Accidental Action Star (13 page)

Justin’s hands came up, and he lunged.

Archie stepped between us, his arms out. “Here now. Here now.”

I kicked Justin’s shin in just the right spot Max had shown me and Justin stumbled. I pushed his shoulders. He went down, crashing into Archie’s soft body on the way. Paint smeared from one man to the other, a vivid inescapable symbol of rage.

We looked at each other and froze. The brilliance of the moment hit Archie and me first.

Archie ran to his computer desk. “Purple rage.”

He pulled up the pixie project and clicked on the image of the evil fairy poisoning the pixie’s water. He selected the poison and the stream. He made them purple. The ink swirled upriver tainting the blue, bringing the whole image to life. He inserted a comment for the pixies dancing on the banks to fall into the water and turn purple too.

“Hell, yeah!” Justin held his purple fist in the air for us to bump.

Our drama had inspired a perfect pixie peril. My tension eased, and I smiled. Both Archie and Justin wore huge grins. Archie went back to his desk and took a big bite out of his cinnamon roll. “We nailed it.” I wondered how much paint he inadvertently ate in the course of a week and wiped my hands on my navy sweat pants.

Justin was still grinning, I took our moment of camaraderie and went for it. I moved to his side and lowered my voice. “I have tickets to the
Haven Hills
premiere. This weekend. It’s Garrett Campbell’s new movie. Lorene’s going.”

Justin’s eyes flashed.

“I have one extra ticket.” I owed Justin and this might make peace. I had to go to the premiere anyway. The AD had requested it, and Marissa had asked me to support Garrett. And I owed Garrett because he’d hosted
Scoop Out
for me. My going would take care of two debts. The fact that I’d see Max there, and I was totally into him, well, that was a different problem.

Justin shrugged and slumped down to his art stool, running a paint-covered hand into his messy fair hair.

“Do you want to go with me? I’ll introduce you to Lorene.”

His eyes got big, and he looked ready to puke.

“Come on, Justin. Act worthy of being in the gene pool.” I gestured to the computer monitor. “Fight for something bigger than pixie colors.”

He swallowed. “Maybe.”

“Great. I’ll call my friend Powder. She’s going to give you a haircut.” I eyed his baggy clothes. “And tell you what to wear.”

***

I tramped over to Warehouse 47. My choices were to be late for the workout and let Max think he was getting to me or change out of my paint-spattered sweats and T-shirt. I was an artist. Paint came with the title. Max would have to lump it.

First, I had a quick stop to make by wardrobe while keeping my cards, or in this case, tickets to Mom’s restaurant, in my pocket. “Hi, Cutter.”

Cutter kept his head down, his focus on embroidering the cuff of a tuxedo jacket. “Hannah.”

“I hear you might be able to hook me up with a dress to the premiere.”

A slow smile crossed his face. “I was just working on my own outfit to the premiere.” He set his jacket carefully on a mannequin and crossed over to one of the mobile wardrobe racks. Keeping his grin in place, he flipped through the hangers. His hand stilled on one. He looked at me and made a moue at my disheveled, paint-spattered appearance, backed up a step and lifted the hanger from the rack. He held the outfit out to his side.  A scarlet cat suit trailed to the floor all shiny and red and...no.

“No.”

Cutter brushed his nose in the air like he was the one doing the refusing. “This isn’t for you. It’s for Lorene.” His smile curved up and made his eyes squint. “You actresses should echo the poster.” He replaced the hanger and lifted down a second outfit—the sky-blue cat suit. Cutter jiggled the hanger and the overhead lighting made the fabric shimmer in a look-at-me way.

My blood pressure arced, and I breathed in and out to calm down. “That’s one way we could go.”

Cutter wiggled the hanger again. “Oh, it’s the way you’re going.”

I pulled the tickets from my pocket. “Thursday night, they’re doing a special tasting menu at Mom’s restaurant.”

He stilled.

“I’ve got two free passes.”

His lips pursed and he put the hanger back on the rack. “Leave them on the table. I’ll come up with something.”

“Thanks, Cutter, I knew you would.” I saw him grab a tissue and reach for the tickets as I left.

***

I stepped onto the workout mat.

Max took one look at me and shook his head. “What the hell happened?”

I jabbed my fists in the air and made my voice sound energized. “Art cave got a little wild today.”

