Scared Scriptless (21 page)

Flipping through the channels in my flannel pj’s and wolf slippers, I catch a glimpse of my all-time favorite movie,
The Princess Bride
, playing on TNT. I sigh with relief, happy to sit back and enjoy Wesley and Princess Buttercup instead of thinking about Adam walking the red carpet, women screaming at him, starlets brushing up against him. Ugh. My imagination needs to be reined in, but this is what it’s been like ever since I officially started dating him.

Not that anyone knows we’re dating. And at this point I want to keep it that way. And I have to say that the secret, stolen moments on set have been, well, in a word: hot.

Yesterday, for example, Frank told me Adam needed to change some lines. I went to his trailer to go over it with him, only to be completely swept off my feet. Literally. He was kissing me before the door clicked shut and lifting me off the ground to spin and sit on the tiny sofa in his trailer, placing me on his lap. We didn’t speak for at least five minutes. It could’ve gone on for twenty… or forever, as far as I was concerned, except Frank didn’t feel the same way. My walkie-talkie, which had fallen to the floor, came alive with Frank’s voice: “Does anyone have eyes on Scripty?” Obviously, I was so distracted I missed Frank’s call, so now everyone on set was searching. I should have been completely horrified by how unprofessional I was behaving but there
wasn’t room in my brain. (And even now, looking back on it, I don’t regret it for a second.)

“I thought I was the only one who gets to call you ‘Scripty.’ ” Clearly not perturbed by the idea of a manhunt for me, Adam didn’t stop nuzzling my ear.

“Frank’s going to freak out if I don’t get back to him,” I said breathlessly. He didn’t stop me from grabbing my walkie-talkie, but he also didn’t remove his hand from the inside of my thigh.

“Call him, then,” he said teasingly. “Tell him where you are, that you need a ten.” He slipped one hand under my shirt. “Better make it a twenty.”

I laughed. I wanted nothing more than to disappear into the moment with Adam, but I forced myself to pull away and radio Frank back.

A split second later, he responded. “Maddy, you’re needed on set. ASAP.”

Adam reluctantly let me detangle myself from him.

“Come with me tomorrow.” He’d been harping on me to go with him to the premiere of one of his friend’s new movies all week, and all week I explained over and over that it just wasn’t my scene.

“I would, but I swore when I broke up with Justin Timberlake that I just wouldn’t do red carpets anymore.” My comedic skills were clearly lacking, as my joke had exactly the opposite effect. Any hint of a smile was gone, and Adam was looking at me completely seriously.

“What is it? You’ve never hesitated to shoot straight with me, Maddy. Don’t start now.”

Collecting my thoughts, I stepped down to the door of Adam’s trailer. It also gave me a hair’s distance, as it was hard to think clearly in such a small space with him.

“Adam, you’ll never know what it feels like to walk next
to someone who is famous. Meeting fans on the street, the one-on-one stuff is fine; I can handle it. But at a big event like that? I’ve been there. Done that. And the T-shirt’s not worth it.” I turned back at the bottom step inside the trailer, looking up at him, but with the window behind him he’s a little bit silhouetted so it’s hard to read his expression.

“Everyone’s there to see you. It’s work. You go do your thing. I would just be in the way.”

“You could skip the carpet, wait inside while I do the photos and press?” One last push from a guy who probably doesn’t ever hear “no.”

“Lurking solo in the lobby, making small talk with the popcorn guy? Wishing they hadn’t taken my phone away at the security check so I’d have something to at least pretend to occupy me until you got back?”

“I’ll skip the red carpet. You’re killing me here.”

“Now you just don’t want to lose,” I teased lightly. “You should go. It’s fun for you—it’s your job and career, and you’re helping promote your friend’s movie. I totally get it. I want you to go.”

“Okay, okay,” he relented. “I’ll swing by after, maybe?”

“Sounds good. Text me.” I was out the door of his trailer before I remembered, turning back. “Were you really going to give me a line change with some advance warning, for once?” He just grinned at me.

“Whether you like it or not, Scripty, ad-libbing is not a criminal offense.”

“Actors,” I humphed, but couldn’t stop smiling as I headed back to set. It was definitely worth the awkward questions from people wondering where I’d been.

And now here I am sitting at home while he’s out in front of the historic Chinese Theatre on Hollywood Boulevard, posing for pictures that have already surfaced on the Internet. Adam and the
female lead of the film in her barely-there dress. Adam signing autographs for a huge group of fans on the other side of the barricades. Adam in the middle of a throng of girls who look ready to be in the next
Girls Gone Wild
video. What kind of girlfriend am I if I won’t toughen up enough to go out in public with him?

But he’s right; I have been there before. Once, when I first started, and it’s not like it scarred me or anything, but that’s what life is, right? Learning those lessons. I learned that approaching a fancy, crowded red carpet, in a beautiful dress I borrowed or spent too much on, balancing on stupidly high heels, is tough enough without some junior publicist’s assistant shoving me out of the way the instant the cameras turn in our direction. Which leaves several bad options:

1. Ducking behind the backdrop, trying not to trip on wires, cables, crew working, and security giving you the evil eye
   
2. Charging the gauntlet so the photographers are yelling at you to get out of the shot, which inevitably means backing into the extremely excited fans shrieking at you because now they can’t see the star they camped out to catch a glimpse of
   
3. Waiting patiently inside the lobby area. And maybe this is what I’ll end up learning to do. Standing by executives and bigwigs who drop their voices and speak in codes because they don’t want me to hear who they’re talking about. And listening to starlets and wannabes not-so-quietly commenting on the “nobody” parked in the corner. How did humans survive before Words with Friends for distraction?
   

Wesley and Buttercup take off into the Fire Swamp, and I manage to set aside my insecurities until almost the end of the movie, when there’s a knock at my door.

