Celebrity 2 - Acting Out

…Had that been a
moment
, Evan wondered? It was hard to tell. It passed so quickly. What was he thinking? Cree Radek didn’t give
moments
to mere mortals. And why should he? Evan worked for him. They were just running lines and, in all fairness, Evan had been the one to forget that arrangement. He’d been the one trying to tease Cree with some tongue play.

It was good he’d pulled his fingers out when he had. Curry, and he suspected any food, tasted better when licked off Cree. If he’d delayed even a second longer, Evan would have given into temptation and sucked those digits. A finger blow.

God, he’d almost slipped up. He couldn’t lose this job. Not yet. Not when he was so close to finding his scumbag father. He needed Cree and his connections. He couldn’t blow this, or Cree, for that matter.

Evan’s full cock was becoming uncomfortable. In his old sweats, it wouldn’t take much for Cree to notice the inappropriate bulge going on. Evan shifted carefully, placing the script over his lap to lay open while they ate and ran lines. It seemed like a natural placement. Maybe Cree wouldn’t notice.

They worked for another two hours, finally calling it quits around midnight.
“Let’s hit the sack,” Cree announced, his voice rasping with the same fatigue Evan felt. “We’re leaving for the set at five.”
“In the morning?” Evan asked stupidly.
Cree cracked a smile, stretching those perfect lips over equally perfect teeth. They had to have been whitened. No one had a smile that bright. He found himself staring at Cree’s mouth wishing it would come just a little closer…
A
LSO
B
Y
M
IA
W
ATTS

This book is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

Copyright © 2011 by Mia Watts ISBN 978-1-61124-172-3 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

To the fans who write me. You encourage me more than you know. Thank you.

Evan Walker rolled his eyes. One week on what was supposed to have been his dream job, and all he wanted to do was quit. But quitting wasn’t an option. Not only didn’t he have anywhere else to live, he hadn’t yet made friends in Hollywood.

Unfortunately sticking around meant dealing with the juvenile self-importance of one of Hollywood’s hottest actors, Cree Radek. And if he wanted to keep this job, he needed to hop to.

“I have it.” Evan held it up by the strap. “The car is waiting for you out front, and I’ve called ahead to have the trailer stocked with your favorite bottled water.”

Evan didn’t like that sound of that. All day with Cree? Oh, hell no.
“Walker!”
“Mr. Radek, all my files are here.”
Cree swung around to face him. His longish black hair didn’t budge from its spiky arrangement, and his kohl lined blue eyes stared him down for a minute. He stood typically slouched in black jeans, faded gray cotton shirt, and a black leather silver-studded belt snug around his hips, dripping with chains. His long, lean form and broad shoulders dominated the doorway.
“Huh,” Cree muttered. He grabbed the bag from Evan. “Fine. Get your stuff together. I’ll send the car back for you.” Cree strutted out of the house.
“But my computer,” Evan called after him.
“Buy a laptop, Walker, and get your ass to the set. You’ll be joining me every day,” he yelled back.
Beautiful. Apparently there really wasn’t anything he could say to change Cree’s mind. And now he’d be stuck with him day in and day out until production wrapped on the latest flick. Evan groaned. If he had to buy a new laptop to satisfy the boss, so be it. He’d make damn sure it put a dent in the expense card.

It took him two hours to play around with every laptop on display, and ask all the important questions. Even the ones he already knew the answers to, because he was dragging his feet. He’d never been on set before and it wasn’t a prospect he was looking forward to. If the tabloids had it right, the ego-wattage alone would light the entire city of Los Angeles.

What Evan most suspected was that Cree’s idea of
help
would mean
becoming the whipping boy
. All the responsibilities he already had maintaining Cree’s social, personal, and professional calendars, along with managing his every need before he spoke it, would now include running to restaurants and arguing with directors about movie lines.

At least Cree remembered to leave Evan’s name at the gate, he thought, pulling through. He followed the convoluted directions provided by the guard and found a parking spot. Heaving his work bag over his shoulder and the new laptop box to his hip, Evan began the long jaunt to Cree’s trailer.

Large warehouse sets bustled with people on either side of the wide alley. A tourist trolley rounded the bend up ahead and stopped beside the row Evan headed toward. He’d never seen Cree interact with fans before. The thought of those somber clear eyes, rimmed with black, pinning a fan as he scrawled his name on a napkin for some squealing mass of Midwestern hysteria didn’t fit any image Evan had of him. But he needn’t have bothered wondering, because Cree wasn’t out there.