“Are you going to change?”

“No way. The dorm’s not far, but in LA traffic, I’d miss the whole workout before I got back.” Complaining about the traffic, I was such a local.

He went to the bench and tossed me his keys. “Get a clean T from my trailer.”

“Oooh, Max is letting me in the man cave.” Wouldn’t go out with me on a third date, but I could drop by his house and borrow clothes. Whatever.

I returned, dressed in Max’s
Time Kick
shirt. The white T-shirt featured a clock. Flames burned one o’clock to six o’clock and icicles froze from six o’clock to midnight. Pretty cool image. The hem hung past my hips, and I knotted the side. I planned on keeping it—a girl had to get something out of a relationship, even a short-lived one.

Max checked me out. “What happened with the paint?”

I gave him a summary of the Art Department’s pranks. Max didn’t laugh at me like I thought he would. His face blanked, and he strode for the exit.

“Wait. Wait up. What are you doing?” I jumped in front of him and refused to move. “Use your words.” I used my favorite elementary school teacher’s favorite saying.

The words he used did not belong in an elementary school. They were foul and oddly protective in one angry bundle and it ended with, “I’m going to have a talk with the Art Department.”

I put my hands on his elbows and used his calming trick. I stroked the inside of his arms with my thumbs. “I took care of it. You don’t have to fight my battles. I don’t want you to. I don’t want anyone to.”

His face shifted in a whole range of serious expressions—I think I’d surprised him and impressed him all at once. He blinked and maneuvered around me, going for the door.

“I know you heard me,” I said to his back.

Max kept walking.

I followed him out. The bright sunshine hit us, and I blocked the rays with my hand while Max walked on without pause.

“Wait.”

“Relax, Hannah. I’m not going to kick their asses.” He turned back to me. “I’m simply going to let them know that if you...” He made quote marks. “
Fall
into any more paint, I’m going to kick their asses.” His shoulders were tight like during sparring, right before he maneuvered into an attack. Fascinating. The way he moved. I wanted to sketch him. I shook off that desire and picked up the pace. “This mess may be partly on me.”

We’d reached the door to the Art Department so I spoke faster. “I kind of threatened Justin with the paint.”

His eyes hardened. “What did he do?”

“Nothing. Archie got involved, and I took them both out with some of your moves. You would have loved it.”

Max shoved through the door. “Would I?”

I chased after him. He reached the art room and scanned the area. It wasn’t that complicated a space. All the artists sat in back. Max zeroed in on Justin and advanced toward him. Three feet away, he stopped abruptly, causing me to bump into his back. My arms went up to gain my balance and Max stayed steady, unmoved by my weight. I dropped my hands with some reluctance.

Max pointed to the wall behind Justin’s desk. He tilted his head, his gaze assessing. The wall contained copies of my
Dragon Night
artwork—my revisions.

“Those will work.” Max moved closer to the sketch of the dragon. “Not the dragon. But the other characters are a go.”

Archie ran over, taking in the scene. His gaze darted between the three of us and landed on Max. He cleared his throat. “We don’t usually get actors back here.” Good thing, given how he talked about them.

Max looked away from the artwork and assessed Archie from the top of his purple paint-speckled hair to his paint-spattered running shoes. He did the same with Justin, who wore just as much paint as me, maybe more. His lips quirked.

Clearly, his over-protective moment had left. I checked the wall to see if Justin had re-done my sketches. He hadn’t. “Max, you’ve seen these.” My throat tightened. “Earlier this week. You said they were crap.”

Justin frowned at Max, a brave thing given that he was a foot shorter and much skinnier. “We don’t discourage interns like that.”

Max glanced at me as he realized I’d done the drawings.

Heat burned my face.

While looking at me, Max said, “The sketches on the wall, I’ll approve. But, not the dragon.”

In that moment, I knew Max. And I knew what Max wanted for
Dragon Night
. My shoulders eased, and I went to my drafting table. Using charcoal and a sheet of art paper, I sketched out a dragon freehand. A dragon ten degrees softer than the ferocious, blood-fanged creature on the wall, but ten degrees harder than the dancing pixies we’d been working on. A dragon that would awe his little brother but not give him nightmares. I put the charcoal down, wiped my fingers on the side of my pants and held up the drawing. “Something like this?”