“I’ll give you one guess.” I open it to Adam, who comes bearing gifts: a bag from the liquor store down the street and a gorgeous arrangement of flowers.

“What is all this?” I ask after he gives me a quick smack on the lips and then heads to the kitchen.

“I’m making you a new fruity cocktail to try. And I snuck those flowers from the after-party. That’s basically what these events are… drinks and pretty flower arrangements. I figure we could do a dress rehearsal here, and then next time you’ll come with me.”

It’s such a sweet gesture. I don’t have the heart to tell him that if being by his side doesn’t do the trick, liquid courage isn’t enough to get me onto that red carpet. And I know he sees me as this strong chick. I’m pretty sure any how-to relationship book would advise against me admitting how insecure I feel at this stage of our… whatever this is.

“What were you watching?” he asks from the kitchen. I hear the blender.

“Oh, nothing.” I switch off the TV, suddenly not wanting to reveal my childhood obsession with the silly romantic movie. I head into the kitchen. “You’re out early, aren’t you? I would’ve thought the party would be just gearing up.”

“It is, but I know you have to get up early, and I wanted to have a drink with you before you go to sleep.”

“You’re going back?” I watch him expertly pour the frozen concoction into a glass (with umbrella). I see rinsed raspberries lined up next to the sink, so I’m less suspicious of the pink color.

“Delicious,” I admit after the first sip. He smiles and opens a beer for himself. We toast. “Thank you. But you didn’t have to come here just for one drink. You’re right, I’m probably going to bed soon anyway.”

“After your show?” he asks again casually.

“Yes,” I answer vaguely. “So, was the movie good?”

“Yeah, my buddy was fantastic. It’s his first leading role. And he totally nailed it.” He sits on my kitchen stool. “So much of the special effects were done with green screen. That has to be so hard, acting in a vacuum like that.” We spend the next forty minutes talking about everything from work to
Wrong Doctor
gossip. This is what I like best about my relationship with Adam: It’s so easy. When it’s just the two of us, we can chat about work or not. We can talk about politics or the weather, and it seems so honest and natural. Once he gets me going on a subject, I’m not thinking about his status, or my career, or any other stupid reason I shouldn’t be with him. It just feels right.

I regret making the slurping noise in my straw that calls attention to the fact that I’ve finished my cocktail. He looks at it and then me, and reluctantly swallows the last of his beer before recycling his bottle and rinsing out my glass. He already cleaned my blender and put it away. Another habit he has that makes it easy to forget he’s #3 on the call sheet now; #1 is, of course, Billy Fox and #2 is Alice (the female lead). But for Adam to jump to #3 in one season… he’s a big deal on the show now.

“I gotta go, babe, but are you free Saturday? My buddy was telling me about this fantastic café on the boardwalk in Venice. Apparently they have an amazing brunch.”

“Yeah. Sounds great. I’d love that.”

He comes over and wraps me in a hug. “And I’m on set all day tomorrow, you know… so we can eat lunch together in my trailer… just the two of us…” He kisses my forehead, which makes me feel as warm and fuzzy as my slippers.

“Adam, I can’t let…”

“It’s your lunch break, too, Maddy.”

“I know, but people will know… and I’m not ready for that.”

He pulls away so he can look me in my eye. “How long are we going to pretend we’re not together?”

“I don’t know. But if you want to eat with Frank, Stella, and me at catering, I would love that. We’ll make brunch our next date, okay? Just text me the address of the place and I’ll see you there on Saturday.”

“First of all, I don’t need to tell you the address because I’m picking you up, you crazy girl.” He rests his hands on either side of the counter I’m sitting on, so he’s right in front of me. “Second, I know why you don’t want to tell anyone at work, but come on… rules were made to be broken, right? No one is going to give you a hard time for breaking Rule #1, I promise. And third…” Adam caught a glimpse of my spiral notebook the other day, and he’s been doing this list thing ever since. It kills me.

But now there’s silence.

“Third?” I prompt, baiting him a little.

“Third…” He hesitates. He doesn’t have a third.

“Third…” He grins. “So, I’ll get to do this whenever I want.” And he kisses me slowly, deeply. Those kisses that make me forget my own name.

It’s this good night kiss I’m thinking of the next day on set when Frank catches me staring off into space.

“What’s going on with you, Maddy? You’ve been in la-la land all week.”

“No, I haven’t…,” I begin to defend myself.

“This is the second time
today
I’ve caught a line change in rehearsal that wasn’t marked in your script. You don’t make mistakes. Ever. I’m worried.”

“God, I’m sorry. Thank you for covering my ass.” I’m so glad Frank is keeping this conversation in low tones, but it’s no less embarrassing to be caught. “I’m just exhausted working two gigs. Thank God
WD
wraps next week.”

“Hey, don’t get me wrong. Part of me is grateful for any sign that you’re not actually a cyborg.” Which gets the laugh it’s
intended to and lets me know I’m off the hook a bit with him… as long as I pull it together.

My phone lights up and when I see the number, I smile involuntarily, causing Frank to give me another quizzical look as he walks away.

I look at Adam across the set. He’s sitting in his set chair, looking through his sides with his phone casually in one hand.

He reads my text and replies, no change in expression.

I know if there were a script for this moment, it would have me get up from my chair in video village, walk over to him, and kiss him in front of everyone to declare myself. But I don’t. I just put my phone down and make 100 percent sure that I don’t make any more mistakes at work. I know Adam sees this as just an insecurity. But it’s more than that; I have to be smart about my career, my reputation. I’ve worked too hard to have this entire crew dismiss me as just another notch in a celebrity bedpost. With a deep breath, I acknowledge that it’s just going to take time. But for now, I gotta admit, the stolen kisses, these secret moments, are pretty hot.