The Role Page 4

  The faint sound of bees buzzing around the sweetly scented yellow flowers that clung tenaciously to the little divots in the cliff mocked me with the insects’ ability to fly, fly away. A knight in shining armor—even semi-tarnished armor—would have come in handy right about then.

  “Go climb the little bluff from the guidebook, enjoy the peaceful meditative properties of nature in splendid isolation, work off those extra helpings of mac and cheese. You’re an expert boulderer, never fear. All will be well.” I snorted at my earlier optimism about this little jaunt.

  I shifted my weight tentatively and froze as the shale beneath my feet crackled. The dry smell of the flaking shards rising up around me threatened to make me sneeze. I held my breath, trying to trap it in so I didn’t blow myself straight off the ledge, and started plotting a return route toward my crash pad.

  A massive crash near the base of the cliff accompanied by furious swearing in a foreign language broke me from my careful planning and I nearly toppled off the wall altogether. Whoever it was, he was big and clearly male, plus within hearing range of me—a nice bonus. The swearing continued and the underbrush shook as he kept moving in my direction. Within moments a very confused and scratched-up face appeared through a bramble, followed by two arms, then the trunk of a man who’d been running without a shirt. A very attractive man whom I immediately recognized from our interactions on set. Not that I stare at him or could spot him a mile away or anything.

  Wireless earbuds were stuck in Markus’ ears, and he clearly couldn’t hear anything but his music. As he pulled himself free, his left leg seemed to catch in the twisty roots of the shrubbery and he fell, barely saving himself from landing in a heap of twisted ankles and broken kneecaps. He got both feet on the ground and stood there for a second, still shaking his head angrily and muttering to himself.

  I continued to watch in amusement as he did a massive double-take when he finally noticed my pack and gear pile. He swung around wildly before connecting his proximity to a cliff to the backpack, climbing gear and crash pad and slowly looked up and met my eyes. I waved uncertainly. He stood there with his hands on his hips, smiling at me like he had a secret. I hoped it was the secret to the way down.

  Markus popped an earbud out, wiped his sweaty face on his arm and yelled up at me, “Fancy meeting you here. Any thoughts on where the trail is?”

  I grinned and shouted, “I’ll get you back there if you wouldn’t mind shoving that pad over here so I can jump.”

  “Maybe I’ll leave it where it is and take a nap in the shade,” he teased. “Looks quite comfy, and running in this humidity was not my smartest decision.”

  Ah yes, the man was glistening. He might have lost muscle tone since his scary hot part in Untimely Justice, but the warm flush on my skin could no longer be chalked up to the humid Georgia morning.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, you could do that, but then my broken limbs would be on your conscience when I finally get up the courage to jump so I won’t be too late getting back to the set.”

  “Hm. When you put it like that, I guess I can help.” He grabbed the foam mat then dragged it over to lie beneath my ledge. “Do you need me to hold this? How’d you even get up there, anyways? There’s, like, nothing to hold on to.”

  I twisted around to double-check the placement and grunted. “Tiny little toe and fingerholds. Now, get out of the way, coming down!”

  He applauded my not-so-graceful landing-slash-collapse onto the sun-warmed mat, then leaped on top to lie next to me, propping his face up on his fist. The sweaty smell wafting off him was almost reassuring—thank god the Beautiful People still stank like the rest of us after a run on a Georgia summer’s day. He grinned at my obvious disgust and tapped my nose with one sweaty finger. “That was badass. I can’t believe you jumped off a cliff.” I reached out and flicked him, hard, in the forehead. Or it would have been hard, but he was so damp that my finger slid off ineffectually.

  My ears grew hot as my embarrassment over that familiar gesture got the best of me. “Uh, thanks? But it was amateur hour getting stuck up there in the first place. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come along.”

  He smiled and fluttered his eyelashes at me. “I love playing the hero.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and retreated to sarcasm to quell the flirtatious flush that rose up in response. “Well, bless your heart. And I so appreciate it, whatever shall I do to repay you?” I elbowed him in the side and he huffed out a gasp in surprise. “Now, do you want company on the way back? I’ve got to get back to the set.”

