Blanche gives her a contemplative look before shrugging. “Really, that’s not a half-bad idea. I could get you a realistic faux pregnancy bump. That was some of the most sensual lovemaking we ever had, so it could be perfect—”
On that note, I stand, having heard enough. I would never disrespect Blanche, but I have to get out of here before I hear the b-word one more time. Trying to think of something to say, I give a nod to Blanche before turning and power walking back out to the car. I’ll have to deal with this ray of fucking sunshine at some point, but not right now. Maybe I’ll stay out late, let her fall asleep after finishing painting every inch of the damn cottage yellow, then sneak back in to sleep on the couch. If I go to bed late enough and get up early, I should be able to avoid the sunshine.
Chapter six
Okay.Okay.This is fine. My eyes leave the script that Blanche gave me yesterday to flick for the hundredth time up to my Henry, who’s currently sitting shirtless on the couch. I was already asleep whenever he came back last night, and I woke up well before him this morning. Sasha rises to stretch and then heads toward the bathroom, and I’m unable to keep myself from ogling his tattooed back as he passes my barstool perch. Hehasn’t said much to me today, and I cringe thinking about how hard I tried to interact with him this morning.
Feeling more human after my first cup of tea, I smash my avocado onto my toast and bravely join my silent roommate on the couch. Which, unfortunately, awkwardly doubles as his bed, since there’s only one bedroom in the cottage.
“I’m sorry that you had to sleep out here last night,” I say as he scrolls on his phone. “We can swap rooms every night? Or every week…whatever works for you.”
I pause to eat a few bites of toast, but other than a glance, I don’t get anything from him. Okay. I get it. He probably didn’t sleep well on the couch.
“Did you already know the Sinclairs before you auditioned? Are you from around here?”
I refuse to say anything else until he does. Just sit with the silence, Lucy. Make him talk. I finish my toast before the quiet is too much.
“Well, we have our first scene in a few hours, right?” I ask, and this finally seems to get his attention. Slowly raising his head from his phone, he sighs and looks at me for the first time this morning.
“Yeah,” he says, reaching forward for his script packet on the living room table and starting at the beginning.
I left him alone after that since he had so much reading to do before our scene, but he apparently sped through it, and by the time I got out of the shower, he was doing shirtless push-ups inthe living room. After he finished those and a set of crunches, he turned the TV on to a sports talk show that he watched until he got up to shower.
Finally finishing my packet, I try to ignore the niggling doubts I’m having about portraying a young, vivacious Blanche. I’m sure once we start, all my acting lessons will come back like riding a bike, evenif I stopped well before anything as salacious as Blanche is trying to portray.Worst-case scenario, she hates me, and I’m no worse off than when I arrived here. Best-case scenario, I have a free, safe place to live and a chance to hopefully learn more about my dad. Blanche is paying me well, and even if Sasha doesn’t want to talk to me, he’s still nice enough to give me the bed. Plus, I can still watch him walk around shirtless.
Like right now.
He exits the bathroom, his usual short brown curls dark and wet. The towel slung over his hips is low enough to see the cut lines framing a smattering of hair in a trail that thickens the lower I look. He’s lean but muscular. Defined but not bulky in the way that the blond surfer dudes I knew from home always were. It’s as if he’s strong and stays fit but doesn’t do anything unnatural to enhance himself. He shaved the light stubble that I noticed this morning to be a clean-shaven Henry for our scene today, and I’m still looking at his scattered tattoos when I realize I’m being a total creep.
That’ll definitely make him talk to you, Lucy. Stare long enough, and you’ll get to have a great conversation with him as he has you served with a restraining order.
As he gathers his clothes and goes back into the bathroom to change, I give myself a little slap and remind myself I’m here as a professional. It’s time to get ready to meet Blanche for hair and makeup, and to get this show on the road. I’m sure today will go smoothly.
“Cut! Everyone take fifteen and come back ready for the bathroom scene!” Blanche says, clapping her hands together and briefly eyeing me before moving to speak to the lighting crew.
Thank God for this break. If I thought my acting skills were just going to pop back up, long hidden but Oscar-worthy, I was sorely mistaken. Things aren’t goingbad,per se. But being here in this pencil skirt and silk blouse, under all the lights…I’msweatingin a way I know Blanche never did. I think I’m holding my own, but it’s hard to tell because Sasha is intense in a way I wasn’t expecting.
When he speed-read his script earlier today, I thought it meant he wasn’t really serious about this. Or maybe he assumed he knew Blanche well enough that his performance wouldn’t really matter. In reality, it seems he just reads freakishly quickly, and he is, in fact, a talented actor. His ability to give me heated looks despite having zero interest is commendable, and he’s able to portray Henry’s desire in a way that’s palpable. The boardroom scene was tense, with every line building to the confrontation about to take place in the bathroom.
I brace myself as Blanche approaches to debrief, happy that I have an excuse to close my eyes while the makeup crew tries to powder away some of my sheen.
“Darling, you are simply marvelous,” she begins. Okay, that’s nice. I hope she means it. “You are embodying the overwhelming lust I felt for my Henry while being confused about what exactly he had planned for me.”
Okay. So, I’m not acting so much as just reacting to my actual feelings about my situation and my super-hot costar. Great.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, unsure of how much of my nervousness I should divulge to my boss. “Any advice for the bathroom scene?”
She laughs and pats my knee. “Just go with the flow! You and Sasha have chemistry for days, and I think it’ll sizzle all on its own without forcing it. I’ve already told him this, but if you’re on a roll, don’t stop the scene. Missed lines, improvisation, whatever it is. If you’re feeling the power of the moment, just let it happen. We can always re-shoot or do another take, but we can’t capture lightning in a bottle once it’s gone!”
Well, then. Go with the flow, it is.
“Get out of here! You cannot just behave like a possessive Neanderthal in front of the entire board, then follow me into the bathroom like this!” I hiss, backing into the bathroom of the boardroom until I feel my ass stopped by the sink.
Sasha looks at me like I’m about to be his dessert, cocking his head to one side and appraising me from head to toe before smirking. Reaching behind him with one hand, he deftly locks the door. I gulp at the lock clicking into place, knowing there’s nowhere to run now.
“Can I not? Is it notmycompany? Is it notmyboard? Is that notmydelectable ass that you chose to flaunt today by wearing that slutty pencil skirt?”
Okay, that wasn’t exactly like the script, but we’re rolling with the vibes, I guess. It is a slutty skirt, probably because my ass is bigger than Blanche’s. At least he noticed.
