“The interviewer should be out in a few minutes,” a nervous assistant squeaks out.
“Sounds good, thanks.” Clover gives him an extra bright smile that seems to infuse some confidence in him. He smiles, standing a little taller before scurrying off to his next task. He looks like he’s barely old enough to have a job.
The door to the warehouse opens, and I can feel the energy shift before I see why. The photographer’s eyes widen, and those who aren’t in motion suddenly launch themselves into it, finding anything to do that keeps them looking busy. There’s only one person I know who can leave that kind of impression on a room.
Turning slowly, I have the misfortune of seeing Deacon walking in. He strolls onto the set like he owns it, even though this isn’t Starlight property.
“Coffee, now.” He points at a random magazine employee, who looks toward their colleague, both wearing equal expressions of bewilderment before one nudges the other togo grab said coffee. Only Deacon would think he can order people around like that, and only for someone like Deacon would people actually do it. He has the power to make or break anyone, and that knowledge sits heavy in my stomach as I school my expression into something neutral.
I still need him. Having heard radio silence since our conversation about fixing the franchise casting agreement, I’m well aware of the fact that I’m in a precarious position right now and I can’t afford to piss him off. It goes against every instinct I have to trust him, but what choice do I have other than that? He’s the only one who can fix my fuck-up. Shame sits heavy in my chest, and my hands flex.
Staring down at my compass tattoo, I watch the ink as it shifts with the movement of my hand.
Clover shoots me a nervous expression, eyebrows slightly pinching together, but she swallows and forces a smile onto her pretty lips by the time Deacon glares her way.
“Good morning, Mr. Everett,” she offers.
He rejects it, staring at her as if she’s about as convenient as gum stuck to a shoe.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, careful to make sure my tone can’t be misconstrued as rude.
“I was in town and wanted to see how things were coming along.”
“Roman! There you are!” Janine yells from across the room.Great, he’s brought the whole damn cavalry.“So excited to see the photoshoot.”
“I’m afraid you missed the photo portion, but we’re about to sit down and do our interview in a few minutes,” I explain to them both.
“Excellent. Where’s that coffee?” Deacon asks, before stalking off to terrorize some poor employee. Meanwhile, Janine flits about with her usual brand of uselessness.
Pulling Clover by her hand, I guide her over to a moreprivate area of the warehouse, where we’re slightly hidden by the other side of the white backdrop.
My pulse is hammering as I pace, dread coursing through my veins. This isn’t how I want to go into an interview. The last thing I want is to be scrutinized by Deacon when I’m being filmed. Winding my hands behind my neck, I pull. I need a physical release for the tension inside my body.
“Hey.” A soft hand lands on my chest, and another around my shoulder. Clover directs my focus to her sea-green eyes. “Roman, what’s going on?” Her eyes search for answers I’m not ready to give.
I take her hands in mine, and bring them to my lips for a quick kiss before shaking my head. “I hate having him here.”
“I know.”
Just hearing her acknowledge my feelings, without trying to change them has the pressure in my chest loosening slightly. Enough for me to blow out a deep breath.
“We’re going to go out there, do our best, and have some fun,” she says, smiling at me.
“Thank you,” I kiss her, and all my worries are insignificant compared to this. What I have with her, what I feel like when she’s in my arms... It feels bigger than anything I’ve experienced before, and it feels like something I’m not quite ready to admit to myself yet.
“Let’s do this, it can’t be that bad,” she whispers between kisses. I know she’s right, but the sensation in my stomach disagrees.
Chapter Sixty
ROMAN
The telltale red light on the camera glows, letting us know we’re recording.
“Roman, Clover,” the interviewer, Shauna, beams. “Thanks for taking the time to be here today.” A pleasantry, because we don’t actually have a choice in doing this, but I nod and offer a small smile, regardless.
“Thanks for having us.” Clover smiles and it’s so sincere.
“What does it mean for you both, being in this movie?”
