Oh, good. Youre still here. She looked up to see a handsome man. Early thirties if she had to guess. Shaved head. Nice physique under a tight T-shirt. Was he talking to her? Hi, Miss...
Izzolo, clipboard girl supplied.
Miss Izzolo, he said. Apparently, he was talking to her. Im Adrian Turnow. Ill be directing the movie
The rest of what he said faded out as shock rendered her numb. Adrian Turnow in the flesh? He was one of the hottest directors in the business. Every film he worked on was movie gold. Dang. When Jackson Prescott said he would put in a good word for her, he wasnt kidding!
time this afternoon for a test shot? Wed like to see you on camera.
Her? They wanted a test shot with her? She was just looking for some stunt work. Um, sure, she mumbled.
Cameramen were moving around the set, shifting a boom camera out over the green mat and setting up two big cameras on rolling rails along two sides of it. The last of the blondes were filing out. Lighting guys were talking about technical stuff that might as well be Greek to her, and a half dozen people were running around with rolls of extension cord over their shoulders and tablet computers in hand. In short, it was chaos.
A tall, lean, African-American man stepped up to her. Number 127?
Thats me. Although I usually go by Ana, she replied, flummoxed.
Im Tyrone. Makeup. Lets get you over to my chair and make you smashing for your screen test.
Can you tell me whats going on? she asked in a small voice as he stared critically at her.
Callback, sweetie. You blew Jacksons socks off in your audition.
Callback? Me? The notion refused to compute.
Tyrone smiled warmly as he dabbed her face with bronzing powder. Great skin. Too pale for the camera, but we can fix that. Youre whiter than Wonder Bread, girlfriend. I bet you blush beet-red at the drop of a hat.
Sometimes I blotch, too, she confessed.
He tsked and instructed her to look up and not blink as he deftly applied eyeliner and mascara. Your bones and coloring could take a full glamor face and heavy color, but Ill let you in on a little secret. Adrian and Jackson both go for the natural look. Im going no makeup with your look.
Thanks, she mumbled behind unmoving lips as he applied lip gloss. For doing a no-makeup look, he sure was putting a lot of makeup on her.
Take a peek.
She turned in the chair and looked at the lighted mirror behind her. Whoa. Is that me? she breathed. She looked fresh, young...and kind of beautiful.
Its not a trick mirror, Tyrone retorted.
Her shoulder-length blond bob, which was not at all like the current fashion of long, flowing, wavy locks, swung around her face, the tips turning in a bit to frame her jaw. Her gray-blue eyes looked huge, and her lips were just pink enough not to get lost beneath her cheekbones.
Cameras gonna love you, baby, Tyrone said encouragingly.
Thanks. Lets hope the director does, too.
Jacksons coproducing this film. You gotta impress both him and Adrian to get this gig.
Ahh. Hence Jacksons earlier joke about putting in a good word with the producers. Got it. Thanks, Tyrone.
Go get em, kid.
She stepped out onto the bright green mat and looked around. The atmosphere was electric. She could get hooked on this. Choosing to reinvent her life in the film industry had been a great decision.
A cell phone rang, and she looked up in time to see Jackson Prescott scowling down at his caller ID. He rolled his eyes and moved away from the mat to take the call. She figured it must be a woman to have elicited that look of disgust. Last nights lay, maybe?
Her stomach dropped in disappointment. It wasnt like she was ever going to be in his league, though. And if she got a part in the movie, hed also be her boss. This put him firmly off-limits. She couldnt recall which actress the tabloids had him matched up with this week. But he went through women like chewing gum.
Clipboard lady from before came over to her. Hi, Im Sheila. Adrians assistant. The guys want to shoot a combat sequence with weapons. I see from your résumé that youve studied kendo, so I assume youre okay with that.
Ana had obsessively studied various martial arts ever since the attack two years ago. The fast-moving Japanese form with bamboo swords was, in fact, one of them.
On cue, a kid who must have been with the prop department trotted up to her and handed her a foam club. It looked like driftwood on steroids. She swung the craggy piece experimentally. It had about the same heft as a baseball bat. Its heavier than a kendo sword, but I can handle it.
