Damaged In-Law (14 page)

“In a manner of speaking,” he smiles at me.

“Ugh,” I groan, shaking my head, “Don
’
t
tell me you
’
ve become one of those gross Hollywood
playboys who screws anything with a pulse?”

“What can I say?” Jack shrugs, “It comes with the territory.
Being a famous actor comes with a lot of responsibilities.”

“Ah, yes,” I reply, “All the sex and adoration you can stand
sounds like quite the taxing effort. How do you do it?”

“Very expensive alcohol helps,” Jack smiles as we draw up
before the door to Miriam
’
s office. “OK,” he goes on,
laying his hands on my shoulders and looking me in the eye, acting for the
world like a boxing coach giving a pre-fight pep talk. “You
’
ve
got this, Cal. Just be yourself, and she
’
ll love you.
Ready?”

“Ready as I
’
ll ever be,” I say.

“Good enough,” Jack replies, and pushes open the heavy door.

We step into a gaping corner office overlooking New York
City. The impressive space is entirely white, and utterly spotless. But the
most daunting aspect of all is the woman sitting behind the sleek granite desk
in the center of the room.

Miriam Blake lies in wait for us like a big cat. She
’
s gorgeous, to be sure—stark white hair arranged into a perfect
bun, an impeccable black blazer and pencil skirt, deep red lips and flawless
skin that seems to have been lifted once or twice. I
’
d
guess that she
’
s in her 50
’
s, though
it
’
s impossible to say for sure. But beneath that
well-kept, placid exterior, I can sense that there are sharp claws just waiting
for a reason to strike. Her ice blue eyes flick up toward us as we step into
her expansive lair.

I haven
’
t felt like this much of an
impostor since my dreadful debutante days.

“Ms. Blake,” Jack says warmly, all easy confidence, “Thank
you for taking the time to see us today.”

“Well. I wasn
’
t about to let you and
some no-name costar trash my movie without my signing off on her,” Miriam snaps
back, fixing her eyes on me. “You
’
re the new girl, I take
it?”

“I
’
m Calista Benson, Callie for short,”
I tell her, fighting like hell to keep the cheerful smile on my face, “Thank
you so much for giving me this opportunity, Ms. Blake—”

“Why is she grinning at me like that?” Miriam asks, swinging
her gaze over to Jack, “Is she
simple
or something?”

“Callie
’
s had a pretty long day so
far,” Jack replies as I drop my smile, seething. “There
’
s
a lot we have to catch her up on, but she
’
s handling it
like a pro.”

“But you
aren
’
t
a pro,
are you?” Miriam asks me, folding her arms.

“Pardon?” I ask, taken aback by the depth of her rudeness.

“
You. Are not. A professional. Actress,
”
she drawls slowly, as if my IQ is hovering in the single digits.

“Not currently, no,” I inform her, “But I did study acting
in college. I even did a few shows here in New York—”

“I really don
’
t give a
damn,
” she cuts me off, waving away my words like so many swarming
gnats. “You look the part, that
’
s what
’
s important.
”

I let out a snort of derisive laughter, and feel Jack
’
s body go stock still beside me. Miriam Blake raises a perfect,
penciled-on eyebrow at me.

“Sorry,” I offer.

“Quite,” Miriam sighs, looking at me over steepled fingers.
“Look, Calista. I
’
m going to be upfront with you. The only
reason we
’
re giving you this role is because we can pass
you off as your sister. Sorry about her passing, by the way. It must be very
hard on you, what with the twin thing and all.”

“Yes,” I reply, “It
’
s very—”

“We
’
ve already shot all the publicity
material, you see,” Miriam goes on, bulldozing my reply, “It would be a shame
to put those pretty pictures and pre-release marketing efforts to waste. Plus,
the movie was green-lit with your sister as the love interest character. We don
’
t want to shake up the formula now and scare off any of the
money. You understand.”

“Right. Of course,” I say tentatively.

“To be honest, Rosalie Danes isn
’
t much
of a character in the first place,” Miriam informs me, “More set dressing than
an actual human being. As long as you can show up and be a pretty face, you
’
ll be in the clear. We won
’
t really be
needed any real acting from you or anything like that. So you should work out
just fine.”

