An Unexpected Affair (Forsaken Sons Book 4) Page 3

“Watch out!”

  Evie froze and looked around, realizing that she’d been about to trip over several thick hoses. Glancing up, she smiled briefly at the man who had called out the warning. With a mental grimace, she stepped over the hoses and hurried to wardrobe.

  Twenty minutes later, Evie stepped onto the set. The cameramen were in place, ready to film. Monty was still arguing with Brock, but of course, Brock won the argument. Evie had no idea what was being said because she’d retreated into herself, forcing herself to “become” Lucy.

  “Okay, Evie,” Brock called out, walking towards her with the script tucked under his arm. “Remember, you’re the daughter of a long term senator and a prominent surgeon. You’ve spent your life in their shadows.”

  Evie blinked up at him, startled by his comments. “I’m good,” she said, trying to reassure him that she understood her character. Unfortunately, Brock didn’t believe her and he was breaking her concentration by telling her things that she already knew. The background details of her character were in the script, for goodness sake! Why was he explaining this to her?

  “Remember that you’re angry with your parents, but you’re all grown up. You’re one of the best lobbyists in the industry. But you’re also striving to be a femme fatale.”

  Evie glared up at him, biting her tongue to keep from snapping at him to shut up. But this was the first day of filming. Everyone would take their cue from this first interaction. “Right. I’ve got it.”

  He moved closer. “Do you know your lines? I’ve got them right here. Just call out when you are stumped.”

  Evie wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or comforted by his words. On the one hand, she’d spent the last three weeks working with a lines coach. She’d continue working with that coach every night after filming for the next day’s scenes, just to make sure that she had everything down. She’d even filmed herself, worked out blocking and staging, even facial expressions, to make sure that she had her character down perfectly.

  But Brock didn’t think she was a professional. He didn’t think she’d studied her lines or knew the character’s motivation! Damn him! He’d seen her audition! She’d gone through all of that just to prove that she was good at this acting thing and here he was, not just telling her that he didn’t believe in her, that he didn’t trust her. But making it clear to the rest of the crew that he didn’t trust or believe in her!

  Fine, he didn’t believe in her. She’d show him exactly what she could do! But in the meantime, he deserved a bit of his own right back.

  “What’s my first line?” she asked, widening her eyes ever so slightly and puffing out her lower lip. It was her vamp look and she did it extremely well. So well, she could almost hear Brock swallow a groan.

  He stared at her for a long moment, then gritted his teeth as he whipped out the script. “Here,” he said, pointing to her line. She glanced over at the script, but didn’t bother to look at her line. In fact, she was more fascinated by the scribbles along the margins.

  “Oh, right!” she replied, then added a small giggle, just for effect. “I’ve got it now.”

  She walked away, up on her toes and pointing her fingers out at her sides, ensuring that even her walk came across as flighty.

  “Okay!” she chirped, tiptoeing around and giggling again. “I’m ready!”

  Brock stared at her and she suspected that he was debating with himself, calculating the cost of buying her out of her contract so that he could find someone else to play Lucy. But if he was going to do that, he should have done it weeks ago. Knowing that, he turned and walked over to the director’s chair, muttering under his breath.

  Evie turned her back to him and closed her eyes, ignoring the heat of the lights and the murmurs all around her.

  “Quiet on set!” Brock bellowed.

  Monty took over. “Settle!” he called out. “Roll tape!” There was a pause and Evie knew that the cameras were now filming. “And action!”

  Evie turned, her entire demeanor changing from vampish and flighty to controlled intelligence. Her giggling smiles were gone and she pulled her shoulders back, extending her hand to the older man with silver at his temples. “Senator! I’m delighted that you found time during your busy day to speak with me.” And so it went. The lunch scene with the senator where she spouted statistics that would bring this particular politician to her client’s side of the argument went perfectly with just one take. They went from that scene to another lunch scene with a different senator. Evie’s hair was changed, wardrobe exchanged, and she played out the whole scene again and again. Four different senators. Four different lunch scenes. Four different hair styles, lipstick shades, and business suits.

  Between each scene, she watched as Brock walked over to her, ready to give her direction on the next scene. Every time, Evie played up the flighty vamp, asking stupid questions, relishing the vein that started throbbing on his forehead by late afternoon.

  By that point, he’d stopped approaching her. “Let’s do scene fifty-four!” He called out, and turned to confer with the set designer and prop master, then the camera crew, checking each camera’s angle to make sure that he would get what he wanted. But he stayed far away from Evie.

  Even the rest of the crew were chuckling at her antics as Evie went back to wardrobe, hiding her exhaustion and hunger. She couldn’t eat or drink anything because she’d mess up her lipstick, but she was…

  “Here!” someone snapped at her, slapping a bottle of water into her hands. This wasn’t the normal plastic bottle though. Nope! Brock wasn’t just anti-drugs and alcohol. He was pro-environment and had forbidden single use plastic bottles on his set. The cafeteria staff had been directed to bring in large containers of ice water, but everyone needed to fill up a reusable water bottle. This one wasn’t Evie’s, but it was cold and wet. Glancing up, she realized that it had been Brock who had handed her the water.

