10. Ten

10

TEN

I woke in a bad mood.

I wasn’t hungover, and yet I felt heavy.

My dreams had been … not what I was expecting.

Normally, right before a job, I dreamed I was back in high school and somehow I’d missed my advanced math class. Therefore, I had to learn everything and pass the final exam even though I’d never been to a class. It was a recurring dream that I absolutely loathed.

That wasn’t the dream that plagued me after saying goodbye to Sam in the hallway, though. No, my night had been spent tossing and turning because I dreamed about what would’ve happened if I’d followed her into her room. It had been hot…and sweaty…and loud.

There was no denying the vibe between us. It was there, and it was growing. The intensity was firing up. Neither of us were going to act on that vibe, though. This was Sam’s big break—and once she told me that, I couldn’t help feeling even more guilty—and I needed this shoot to go smoothly. I didn’t want to stay in Salem. This show wasn’t going to be my forever. I needed to use it as a stepping stone, however.

Pretending the vibe wasn’t there was disingenuous. The atmosphere had begun to spark whenever we were together. If we were back in LA—and not working on the same project together—we would’ve already explored the spark, and then chased it until we smothered the fire.

That wasn’t going to be the case this time. We couldn’t smother that fire. That meant I had to figure out a way to ignore it.

There had been a moment the previous evening when I realized she was feeling it too. Much like me, she was trying to pretend it wasn’t there. So, we would work together to do it. We would friend zone each other to the n th degree and make it so it would be awkward if we even tried to act on it.

Yeah, we would just be friends. That would allow me to spend time with her because I actually did like her personality. If I kept telling myself that I only liked her as a friend, then that’s how things would work out. I wasn’t big on manifesting, but I could make it work for me this time. It would be fine.

I was almost positive that was the case.

I took a shower that was twice as long as I would normally bother with. Then I grabbed my call sheet and the script pages for today’s scenes. There were only three. I was hoping I would get away with not filming with Sam—that would allow my friend mindset to really set in, like in cement—but all three of my scenes were with her today.

Of course they were.

I was grumpy when I hit the hotel restaurant. I ordered poached eggs and toast, opting to stay away from greasy hash browns and bacon even though my emotional hangover was demanding them. Then I focused on the script.

Learning lines was never difficult for me. Never. It was something that came easily to me, and given my upbringing, that was rare for me to be able to say. I lagged in math and science, but my verbal and memorization skills were off the charts. That was only one of the reasons I embraced being an actor.

The money and accolades didn’t hurt either. I could make enough off a low budget action movie to fund my lifestyle—which wasn’t much—for a year. I wanted bigger roles, better paydays, but I would have to work myself up to that.

I was lost in thought, committing today’s scenes to memory, when a shadow appeared over the script. When I looked up, I wasn’t surprised to find Sam standing over me. Her smile was sunny despite how much she’d imbibed the previous evening, and she sat next to me without invitation.

“Hey, friend ,” she teased.

She seemed like she was in a good mood, as if she didn’t remember the sparks. How could she not remember the sparks? That was insulting. Those sparks had kept me up all night, but she looked happy and bright.

“Hangover?” I asked because I didn’t know what else to say.

“Actually, I drank a bottle of water, took an electrolyte packet, and downed some Advil. I feel pretty good. Although hungry.” She looked me up and down as one might a friend. “Have you already ordered?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty quick here.”

“They are.” Sam hummed to herself as she tapped her fingers on the table.

The server appeared with a cup and poured her some coffee. Sam went with a full breakfast—eggs, hash browns, toast, and sausage links—and then turned back to me. “Are you seriously just learning your lines now?” She looked worried.

“I memorized the script for the first episode before I left,” I replied. “I’m just reminding myself. Don’t worry. I won’t embarrass you.”

“I’m not worried about that,” she said quickly.

I didn’t believe her. “I’m going to give this my all. Today’s stuff is all indoors I notice. I guess that makes sense because I can’t film outside in the sun. That would make a vampire combust if I’m not mistaken.”

“I have one scene with Sylvia outside,” she replied. “Then I have three with you. All inside.”

“Yeah. I have lurky stuff I’m supposed to do later in the week. They’re not filming in order.”

“Do you prefer that?” She added cream to her coffee, and the way she kept readjusting herself on her chair told me that she was trying to keep the conversation light.

Well, that was fine. If she didn’t want to talk about the vibe, then I could pretend with the best of them. It wasn’t as if I wanted to have a huge discussion about the sparks. I just thought it would be better if we acknowledged them and then agreed to beat them into submission together.

I didn’t need to have a conversation about my feelings, though. That wasn’t necessary. It was completely superfluous to my life.

So how come I was getting more and more anxious when she talked about mundane things? What was up with that?

I shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter to me. Sometimes I find it easier to film in order, though. It helps me keep the story straight. That’s probably not important to what we’re doing.”

She made a face. “I happen to think everything that we’re doing here is important.”

