Untamed (Page 53)

I scoffed as I leaned back in the stiff seat. “Of course, dude.” Mostly.

As we drove along, we passed warehouses with various costumed people milling about. I saw Roman soldiers talking with zombies, rough and tough cowboy types sipping coffee with a man in a dog costume, and more cheerleaders than I could count. I’d just entered awesometopia.

After what felt like five hours, we finally made it to the warehouse we’d be using; it was in the very back corner of the lot. Harold parked the cart, then we climbed out. “Now, we’re sharing this warehouse with a few other productions, so it’s going to feel a little cramped at first.” He gave me a bright, cheesy grin. “But as soon as we get picked up and we’re a hit, all that changes. Only the best for you.” He patted me on the back.

Smiling, I draped an arm around his shoulders. Only the best for me…now we’re talkin’.

I followed Harold through the massive building holding various sets, and when we finally got to my show, tentatively titled Acing It, my heart started beating faster. This was it! My chance at glory.

The first set we walked through was a typical bar with a stage set up for a band. It was so eerily similar to Pete’s, I almost wondered if Harold had taken notes during his visit and given them to the set designers. It just made my job that much easier; I already felt like I was home. As Harold walked us through the bar set, he said, “First, we’ll get you to wardrobe. They’ve got your outfits pretty much done, but they’ll want to test them. Then we’ll get you into rehearsal. Once the first episode is in the can, I’ll start shopping it around to networks.”

Harold looked back at me; he was still wearing a big shit-eatin’ grin on his face. “But don’t you worry about that part, Mr. Hancock. This is going to be an easy sell. Cult classic is written all over this thing.” I nodded in agreement. I’d already known that.

After checking out the bar set, we went through a living room and bedroom set. As I gazed at the thin mattress where my character—Ace Gunner—presumably slept, I wondered if he’d be gettin’ lucky on the show. With a name as fucking cool as that, he really should. Plus, he was a rock star, and I knew from experience that being a rock star meant sex, sex, and more sex. I wondered if Anna would be cool with sex scenes, then decided she would be. It’s not like I’d be penetrating anybody or anything.

I was damn near giddy when we finally got to wardrobe. Dressing up reminded me of doing music videos with the guys. It was strange to not have them here with me…but cool too. No one could hog my spotlight if it was only shining on me.

Ace’s outfit mainly consisted of weathered jeans with a studded belt, a V-neck T-shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. As I examined myself in the full-length mirror, I got a little turned on; I was bad-assed hotness. Anna better get out her boxing gloves, ’cause chicks were gonna go nuts for me.

Damn. This was gonna be so amazing.

Once wardrobe had a bunch of pictures of me in my ovary-blowing outfit, Harold herded me off to hair and makeup. They were experimenting with Ace’s look today. Making him even hotter, if possible. “We need to lose the blond,” the makeup girl said after inspecting me for all of five seconds.

“Excuse me?” I told her. Surely I’d misheard that. Girls dug blonds just as much as dudes.

“No blond,” she bluntly stated. “Your character is dark, your hair needs to be dark.” She tilted her head. “Not black…but deep brown.”

I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to picture me with brown hair. I couldn’t get there. “Umm, I don’t think so,” I told her.

She shrugged. “Your opinion doesn’t really matter. You signed away the rights to your looks in the contract you signed. I could give you a pink Mohawk if I wanted. But I don’t, so you should be grateful. That hairstyle does have to go though…” She made a face like she was pained just looking at me.

“Fuck that!” I exclaimed, pulling my hair into a tiny ponytail. It had taken me forever to get it that long.

Pushing her glasses up her nose, she let out a long exhale. “I’ll sedate you if I have to, but I am cutting that mop. Something fun and shaggy…Kellan Kyle–ish. He’s got great hair.”

Narrowing my eyes, I grabbed a pair of scissors off her counter. “If you give me Kellan’s ’do, I’ll cut you.”

She didn’t look too intimidated by my threat. “It probably wouldn’t work on you anyway. Not everyone can pull off that style. Now sit.” She indicated her chair and I pouted in refusal. Snapping her fingers, she repeated, “Sit!”

I did what she said that time, but I made sure she knew I wasn’t happy about it.

Two hours later I had brown fucking hair. She’d chopped it too. It was longer than Matt’s, shorter than Kellan’s, somewhere in between like…Denny. Fuck. I looked like Denny now. Anna was gonna flip when she saw this.

After my hair was completely fucked, Harold took me to meet the rest of the cast. As I shook hands with the two girls and two guys who would be my bandmates, a sense of rightness flooded through me. The four of them looked at me like I was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen. I already felt like a star, and we hadn’t even recorded anything yet.

After a few practice run-throughs, we began filming. It was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, but with the help of the director and my castmates, I got through it, and a few days later, the pilot was in the can and I was flying back home to my wife.