The Accidental Movie Star (5 page)

Caz’s blue-green eyes brightened, and he leaned toward her. “So the box was just a present then?”

Ashley shook her head.

“Did everyone get one?” Caz looked around. “Shall I ask?”

Ashley stepped back. “Don’t make me regret helping you.”

“I saw you with a notebook. You’re always writing in it. What are you writing?”

“Nothing.” The notebook contained her drawings of buildings, and she kept them private; not even Dad had seen her work.

“Are you a writer? Let me guess. You have a script you think is right for me, and are dying to have me read it? Hand the pages over then.” Caz held out a raised palm.

“Absolutely, the hero’s this total ass who—” Ashley was cut off by the arrival of Petra and her cloud of sultry perfume.

Petra said, “I’ve got this new belly ring, and I’m not supposed to take the loop out yet, but the AD says gems don’t work for the part of the vixen. What do you say?” Petra lifted her shirt up mid-speech, showing the silver ring piercing her belly button.

Two star-shaped gemstones hung from a silver hoop. “I think I make the jewelry work.”

Powder kneeled for a closer look. “Is your skin infected? The last guy I went out with had a wicked infection in one of his piercings.” Powder shook her head. “And I don’t think we should cover bacteria with makeup.”

Petra made a cut-off squealing noise, and Ashley bit her lip.

Caz stepped back. “You should get that checked out.”

“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Olive said. “I’m sure if they have to cut the ring out, they can replace the loop with gold. Jewelry looks so great on you. The star makes your stomach look so flat. I want to get a belly ring too.”

***

Ashley tried to play it cool, but it was hard to keep the grin off her face. They’d scheduled her to work with the set designer, a real architect.

Powder pointed him out, a tall thirty-something guy. “Why are you so eager? That job’s all dust and cutting.”

“I want to be an architect.”

Powder wrinkled her nose. “Really? I dated a construction worker once. I’m not sure you want to hang out with those guys.”

“Yes. See you later.” Ashley went over to the architect with her hand extended. “I’m Ashley, your assistant while you’re on set.”

“It’s usually the actors who are greeted with that kind of smile.”

“I don’t want to act.”

“Another rarity,” the architect said then got down to business. Moving across the set, he went over what he wanted to accomplish. After noting her genuine interest and learning she was from Texas, he spoke about dimensions and tensile strength. “Regional earthquakes mean you need strength, or structures will crumple as easily as your bleachers did.” He pointed to the beams overhead. “Could be dangerous.”

Ashley took copious notes and followed him on his inspection. The set around them buzzed with routine activity, but she didn’t let the noise distract her.

“PA?” someone called from the stage.

Ashley heard him, but ignored his call.

“PA,” Caz repeated.

Heaving a sigh, Ashley waved Caz off.

The architect smiled down at her. “Go ahead and take care of our star. I’ll be stage left when you’re done.”

Ashley smiled gratefully then trotted over to Caz. “What?” she asked impatiently, watching the architect while speaking.

Caz said, “Who’s that?”

“What do you need? I’m busy.”

“You’re my assistant.” Caz turned his bright gaze to her.

“Uh, no, I’m not.”

He waved a hand in the air. “How long is he going to be here?”

Ashley’s gaze left the architect and she raised her eyebrows. “Look, do you need something or not?”

“Yes.” Caz paused and looked upward as if thinking. “I need to run lines, and my microphone is off, and no one put snacks in my trailer, and—”

Ashley crossed her arms over her chest. “You don’t let anyone in your trailer.” The architect moved some partitions and tapped on the walls, making Ashley wonder what he was checking.

“And I want—”

Turning back to the needy, Ashley said, “How about this. You leave me alone all morning to work with him, and I’ll make sure you have way better snacks in your trailer than the crap provided by the caterer.”

Caz flicked a gaze at the architect. “He’ll be gone this afternoon?”

She nodded.

“Good snacks?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ll run lines with me?”

“Can’t you run them with your buddy?” His kilt-wearing friend, Garrett, had a supporting role that kept him on the set about once a week, and he was here today.

“He’s garbage at reading the girl parts.”

Ashley rolled her eyes.

Caz said, “And you have a nice voice, rich and sweet, but with a kick.”

