The Redhead Plays Her Hand (Redhead #3)(14)
Author: Alice Clayton

As weird as a world where you have your name on a chair and people asking you if the right kind of bottled water is in your trailer.

Touché.

Jack had been glad to get out of town and to the desert for this new film. His mind was already in character, and he’d been working closely with the other guys in the cast. They had a week of boot camp before they started shooting, and he was really getting into it. Boys. They liked to run and jump in the mud. They just don’t always look so good doing it . . .

My own boot camp had consisted of cucumber and air, twice daily workouts, new hair extensions, a deeper shade of red, and a spray tan or two. I was down nine pounds, but luckily I had kept the girls. Jack would be grateful.

I may have also bought new boots for the boot camp.

“Hey, how’s the new house, by the way?” I asked Michael.

“It’s great. Moving in next week. That Holly, she really has this town on lockdown, doesn’t she? She found that house in one afternoon. Everything I wanted, she found it.”

“I’m glad she’s on our team. She is not someone I’d want to mess with.” I laughed, straightening in my chair as David, the director, approached. David Lancaster was known for being hard on newcomers. So far he’d been easygoing, nice . . . funny even. But I knew he’d had something to do with the notes the producers had given about my weight, and I hadn’t been able to get a good read on him yet.

“Grace, you ready to shoot?”

You got this; you got this; you got this. You. Got. This.

“Good to go, David,” I answered, my voice coming out in a squeak, which quickly turned into nervous giggles. “Might be a little nervous.”

“No problem. We’re going to start off slow today. We’re set up to start with the kitchen scene: your ex has papers for you to sign, and he brings along his new girlfriend. You got the rewrites last night, right?”

“Yep. They’re great,” I answered, winking at Michael.

“Okay, let’s get set up on your first mark. We changed the blocking a bit. We’re going to have you behind this potted plant to start with, okay?”

Behind a potted plant, huh?

My first day on the set of my own series I learned that craft services can do a lot with cucumbers and air.

That night I went to bed early. Being a TV star was hard work.

Did you really just say that out loud in your own head?

Totally. Danced around a bit too.

Before bed I walked through the house, closing blinds and double-checking the locks. I always did, but now I was extra careful. As I was sliding between the sheets, Jack called.

“Hey, sweet girl, how was your first day?”

“It was exhausting! But awesome. How was the mud run?”

“Also exhausting, but awesome. But really, how did it go?”

“What do you know about potted plants?”

“What?”

He laughed as I flipped out the light and snuggled down to recap my day with my Sweet Nuts. I talked shop, and he wisely let me fumble when trying to explain what a key grip was. As we were winding down, I heard someone in the background.

“Who’s that I hear? Another one of the grunts?” I yawned. He and the other guys in the cast called one another grunts. It was so hard for me to control my eye rolling.

I think you just did . . .

“Right. Adam and I are heading into town to this dive bar. Apparently lots of bikers hang out there!”

I heard Adam laugh. Jack was obsessed with American culture and dying to take a road trip.

“You and Adam, huh?” I asked, twisting the sheets in my hand.

“Sure, why?”

“Nothing. I was just hoping for a little phone action with my Brit tonight,” I whispered, my skin dancing with just the idea of it.

“Oh, you were, huh? What exactly did you have in mind, Grace? What’s got your knickers in a twist?”

“Fuck. You had to say knickers, didn’t you?” I moaned into the phone.

“I know it makes you crazy, Crazy. Wish I could get you sorted, but I’ve got company and—”

I could hear Adam laughing again. “I can’t hear this! Get off the phone and let’s go!”

Jack told him to shut up.

“No, it’s okay. You go,” I told him. “Get in a biker brawl. Just make sure you stay away from the assless chaps, okay?” I frowned slightly.

Calm down. He’s twenty-four. Of course he’s going out.

“Call you when I get home?”

“No, call me tomorrow. I’ve got an early call time, and I need to fit in a run before I head to the studio.”

“Listen to you, you’re like an old pro.”

“That’s five.”

“What’s five?” he asked.

“You called me old. Every time you say something about frown lines or being old in general, that’s five orgasms you owe me, got it?”

“Fucking hell, Grace,” he groaned.

“’Night, love,” I whispered, and hung up as he was protesting.

Well played . . .

I chuckled to myself as I rolled over in bed, letting one hand linger on his pillow. Out with Adam. Huh.

I sent him a text.

Be careful, George. Love you xoxo

And so it went. I was on set most days and even some nights, and loving every second of it. Shooting was going well, and the cast was settling in with one another. Leslie had signed on to reprise her role as my nemesis, and it was nice having someone else around from the original New York crew. She had pictures of Jack up in her trailer and made no bones about the fact that if I were ever done with him, she would absolutely swoop right in. I didn’t blame her one bit. But no one was getting ahold of my Brit.

A little more press was written about the series being in production, and I was starting to notice a trend. Whenever I was mentioned, Jack was mentioned. These were just trade magazines, Variety, Deadline, but still. I wasn’t fooling myself. I knew I was damn lucky to have this job. It was rare that producers would sign an unknown like myself for the lead in a series like this. In fact, it was almost unheard of. So I got it, but still.

“Don’t worry about it, asshead. It comes with the territory. People want to know who you are, why you got this part. It’s natural—in a town where nothing is,” Holly informed me one day. We rolled around on the bed in my trailer until we were dizzy, enjoying the spoils that came with a large production budget. She’d stopped by to inform me she was hiring me a stylist.

“What? You mean I can’t continue to run around in yoga pants every day?” I laughed, pulling myself off the bed and picking up a plate of cucumbers. My first sex scene was scheduled in a few days, and while the potted plant was no longer, I did seem to have a lot of scenes where I was holding a book. I’d be dropping the cucumbers soon and just sticking with the air. Big, yummy gulps of air.