I stare at the head of Apollo Pictures, trying to figure out
if she
’
s joking or not. But her cool, frank gaze looks all
business to me. I don
’
t get it...I figured a woman CEO
would be all about advocating for complex, honest female characters in her
movies. Looks like I was very much mistaken, there.

“We
’
re ready to start shooting
tomorrow, with your OK,”
Jack jumps in.

“God yes, we
’
ve been derailed long
enough,” Miriam says, exasperated, “What with all the fuss over the Avery
situation—”

“You mean my sister
’
s death?” I cut her
off, losing patience with her insensitivity.

“Of course.
That
situation,” she goes on, unfazed,
“We
’
ve lost too much time already. Time to throw Miss
Benson the Second into the deep end. I just hope she fares better than the
first one.”

I gape at Miriam Blake, astonished by her utter lack of
sensitivity. I thought movie people were supposed to be creative, expressive,
and full of heart. But this woman is about as heartless as they come. I watch
as she slides a contract across the desk toward me, holding out a pen.

“We just need you to sign off on this,” she tells me. “Jack
’
s filled you in on your salary, I assume? I know a million isn
’
t all that much, but it
’
s all we can
spare.”

“It
’
s very generous,” I say through
gritted teeth. I remind myself of all the plans I have for that money. All the
wonderful things I
’
m going to do with it, all the lives I
’
m going to change with it.

“Hurry up and sign now,”
Ms. Blake prompts me.
“I
’
m expecting a call from Scorsese any minute.”

I glance at Jack, who gives me a subtle, encouraging nod.
With as much dignity as I can muster, I walk up to Miriam Blake
’
s
desk, take the pen out of her claw-like hand, and sign my name to the contract.
Just like that, I
’
m in the movie business.

“I
’
m really going to give this my all,
Ms. Blake,” I assure the studio head, swallowing my pride. “I won
’
t
let you down, I promise.”

“
Super
,” she drawls, snatching the pen away, “Now if
you two would excuse me. I
’
ve got a movie studio to run,
here.”

Miriam Blake shoos us out of her office, and I have to fight
from slamming the door on my way out. I rush past Diana as she waggles her
fingers at Jack and all but dive into the elevator. I steam in silence as Jack
and I ride back down to the ground floor.

“So,” Jack whistles, clapping me on the back, “I think that
went really well!”

I stare at my old friend long and hard, glaring in heated
silence as the elevator doors slide open once more. I walk out into the
sunshine ahead of him, with one single thought rolling through my head:

I
’
ll show her.

Chapter Eleven

I stand under the stream of scorching hot water, letting
the shower relax my tired muscles. It
’
s been
another long day on set, grueling but rewarding. All I want to do is take a
nice, long shower and collapse into bed. This acting stuff is harder than it
looks.

Just as I
’
m lathering up my
body with sandalwood scented bodywash, a cool whisper of air glances against my
back. A wicked grin spreads across my face as I hear a certain someone step
into the shower behind me. Two strong hands land firmly on the points of my
hips, rove over the smooth stretch of my stomach.

“Don
’
t you ever knock, Jack?”
I ask, letting my head fall back against his firm chest as my voice bounces off
the tiled walls.

“What, aren
’
t you happy to see
me?” he murmurs, letting his full lips brush against the shell of my ear as his
hands move upwards, cupping my sudsy breasts.

I let out a soft, sighing moan as Jack brushes his thumbs
over my hard nipples. I
’
m a goner the second he
touches me, as always. I press my back to his chest as he pinches those
sensitive peaks, and find that they
’
re not the only
things that are hard.

“Well, I see you
’
re happy to
be here...” I laugh throatily, feeling an urgent need throbbing between my
legs.

“Not as happy as you
’
re about
to be...” he growls, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady me as his free
hand skirts down my torso, down between my already quivering thighs.

I plant my hands against the shower wall, bracing myself
for what
’
s to come. The hard length of his cock
brushes along my sex, pressing firmly against me as it throbs insistently. I
glance over my shoulder at Jack, drinking in the sight of him towering over me.
Water runs in rivulets down his muscular chest, his dark hair is pushed back
from his burning blue eyes, gleaming with want.

My eyes flutter closed as I feel his fingers glide along
the length of my slit, parting my pink lips as they move. Deeper and deeper he
strokes me with every pass. A keen, delicious pressure starts to build in my
core, and I know only one thing will satisfy it.

