Hollywood Dirt
Page 75
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My bagel was wheat. I hated wheat. Unless it had blueberries. But Mary said they didn’t have blueberry, even though two seats down, one of the ADs was going to town on one, and I could see the blue dots on it. She smeared strawberry cream cheese on the top in an attempt to make up for it, but I didn’t like flavored cream cheese, a preference that, if I pointed it out now, would only make me look difficult. So I was stuck with this bastard of a breakfast creation, her beady eyes glued to me, just waiting for me to take a bite so that she could cross one neatly-written item off her list: Feed Summer. I took a small bite. Yep. Nasty.
I could feel when he sat down in the seat next to mine, his long legs stretching out under the table, one bumping against me, and I shifted, pulling my feet under my chair, his shoulder coming into my peripheral vision as he leaned over. I ignored him, my study of the top of the bagel unwavering in its intensity.
“Morning.” His voice was rough, like he’d recently woken up and hadn’t yet spoken.
I smiled politely and took a bite of the bagel, my eyes moving to the left, away from Cole, looking for something, anything, to focus on. I hadn’t prepared for this, had hoped he would be as uninterested as I was in conversation. My eyes found Becky, one of the producers, the one who was leading this meeting, and willed her to begin. I shouldn’t have arrived early. I should have ducked in at the last minute, and would have, had Mary not been a freakin’ drill sergeant, her schedule worked down to the minute, any hope of my lagging disappearing with the first tap of her Timex.
“How late were you at the house last night?” Oh my word. He wasn’t letting this go.
“Shhh…” I hushed, glancing around, worried about who might hear. It was the wrong thing to do, him shuffling up in his seat and leaning closer, his head close to my ear.
“It’s an innocent question. How late were you there?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. You’re welcome, by the way. For watching Cocky.” I turned my head slightly to him, not too far to touch him, but enough that I saw the curve of his mouth when he grinned.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I took the last, painful bite of the bagel and pushed the rest aside. It was a calculated amount of nibbles. Enough not to offend, not too much for Mary to think I actually liked it.
“I wish you’d stayed.”
My heart lost a beat in those words. I tried to recover it, tried to breathe normally, to act normally. I wish you’d stayed. A simple grouping of four ordinary words. But they were like peanut butter cookies. Four simple ingredients: peanut butter, sugar, flour, and egg. Together, they created something most women loved.
I hated peanut butter cookies. And I hated that sentence out of his mouth.
Because no matter how much it would have complicated everything, no matter how much of a mistake it would have been—
I wish I’d stayed too.
Becky cleared her throat and began the meeting, and I, for a little longer, was saved.
CHAPTER 83
Summer was acting weird. Weird even for her. Jumpy. Skittish. Avoiding eye contact. Avoiding conversation at all costs. Cole stared at the wall in his trailer and tried to think of the last time they’d had a direct conversation with each other. In the conference room? Right after he’d returned from LA to an empty house. That had been it. And that hadn’t been much of a conversation at all. And that’d been a week ago.
He’d tried pissing her off, and she hadn’t bitten. He’d tried being friendly and she’d cut him off. He was running out of options, other than dragging her into his trailer and forcing her to talk.
“You there?”
He flinched at the voice and turned to Justin, who sat opposite him, script pages spread out between them. “What?”
“You zoned out. Did you hear anything I just said? About Tokyo?”
“No.”
“Rentho’s Tokyo premiere is next week. We need to shift your shooting schedule to accommodate it, so Don wants to know how many days you’ll be out.” He arched an eyebrow, pen in hand, twitching above a calendar. “Five?”
“The Japan premiere is now? I thought we were waiting.”
“They bumped it up, back in July.” Probably around the time of Justin’s accident.
Cole nodded. “I’m not going.”
“Why?”
“We’re getting stuff done here; this is more important. When are we filming thirty-eight?” Thirty-eight. The sex scene between Royce and Ida.
“We were going to push it ’til after the Japanese premiere. Don wants to give Summer some more time to—”
“No,” Cole interrupted. “We can’t wait.” He couldn’t wait. Not an extra minute, much less a week. The sex scene had been another add-on, one he’d pushed the writers for. One that Summer had fought tooth and nail. “We’ll do it next week, and I’ll skip the premiere. Send Charlize instead, she loves those things.”
“When are you just going to admit to yourself that you like her?” Justin put down the pen, and Cole looked away.
“I do like her. That’s not an issue. I like you, too; though I hate admitting that even more.” He grinned, but Justin didn’t grin back.
“Stop fucking around.”