  “Yes! I was on a trail, I swear, but it disappeared. I’ve never been good at directions and have no idea where I am.”

  I laughed. “Well, you’re not too far off. Let me grab my bag and gear. We can walk back together. How’d you get out here anyways?”

  “Oh, I hired a driver,” he said as he stood up and grabbed an ankle in a quad stretch. He switched legs and extended a hand to pull me up.

  My jaw dropped and I barely escaped inhaling a slow-moving fly. “You took a one-way trip to a state park? To go running? How were you planning on getting back to the hotel and set? There’s super minimal cell service out here.”

  He looked sheepish and toed a shoe in the dirt before nodding at me. “Yeah, didn’t really think that one out. Figured I could call someone when I was done and I needed to start working out again. My brain feels better when I’m physically active—like I’m in control.”

  “Totally get that, it’s why I’m out here too. That and I really enjoy cornbread and mac and cheese.” I sighed mournfully. “Anyways, let’s go find my car. I can be your driver for the afternoon.”

  “Now who’s the hero?”

  We shared a small smile and he helped me fold my mat then tied it to my backpack as I traded out my climbing shoes for trail runners.

  “Want to race? I’ll give you a head start since you only vaguely know your way back.”

  “Uh, no. Some of us—i.e., you, Ms. Sporty—may have an infallible sense of direction and be extraordinarily in shape, but others of us—i.e., me—smoke too much and haven’t run in months. So, no. We’re walking. Together. Now hand me your pack. It’s the least I can do.”

  He easily swung my bag over his broad shoulders and I gazed, transfixed, at my climbing shoes swinging back and forth like a metronome as he started to walk back to where he seemed to think the path lay.

  I hurried to catch up. “Ah, my knight in semi-tarnished armor.”

  He turned to wait for me and shot me a massive shit-eating grin. “Friends, then? After everything I told you during lockdown and now this rescue, I feel like we need to formalize this arrangement or you’ll abandon me when it’s convenient for you.” He kept a mostly straight face as he held up a pinkie finger.

  I laughed and wound my own pinkie finger around his. “Best friends. And that means that you’ll forget all about me getting stuck on a ledge. Got it?”

  “No promises, friend.”

  We made it back to the car without issue and immediately started bickering about music choices. He was an Eighties synth-pop fan and I felt equally strongly that Americana was the answer, given our Deliverance-level nature experience. We finally compromised on Taylor Swift, as one does.

  As we drove, I couldn’t help but notice that he was sneaking little looks at me as he leaned against the open window, his damp blond hair lightly fluttering in the breeze. His fingers tapped a silent rhythm on the ‘oh shit’ handle above his head. Maybe the chemistry wasn’t so one-sided, then, or maybe he was relieved to have found a friend—not exactly a common occurrence in adulthood, especially on a Hollywood set. I couldn’t decide which option was more desirable and it was annoying to be this attracted to someone when work should have been my main focus.

  “Do you want me to drop you at the hotel?” I asked as we wound closer to the set. “I’ve got a few extra minutes.”

  “Nah, that’s okay. Can you take me to the set with you? I
can shower there. The cleaning staff is usually in our rooms right now and I don’t want to get in their way.”

  “Sure, but you’re going to have to wait for me at the crew house before we head to the set. I don’t have a fancy trailer with a shower and wardrobe.”

  “Or I can run from the crew house over to the set. That should work as well.”

  “Whatever is easiest—”

  His phone rang and interrupted me. Markus glanced at the screen and swore. “I need to take this. My manager. Do you mind?”

  He gestured for me to keep it down and I raised my eyebrows at his presumption, but nodded in response to the silent request.

  “Markus, my man. How are things in Savannah?” crackled a booming voice through Markus’ phone. Clearly his manager was one of those guys who could work a room on sheer volume and force. I’d have hated to sit next to him in a meeting.

