Chapter 1
Doug
I may move like Cary Grant across a dance floor, but I sure don’t look like him. My mom liked to say I had a handsome brooding stare. I knew it wasn’t true. I’d been a weird-looking kid, and puberty only made it worse. Even now, at twenty-nine, the best I hoped for when I walked into a room full of strangers was indifference. Usually I got concerned glances or outright suspicion. Maybe it was the strong eyebrows or my sharp cheekbones. I didn’t like to think about it too much. Who wanted to dwell on what was wrong with their face?
Despite my mother’s optimism, I never did see it paying off. I didn’t imagine stalking around in a blood red cape, throwing my head back and full on cackling maniacally while a director yelled at me to curl my fingers more and feel the power of pure evil. Thane, our director, could get a little carried away for a show made for kids.
This had been my life for ten seasons and today was no exception.
Willa breezed past me in her leather fighting getup and stood in place, waiting to start our battle scene. Our costar, Chad, had already made a comment about how great she looked in the metal corset they made her wear, so I did my best to avert my eyes and concentrated on the choreography instead. I was no martial artist, but it wasn’t too different from any dance or gymnastic move I already knew. Besides, the roundhouse kick I was about to do didn’t need to hurt anybody. It just needed to look like it might.
“I will destroy every one of you Strength Warriors if it’s the last thing I do!” I lunged for Willa, and she twirled around me, brandishing her scary looking staff, though it was only light foam. Later, they’ll add in the lightning effects.
I did my kick just as she leapt to avoid it, and then watched her backflip in retreat. No stunt doubles for her unless the union forced it on her. When they did, I saw how carefully she watched, scrutinizing, knowing she could do it better.
I bet her mother was exactly like mine. Forcing us into gymnastics, acting lessons, modeling, and every other showy after-school activity to get us where we were today: underpaid and almost famous.
It killed my mother that I didn’t get the merchandising add-on she’d pushed me to ask for. But she wasn’t calling the shots anymore, and I knew what happened when you demanded too much: They’d buy out your contract and replace you. Then everyone else knew you were hard to work with and probably not worth the trouble. I knew because it happened to my older brother. He moved on to selling real estate, and come to think of it, was very happy. So maybe Iwasthe idiot.
“Again, people.” Thane clapped, and I got into position, ready to once again threaten the Strength Warriors before taking a beat-down. In a show for kids, the bad guy always loses and throws an epic tantrum. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve gotten twisted in my cape, yelling and thrashing about before tripping and falling on the ground. I did it on accident once, and test audiences loved it so much I now have to do it at the end of every episode.
Chad came at me this time, and I concentrated on the choreography. Chad was sloppy, and even if his weapon was foam, I didn’t want to get whacked in the face with it.
At the end of our battle I fell on the ground while Chad towered over me, raising his saber. “Your plan is destroyed, Reyson Wrath. You’ll never defeat the Strength Warriors.”
I glared up at the Strength Warriors, all seven of them. In the first season there were only four, but they keep adding more, and they keep getting younger. “This isn’t over,” I growled, getting to my feet.
It was epic tantrum time, and I flipped around to stalk off, landed on the end of my cape, and pretended to twist my ankle. I whined and howled about the injustice of it all and limped off crying.
Thane clapped. “I think that’s your best work yet, Doug. That’s a wrap, folks.”
I headed over to wardrobe where they pulled us from our bulky costumes and moaned about the damage to them. You’d think they’d stop being surprised by the rips in my cape. It’s part of my storyline to trip on it.
“Oh, leave him be.” Willa winked at me and turned around so they could unhook her from her steel contraption.
I turned and walked off, not wanting to stare, even though Chad did. Every day.
“Hey, Doug,” Willa called after me.
I glanced back and immediately fixed my eyes on her face, not allowing more than a brief glance at the way she looked in her sweaty tank top and boy shorts. She pulled her brown hair back from her face and twisted it up off her neck. The combination of her light blue eyes and tan skin was always so striking, no matter how many times I looked at her.
“Meet me at my trailer in an hour. Oh, and if you happened to bring those amazing breakfast burritos from that dive you know about, I’ll love you forever.”
Willa
The look on his face was priceless, although I really needed to stop ordering men around. It was a bad habit I’d developed because nobody balked when I did it.
Being beautiful had its perks, but sometimes I hated it too—the jealous looks from other women, the outright stares from men. I hated that I had maybe ten years before they’d expect me to have my plastic surgeon on speed dial. I had a plan to leave it all behind when I made enough money. What I didn’t expect, was to want to take someone with me.
Doug was a gentleman in a business that didn’t make those anymore. I’m not sure they ever did.
The first time I saw him, I thought he looked imposing and possibly downright mean, but he’s always been the opposite of that inside. Lately, I couldn’t help noticing his strong arms, broad shoulders, and the way his face lit up when something struck him as funny. I liked his funny little crooked nose that looked like it’d been broken a few times, though the guy had probably never thrown a real punch in his life. His eyes were a crystal green, and I liked the way they followed me around, a reminder that he was a man, even if he was too afraid to do something about it.
Why did I invite him to my trailer? Besides the fact that I really do like those egg burritos, I wanted to test my theory that he was someone worth teaming up with. There were few people in this world I liked, and even fewer I trusted. Doug managed to be both.
As I expected, Doug was at my trailer door exactly an hour later, holding two burritos wrapped in foil. I invited him in and sat across from him, eating for a while. Every episode was a workout, and I was starving.
He was freshly showered and nervous. I could tell he had no idea what he was doing there. I mean, we’d chatted occasionally between scenes, but we’d never hung out together before. I knew he’d never had a serious girlfriend, at least publicly, because I’d checked. I didn’t consider it stalking, just being careful. I would never jump into a relationship, professional or otherwise, unprepared again.
