Freefall (55 page)
Buoyed by the weekend spent with Cameron and her family, Gentry held her ground in the meeting before Monday’s shoot. “Sexual tension is secondary for this character. The audience has seen the sparks, but does the movie jump the shark if Eva cares more about the thousands of starving people stranded by war than having an affair with her colleague?” They had all—including her—made the assumption that Matt and Eva would behave that way, but why? If she and Cameron could resist their intense attraction, why couldn’t her screen identity do the same?
“Why dilute the reason we all chose this script? Its moral call to global responsibility and personal sacrifice; that’s what makes it work, what makes Eva work.” She only dared speak because it was true. She would not compromise the project after she had agreed to take it on, but it had all come clear as she’d needed it to.
Because of Friday’s kiss, the director wanted to shift from the original tensions to Eva’s relationship with Matt Cargill. Alec wanted it too. Ultimately the director made the call, and if he said play up the relationship, that was where they’d go. But the producer was an issues devotee. He chose projects with meat. He might, just might, agree with her, and Dwight had to consider that.
She thought of Cameron standing in the sea, surrendering to a will beyond his, as he’d described his encounter with the living God. Dwight Spellman might not realize his control was secondary, but she appealed to that higher power.
“All right, today we shoot it straight.” He speared her with a glance. “I better see the fire for your cause that I saw Friday with Alec.”
She nodded, not even a smile of victory, and played the scenes with all she had. By the end of the day, exhaustion hit hard. She had focused so intensely, she hardly heard Alec when he invited her over for drinks.
“Hey. You can forget the starving kids now.” He chucked her chin.
She smiled. “Sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like keeping as far from me as possible.”
“It’s not personal, Alec.”
“You are an enigma.” He ran his fingers down her arm. “Come over for a drink. All the cast’ll be there.” He must have read her reluctance. “It’s not like I’m getting you alone.
Matt
would get you alone.”
“You mean Eva.”
He smiled.
“I think I’ll just—”
“You ought to rub elbows, Gentry. It’s how you get known, considered for the next one. As much as your screen performance, your ability to fit in to the cast and your hunger for the life matters.”
Was she hungry for the life? She had played a crusader today, someone who couldn’t turn her back on misery. Those scenes would speak to the world. Did she have to play a game to earn the chance for more?
“Dwight’ll be there. He’s watching you closely, measuring your potential. He pulls weight.”
She rested her hands on her hips. “Free career counseling?”
He gave her the hundred-watt smile.
She didn’t want to banter. “I’m just tired.”
He turned her around and rubbed her shoulders, lowered his mouth to her ear. “They’re bandying your name for the co-lead in
Vanished
.”
She spun. “How do you know?”
“I’m the other lead.
If
they come through on the contract.” He tugged the braid that hung over her shoulder. “You ought to come over. Let your hair down. They know you’re professional. They want to see if you’re real.”
“Is any of this real?”
“It is to the ones shelling out the money.”
She had meant what she said to Cameron about being a presence in the industry. To do that she’d have to carefully consider each and every project. She had dodged a bullet by keeping the script straight this time. Did she want to play beside Alec again? “Tell me about
Vanished
.”
“Come over and I’ll show you the script.”
“I don’t want to compromise Eva by reading someone else now.” She avoided overlapping projects that could dilute her character.
“It’s perfect for you.”
Just that easily, the lure was there, working in her like a sugar high. She had felt her power today. When they wrapped
Just Illusions
, would she go right into an even bigger production? How many people got that chance? And what might she do with it? “Okay. Give me directions.”
“Why don’t you follow me?”
She’d have liked to go home and shower, change clothes, unwind. Instead she’d go directly, but she wouldn’t stay long. “All right.”
Intent on following Alec’s Lexus SC, she left the studio without even a glance at the paparazzi at the gate.
In Okelani’s kitchen, Nica lifted a platter of teriyaki skewers and froze. Icy paws crept up her spine, claws nicking her skin. She looked to see if Okelani had felt it, but she was calmly wrapping paper-thin strips of raw ahi in limu seaweed. TJ stood silently in the corner.
“Here.” She handed him the teriyaki platter. “Put this on the table. I’ll be back in just a second.”
She ducked out the door and ran up the path to her house. Wary after Malakua, she crept to her back door and then around to her front. No one. Yet the urgency intensified.
Kai?
She circled back.
There was no one in the garden but TJ, who must have followed her up. “Got one feeling?”
“Someone needs help. But there’s no one here.” She closed herself into her arms. “I need to call Kai.”
“Your bruddah plenny
akamai
. He be okay.”
Yes, Kai was smart, and strong, and he’d told her she could let go. But the claws clung to her spine. “Something’s wrong.”
TJ took her hand. “Come back.”
She looked around again. Was someone there in the dark needing help? Maybe TJ’s uniform kept him or her from coming out, but since no one did, she followed TJ back to Okelani’s. When she stepped in the door, her
tū tū
looked up and said, “Malice.”
The party was not raucous or licentious.
Yet. Alec had a low-key manner that his guests imitated, though she didn’t have to look hard to find that mood enhancements beyond alcohol were available. She didn’t know if Alec was a recreational or serious user, or if he only had it available for those who were, or if they’d brought their own.