The brunette moved away, and a man approached her. Im Crash. Fight choreographer.
Not a reassuring name for a man with your job, she responded drily.
He grinned. I specialize in car stunts. But today, Im gonna teach you a quick fight sequence with that toothpick.
She paid close attention as he walked her through the choreography until she had the sequence memorized. Gradually, they sped it up to full-out. It was a dance between the two of them, really.
Adrian signaled that he was ready to shoot, and Jackson pocketed his phone. He joined her on the mat and someone passed him a king-size club, which he swung a few times, getting the feel of it. Apparently, he already knew the choreography.
Places, everyone! Adrian called. Quiet on set, please.
She stepped into the middle of the mat and took up a fighting stance, feet apart and knees bent. Jackson did the same, towering over her. Lord, just being close to him made her heart beat faster. The guy was like a high-powered electromagnet.
Almost doesnt seem fair to beat up a squirt like you, he teased.
She snorted back, rising to the bait. Big, clumsy lunk. Youre gonna have to catch me first.
He grinned at her taunt and leaped at her. He was flipping fast for a guy his size. Step. Swing. Dodge, slide left. Spin. Jump. Swing. Swing. She chanted the choreography in her head by rote.
Ka-pow.
Her arm jarred from the impact of her club on Jacksons face.
Jackson! she cried out as he doubled over, swearing. You were supposed to spin right, not left!
Yeah, I got that memo just now, he muttered in a voice muffled by his hands.
She spied blood dripping from between his fingers. Medic! she shouted. Adrian was backing away from Jackson, looking sick to his stomach. No one responded immediately to her shout, and Jackson was bleeding all over the place. A sports trainer in high school, she leaped into action. She whipped off her green camo T-shirt and wadded it up. Here. Use this to catch blood while I find a first aid kit.
Good thing shed worn a camisole under her shirt today. She looked around frantically and spotted a big red cross on the far wall. She raced over to the first aid kit, yanked the briefcase-size metal box down and sprinted back to Jackson.
What did I hit? How hard? she asked urgently.
Nose. Clocked me good.
Lemme see. He was reluctant to take her shirt away from his face, and she had to physically peel his fingers loose. She reached up to gently squeeze the spot shed hit.
Youch! he yelped.
Nothing crunched or wiggled under her fingertips. If his nose was broken and shed pinched it like that, hed have howled to the rafters, not just squeaked a little. Crud. She was going to get sued into the Stone Age if shed just ruined the prettiest face in Hollywood.
It doesnt feel broken, she announced. But youve got the mother of all nosebleeds. She stuffed his nostrils with gauze and ordered, Tilt your head back. She called out to no one in particular, Is there somewhere he can lie down?
My office, Adrian replied thickly. Guy must get queasy at the sight of blood.
In stunt work, guys got banged up all the time. Cuts and scrapes were all part of a days work. She guided Jacksons hand to her shoulder and followed Adrians assistant to the directors office. His big palm gripped her bare skin lightly, and her bones felt oddly small and fragile under the heat of his hand. A shiver of something unidentifiable ran through her.
Okay, Jackson. Were at the couch. She guided him down to a leather sofa. On your back.
Let me guess, youve been dying to get me flat on my back on a casting couch, he joked.
Oh, baby, oh, baby, oh, She intoned as she tucked a throw pillow under his head. Keep it light. Impersonal. Hes a freaking movie star.
Dont make me laugh. It hurts.
She took a closer look at his nose. It was swelling across the bridge and turning red. His left eye was puffing shut, too. Youre lucky that club was covered in foam. Looks like you may still get a shiner, though.
Great. A black eye from a girl. Im never gonna hear the end of this.
Im so sorry she started.
He cut her off immediately. My fault. I wasnt paying attention and zigged when I should have zagged. I was distracted.
That phone call? she asked sympathetically.
He huffed in obvious exasperation at the memory of the offending phone call. She recognized that sound from countless times listening to guys grouse about their relationships. Woman trouble?
He scowled. You could say that.
