I wave a dismissive hand at her.This is why I let the nanny story fly. It’s so hard for people to understand why I had to do what I did. “She kept saying how much easier life would be if we weren’t together. I gave her the divorce because I wanted her to be happy, even if I wasn’t. I’ve never gotten over her. Hell, all my girlfriends look just like her.”
Kelsey nods sagely. “So you’re aware of that.”
“It was inInTouch Weekly,” I say. “And yes, it took me that long to clue in. Right after the article came out, I dated Catherine Peyton. She has black hair. It lasted three weeks.”
Kelsey shakes her head at me. “You are so pitiful. Is this an act that you use to seduce women?”
“Sadly, no. Also, you’re closer to my daughter’s age than mine.”
“Good. I’m not into this, either. You are way too nice a guy for me.” She rifles around in her wardrobe kit and pulls out some double-sided duct tape. “Let’s get that bracer fixed. And get the makeup people to touch you up beforeTroy realizes you’re not ready for your next scene.”
I nod and extend my arm to her, but I remain slumped on the futon. After the bracer is taped, I head over to makeup in an attempt to not behave like a self-absorbed diva, get my makeup fixed, then go back to the beach for my next scene.This one’s later in the film, after Hemlock has disappeared, and Farpoint goes searching for her. Instead, he finds her nemesis, the Naked Mole Rat, played by Shakespearean actor Sir Bertram O’Dell, who happens to be plotting at the time with Farpoint’s own mentor-turned-nemesis, the infamous Guidepost.
The old Guidepost was kind of a douche, but I’ve never worked with his replacement or with Bertram, so I was looking forward to meeting both of them. But when I step past the gaffer crew readying their boom mics to catch our voices above the roar of the ocean, Bertram gives me a condescending look, mutters something about how he always expected Kim to have finer taste, and makes a show of engaging Sarah in conversation instead of me.
That’s fair, I suppose. He worked with Kim on her first Hemlock film, so it’s not surprising he has a low opinion of me. What I didn’t expect is for the new Guidepost—Peter something—to also find me wanting and follow after Bertram like his snobby shadow. O’Dell has been making movies since I was in diapers; he has no need for my approval. But I figured the former star of some cop show might at least give me some respect.
Whatever. I’m always wishing people would stop treating me special just because I’mBlake Pless. I’m not here to be liked. Not by Bertram, not by Peter, and especially not by Kim.
I’m just going to play the damn part, then go home to Los Angeles, get completely wasted, and pretend this whole thing never happened.
Seven
Kim
We’re five days into filming when Josh calls to see how everything’s going. I tell him that it’s been great, which is a bit of an exaggeration, but the truth is, things have been fairly smooth since that first scene on the beach. Blake and I are doing our jobs, which consist of a fair number of scenes that we aren’t even shooting together, and the rest of which don’t require us to roll around on each other in the sand. We alternate nights with the kids, and while I’m sure he’s getting at least as much of Ivy’s wheedling for her phone back as I am, we haven’t discussed any changing of the rules yet.
It’s the kind of thing we normally would work out via short texts, but that feels strange to do now, when we see each other every day.Talking feels strange, though, too. We avoid each other whenever possible. It’s what I thought would be ideal when I first took this job—as much as the situation could be, anyway—but there’s nothing that feels ideal about it. It feels like my chest is hollow and cracked, and I’m only being held together by Hemlock’s too-tight corset and boob tape.
I worry he knows how I feel. I worry he pities me. Worry worry worry.
I don’t tell Josh about any of this, or that today we’re filming the movie’s now-lone kissing scene. He’s a fantastic agent and might have been willing to secure accommodations for any professional boxers I add to my entourage, but there’s nothing even he can do about my real problems. Which I hope won’t become worse after today.
Shortly after the phone call from Josh, I make my daily call to Helene, who’s my CAO—Chief Animal Officer—to see how my charges back on the ranch are doing. She’s telling me about how the iron treatments seem to be helping Niles the goat’s chronic anemia, but I’m only half paying attention, my gaze flicking over and over again to the call sheet with the script attached.
Suddenly, Kelsey arrives back at the trailer with today’s wardrobe.
“All fixed!” she proclaims, holding up the shredded post-battle #5 corset. “No more left nipple exposure—oh, sorry.” Her round cheeks flush when she sees I’m on the phone.
I smile to let her know it’s totally fine and quickly finish the call with Helene. Costanza, hearing Kelsey’s voice, lumbers over to greet her and ends up enthusiastically licking the leg of my vanity instead. Kelsey giggles and gives him a hug, receiving a big slobbery kiss in return.
“Thanks,” I say, taking the corset from her. It looks just as ripped as it did when I first put it on, but all it needed were a few extra stitches to keep me from gracing our family friendly PG-13 film with an R-rated wardrobe malfunction. I take off the towel I’d been loosely wearing over the remainder of Hemlock’s costume—my hair and makeup were already done, and I wasn’t about to screw up the several hours’ worth of bloody wounds and burn marks by throwing on ashirt—and Kelsey helps me into the corset. It’s not strictly necessary to have help for this, but after she spotted my nipple making a cameo appearance when she helped me in earlier this morning, I’m pretty much never getting dressed again without her.
She eyes me and grins. “Awesome.Totally hot.”
“Yeah, I’m sure this charred look is really working for me.” I take another peek in the mirror. Hemlock might be mortally wounded, but not, of course, in a way that affects my face, other than a little residual blood splatter across my cheek.
I should be offended by this—do they think audiences wouldn’t buy into Farpoint declaring his love if she looked like someone who’dactuallybeen beaten all to shit?—but I’m secretly glad they didn’t make me look too terrible.
Maybe for just one moment, when Blake’s holding me and telling me he loves me, he’ll remember the times when he thought I was beautiful. When he said those words to me and meant them.
Or at least, when he thought he did.
Kelsey adjusts the twisting-vine metal band on my right arm, and she gets a smudge of red makeup on her fingers. “I’m serious. You’re totally smokin’ for a girl about to be a corpse.” She winks at me. “Also, no surprise nipple, and with—” she checks her watch “—three minutes to spare.”
I force a smile at her. “You’re the best.”
Three minutes. My hands tremble, and I think I’m going to be sick.