One corner of Max’s mouth curled in a thoughtful expression. He took the drawing from me. The paper crackled under his hands, and he eased his grip. “That’s it.”

Archie blew out a breath and clamped a hand on my shoulder. “Good job.” He lowered his voice. “Guess we don’t have to beat you for letting the talent in here.”

Max handed the sketch back to me. “Get me the approval forms and I’ll sign them.”

Archie and Justin bumped fists. They included me in the ritual.

Max moved to leave, but before he got to the door he turned back and faced the two men. His eyes narrowed. His expression chilled ten degrees cooler. “If Hannah has to break out her martial art moves in here again, I’ll be back to show you mine.”

Justin and Archie stared, jaws slightly open.

Max held their gazes several seconds.

Archie swallowed and called after him. “I’ll get the forms to you. Today.”

Justin took up his own sketchpad. “That guy is so cool.”

I didn’t respond, just hurried to the door.  “Later, guys.”

Max was waiting for me by the exit, but we didn’t talk until we reached Warehouse 47’s workout area. Max paused before stepping onto the mat, the muscles across his back tensed visibly. He turned to me. “About the premiere…I figured it wasn’t your scene.”

My heart thawed. Was he caving? “Oh, it is.”

“Well, my rules and all, but maybe we…maybe…well, I’ll see you when you’re there?”

My heart re-hardened. “Of course you will. Me and my date.”

Max’s eyes flared. He worked his jaw, and then moved on the mat to pound the punching bag.

I ignored him and did yoga.

Max kept the jabs going until an assistant swung by to announce that he had visitors. He wiped down with a towel and strolled toward the door, over to his dad and little brother Aidan.

Aidan had something cradled in his arms.

My cat.

I hurried over too. I got on my knees beside his brother and petted the kitten. “Ooh, you’re so pretty,” I said, talking to the furry, rounded creature in a high, babying voice.

Kickers curled into Aidan’s chest, but he batted me with his paw, a gesture I took as encouragement. I scratched behind his folded ears.

Aidan stared at me, his golden-green eyes big and cute. “You got paint on you.”

“Yep. I’m an artist.”

“Oh.” Aidan seemed to accept that. He watched me pet Kickers a little while and then asked, “Do you have a cat?”

My mouth twisted. “Nope.”

Aidan glanced at his dad. “You could ask your dad.” He held Kickers a little higher. “I asked my dad and he and Max found Kickers for me.”

“Kickers is adorable.”

Aidan frowned. “Kickers is tough.”

Clearly that virtue was valued more highly than adorable. “That too.” I sighed. “My dad’s in Texas so getting a cat’s probably a no go.”

“Texas?” Aidan didn’t seem familiar with the state. His gaze dropped down to the kitten, and he stroked along his side making the cat purr. “My mom left too.”

I sank into a crisscross and played with Aidan and the cat while his words echoed in my head. They made disliking Max for not committing a whole lot harder.

Max squatted beside us. “Hey, kiddo. Ready to go hang at my trailer?”

Max’s dad waved and walked off. “Be good for your brother, Aidan.”

“I will.” Aidan moved to Max’s side. “Bye, Hannah.”

“Bye,” Max said.

“Bye.”

They walked off. This opportunity hit me a few seconds late but I jumped on it. “Boys.”

Max and Aidan turned around.

“I’m running over to
Scoop Out
to make—” What did kids like? I didn’t have a great handle on the question because my own childhood staples had consisted of gourmet French cuisine. Marissa had told me a little about her younger brothers and how she cooked for them. I stole her go-to meal and threw it out there. “Chicken tenders and ranch dressing. Want me to bring some over for you two?”

Max looked ready to make a polite refusal but Aidan’s eyes widened. “Yes.”

I grinned. From the eagerness on Aidan’s face, he must have suffered one of Max’s smoothies in the past. “Okay. I’ll change and see you guys in about an hour.”

Max nodded with wary eyes. Aidan skipped. “Bye, Hannah.”

I left immediately for the
Scoop Out
set where I used Mom’s dressing room, took a quick shower and borrowed slacks and a blouse. Both were too conservative for my taste: cream linen pants and a cream silk camisole. I preferred color. But, the outfit was much nicer than sweats and a T-shirt. I hung Max’s
Time Kick
T-shirt in my locker so he wouldn’t get any ideas about taking it back.