  Markus side-eyed me as I kept driving, face forward, pretending I couldn’t hear. “Yeah, it’s good, thanks, Will. Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. Do you have anything in the works for me?”

  “Well, here’s the thing. The short answer is no. Kate’s blow-out on Sellers’ set and your slip-and-slide spiral down is getting around the studios and streaming services. I’ve talked to a few people and everyone thinks it’s a risk to take you on right now.” Will paused and I saw Markus wince out of the corner of my eye. He pinched his brows and blew out a deep breath.

  “There’s nothing you can do, then?” he practically whispered.

  “Nah, man. Not at the moment, but you know how this industry is. It’s cyclical. Before this you had a great reputation as a professional—could handle anything, not a pain in the fucking ass to work with, no diva shit. This is an aberration, right? It will pass. Let them forget and I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you.”

  “Will, come on. I get it, but isn’t there something? I need to have work in the pipeline, I can’t sit around. A break is one thing, but…” He trailed off and started futzing with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt, tugging on it until a few inches of thread unraveled. We were stopped at a light and I watched as he compulsively started winding the loose thread around his thumb till his finger turned purple, then he let go and watched the blood flow return to normal.

  “No, Markus. Look, do your job with Michael and do it well. You’re tight with him, maybe he can work something for you. Would you want to stay on? I mean, it’s not your usual type of role, but series work is solid and steady.”

  Markus glanced over at me again, clearly wishing that he were anywhere else but stuck in the car with a random person he’d only recently met, before saying, “I mean, sure. If he’d have me. It’s a small part with potential to grow, but it would keep me busy. I need to stay focused. I can’t spiral again.”

  Will chuckled. “You’re damn right about that. We can’t clean up another mess. Not that your mental health isn’t super important and we don’t care about you, buddy. Heh, heh. Speaking of, Claire’s got a few therapists’ numbers if you want them.”

  Markus flushed and I determinedly kept my eyes forward. “Tell Claire to stick to P.R. and let her know we’re good to release the initial messaging about Kate and me. Good?”

  “You’ve got it, boss, we’re on it. Take it easy, man, and have fun in Georgia. Talk to Michael, feel him out on staying, then let me know what you want to do. At this point you’re more in with him than me. All right?”

  “Sure, Will. Got to go. Will let you know what I hear from Michael.”

  Will whistled cheerfully. “Later, gator. Don’t get in any more trouble out there!”

  Markus stabbed the red End Call button and turned to me. “I know you heard everything, so don’t try to pretend you missed that. Will’s got this voice that projects beyond anything I’ve ever heard. Can I trust you not to talk? Especially about the job?” His worried look made the shallow wrinkles in his forehead and the corners of his eyes deepen.

  My stomach turned over at the lack of trust in his voice, but I kept my eyes on the road and my voice neutral. He didn’t strike me as someone who wanted my pity. “Of course, Markus. I promise. Is there anything I can do? Talk to Michael?”

  “No. It’s fine. I’ll be fine.” Despite his reassurances, the tension in his forearms and the vulnerable look in his blue eyes told a different story.

  “Okay, well, if you ever want to talk… I might not be a therapist, but I’m a decent listener.”

  “And now I know where to find you.” He threw me a lost-boy smile as he scrubbed a hand through his hair. My heart beat unevenly as a tiny dimple in his left cheek winked at me.

  We pulled up at the crew house and parked. I pointed to the back gate, where Candace was stepping out. “That’s me, in case you need anything.”

  “Thanks, Alina. For the ride and everything. See you on set?”

  “Of course, and thank you for the rescue. Later, best friend.”

  He flashed his famous smirk at me as he plugged his earbuds back in. I watched him jog away and fanned myself. There went a ton of baggage in a very pretty package.

  “Ooh, Alina! What kind of sweaty sins would you like to confess to Mama Candace?”

  My friend slipped past the gate and we silently watched him run away from the house in easy loping strides, ogling him from behind. One of those moments of pure female solidarity.