  “Don’t even start!” he snapped when she opened her mouth to thank him for the water.

  But Evie understood. He’d didn’t want her to go into vamp mode again. The makeup artist chuckled behind her as soon as Brock walked away.

  “Come on, Evie. You’ve broken the man,” Josie laughed. Brenda nodded, both of them smirking through their own exhaustion. It had been a hard day of filming and Evie wanted to head home and get some much needed rest. Unfortunately, even after Brock finally called a halt to the day, she still had to practice her lines for tomorrow.

  “Okay, let’s call it a night!” Brock yelled.

  Almost everyone sighed with relief and Evie’s shoulders drooped with exhaustion. “Thank goodness,” she muttered, then smiled to the makeup artist who immediately handed her a tissue to wipe off her makeup. “Bless you!”

  She headed back to her dressing room where she slipped out of the wool suit and finished taking off her makeup. Dropping her hairpins into a small dish on the dressing room table, she scrubbed her face clean, pulled her dark hair into a messy bun, applied a touch of much needed chapstick, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt that had definitely seen better days.

  Closing her eyes, she savored the beautiful sensation of her feet slipping down into the soft, cushioned insoles of her sneakers instead of Lucy’s ridiculously high heels. For a long moment, she leaned back in her chair and let the silence of the room wash over her. She’d forgotten how long the filming days were when she hadn’t slept the night before, the agony of finding the rhythm on the first few days of filming, as well as the awkwardness of a cast and crew as they tried to figure out each other’s personalities. It was as if everyone was on their first day of the job, everyone trying to be nice and considerate…everyone except the producer and director.

  Evie stepped out of her dressing room and looked around, wanting to make sure she didn’t run into Brock again. She needed to…well, she really should stop by the screening room to see the dailies, but she couldn’t do it. Evie loved acting. It was in her blood and she felt more alive when she stepped into an
other person’s character. But she absolutely hated watching herself on film. She’d sit in the screening room critiquing her performance, her weight, her makeup, her posture. The following day, she’d second-guess herself, because she couldn’t block those images out of her mind.

  So instead, she snuck out one of the side doors, waving to the other crew members that had also packed up and were heading out to their cars.

  Brock stormed down the hallway, smacking the script against his thigh. He was livid and, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t sure how to handle it. Evie was playing him.

  Granted, she was...okay, she was brilliant. In fact, every day this week, she’d grown more comfortable in the role and with the crew. Every day, she became “Lucy”. Her body language, the way she spoke during the various scenes, the tilt of her head, her hand movements…everything she did, every inflection of her voice was becoming more and more Lucy. And yet, when he spoke to her, she did that thing with her eyes or flipped her hair over her shoulder. Like some vacuous, teenage girl who needed directions to the beer pong table!

  “Hey Brock!” Monty called out, waving a file folder as he shuffled down the hallway. “You said that you wanted these results as soon as they came in.”

  Brock eyed the file. It was the results of the first few days of drug tests. So far, they’d tested more than fifty percent of the crew. Some had walked out that first day, obviously thinking that the contract had been a bluff. And yet, still others had thought that their urine wouldn’t really be tested. They’d been fired and immediately replaced with new drug free crewmembers. Brock had known that drugs were pretty rampant in the business. But he hadn’t anticipated this much turnover.

  He flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted to see. Negative. Why did that one word make his body surge with relief?

  Because she was good! Evie was a damn good actor and he didn’t want to lose her. The script was outstanding. It was poignant and powerful, politically sarcastic and globally relevant. But it was Evie that brought the main character to life. It was Evie who was going to make this movie unforgettable!

  “She clean?” Monty asked, standing back warily.

  “Yeah,” Brock snapped, closing the file folder. “But there were several positive results in there. Get those people off the set and their replacements ready to go tomorrow.”

  Monty sighed, rubbing his neck. “Do we really need to get rid of them? Couldn’t we just…look the other way?”

  Brock shook his head. “Not a chance. They are a risk that I’m not willing to deal with. Plus, a clear headed crew works better than a team hindered by drugs.”

  Monty nodded slowly. Brock could tell that his assistant director didn’t agree. “Fine. I’ll get them off set. Do you have a list of who you want tested tomorrow?”

  Brock rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion washing over him. Normally, the first few days of filming invigorated him. He couldn’t quite figure out why this time was different, other than the fact that a certain brunette with soft lips and flashing silver eyes had gotten under his skin.

  Sure, she was beautiful. But he was around beautiful women all the time. What was so different about Evie? Why did she irritate him to the point where he wanted to yell at her one moment, then…okay, he admitted it! When she pulled that vacuous bimbo routine on him, he wanted to laugh. She was playing him. No two ways about it. She was acting exactly the way he treated her.

  “Brock?” Monty prompted, interrupting his fantasy about pulling Evie over his knee and spanking her for…for doing exactly what he expected of her. Damn her! She was cute and sexy and…flippant and…!

  Monty cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll just…”

  Brock pulled his head out of his ass. “No. Right. Umm…” he shook his head, trying to clear it. “Why don’t you just put everyone’s names in a jar and then pull out five each night for the morning’s tests?”