I’d stepped in it. Again. “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said.

“What way did you mean it?” She sounded prim and proper now, nothing like herself. She was always warm and engaged when responding, even if I was being an ass.

“I just meant that we could keep track of the plot fairly easy.” I chose my words carefully. “Like … we don’t need to keep track of big reveals in a science fiction-type setting.”

“Uh-huh.” She didn’t look convinced.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I insisted. “I just … I wasn’t trying to insult you.”

“Oh, I’m not insulted.” She sipped her coffee. “I’ve come to the conclusion that you actually don’t mean to offend people when you do stuff like this.”

“That’s it exactly,” I agreed. “I don’t mean to offend people.”

“It simply comes naturally for you.”

Now it was my turn to frown. “There’s no reason to get weird about it,” I complained. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “Tell me how you feel about our scenes today?”

This was a trap. I knew it was a trap. I couldn’t see a way to avoid it, though. “Well, since we’re just supposed to be sparking—” Why did I use that word? Why was I such an idiot? “It’s all going to be mundane dialogue. All the emotion will come from the way we look at one another. It’s in the speakeasy set, so there will be background noise and we have to push through it.”

“Wait … did you actually read the script?” She looked surprised.

“I read it, Sam.” I was growing exasperated now. “Lines have never been an issue for me. I can’t do math to save my life, but I can memorize stuff. That’s how I made it through high school in the first place. I could memorize facts.”

She looked taken aback by my vehemence, and I instantly regretted my tone. I didn’t apologize, though.

“It’s cool you have that ability,” she said. “I wish I did. I have to spend weeks learning scripts. Then it becomes a problem when I have to forget them.”

“Really?” I was dubious. “You strike me as someone who was good in school.”

“I was, but only because I studied constantly. I had zero social life.”

“Are you saying you’re socially awkward?” I grinned at her. I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re way more socially awkward than me,” she complained.

She wasn’t wrong. I was socially awkward. I could get away with it, though. “Men are supposed to be quiet and brooding. I’m just following societal norms.”

“Oh, that’s such a load of crap.” She burst out laughing, and it was like seeing the sun after thirty days of gray winter. She was no longer annoyed with me, obviously, so I took that as a win.

“People make me nervous.” I had no idea why I was telling her this. It was something I didn’t talk about with anybody. “I tell myself I’m an actor, though, and to pretend I’m not nervous.”

“And that makes you come across as a jerk,” she guessed.

“I guess.” I played with my silverware. “I don’t actually try to be a jerk.”

“You’re just good at it.” She smiled when she said it to let me know she was teasing.

“I am very good at it,” I agreed.

“We all have defense mechanisms. We also react to stuff in weird ways. If we were all exactly alike, it would be a boring world, wouldn’t it?”

“I guess.”

“No, it totally would be.” She was firm. “Take me for example, I cry when people yell at me. It’s not that I’m necessarily afraid, but I can’t stop myself from crying at the absolute worst moments.”

“Did your parents yell at you a lot?” Opening the door to a conversation about parents was a dangerous, slippery slope. I was the one doing it, though. I genuinely wanted to learn more about her.

“My parents aren’t yellers,” she replied. “They were more the ‘I’m not angry, Samantha, I’m just so disappointed’ types. I actually preferred it when they yelled, which was rare. Disappointing them … well … that’s somehow worse.”

“I’ll take your word for it.” I sipped my coffee and studied her over the rim. For a moment, she looked as if she were about to say something important. I braced myself.

She didn’t, though. She recovered quickly. “They’ve been bringing up my future plans a lot,” she explained. “They know as well as I do that the window is closing for me. I don’t have a lot of time to … do anything of importance.”

It bothered me that she could hear a time clock ticking in her brain. It didn’t seem fair. “Do you really think this is your last shot?” I had trouble wrapping my brain around it. “I mean … really? Because you’re so young. You’re really talented too.”

She made a snorting noise. “You haven’t even seen anything I’ve been in.”

“That’s not true.” I answered before thinking. “I looked up your Law & Order: Special Victims Unit episode two nights ago when I couldn’t sleep. You were really good as the terrorized sex worker.”

Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. “Did you seriously look up my episode?” She appeared to be stunned … and maybe a little touched. How weird was that?

I shrugged. “It was either that or look up Ed’s old western, and I’m allergic to spurs.”

She laughed, the sound making my insides clench. What was it about her when she laughed? She made things better just by smiling … and being. It was such an odd gift to possess. “He’s a real laugh a minute, huh? I really don’t know what I’m going to do if he touches me.”

I knew what she was going to do. “You’re going to get me, and I’m going to handle it.”

Her head cocked. “I’m going to do what now?”

“You’re going to tell me, and I’m going to handle it,” I repeated. I wasn’t going to let her put up with a leech like Ed putting his hands on her just because she didn’t want to rock the boat. She was the type who wouldn’t say anything, and then cry into her pillow at night. “He doesn’t get to touch you when you don’t want to be touched.”