  I sighed and nudged her. “Oh, shut up, you. He was out at the park where I was bouldering and we happened to run into each other. I gave him a ride back. Mama Candace needs to mind her own business.”

  She grinned. “Sure, that’s all it was. Like, no ‘oh look, we’re alone amidst the beautiful bounty of mother nature, let’s hook up in this field of flowers’?”

  I laughed and nudged her again in the shoulder. “Why are you like this?”

  She crossed her arms across her chest and stuck her tongue out at me. “Born like this—sexy, sassy and supernaturally good at makeup and hair.” We giggled together at her alliteration. She glanced one more time at his receding figure, then back at me and winked. “Yeah, well. That’s one sexy man.”

  I could only nod in agreement. “Too hot for his own good. See you on set.”

  She gave me a little finger waggle as she hopped onto her bike and disappeared in the same direction as Markus.

  Yep, a very pretty package that now knows where I live, and maybe he’ll be all about a late-night visit sometime.

  I slapped myself upside the head.

  Remember taking that hiatus from sex? Must. Not. Forget. Hiatus.

  Chapter Five

  Markus

  A few days after Alina’s and my outdoor adventure, I woke up with a shout as I struggled out of the tight cocoon I’d made of my covers. My nightmares had been getting worse over the last few weeks, and now they haunted me for at least a few hours every morning.

  The low-level anxiety that had been my constant companion since leaving Cambodia ratcheted up another notch and I quickly got into the shower, hoping the steam would wash away the sticky residue of the night. But the pinpricks of panic continued to push into my skin as the water heated.

  I needed to talk to someone who had some perspective, who could help me figure out what was wrong with me. Was this creative exhaustion? The well being tapped out, so to speak? A late-manifesting anxiety disorder? Post-traumatic stress from the conditions on Sellers’ set? The problem was, I didn’t really have anyone I could ask those questions, and that realization slammed into me like a ton of bricks. I slid down to my knees on the cold tile and rested my head against the wall as I watched the water droplets roll down the shower door. Maybe I should have taken up Will’s suggestion to let my P.R. agent locate a few therapists.

  Over the past few years, my life had narrowed to work and Kate. It’d happened so slowly that I hadn’t even noticed. My ties had been cut as Kate reassured me that most people only wanted me around for what I could do for them. I’d never been very social or outgoing, bu
t this was a new level of isolation. I vowed to make a better effort at connecting. That morning, it felt especially critical.

  The first person I saw on set when I arrived late was Rory—not my top choice for an empathetic ear, but I had to try. I’d promised myself I’d be better about making connections with people on this set, and if I wanted to make a case for myself as a regular, I needed to fit in with the rest of the cast.

  “Bro, you need to get your ass to Wardrobe before Michael loses his shit. Wait. You look sick. Do you need to go back and rest or something?”

  “No, I’m not sleeping well and feel really off. That last role is sticking with me—break-up probably doesn’t help either. You know?”

  “Whoa, dude. I’m sorry. That’s seriously rough. I’ve always been able to shake off roles, so I can’t help there.” He said it so blithely that I bit back a comment about how he would never have that problem, given the shallow roles he always took. “But woman problems are more up my alley. What happened with Kate? How did I not know you broke up?”

  “I don’t know, things got complicated. She wanted more from me and I couldn’t figure out what. Then she started acting strangely, showing up unannounced on my sets to pick fights in front of everyone, telling them that I was a prude who couldn’t satisfy her, demanding to find out who I was sleeping with, that I’d talked shit about whatever project I was working on. It was terrible.”

  “That’s messed up. I didn’t know any of that.”

  “Yeah, my lawyers don’t fuck around and we’ve managed to keep it out of the gossip cycle for now, but we’re about to announce that we’re no longer together and it’s going to get messy. But whatever, you’re right, I’m late. Maybe we could grab a beer or something tonight?”

  “Shit, yeah. Sorry again. Let me check with a few people, maybe we can get a group together.” He wandered off toward the catering setup, sniffing the air like a bloodhound.