She heaved a mental sigh. “Okay.”

***

Powder knelt at a cabinet and shoved large containers aside, digging for something.

When Ashley reached her, she handed up a large white jug. Ashley placed it on the counter.

Petra flounced into the makeup station and elbowed the jug aside to make room for her laptop. “You have got to see this.” The white jug teetered on the edge. “I knew this would happen. I’m always saying, you can’t always tell who your friends are. Like when I was vacationing in Madrid, and—”

“What?” Powder asked.

Petra’s painted lips grimaced and she poised her finger over the play button. “Check this out.”

A polished reporter came on the screen. “I’m Karla Quintos from
Tween In
, online and on the air.” She tucked her glossy black hair behind her ears and held a microphone closer to her dark lips. “I’m here to share my interview with screen actor Garrett Campbell. If we’re lucky, hopefully, he’ll tell us a little bit about what it’s like to work with his best friend, the notoriously private Caspian Thaymore.”

The scene changed, showing the reporter sitting on a barstool chatting with Garrett. “What’s Caspian like?”

“Great fun.” Garrett’s Scottish accent came through the speakers.

“Are you sure he’s not attached?”

Ashley felt someone behind her and looked back. Caz.

His gaze was on the screen.

Garrett said, “Oh no, and he could use some cheering up. A way to drown his tears.”

“I may have just the friend to provide the tissue.” The reporter touched him on the arm and leaned in. “Are you guys here with your parents?”

Garrett seemed smitten. “We’re on our own. I doubt his parents would be here together anyway. They’re splitting up, you know.”

Ashley glanced at Caz.

The muscle ticked in his jaw and his fists clenched.

***

They broke early that afternoon, and Ashley was eager to get home and try out the new Chinese recipe Marissa sent. She could never get Chinese recipes to taste like takeout, but was determined to keep trying. She’d get the stuff for the new dish and pick up ingredients to make Caz’s snacks. After winding a last heavy cable, she hung it on the wall and rolled her shoulders back. Time to go home.

Caz stood not too far away, arguing with his tall agent, and the concerned- looking AD hovered nearby.
No peace for the wicked.

Even though she kept her gaze on the exit and walked with fast steps, Caz snagged her arm when she passed, pulling her into the conversation.

His agent said, “They promised an artistic photo shoot, and you agreed to pose.” She patted her pocket as if looking for a cigarette.

Caz shook his head. “I agreed to do press after filming, not during. I should be concentrating on my next scene, practicing my lines.”

His agent shrugged and tapped her foot. “You signed the contract. You’re committed.” She handed Ashley her coffee cup. Ashley stared down at the smelly, empty container.

The AD bounced on the balls of his feet, anxious to please. “We’ve wrapped for today. You do what you need to do, and we’ll send someone to run lines with you.”

When photo opportunities emerged, Petra had bionic hearing. She waved at them from her spot on the stage and strolled over. Her ruby-laden belt rolled lower against her hips with each step. “I can be there. I’m already made up, and I have a great relationship with most photographers in town. Only last week, I shot with Rae Frost, you know Rae, right, Rae is famous, after all, well I—”

Ashley wiggled the coffee cup at Caz and smirked.

“PA.” Caz quirked an eyebrow. “Go with me.”

Ashley shook her head in refusal. She had a ton of things to do other than babysit him.

Petra pouted and curled against Caz’s side. She batted her eyelashes until she caught sight of her reflection in a pole, then she went over to the makeup mirror to smooth her hair.

Caz didn’t seem to mind that she left. Talkative must not be his type, Ashley thought and wondered if he had a type. Maybe if he had a girlfriend around to cater to some of his whims, she would have more time to help other crew. She was quickly getting a reputation as “Caz’s PA,” and the title wasn’t winning her any friends. “Couldn’t Olive—”

The AD said, “Olive, over here.”

Olive pounded her small frame over to them, swinging a hammer in her hand. “How can I help?”

Caz shook his head. “Ashley’s got this.”

The AD let out a forceful breath. He shoved a script at Ashley. “Pull the car around.”

The man obviously saved his coddling tone for the actors.

The agent looked between Olive and Ashley. “I really need that coffee.” Her voice was apologetic but insistent.

