Chapter 1
Evie
The Cold Open
“Beep beep, Ritchie.” I turned toward the craft services table and picked up a bag of chips, pretending to intensely read the label. Sebastian, my best friend, stood beside me and turned his head and swore as his agent stormed across set to berate him for some imagined infraction.
“I heard that.” The tall brunette woman—wearing hot-pink heels and a matching pantsuit—stepped between us, her back to me. She crossed her arms over her enhanced chest. With the heels, she loomed over us both. All around, members of the cast and crew passed by either snickering in amusement or shaking their heads at Sebastian. He was always getting into trouble with Heather. “I know your guys’ little code. What are you eating?”
“Nothing, I was just walking with Evie,” he lied.
I rolled my eyes from behind her and stepped farther down to the popcorn machine. I grabbed a paper bag and filled it, tossing a scoop of M&M’s in between layers of popcorn. I closed the bag and shook it noisily while Sebastian continued to get yelled at for eating.
“I want you to do another workout tonight before you go to bed.”
“I was up at three this morning working out. Come on,” he protested. “One bagel isn’t going to kill me.” He reached for the table, but she slapped his hand away.
“Say that in ten years. If we want a lifelong career, which we do, you need to learn smart eating now. You eat that bagel, and I’ll haul a treadmill into your trailer to run it off between scenes.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I would.”
Popcorn in hand, I stepped back and shifted to the side to watch the shitshow unfold. I’d warned him if he tried to sneak craft services, he’d get caught. Sebastian was Heather’s meal ticket. There was no way she’d risk her paycheck being short because he gained an ounce of weight.
His green eyes flicked to me, and he scowled. I popped a piece of popcorn into my mouth, and Sebastian stared at my hand as I mouthed,It puts the lotion in the basket.
We had lots of codes to talk to each other, all of them movie lines. What started off as a silly game on set of the firstSimon Saysmovie turned into a secret language that helped us communicate around the adults. We were now onSimon SaysThree, and the code was ever-expanding.
“Are you listening to me?” Heather snapped.
Sebastian turned his attention back to his agent.
“I got you a private screen test with the producers of that apocalypse movie. If you’re bloated, you won’t even make the shortlist.”
“It does this whenever it’s told,” I quipped.
Heather turned her head and shot me a dirty look. She knew better than to say anything to me. My mom would have her ass dragged off the studio lot and out of Hollywood by sundown.
Sebastian huffed loudly. “Yes, I get it. I’ll go drink some water and continue to starve. Go find someone else to bitch at.”
Heather stormed off, leaving us alone.
“Come on. I want to relax,” Sebastian muttered.
I refilled my popcorn bag, and together we headed to the trailer lot. Instead of heading to the one labeledSebastian Shaw, we walked over to the one that saidLita Reyes—my mother’s. I climbed up the stairs and hurried inside, plopping down on the red velvet couch.
I didn’t have the same restrictions as Sebastian or Lita. I wasn’t an actress, just the child of one. However, I’d grown up on set and seen how badly Sebastian was treated. I often wondered, was it really worth the fame? But then he’d light up every time someone recognized him, or he saw his face on a billboard, so maybe it was. I wouldn’t know. No one ever paid attention to me.
“Did you hear that bullshit? A treadmill in my trailer!” He collapsed beside me, and I offered him the popcorn. He scarfed it down. “Ooh, M&M’s.” He smiled, leaned across the couch, and gave me a quick peck on the lips. “I was watchingThe Exorcist…”
Butterflies fluttered around my belly.“It got me thinking about you.” It was our way of sayingI love you. We’d yet to say the actual words, but the movie lines felt just as powerful. They were special and only ours.
Sebastian set the empty bag down and turned back to me, kissing me again. His smile, salty and butter-flavored, curled against my lips as our mouths met again. This time, our tongues touched, and in a flash, the mood shifted from playful to something else. He pushed me down onto the couch, his hands roaming under my shirt. A groan rose from his throat.
“I can’t wait for—”
The door flew open, and light poured in, causing us to bolt upright.
