Blocking out is basically planning the physical movements and positioning on set in relationship to the camera. My job isn’t too difficult for this, since I don’t get out of bed.
After that, I’m sent to hair and makeup. I study my lines again—so I don’t screw them up—and have fun listening to gossip about Knox’s latest fling.
Halfway through, I’m pulled out for a wardrobe check and when I get back to hair and makeup, Knox himself is sitting in the chair I just left.
“You took my spot,” I tell him.
“The early bird gets the worm.”
“The early bird looks tired.”
He groans. “The only thing I hate about making movies. The early morning calls.”
“I was here before six.”
“You weren’t at the club last night. You should’ve been.”
“No, I was rehearsing with Tommy. I take this seriously.”
“So, what’s your deal, anyway?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah, where’d you come from? How are you Abby fucking Johnston’s daughter and I’ve never seen your picture anywhere? Last one I could find of Keatyn Douglas was from like five years ago. You don’t even have any social media.”
“I like my privacy, maybe?”
“Why? You’re young and hot. You should be milking the fame cow.”
“Milking the fame cow. That’s one I’ve never heard. Enough about last night. Are you ready for today?”
“You inviting me to your dressing room to practice our lines?”
The hairdresser who’s running product through his hair groans.
I stifle a laugh. “Actually, yes. That’s not a bad idea.”
Knox grins. “I knew you just wanted to kiss me. Story of my life.”
“It’s that pretty face,” I tease. “Girls can’t resist.”
“Thank god they can’t,” he says. Then he goes, “Ouch,” and gives the hairstylist a dirty look.
She goes, “Sorry!” But it’s obvious that she’s not. At all.
Knox and I are ready but the lighting isn’t, so I grab the script out of his hands and smack him on the butt with it. “I’m serious about practicing.”
He wraps an arm around me. “Call it whatever you want. I’m in.”
When we get in my dressing room, he plops down on my couch. “They listen and talk. You know that, right?”
“Who does?”
“Hair and makeup. Huge gossips. I’m really not hung over.”
“You’re not?”
“Nope, just working on that bad boy image. Speaking of that, we should go out.”
“Go out where?”
“Anywhere. Dinner. Club. You like to dance?”
“I love to dance. But I’m seeing someone.”
“He in this movie?”
“No.”
“Even better. I’ve been hearing a few rumors myself. About you and I. So we need to get to know each other.”
“If you tell me that involves going to bed with you, I’ll pass.”
He sits up, looking very serious. “I’ve been acting since I was ten and working on the tabloids’ image of me since I was fifteen. I let people see what they want to see. When I was on a family show, I was the good boy. The boy who visited sick kids in hospitals. The boy who took his mom to the Golden Globes. The boy who had a sweet relationship with his on-camera love.”
“You two were publicly waiting until you got married, right?”
“I had to be my on-screen character in real life. Well, not real life. Public life.”
“I understand what you’re saying. I used to date Luke Sander.”
“He disappeared for a while. Left as a child star. Came back as an adult. It was a good move. Where was he hiding?”
“Malibu with me for a year and a half. We broke up last spring, but he’s still one of my best friends.”
“That’s cool. Malibu, huh? Do you surf?”
“Yeah, I do. My, um, ex is a professional surfer.”
“Your, um, ex? Why does it sound like there’s a story there?”
“There isn’t, really. He left to go on tour. We broke up. Well, sorta broke up. We weren’t actually going out. We’d been dating for a while. It ended. Sort of.”
“But sort of not?”
“Sort of not.”
“So, who are you dating now?”
“A guy from my school. He’s coming by later. You can meet him.”
“I’d like that. So what should we practice first? Kissing?” He gives me a naughty grin. “Or should I just take my shirt off again, so we can pretend to fight?”
“I think we should just read through our lines.”
“Seriously, though. Have you heard the rumors?”
“What rumors?”
“About us?”
“Us? No, can’t say I have.”
“And here I thought you were connected.”
“Why don’t you just tell me what you heard, since you’re dying to.”
“Tommy doesn’t want to make any more Trinity Films.”
“That I am aware of.”
“But the studio wants more.”
“I am aware of that as well.”
“Mr. Moran—your Uncle Matty—told me that you’re going to make me a rich man.”
“I assume, since you don’t die now, that they’re going to pay you more?”
He looks up at the ceiling and winces. “Shit. I didn’t think to ask for more money.”