The AD snagged the cup from Ashley and handed it to Olive. “Get her a fresh one. Then go help out on set B. The mobile toilet’s acting up again.”

Olive put her head down and beelined for the coffee cart.

Ashley swatted Caz with the rolled script on her way to get the car.

Chapter 5

Ashley steered Dad’s Audi R8 up to the front of the warehouse and rolled down her window. There was no way Caz, his agent, plus whomever else was tagging along would fit in her two-seater. They’d have to use a larger car with a studio driver. The studio provided drivers for all the stars, which was smart because actors were notorious for their drunk-driving incidents. Not that she’d seen Caz drunk, but the studio was smart to play it safe. Artistic didn’t go hand in hand with reliable.

The agent stood outside with Caz, cradling her new coffee cup and cell phone in the same hand. She eyed the lack of a backseat with a frown and more toe-tapping.

Doing her best to conceal a grin, Ashley spoke through the open window. “Meet y’all there.”

“No,” Caz said, and went around to the passenger side.

The agent sighed and handed Ashley a card with the photographer’s address. “I need him there right away.”

“Okay,” Ashley said to the agent’s narrow back as she walked off. Ashley handed the card to Caz. “Read this into the GPS.” Caz typed on the upper right hand of the screen, and a feminine voice came on asking for their destination.

Caz said, “1342 Water View Road.”

“Don’t you have a car?” Ashley put the car in gear and exited from the front gate onto the streets of Burbank.

“I plan to buy one, since I’m staying in the States. I just haven’t chosen one yet. This car’s nice.”

The navigation system asked for a repeat, and Caz said, “1342 Water View Road.”

“Thanks. It’s my dad’s. You should get a big one with a good safety rating since you’re not used to driving on the right.”

“No.”

Ashley pulled over and clicked on the hazard lights, waiting for the GPS to tell her where to go next.

After several beeps, the GPS asked for the address again. Caz leaned close to the navigation screen and spoke the address loudly into the voice activation speaker.

“Please repeat your destination,” the female voice said.

Ashley laughed.

Caz narrowed his eyes and tapped on the screen with a forceful index finger. Ashley pushed his hand away and repeated the words in American English.

“Proceed to the intersection. Stay in the right lane.”

Caz pursed his lips, glared at the GPS, then turned on the radio. His expression made her grin.

The ride didn’t take long, and they reached the photography studio without trouble. Ashley grabbed the script and followed him into the sleek, white, modern studio. The only pop of color came from the smelly eucalyptus plant at the end of the white couch.

His agent bent and smashed a cigarette butt into its mossy base. She was there alone, no Petra or Olive in sight. She’d either driven crazy fast or didn’t have to find parking. The agent shoved her phone in her pocket as Caz drew near, and when they stood within two feet of her, Ashley could tell by the smell that she’d had more than one cigarette with her coffee on the drive over.

His agent said, “The shoot’s going to be really tasteful.”

“Black and white?” Caz asked.

The agent nodded and looked at the receptionist with raised eyebrows and a glance at her watch.

Ashley rolled her eyes and wondered why artists thought color was tacky. She liked color photos. Besides, his eyes were a pretty shade, wasted on black and white.

The receptionist rose from behind a long white half-moon desk and joined them. She stood at least six feet tall, just a few inches shorter than Caz. “Mr. Thaymore, we’re expecting you. Please proceed to studio two.” The receptionist gestured toward the hallway with a slender arm, but her gaze never left Caz.

Studio two had been divided into three areas: technical equipment, makeup, and shooting. Jungle music boomed from speakers mounted in the corners, and a photographer yelled directions over the noise. “Set that up. We need sheets.”

Within the makeup area, a tattoo-covered masseuse leaned against a privacy screen that obscured a massage table. She shook a bottle of baby oil at Caz and said, “Over here, cutie. We’ll get you prepped for the photo.”

Ashley’s eyes widened; she couldn’t wait to text Marissa about this. She said, “It looks like they’re going in a
less
artistic direction.”

The agent’s mouth twisted at her words and Caz stiffened. The agent shrugged an apology. “It’s their right, per the agreement you signed.”

Caz looked ready to blow.