“Who’s he? Is he anyone?” One beefy finger pointed at Evan from the elongated golf cart.
“No,” the guide informed.
Evan tried not to sigh as he moved on. Just as he reached Cree’s trailer, which he would have missed if there hadn’t been a giant
Cree
painted all the way down the side, a guy with a clipboard and a headset came up to him.
“We need Mr. Radek in makeup in five.”
“Sure,” Evan agreed. “Hey, can you get the door?”
But the man had moved on. Evan balanced the spotted cow box on his hip, and pushed the heavy tote over his other shoulder, behind him. Then, gripping the tiny knob, he twisted, stepped backward down the tiny metal steps to let the door swing open, scooted around, and finally bumbled his way inside.
“About fucking time,” Cree muttered, sprawled on an overstuffed leather couch.
Evan kept his temper in check. “Makeup wants you.”
“Did you get what you needed?” Cree asked tipping his head toward the box. He lifted his hand and, for the first time, Evan noticed a cigarette lodged between two fingers. The smoke curled upward, obscuring his eyes as Cree drew in a breath.
“Yes, but I’ll need to set up all the systems.”
“Do that between jobs.” Smoke spilled out from between his lips as he spoke.
“You smoke now?” Evan asked stupidly.
Cree held up the cigarette. “Naw. It’s cloves or some shit. The character smokes. I’m practicing.”
“Awesome. Cancer from second hand smoke isn’t in my contract.” Evan put his laptop box on the table and dropped his tote to the floor. “Does it taste good?”
“Tastes like ass.”
He would have asked if Cree actually knew what ass tasted like, but since Cree was openly bisexual, Evan figured he already had the answer to that. “Other than setting up the new systems, what do you need me to do today?”
“Run interference from the fans. Deliver shit that needs delivering. Be my go-between. Take my calls.” Cree took another languid puff. He coughed. “Tell the prop manager to put some mint in this cigarette.”
“Remind you to go to makeup,” Evan ticked off in the same monotone.
Cree snorted and rose to his feet. He put out the fake cigarette in the kitchenette sink. The trailer felt impossibly small with Cree casually strolling around in it. “I had some stuff delivered for you while you were out dicking around with the laptop. I left it on the bed in the back.”
Without so much as a look in Evan’s direction, Cree left the trailer.
“Left me something?” Evan wondered.
He craned his neck to see down the hall. The bedroom door hung ajar. Evan shrugged and headed back. On the bed he found a collection of electronics. A smart phone with a collapsible keypad, a touch tablet computer with wireless access, a camera, a digital recorder with downloadable music option, a video camera, and several flash drives.
What did he do, buy the whole damn store
?
But it was more than just convenient items to do his job. If Evan had learned anything in the short time he’d already worked for Cree, it was that Cree liked to make a point. And today’s lesson, brought to Evan by the letters
I, P, O, D
and the number
64 gigabytes
and that Cree had known Evan was stalling. It was Cree’s simple, but effective, way to say that Evan had better stay on his toes or Cree would find someone else to get the job done, faster.
Point taken, Mr. Radek
.

Cree ducked his head and walked purposefully toward hair and makeup. He hoped Evan liked the electronics he’d left. Cree rationalized that they were items Evan would need for his job anyway. Staying connected meant staying on top of the trends, and that was every bit as important as managing his social calendar.

Someone screamed and shouted his name. He thought the trolley had already gone by. Cree didn’t look up. He just wanted to get to hair and makeup, where they’d probably complain about the black eyeliner and the gel in his hair again.

He took the steps quickly and slipped inside the brightly lit trailer.
“Mr. Radek. Over here please. We’ve been waiting for you.” Susie had been on nearly every set with him. Because of that she tended to treat him like a beloved nephew instead of a star.
He eased into the wide barber chair. He was spun and dipped, warm water spraying to his scalp. He should just leave it undone, but there was an image to uphold. It was like if they didn’t have something to complain about, then he wasn’t doing his job as an actor to satisfactorily piss people off.
“We’re trimming some length for the role.”
“It’s hair. It’ll grow back. Do what you gotta do.”
“Who’s the young man?” Susie asked.
Cree opened one eye to look at her. “My assistant.”
“He’s good-looking. Don’t you scare this one off.”
“Who are you, my mother?”
Susie shampooed his hair a second time. “Someone sure ought to be. You have a new assistant every time we’re on set together.”
“They deserve to be scared off,” he informed her.
Susie harrumphed. “You send him over here when you leave.”
“Why?”
“So I can warn him of all your little tricks.”
“I just bought him a computer,” Cree said.
“Cree Radek. You never
just do
anything.” She’d stopped rinsing to put her wet hands on her hips and glare at him. “I know you think I stay in this box for hair and makeup, but as many hours a day as you sit in my chair when you’re on set, I’ve learned a thing or two.”
Cree frowned. “And what might those two things be?”
“You aren’t as tough as you act. You’re a decent man at heart, despite all the stay-away-from-me kohl you wear.”
He studied her for a long moment. He smiled grudgingly. “Don’t tell anyone.”
She winked at him. “You just be sure to bring me that new assistant. You need one that will stick around when you’re acting surly. If he knows to rough it through to the other side, just maybe I’ll see this one on the next set we have together.”
Cree sat up. Susie rubbed his head with a towel, wrapped it and then began clearing his face of eyeliner.
“I know you mean well. Don’t go talking to Evan,” he said earnestly.
Susie sighed. She shook her head like she didn’t understand why he was being so contrary. “All right, Mr. Radek. But if you fire that boy before the end of next week, you’ll answer to me. You are far too busy to be training assistants right and left.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Appeased, Susie hummed as she went back to work.
Cree’s co-star, Eliza White, sat beside him. “Hey, Cree, I’m so excited to get started today. Aren’t you?”
Cree’s gaze met Susie’s in the mirror. Susie smiled her amusement. Looked like there was something else Susie knew about him. He hated chatter.
* * *

By the time the shoot wrapped for the day, Evan could barely hold his eyes open. He followed Cree to the sedan where their driver waited. Cree got in. Evan and the driver loaded the trunk with gadgetry. Evan crawled into the backseat beside Cree, who sat patiently with his legs crossed.

In so many ways
, Evan agreed silently. For Cree, he nodded abruptly. Resting his head back, Evan closed his eyes. He’d been here a week, but he was no closer to finding the answers to his questions. God, it was enough to make his head throb. Or that could have just been the vibration of his skull as his head dropped against the window.