  “Seriously?” Monty scoffed. Lowering his voice, he growled, “I thought this whole thing was to ensure Evie was drug free. Why are you making the rest of the crew test too?”

  Brock nodded towards the file folder with all of the drug tests. “Because, apparently, she’s the only one not doing drugs.” With that, he turned on his heel and headed towards the screening room. He’d been on the set since five am and it was nearing ten at night. If he didn’t get these screenings done and figure out the details of tomorrow’s schedule, then he wasn’t going to get much sleep.

  Chapter 4

  Sunday. Was there any day that was more wonderful and beautiful? A whole day of doing nothing. Evie was going to go over her lines a few times with her coach, but that was it. She wasn’t going to work out. She wasn’t going to even think about anything movie related. She was going to cook! She’d just finished making a pot of chili that she could pop into the microwave for dinner during the coming week. Maybe she’d make bread next! Was there anything as wonderful as fresh baked bread? Oooh! Or maybe she’d make cookies!

  The buzzer interrupted Evie’s concentration and she groaned, lifting the pot of chili off the stove and setting it on the hot pad. “Coming!” she called out, even though she knew whoever it was couldn’t hear her. They were at the end of her driveway, waiting for her to press the button that would open the gate at the end and allow them to drive towards the house. With her elbow, she hit the button, then hurried back to the counter to finish ladling the chili into smaller containers.

  She’d left the front door open, letting Clara, her lines coach, know that she should just come on in.

  Evie heard the car come up the driveway and park next to the house. She heard the door slam but didn’t pay much attention as she sprinkled grated cheese over each container. “Perfect!” She whispered, grabbing the lids.

  “What the hell have you been doing all week?”

  Evie jumped, plastic lids flying in every direction as she spun around.

  Brock!

  He stood in the kitchen doorway, looking tall and powerful and more shockingly handsome than ever. Wasn’t she mad at him? Didn’t she hate the man with an anger that consumed her most nights? Yes, that was correct.

  So, why was her heart pounding as she took in the view of his broad shoulders, flat stomach, and long, lean legs? Jeans. Huh! The man owned a pair of jeans! How surprising. She had him pegged as a slacks guy.

  “What…?” She stopped and cleared her throat. “What are you doing here?” she demanded, trying to gather her wits as she gathered the plastic lids.

  He bent down to help her and even that small kindness surprised her. Unfortunately, with him being so close, close enough that she could smell the enticing, male scent of him, her fingers just wouldn’t obey her. The tops she’d already gathered sprang out of her hands, scattering again on the wood floor.

  “I came here to talk to you,” he said, gathering up more tops. When his hands were full, he stood up and placed them carefully on the granite countertop.

  Evie stood as well, spilling her tops across the countertop. “Oh. Well. Um…” she was flustered and didn’t understand why. All week, she’d stood up to him, played with him when he patronized her and refused to let him get to her. She hated him. Her anger and fury over the way he’d treated her should have fueled that anger. But he was here. In her house. And everything seemed different somehow. “I think we said everything we needed to say yesterday. Today is my day off. I’m…!”

  “I’m talking about you playing the idiot on the set.”

  Evie smothered a smile. Yeah, that comment made a difference. She stifled her amusement and started stacking the chaotic tops. “Well, it was clear you didn’t think I’d memorized my lines. So, I was just…” she turned her head away so he couldn’t see the laughter in her eyes. “I was simply living up to your expectations.”

  She started snapping the lids onto the filled containers.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Evie heard the words and her hands stilled. For a long moment, she simply blinked d
own at the counter, not sure that she’d heard him correctly.

  “Did you just…apologize?”

  Brock started helping her cover the containers of food. “Don’t get used to it,” he grumbled. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I realize that I was…wrong.” He looked out the window, then shook his head. “About you.” It sounded as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. Obviously, the man didn’t apologize often!

  She smiled, feeling rather smug. Triumphant even!

  “Well, thank you very much. That’s very…” she searched for the right word, but drew a blank. She settled on, “…gentlemanly of you.”

  Apparently, that was the end of his contrition because he pointed to the script that he’d tossed onto the counter. “Monday is going to be another rough week of filming. You start the murder scenes first thing Monday morning.” He grabbed the last lid and snapped it into place. “I’m changing the script.”

  “Why would you do that?” She stacked the containers carefully. “I love Lucy’s reaction. She’s just murdered her first victim. She’s on top of the world.”

  Brock stacked up the remaining containers and followed her to the fridge, handing them to her as she made space in the fridge. “I know, but I want Lucy to be upset about the murder.”

  Evie spun around, confronting him. “But being excited sets up the next scene! It’s the whole reason why she kills the second time. Murdering the men who used and abused her gives her the power she craves. It gives her control. She didn’t have control growing up in the shadow of her verbally and emotionally abusive parents.”

  “I agree that it gives her control,” he replied, walking over to the stove and sniffing the remainder of the chili curiously. “This smells fantastic.”

  Evie handed him a bowl. “Help yourself. I always make more than enough.”

  Brock didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the ladle and served himself a large portion.

  “Thanks. I’m starving.” He took a second bowl from the shelf. “You need to eat too. You’ve lost weight this week.”