Cole’s grin dropped, and his gaze hardened. “I’m not fucking around. She’s hot; I’m hot. There’s a flirtation there. If I want to fuck her, I’ll fuck her. If I want to like her, I’ll like her. If I want to hate her, I’ll do that too. The movie is most important, and everything that I’ve been doing with her is for that end game. The Fortune Bottle is killing it in those cuts. You know, you’ve seen it.”
I could feel when he sat down in the seat next to mine, his long legs stretching out under the table, one bumping against me, and I shifted, pulling my feet under my chair, his shoulder coming into my peripheral vision as he leaned over. I ignored him, my study of the top of the bagel unwavering in its intensity.
“Morning.” His voice was rough, like he’d recently woken up and hadn’t yet spoken.
I smiled politely and took a bite of the bagel, my eyes moving to the left, away from Cole, looking for something, anything, to focus on. I hadn’t prepared for this, had hoped he would be as uninterested as I was in conversation. My eyes found Becky, one of the producers, the one who was leading this meeting, and willed her to begin. I shouldn’t have arrived early. I should have ducked in at the last minute, and would have, had Mary not been a freakin’ drill sergeant, her schedule worked down to the minute, any hope of my lagging disappearing with the first tap of her Timex.
“How late were you at the house last night?” Oh my word. He wasn’t letting this go.
“Shhh…” I hushed, glancing around, worried about who might hear. It was the wrong thing to do, him shuffling up in his seat and leaning closer, his head close to my ear.
“It’s an innocent question. How late were you there?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. You’re welcome, by the way. For watching Cocky.” I turned my head slightly to him, not too far to touch him, but enough that I saw the curve of his mouth when he grinned.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I took the last, painful bite of the bagel and pushed the rest aside. It was a calculated amount of nibbles. Enough not to offend, not too much for Mary to think I actually liked it.
“I wish you’d stayed.”
My heart lost a beat in those words. I tried to recover it, tried to breathe normally, to act normally. I wish you’d stayed. A simple grouping of four ordinary words. But they were like peanut butter cookies. Four simple ingredients: peanut butter, sugar, flour, and egg. Together, they created something most women loved.
I hated peanut butter cookies. And I hated that sentence out of his mouth.
Because no matter how much it would have complicated everything, no matter how much of a mistake it would have been—
I wish I’d stayed too.
Becky cleared her throat and began the meeting, and I, for a little longer, was saved.
CHAPTER 83
Summer was acting weird. Weird even for her. Jumpy. Skittish. Avoiding eye contact. Avoiding conversation at all costs. Cole stared at the wall in his trailer and tried to think of the last time they’d had a direct conversation with each other. In the conference room? Right after he’d returned from LA to an empty house. That had been it. And that hadn’t been much of a conversation at all. And that’d been a week ago.
He’d tried pissing her off, and she hadn’t bitten. He’d tried being friendly and she’d cut him off. He was running out of options, other than dragging her into his trailer and forcing her to talk.
“You there?”
He flinched at the voice and turned to Justin, who sat opposite him, script pages spread out between them. “What?”
“You zoned out. Did you hear anything I just said? About Tokyo?”
“No.”
“Rentho’s Tokyo premiere is next week. We need to shift your shooting schedule to accommodate it, so Don wants to know how many days you’ll be out.” He arched an eyebrow, pen in hand, twitching above a calendar. “Five?”
“The Japan premiere is now? I thought we were waiting.”
“They bumped it up, back in July.” Probably around the time of Justin’s accident.
Cole nodded. “I’m not going.”
“Why?”
“We’re getting stuff done here; this is more important. When are we filming thirty-eight?” Thirty-eight. The sex scene between Royce and Ida.
“We were going to push it ’til after the Japanese premiere. Don wants to give Summer some more time to—”
“No,” Cole interrupted. “We can’t wait.” He couldn’t wait. Not an extra minute, much less a week. The sex scene had been another add-on, one he’d pushed the writers for. One that Summer had fought tooth and nail. “We’ll do it next week, and I’ll skip the premiere. Send Charlize instead, she loves those things.”
“When are you just going to admit to yourself that you like her?” Justin put down the pen, and Cole looked away.
“I do like her. That’s not an issue. I like you, too; though I hate admitting that even more.” He grinned, but Justin didn’t grin back.
“Stop fucking around.”
Cole’s grin dropped, and his gaze hardened. “I’m not fucking around. She’s hot; I’m hot. There’s a flirtation there. If I want to fuck her, I’ll fuck her. If I want to like her, I’ll like her. If I want to hate her, I’ll do that too. The movie is most important, and everything that I’ve been doing with her is for that end game. The Fortune Bottle is killing it in those cuts. You know, you’ve seen it.”