The server picked that moment to deliver our breakfasts, something I was grateful for because I didn’t want to watch the myriad of emotions sweeping over her face.

“It’s nothing to be thankful for either,” I said as I dipped my dry toast in the egg yolk. “That’s common decency. Something he is in short supply of.”

“But … don’t you think I should fight my own battles?” she asked finally.

“If you want, but I don’t think you’re going to do that.” I opted for honesty. “Sam, you’re not going to say anything because he’s a known quantity and you feel you’re not. You’ll do anything to make this show work. Anything. That should not include putting up with being sexually harassed.”

“Are you going to do the same for the others on the set?”

That was a question I didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t as if I was the sort of guy who would sit back and watch a woman be abused. I’d only become aware of the current problem because she was likely to get caught up in it, though.

“Sylvia can handle herself,” I replied. “She would take it as an insult if I stepped in on her behalf. Besides, she’ll make Ed’s life miserable in her own way. That’s what she does.”

“So, just me?” Sam pressed.

Just you. I couldn’t exactly admit that to her, though. “I already said something to Ed. I told him to keep his hands to himself. That includes the production team and the actors.”

“Oh.” She let loose a little breath. Almost as if she was deflating. Why would she be deflating? Was she disappointed? “That’s really nice of you.” She delivered her response with sincerity. “I’m hopeful that once people like Ed die, the newer actors coming up won’t be as creepy. I won’t get to enjoy it, but others will.”

I scowled. “Stop being such a downer.” That’s rich, asshole, coming from you . When have you ever been anything but a pessimist? “This is going to work out. You’re going to get everything you ever wanted.”

“How can you be so certain?”

I didn’t have to stretch for an answer. “Karma. You have some good karma coming your way. I can tell.”

Her smile was back, and it was worth the pain of this conversation just to see it for a few seconds. “You really should stop hiding behind that wall of asshole you’ve erected. Deep down, you’re a good guy.”

“I’m not.”

“I wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t,” she challenged.

And there it was. Friend s. We were going to push this friends bit until it was actually true. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

ONCE SHE WAS FINISHED WITH HER brEAKFAST, she bounced off to hit hair and makeup. She would take twice as long to get ready as me. That was another reason it was better to be a man in this business.

As soon as she was gone, Dexter sat down in the seat she’d vacated.

“So, what’s going on with you and Sam?” he asked, his eyebrows doing a little dance.

I didn’t smile. “We were talking about our scenes today.”

“No, you weren’t,” he scoffed. “You were talking about hopes, feelings, and how great she’s going to be in her role. I heard you.”

“She is going to be great in her role,” I argued.

“Okay, but when have you ever actually taken the time to tell somebody that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Why does it matter?”

“Because I think you’re hot for her.” Dexter was never one to hold his opinion in. Apparently, that wasn’t about to change on this shoot. “It’s obvious you want to…” He bit his lower lip and gyrated his hips in a purely sexual display.

“No, I don’t want to…” I mimicked his motions in exaggerated fashion. “We’re going to be working together, though.” That didn’t sound like enough of an explanation to cover myself. “Plus, production wants us photographed together when we’re not shooting around town. They’re trying to pump up the romance angle.”

“Oh.” Dexter’s face fell. “I didn’t realize that. So, it’s all an act?”

I shrugged. “I have to get along with her. I don’t really have a choice in the matter. I figured it was better to actually try to be friends with her than to force myself to pretend every single day.”

“Yeah.” Dexter bobbed his head. “That way it’s not all fake. It’s too much effort to keep up that facade.”

“Exactly.” I finished off my coffee, guilt ravaging me. I really liked Sam. Why couldn’t I just admit that to my friend?

“It’s probably best this way anyway,” he continued. “I think Miles has a thing for her. You wouldn’t want to risk getting into it with the director.”

“Miles?” I swung my eyes back to him. “Who said Miles has a thing for her? Did he say that?”

My vehemence must have thrown Dexter because he frowned. “He gets all fluttery around her. It’s obvious.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t like her anyway, right?” Dexter pressed.

“No, I do not.” I was adamant on that. “We’re just friends. Or, we’re trying to be friends.” There was that flash of guilt again. “I hope they have babies and live happily ever after. That’s not the life I’m looking for.”

“Right.” Dexter’s grin was back. “At least I know why you’ve been spending so much time with her.”

“It hasn’t been that much time,” I protested.

“Dude, you’ve spent more time with her in three days than I’ve ever seen you spend with the other women you’ve worked with. I was just curious. It’s not a big deal.”

I forced myself to keep from exploding. “It’s all for show,” I lied. “We all need this thing to have a good first season.”

“It would be nice to have a regular paycheck for a few years,” Dexter agreed.

“Absolutely. I’m just trying to make the best out of an awkward situation.”

“Well, you’re doing a good job.”

“They don’t call it acting for nothing.”