“Oh, god yes...” I groan, as Jack presses two fingers to
my aching clit, tracing long, slow circles around my tender flesh.

“You like that, don
’
t you?”
he growls, rolling my clit in his capable fingers as his grip tightens around
my waist. Deep shockwaves of sensation spread through my body, desire pooling
inside of me like a cup ready to run over.

I arch my back as he bears down on me, his cock rock hard
against my body. As I feel myself hurtling toward the cliff
’
s edge of bliss, I align myself with that long, stiff rod,
ready to thrust myself back against him, taking him all the way inside—

“Dozing off on your very first day?” Jack laughs, his voice
cutting straight through my light slumber, jostling me from my dream.

“Huh? What?” I bumble, sitting up like a bolt and looking
around wildly.

I
’
m sitting in the hair and makeup
trailer, getting beautified for my very first day of shooting
City in Red
.
It was only yesterday that I was put through the makeover ringer, not to
mention my tense first meeting with Miriam Blake. And despite my exhaustion by
day
’
s end, I was barely able to sleep a wink from nervous
excitement. Add to that a 6 a.m. call time and you
’
ve got
yourself one sleepy actress. I didn
’
t even realize I
’
d dozed off, though the steamy sex dream probably should have
tipped me off. I suppose I was enjoying the dream so much that I hoped it was
actually real. I avert my eyes from Jack
’
s handsome face,
praying that he can
’
t read my mind right now.

“Way to be a professional, Cal,” Jack teases me, sinking
down in the next chair to get styled himself.

You have no idea
, I think to myself.

“It
’
s OK. I just had her in hot rollers
anyway,” my modelesque stylist Parker says, appearing behind me in the well-lit
makeup mirror. “No harm in a little extra beauty sleep, god only knows.”

“I didn
’
t sleep through anything
important, did I?” I ask nervously, examining my heavily made up face in the
mirror. I
’
ve still barely adjusted to my new look, let
alone my new job. I don
’
t have the first idea what
’
s expected of me on set.

“Nah. The writers were just going over some last minute
edits,” Jack replies, handing me a small packet of pages, “Here
’
s
the rewrite of today
’
s scene, by the way.”

“Rewrite?” I groan, flipping through the script, “I only
just memorized the version you gave me yesterday...”

“What can I tell you?” Jack shrugs, “That
’
s
the way it goes.”

I quickly read through the new version of the script,
focusing on the scenes I
’
m in. My heart nearly bursts out
of my chest as I get the gist of what we
’
re shooting
today.

“Jack!” I hiss, trying to keep still as Parker un-rolls my
hair. “This is a love scene!”

“No shit,” my costar cackles, swinging his feet up onto the
counter as another stylist fixes his hair. “You
’
re playing
my love interest, Cal. Hence the love scenes.”

“No, but I mean...this is a
love
scene,” I insist,
starting at him through the mirror. “Like...a steamy one.”

“What
’
s the matter?” Jack shoots back
with a grin, “Were you hoping for a sexier actor to make out with onscreen? I
don
’
t make the cut?”

I bite my lip and turn back to the script, hoping that my
blush isn
’
t too visible under all this makeup. The scene
we
’
re shooting in a few moments time is a big
confrontation between our characters that unravels into a passionate romp in
the sack. Why didn
’
t it occur to me that I
’
d
be sucking face with Jackson Cole for most of this shoot? My character, Rosalie
Danes, only exists for him to make out with. Which is a whole other issue, now
that I think of it...

“Is there a reason why Rosalie has nothing to do in this
movie?” I ask Jack coolly, daring to meet his gaze again. “Other than fawn over
your character, I mean?”

“I think that
’
s an overstatement,” Jack
says, unconcerned, “She
’
s got plenty to do.”

“Every other one of my lines is, ‘Oh Joel!
’”
I
point out, “The most exciting thing she does is get held at gunpoint by the
villain. And that
’
s only to give your character something
to get all emotional about.”

Parker stifles a snicker, “She has a point, Mr. Cole...” he
says.

“Take it up with the writers,” Jack says, waving my concerns
away, “I
’
m just a poor dumb actor, remember?”

“Oh, right,” I reply, rolling my eyes, “You just totally
spearheaded this project from the very start. But, sure. Dumb actor. My
mistake.”

“Don
’
t blow my cover,” Jack grins, “It
’
s a whole lot easier, just being a pretty face. Once you show
people what you
’
re capable of, they start expecting things
from you.”