Anything you want to talk about? She winced as soon as the words left her mouth. That was her. Ole shoulder-to-cry-on for every guy she knew. They all went to her for advice about chicks. Apparently, having the same reproductive apparatus as their girlfriends made her some kind of expert.
Which was a load of crap, by the way. She didnt know squat about women. Hell, she hardly knew how to be one, herself. And she had no idea how to do a relationship. It wasnt like her own past had given her any sterling examples to go by. After the disasterGod, was it two full years ago now?shed pretty much sworn off men.
Jackson rolled his eyes. My grandmother is haranguing me to settle down, find a nice girl and get married. Shes just antsy to get a great-grandkid, and figures that, out of all my brothers and sisters, Im her best prospect. Shes being a total pain in the ass.
Jackson Prescott was looking to get hitched? Wow. Talk about an eligible bachelor.
I dont even have a girlfriend. He added, scowling, No matter what the damned tabloids say.
Really? Interesting. Oh, get over yourself. Hed never take a second look at you. Aloud, she commented, You could have an actress friend fake an engagement with you to shut up your grandmother for a while. Or, you could just skip the wife and go straight to the baby. People dont have to get married to make babies.
So I should, what? Pick up some random chick in a bar and get her pregnant to shut up my grandmother?
She shrugged. This flavor of woman trouble went well beyond her ability to give advice on it.
I dont even like going to bars, he grumbled.
Shut the front door. Seriously? she blurted.
Someone barged in just then with the plastic bag of ice shed asked for on the way in there. She stole a hand towel from the sink in Adrians bathroom, wrapped the ice in it and laid it gently on Jacksons face. She felt for the guy; she would have no idea how to go about picking up a woman if she were a man.
In an attempt to be helpful, though, she commented, There are other places besides bars to meet women. I hear there are good pickings in the produce section of grocery stores. Apparently, if you act clueless when a hot girl comes along, shell stop and help you.
Jackson retorted, I would have to actually be in the market for a girlfriend for that to work.
Oh. Something way down deep inside her deflated at the news that he wasnt interested in dating. It was nothing personal, of course. She was just reacting on behalf of her entire half of the species. Jackson Prescott was a hell of a hunk that some woman ought to get to enjoy.
She replied cautiously, I have to say, I doubt youd have all that much trouble finding a woman willing to have your baby.
Warmth uncurled inside her at the thought of holding his baby in her arms, shocking her into momentary silence. Where in the hell did that come from? Had her biological clock just started ticking? Heck, she wasnt in the market to have a kid any more than he was.
He lifted aside the ice pack to stare up at her. Was that a speculative gleam in his gorgeous eyes? Surely not.
A little panicked at the direction her thoughts were taking, she pushed the big ice bag back down onto his nose, which also had the effect of covering his eyes and taking his distracting hazel gaze off her.
Thoughtful silence was all that emerged from the towel for the next couple of minutes. Then, Whats your name, 127?
Ana. Anabelle Izzolo.
You have zilch by way of acting credits, Anabelle Izzolo.
She didnt need a box-office giant to point that out to her. She was well aware of her lack of credits. Shed been taking acting classes as part of her plan to become a stuntwoman, but it was hard to get work if you hadnt already had some previously.
But the chemistry between you and me is exactly what were looking for.
For...what exactly?
The lead actress in our film. Assuming you can act.
Lead? Actress? Her mind went completely blank. He was right. She was totally unprepared to do anything like that. But what kind of idiot would she be to say so? Chances like this came along once in a lifetime. Once in a very lucky lifetime.
I can act, she blurted, then added hastily, I bet I could convince your grandmother I was having your baby.
He started to snort with laughter but cut the sound short with a groan of pain.
Quit moving around so much. I almost had the bleeding stopped, but now youve got it going again.
Pushy, arent you?
No. Just trying to stop a nosebleed. That only makes me sensible, she declared.
He laughed again, but carefully. So heres the thing. Were going to have to convince the primary investors in the film to go with an unknown leading lady. My name should carry the box office...well have to spin it as the debut of an exciting new star. It could work if we market it right...
Am I supposed to know what youre talking about?
Nope. Just keep being you. Oh, and Im going to need to have supper with you, tonight.