Stella
The Wonderland Studioslot feels massive when you're looking for one specific soundstage among dozens. I've been here plenty of times for client meetings, but today, I'm wandering around Stage 12 with sweaty palms and a racing heart, looking for Brandon.
After a night of wine and brutal honesty with Natalie, I've come to a decision. I need answers. Not assumptions, not secondhand information filtered through the Hollywood rumor mill, but actual answers from Brandon himself about what he told Helena and why.
Natalie was annoyingly logical about the whole thing. “Maybe he didn't want to tell her something he hadn't discussed with you first,” she'd said around midnight, when we were both wine-drunk and philosophical. “Maybe he was protecting your privacy.”
“Or maybe he was protecting himself,” I countered.
“Only one way to find out.”
So, here I am, clutching a visitor's pass and trying not to look like a fangirl. Through the open doors, I can see the interior of a film set. Crew members are moving around purposefully,cameras are being positioned at precise angles, and somewhere in the middle of it all is Brandon.
I spot him near what looks like a fight scene setup, talking with Tony Ricci and another stunt performer. He's wearing his usual on-set uniform of jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair slightly messed up like he's been running his hands through it. Even from this distance, I can see the energy radiating from him as he gestures, explaining something with the kind of passion that made me fall for him in the first place.
The thought stops me cold. Fall for him. When did I start thinking about it in those terms?
A production assistant with a clipboard notices me hovering near the entrance. “Can I help you find someone?”
“I'm here to see Brandon Grimaldi,” I say, showing her my pass. “I can wait until he's finished.”
She glances at the group near the fight setup. “They're just finishing up the safety briefing for the next scene. Should be another few minutes.”
I nod and find a spot out of the way where I can watch without being obvious about it. The butterflies in my stomach are doing aerial acrobatics as I rehearse what I'm going to say. Nothing accusatory. Nothing dramatic. Just honest questions that deserve honest answers.
Brandon must sense that someone is watching him, because he looks up from his conversation and scans the room. When his eyes find mine, his face lights up with surprise and something that looks like genuine happiness. He holds up one finger in a “just a minute” gesture and says something to Tony before jogging over to where I'm standing.
“Hey,” he says, slightly out of breath and grinning like seeing me just made his entire day better. “What are you doing here? Not that I'm complaining.”
The warmth in his voice throws me off balance. This isn't the reaction of someone who's trying to distance himself from me. This is Brandon looking at me like I'm exactly who he wanted to see.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” I say, my carefully rehearsed words suddenly feeling inadequate. “When you have a minute.”
“Of course. We're just about to run through this fight sequence, but it should only take about twenty minutes. Can you wait?”
Before I can answer, Tony calls out, “Brandon! We're ready for the run-through.”
“Go,” I say, gesturing toward the set. “I'll wait right here.”
Brandon hesitates for a moment, like he wants to say something else. Then he leans down and presses a quick kiss to my forehead. “I'm really glad you're here,” he murmurs against my skin.
The casual intimacy of the gesture, done without thinking in front of his colleagues, makes my heart skip. I watch as he jogs back to Tony and the stunt team, my confusion growing by the minute. Maybe Natalie was right. Maybe this really is just a misunderstanding.
The crew positions themselves around the set as Brandon and another stunt performer prepare for what looks like an elaborate fight scene. Safety mats are positioned around the area, and I can see thick cables attached to harnesses that will help control their falls. Tony calls out last-minute instructions while cameras capture different angles.
It's fascinating to watch Brandon work. The way he moves with precise control, how he communicates with the other performers, and the complete focus on his face as he ensures every detail is perfect.
“Action!” the director calls.
The fight begins. Brandon and the other performer engage in what looks like a realistic brawl, their movements choreographed but convincing. They're working their way across the set, throwing punches at each other and dodging with practiced precision.
The scene calls for Brandon to be thrown backward off a platform, where his safety cable should catch him and lower him gently to the mats below. I've seen him do similar stunts dozens of times in movies, and it always looks dangerous. But I know systems are in place to keep him safe.
Brandon launches himself backward off the platform exactly as planned, his body arcing through the air. But instead of the smooth descent I expect, there's a sharp snapping sound that echoes across the soundstage.
The cable breaks.
Brandon falls the full fifteen feet, hitting the safety mats hard and rolling in a way that looks completely wrong. The mats are there to cushion a controlled landing, not to catch someone in free fall.