Tonight he seemed intent on squiring her and maybe sparking some fling-between-leads gossip. Her resistance to escalating their on-screen relationship had probably stung, and she doubted he’d experienced that before. She and Cameron had not agreed to anything exclusive, but they’d established it in the Hanalei Mountains and under the falls. She couldn’t picture Alec diving under to save her finding a corpse.
He handed her a tumbler of ice and booze from the bartender.
“What is it?”
“Amaretto sour. Liquid candy.”
She took a sip. It tasted like SweeTarts. “I’m not big on liquor.” Especially a drink handed to her in an uncontrolled environment where date rape drugs or other dope could easily be added.
“Then just carry it so you don’t stand out.” His tutoring seemed sincere. He had broken through with his last two movies, was levels above her but still proving himself. “Mingle awhile; then I’ll grab the script, and we can read.”
“Okay.” He would have some say in whether she got an official reading, but until she saw the script she wouldn’t even hope.
He sauntered off to dazzle his guests. As she sampled the veal and asiago nachos, Helen came up and took her arm. “I
have
to talk to you.”
It had been a long time since they’d shared that tone of secrets. Since her confession, Helen had fluctuated between solicitous and defensive, and Gentry took her wavering moods in stride. She crunched the last of the chip as they ducked into a game room, where a few diehards were playing electronic pinball and other virtual-arcade machines Alec had there.
“Are you ready for this?”
The puckish look in Helen’s face was so familiar, Gentry laughed. “Tell me.”
“Dwight’s next movie,
Vanished
?” Her heart sank.
Helen leaned in and whispered, “I’m reading.”
“For the lead?”
“Co-lead.”
Gentry squeezed her arms. “Who told you?”
Helen’s brow puckered. “I really can’t say. Oh, Gentry, I would.”
“Who cares!” She shook her. “I’m so excited, Helen. It could be a break.”
“A
big
break.”
Gentry hugged her. “Thank you for telling me.”
“It’s not—You can’t say anything. I just wondered … I didn’t know if you’d heard anything.”
“About you reading?”
“About you.”
Ah. She should have seen that coming. Helen was not above playing the sympathy card.
Don’t mess me up again
. “I’m not sure I want to go into something right away.”
“It’s with Alec.”
“For sure?”
Helen shrugged. “He sounded sure.” She put her hand to her mouth.
Gentry laughed. “Aha. So da leading man iss your source. Verry interestinc.”
Helen flushed. “Do not breathe a word. We just … hit it off the other night, and he wants me to read.”
An amazing lightness filled her. “I’m really happy for you. It’ll be great.” They hugged and parted so Helen could go find others to keep her secret.
Gentry moved out into the great room, awed by God’s providence, how clearly he’d protected her. She didn’t need to see the script to know this opportunity was not his will and Alec was not her mentor—talented actor that he was.
On her way toward the door, she chatted with Dwight. He set his empty highball on a tray and said, “Just out of curiosity, did you ever remember what happened on Kauai?”
“Everything but my plunge over the falls. And I don’t mind losing that.”
He shook his head. “Bad karma. What were you in your last life?”
She shrugged. “I think this is the only one I get.”
He eyed her a minute. “Then let me make it better. I’m looking for …”
Alec swooped in and circled her waist. “No business at my parties.” He spun her away—before Dwight usurped his role as career genie? “Have you tried the speckled eggs?”
“I haven’t.”
“Caviar.” He held up a deviled egg sprinkled with black and orange fish eggs.
“Thanks.” She ate it in three bites, hungrier than she’d realized.
“Now,” he said, “I’m convinced the party can proceed without me.” He leaned close. “Let’s …”
She slipped free. “I’m not really up for reading, Alec. We have an early call time tomorrow. I think I’ll go home.”
He cocked his head and studied her. “You’re serious?”
She smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
As soon as her car had been disarmed, unlocked, and the door opened, Curt slipped out from the bushes and pressed the gun to Gentry’s ribs. “No noise,” he hissed in her ear, though the music from the house would hide her cries. The thought tripped his brain for a second. In a weird way, it seemed everything he’d done had been leading to this, and he supposed it had—that wild oat that kept trying to bloom where it was planted.
“I’m sliding in first; you’re coming with me.”
She stiffened as voices broke out, a door opened, and music escaped.
“Don’t even think about it.” With her practically in his lap, Curt slid under the wheel and pulled Gentry inside without budging the gun from her ribs. Her heart beat against his hand. Her scent filled his nostrils, along with the vanilla freshener in her car and his own sweat.
“Pull the door closed and start the engine.” He jabbed the weapon for emphasis.
He had verified the studio where she was shooting her current film with a female paparazzo outside the gate, then followed Gentry to the party. His stolen car sat on a side street, where he’d leave it now that she was providing transportation. He had snuck up to the house on foot, prepared to wait, but she hadn’t kept him long.
When the engine caught, he said, “Go.”
She clenched her jaw. “Where?”
“Just drive.”
She pulled out. He didn’t know the city. He’d choose their course as it came. Still aiming the gun, he slid fully into his seat. “Where’s your purse?”
With her left hand on the wheel, she pulled a leather money clip from her jeans pocket.
“That’s it? No makeup or stuff?”
“The studio does my makeup.”
Her ID was the only plastic in the slot. “Where are your credit cards?”
