Five
Kim
Ispend a ridiculous amount of time trying not to care about whether Blake spiked my M&Ms, but in the end, I can’t bring myself to find out. It’s not even like I would need to bite into them to tell—the peanut butter ones are smaller than the peanut, but rounder than the plain, so a careful look into the bowl would answer that question. But when I do glance in, the colors all blur together, a dark wavering rainbow, and I realize that the tears are back in my eyes. God, what is my problem?
I push the bowl to the other end of the table, hating myself.
Being on this beach certainly doesn’t help. Remembering again and again that first time I met Blake, like a movie scene set in some constant loop in my head. Right away, I could tell he had this sunny, sincere quality about him that felt so different from the type of people I often met in my line of work. It hooked me instantly, as it soon would millions of fans.
He asked to rehearse the kiss before filming, and maybe it was how even just talking with him was already making me feel, but I blurted out my rule about never dating co-stars.That should have made things awkward between us; he claimed he wasn’t hitting on me, and though it wasn’t the first time a co-star had used a line like that on me, I think in that case he really wasn’t. But somehow it was never awkward.
Not until much, much later.
I dig the toe of my black leather thigh-high boot in the sand, shifting in my chair. Which, like pretty much every other movement I make, has the unfortunate result of sending my shrink-wrap-tight green booty shorts—worn overfishnet stockings, for some ridiculous reason that some male comic artist thought necessary—farther up my ass. I swear these things get shorter and tighter with every Hemlock movie.
Maybe it’s good I can’t bring myself to eat my M&Ms. I’m not sure the fabric could handle the strain.
My gaze lands on Blake, sitting across the way under a canopy matching mine, and my breath catches. He’s not looking at me, of course, but focused on the ocean. He’s always loved the water—loves surfing and swimming—and something about the ocean always reminds me of him.The color of it, blue-green and shifting in different light, like his eyes.The scent of it, fresh and cool and with a hint of salt, which always seemed so Blake. Sunlight sparkling, bright like his smile.
Except he’s not smiling now. Judging by the multiple leather layers of his costume, he’s probably more miserable in this heat than I am in my ever-shrinking shorts. And I know Blake must hate that gold visor thing stuck in his hair. I’m not sure what on earth—or wherever Farpoint is from—those little dot shadows are supposed to be for, but there’s probably some crucial comic book reason for them. Just like the pantyhose firmly wedged up my crotch.
I want to laugh with him about our costumes. I want to hear his commentary—because I know he has some—on that weird loincloth thing over his pants. I want to tell him how many hours I’ve spent practicing walking in high-heeled boots in the sand, because apparently Hemlock prizes sex-appeal over common sense and arch support.
I want to tell him everything. But I can’t. My feelings aren’t his burden anymore, and I’m sure he’s much happier for it.
“Kimberly!” A familiar, British-accented voice calls, and I stifle my startle reflex, hoping no one saw me blatantly staring at my ex.
“Bertram, hi.” I smile as my former co-star from the first Hemlock movie approaches. My smile widens as he gets closer, and I can see that my costume isn’t the only one becoming increasingly more ridiculous. Bertram O’Dell—or should I say,SirBertram O’Dell, multiple Oscar winner and dear friend of the queen, which he brings up repeatedly after a few drinks—is shaved completely hairless, from his head and eyebrows all the way down his bare chest. Possibly even the rest of him under his puffy, white silk harem pants. He was always one to fully embrace a role.
The new aspect to his costume is a long, trailing red coat lined along the collar and wrists with a fluffy, red feather boa.
“God, Bertram, what have they done to you?” I ask with a laugh. I would hug him, but we’re both already in makeup, and I don’t want to face the wrath of wardrobe after my costume gets coated in his white body-powder.
“Don’t take your jealousy out on me, Kimberly. You know you wish you could pull this off.” He pats the fluffy collar, and one of the feathers floats off to stick to his lips. He spits it out with a grimace.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say. “Hemlock bows to the fashion sense of Naked Mole Rat.” His villain name, I remember being informed by the director on the first movie, is not a joke. I have yet to be able to say it outside of filming, however, without making it sound like one.
Bertram raises an eyebrow. “Don’t bow too low in that corset, my dear.Those things will pop right out.”
“I think there are other people who might appreciate that sight,” I say.
“Such as your ex?”
I’m not able to hide my wince, and Bertram’s saucy grin drops. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have—”
“No.” I cover with a laugh that is all too shaky. “No, it’s fine. Blake and I are good.”
“Really?” Bertram sends a frosty glare over to Blake that I’m pretty sure is on my behalf. “Because working with exes can be trying. When Marcus and I performed in thatLa Cagerevival—”
“I know, but we’re good,” I assure him, before he can launch into his usual rant about Marcus—a rant I heard no fewer than six times during the filming ofHemlock. A rant I once clocked at twelve minutes, discreetly using my phone as a stopwatch. “Our divorce was six years ago. We’ve moved on.”
Well, one of us has.
Bertram looks dubious, and I think he’s about to call me out on my total lie, but then he makes a face. “Dear god, it’s that Dryden fellow again.”
I follow his gaze to see a man of a similar age to Bertram, probably in his late fifties, who was heading towards us but has been stopped byTroy, the director. “Is that the new Guidepost?” I ask.
Guidepost is Farpoint’s arch-nemesis.The original actor playing Guidepost died of an overdose last year while in a three-way with two underage prostitutes. It shocked the public; he was a beloved actor usually known for his family-friendly “wise mentor” roles.
