due to the raised trailer. If he was hot on screen, he was on fire in person. He’d taken his shirt off so the delectable muscles of his torso were nicely displayed. The sight was marred a tiny bit by the towel he had slung over one shoulder.

Professional, Tamara. Be professional,
she chided herself and lifted her chin to focus on his face. One side of his jaw was covered in shaving cream. The other was freshly shaved. A speck of blood was forming on that cheek. Huh. She’d managed to draw first blood. The thought gave her a perverse pleasure, but also reminded her of her mission.

“Yes?” He prompted when she continued to stand there staring at him like an idiot.

She thrust a hand toward him. “Tamara Keller. You’re shooting my freelance episode.” Tam’s shoulders squared with pride because she’d managed to sound both professional and friendly. Neither of which he deserved after the comments he’d made about her. Without even meeting her no less.

His eyes narrowed as he looked her over. He ignored her hand and turned away, leaving her standing awkwardly in the doorway. So much for professional and friendly.

“Come in if you’re coming.” His annoyed tone re-sparked her irritation. She glared as his back and climbed inside the trailer. He was getting less hot by the moment. She bit her tongue and turned to close the door behind her. If he wanted a fight, she was happy to oblige.

Continuing his obvious quest to be as inhospitable as possible, he returned to the mirror and resumed shaving. He didn’t invite her to have a seat or anything. Not that sitting would be easy since all the seats were covered with scripts or clothes or both. Determined not to let him know how much his blowing her off like this bothered her, she just stood behind him. She was happy to note that her face remained passive and pleasant. He washed the blood off his cheek and continued shaving the rest of his face.

“I understand you have a problem with the script.” Tam got right down to brass tacks. He met her gaze in the mirror.

“Understate much?” He shrugged and returned his attention to his jaw. “Maybe you do have a way with words. Not that it’s evident from those pages. How in the hell did you get this freelance assignment?”

Tam never felt so much like crying before in her life. She’d worked so hard to get to this point in her career and to have someone she’d once considered to be a stand-up guy say such hurtful things to her face was almost more than she could bear. Almost. All thoughts of professional and friendly flew right out of her head.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Tam dropped her laptop bag with a thunk and planted her hands squarely on her hips.

He stared her down in the mirror. She hadn’t expected that his normally playful blue eyes could turn so cold. His eyebrows shot up toward his hairline. Huh. The jackass hadn’t expected her to fight back.

“No. I really want to know. You talk all kinds of shit about my work and I want to know why you think you have the right to be such a giant asshole to a perfect stranger.”

He swiped the remaining shaving cream from his face and slammed the towel down on the counter then whirled to face her. The anger flashing in his eyes matched her own. “How about I tell you who I’m not? I’m not just some former model who thinks acting is about sitting around looking cute. Do you have any idea how much I work at my craft?”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Tam demanded. “I have great respect for what you do. Or I did until about thirty seconds ago when you showed me what a class A jerk you are.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now? You have great respect…?” He pressed by her in the tight space and grabbed a script off the pile on the desk behind her. He flipped it open to a page tagged with a Post-it and shoved it at her. “Who’s the jerk now?”

Suppressing an eye-roll, she humored him and read the pages. Maybe he thought that was the best way for him to win his argument. She wasn’t one to back down. Tam read the unfamiliar words twice. She came to the part where the scene direction instructed him to lean against the bar and just look hot as per usual. She could see why that would upset him. But she didn’t have a clue what it had to do with her.

She looked at him. “The jerk is still you. I thought you were upset about my episode. That’s why I came all this way.”

He glared at her. “That is your episode. Are you really going to stand here and deny that you wrote this crap? My character was supposed to finally meet the father he thought was dead. I’ve been anticipating playing that scene all season. And you give me that.”

She frowned and flipped the script to the title page. Sure enough, her name was on it with her episode title. She flipped back to the marked page. “I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe this version is mis-collated. I don’t know.”

“Oh. So now you’re saying I can’t operate a printer, either.” He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe I should just stand by it and ‘look hot as per usual.’”

“I don’t know how to get this through to you. I did not write that scene.” Tam insisted and flipped through the pages. The more she scanned, the more she began to panic.

“Your name is on it,” Evan pointed out.

She double checked the title page then reread another unfamiliar scene that was full of typos, grammatical errors and worst of all, plain bad writing. Stunned, she looked Evan in the eye. “My name is on this.”

He nodded. “I know. That’s what I just said.”

“Oh, my God. My name is on this.” Entering full blown panic mode, she flipped through more pages and was greeted with more of the same. “My
name
is on this… this … awful piece of trash.” She balled it up and shook it under his nose. She was moving beyond panic and squarely into rage. “My name is on
this
.”

Evan gave her a side eye. “Are you saying this isn’t the script you wrote?”

“No! Of course I didn’t write this. Are you nuts?” She leaned against the wall and rubbed the bridge of her nose. This was all kinds of bad. She had another thought that sent her reeling back toward panic mode. “Is this what you’ve been shooting for the past three days?”

Evan looked at her like she’d lost her mind. He nodded and shrugged. “Of course. That’s what you gave us.”

“Stop saying that. I didn’t give you this.” She waved the script under his nose. “This is not the network approved draft. What happens when we turn in the cut and it’s not as expected?”

Evan was starting to look a little nervous now. “We’d be done. Cancelled.” He plucked the script from her fingers and looked it over again. “You’re serious, aren’t you? We’ve been shooting the wrong script. How the hell did that happen?”

“I have no idea. I’m new at this, remember?” She fumbled her phone from her pocket. “We’ve got to reach out to Schenecki. See what he wants us to do.”

Evan cleared a space off the couch for her to sit. She sank into the cushions gratefully and placed the call on speaker phone.

“Alan Schenecki’s office. This is Nona.”

“Hey Nona, it’s Tam. I’m here with Evan. We need Schenecki. We’ve got a bit of a situation here.”

“Hey guys. Sorry Tam. There’s some big dust up at the network. Schenecki is all over that. It’s been crazy here.”