“
God forbid,
” I laugh, as Parker puts
the finishing touches on my hair.

Before we can say another word, Penelope Barker bustles into
the trailer, laden with coffee cups as usual.

“Good morning!” she sings, handing me a steaming hot cup of
joe. “They
’
re ready for you two on set just as soon as you
’
re in costume.
”

“Already?” I yelp, “I
’
ve barely had a
chance to look over the script.”

“Callie, it
’
s fine,
”
Jack says smoothly, his styling completed in about a tenth of the time mine
took, “There are barely any lines in what we
’
re shooting today.
Least of all for you.”

“Cool. I think,” I mutter, standing up and following Jack
over to wardrobe.

I have to admit, my reservations are momentarily forgotten
as I feast my eyes on the racks of killer costumes I get to wear during this
shoot. Structured ‘50s-style dresses, fur coats, diamond necklaces, and lacy
lingerie, complete with garters and black-seamed stockings. Of course. I
’
m going to be spending a significant amount of this movie
running around in nothing but my lingerie. Thank god yesterday
’
s
makeover included a bikini wax.

In no time at all, Jack and I are outfitted in our vintage
attire. I nearly pass out when I see him in costume for the first time. The man
can fill out a suit, that
’
s for sure. But as overcome as I
am with admiration for his sexy movie star look, that
’
s
not what strikes me most of all in this moment. Seeing him on a movie set,
confident and sure, running the place...what I feel above all is pride. Despite
his golden boy status in high school, his home was as much of a nightmare as
mines was. He broke away from his emotionally withdrawn, abusive parents, and
made a whole new life for himself. None of this was handed to him. He earned it
all.

“What
’
re you starting at?” Jack laughs,
catching me drinking in the sight of him, “Don
’
t you like
my suit, Cal?”

“Just thinking about how far you
’
ve
come since your
Romeo and Juliet
days,” I grin, accepting the arm he
offers me now.

“You don
’
t look too shabby yourself,”
he tells me, checking out my slinky black dress and string of diamonds as he
leads me onto set. “Ready to get all hot and heavy with me?”

You bet your fine ass I am,
I think to myself, biting
my tongue as we approach the movie
’
s director, Rupert
Davies.

Best known for his action movies, Rupert Davies is a
barrel-chested bear of a man, with a bushy gray beard and a love of baseball
caps and graphic tee shirts.

“You must be Callie!” he crows as we approach, giving my
hand a vigorous shake.

“That I am. It
’
s a pleasure to meet
you, Mr. Davies,” I reply, smiling.

“Call me Rupert, please,” he laughs, “You
’
re
a vision! And you also happen to be saving our asses, so thanks for jumping on
board.”

“Happy to,” I smile, trying to get a read on the director.
He seems to be equal parts teddy bear and dirty old man. Either way, harmless
enough.

“OK then!” he beams, rubbing his hands together, “Let
’
s dive right in with you two.”

Jack and I step around the cameras and onto the movie set.
My heart starts beating a mile a minute as I look around the space. This bit of
the set is supposed to be the apartment of Joel Brennan, the former detective
Jack
’
s playing. My character, Rosalie Danes, is the sister
of a man who
’
s been wrongfully accused of a string of
murders, and is about to be executed. In this scene, she
’
s
come to Joel Brennan
’
s apartment to try and persuade him
to help her brother, by any means necessary.

And in the case of this scene, those means are pretty much
her T and A.

“How
’
re you feeling?” Jack asks, taking
my hand as the film crew bustles around us, getting ready to start.

“
A little nervous,
” I admit, all
kidding aside for once.

“
Understandable,
” he smiles, “But
remember, you know how to do this. You
’
ve acted in things
before.”

“Not like this,” I tell him, “This is
huge
.”

“Just try and block out the cameras. It
’
s
just me here,” he says, leaning down to whisper in my ear. “And it
’
s not like we don
’
t know what it
’
s like to kiss each other, am I right?”

I stare up at him in amazement. We
’
ve
never discussed our long-ago kiss, or addressed the few close-calls we
’
ve had in the past couple of days. But looking up into those
blue eyes now, I know for sure that I haven
’
t been making
all this sexual tension up. Jack
’
s as excited to get his
hands on me as I am to get my hands on him.