“Mister…Mister Stone,” the third one stammers. No one on this set calls me anything but Aaron, and now Iknowthey’re done for.
The one who’s been holding the phone, the guy in the middle, makes to shove it behind his back, probably into a pocket or something, but I don’t give him the chance. My hand snaps out and grabs the device before he’s even locked the screen.
But there’s nothing that could’ve prepared me for what I see on the screen.
Gemma, but not my Gem.
Her hair’s different.
She’s wearing makeup.
She’s got some outfit on that there’s no way she picked out. It’s doing things for her small waist and there’s curves on her I’ve never seen before.
She looks…hot.
Their vile words from seconds ago circulate in my brain, paired with this new visual.
I’m always typecast as the happy-go-lucky one, but that’s about to change. Possibly forever, if my blood pressure is any indication.
I can’t figure out how they’re seeing these pictures of her (did they hack her phone, did this new guy share pics she sent him?)until my brain catches up and realizes this is a fuckingTinderprofile. And rage overtakes everything else within me.
There isno wayshe would’ve done this on her own. There’s only one other person she really talks to besides me, and I’m going to absolutely kill them for getting her to do this.
My eyes scan the rest of the phone screen.
Gemma, 24, 8 miles away
Avid reader, looking for her own happily ever after.
No weirdos, please.
To be honest, I’ve only ever used Raya myself, never Tinder, but I’ve heard enough about it to get the gist of how it works. Pulling my own phone out of my pocket, I quickly snap a picture of the profile for my own purposes before I swipe left to make sure none of these fuckers have a chance at matching with her and hear a groan from one of the guys, and a yell of frustration from the owner of this accursed phone. I shove the damn thing into his body, causing him to huff out a breath at the impact—he’s lucky I didn’t smash it, or his face, into the concrete flooring for his disgusting behavior—before turning my back on the group and charging away, back to running lines and waiting for my cue, trying not to visibly fume.
By some miracle, I manage to get all the way through the final takes of the day before storming halfway across the lot until my fist is pounding on the door to my new nemesis’ office.
“Co—”
Pushing the door open at the first syllable, I don’t wait for her to finish the words to grant me access.
Relief hits me when I see that she’s the only one in the small office for a change, her metal desk crowded with multiple laptops, binders, and various samples. Her walls are absolutelycoveredin sticky notes, with some sort of scheduling map that only she and the director can understand, flowing from one wall to the next in this cramped, narrow space. But no other living witnesses to the murder I’m about to commit.
The woman I’m here to see sits in her chair in and amongst the madness, seeming in control of her domain, despite the endless confusion the sheer volume ofshitthat comes across her plate would present to literally anyone else, and, more frustratingly, she even looks nonplussed at my barging in.
Rage isn’t something I’m familiar with on a personal level. Even my characters are usually charmingly easygoing, blithe, and carefree, much like I tend to be. Not a bad typecast to have as far as being pigeon-holed goes, but it means the anger coursing through my veins is entirely new to me, and I’m not quite sure how this is supposed to go. I let it out at the only person I can think to pin all of my recent problems on.
She’sthe reason Gemma got feisty with me.
She’sthe reason Gemma started dating some schmuck, and between the two of them, they pulled her away from me and out of my world.
Not only am I stuck trying to put the pieces of my life back together with my secondbrand newassistant of the last couple of weeks, but they’re proving to be as useless as the first one was.
I have no idea what is happening with two-thirds of the projects I count on Ralph to take care of for me, including updates on contract negotiations for my upcoming roles and the final details on my trip to Romania in July, which is already next month.
I’ve been losing my mind with anxiety over this next shoot, and let’s not even talk about how shitty my takes have been recently. It’s taken way longer to get in character than I’m used to. Not to mention this guy has messed up nearly every task I’ve given him for the house or my food, so I’ve been extra cranky on top of the rest of it, which hasn’t exactly helped.
Gem and I had a rhythm, one that doesn’t seem to be easily replicable with someone else, I’m learning the hard way.
Honestly, everything in my life feels like it’s sliding out of my control since she left, and I. Blame. Alex.
