The giant leap that would turn him from a heartthrob into a serious actor. A true artist.
He took a big chance on me, trusting me with that precious baby. I’d be damned if I screwed it up for him.
I was giving last minute instructions to the 1stAD, a megaphone low in my hand, when Mike made his first appearance as Chuck Sullivan on set. The transformation compelled the crew to stare at him and clap with amazement. Mike flashed his industry smile at them, his eyes fixed on me.
I stared, too. The makeover was over the top. He’d cut his hair since the preparations, yet I hadn’t got used to it. The fake dirty teeth. The heavy beard. The crooked nose. Even his eyes looked different. I saw Chuck, not Mike. Not the breathtaking sex god I called mine, but the ugly villain who was about to ruin everybody’s lives.
Great. That eased my nerves, and with every step he took toward me, I grew more focused on the character and less on the boyfriend.
He rubbed his forehead. “What do you think, Kiddo?”
He, too, was nervous.
I raked him from head to toe, letting him sweat for a second. Then I looked around. “Ladies and gentlemen, meet Chuck Sullivan. The hero and the villain of our story.”
Scene56
Mike
Mike removed his makeup while watching Maggie’s interview. Then he walked into the screening room, hoping to catch her alone.
She wasn’t.
He cleared his throat. “Having fun, fellas?”
“Gennaro, what took you so long?” Jim Cassidy, his co-star, stopped breathing down Maggie’s neck and looked at him. The other two co-stars, Christian and Dwain, did the same as Mike grabbed a chair and sat next to Maggie.
“Unlike you, I had a hundred pounds of makeup on me to take off,” Mike said.
Maggie sank in her chair, snickering while chewing her fingernails, her eyes pinned to the screens, her other hand pushing buttons. “That’s what it takes when you’re too fuckin’ pretty.”
Jim nudged him in the arm. “Oh, look at that. The Kid thinks you’re pretty, Mickey.”
Maggie pushed another button. “You’re all pretty, boys. Don’t get jealous on me now.”
Mike bit his cheek, his fingers tapping the arm of his chair. “Can I see eleven, please?”
“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Cassidy continued. “Unlike Mister Italy here.”
The other actors started laughing, which prompted the rest of the crew to join the banter.
“Screw you, Cassidy.” Mike glanced at his face on the screen. “Mister Italy’slatest movie opened with four-hundred million. What did yours make?”
“Burn,” Dwain teased.
“Dear God,” she said. “There’s too much testosterone in the room. Starting tomorrow you’re not allowed in here together. I’ll send each of you a screening schedule.” She rose from her seat, shooing the leads like chicken. “Don’t take this the wrong way, I love you all, but get the fuck out of here.”
Cassidy pointed at Mike. “Why does he get to stay?”
“He’s the fuckin’ producer, Jim. Now, get out before I kick you in the nuts.” She closed the door and returned to her seat.
Mike dragged his seat closer so she could listen to him when he whispered. “That fuckin’ shit you said this morning in the interview can’t happen again.”
“What’re you talking about? Lahey was psyched about that interview. She said I did well,” she whispered back.
“Well…yeah, technically.” He shrugged. “But that was like an open invitation, and apparently, none of them are reluctant to act upon it. Isn’t it enough that I hear them swoon over you, describing the things they wanna do to you?”
“That’s creepy,” she said.
