“Nah, I gave up on that. You’re too straight for me.” Sojourne looked over at Sebastien and pointed a finger at him. “I had doubts about you, Barnes.”
“What . . . me being straight? Sorry to disappoint you, Sojo, but I am.” He flashed a grin at her and everybody laughed. Sojo even cracked a smile.
“I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re straight, although I know a whole lot of pretty boys cry over the fact. You nailed that scene, kid. Good job, both of you. All of you. We’re done. Get some rest. Back at it in the morning.”
She came over to him and Sebastien stood firm. There was a time when she’d intimidated the hell out of him, but he managed to smile at her easily enough. She smacked him lightly on the arm and said, “Keep up that intensity and this movie is going to blow people away, kid.”
While he rubbed at the back of his neck, Sojo turned to the rest of the cast, talking in a rapid fire voice with an energy that seemed to belie the fact that they’d been at it for going on twelve hours.
Sebastien wanted to follow the director’s orders and do just what she’d said, go get some rest. Actually, he wanted a cold shower. Or a hot one and some hand service.
Screw it. He just wanted Marin, then some rest.
But he wouldn’t get that, so . . . shower, hand service, then rest.
Marin definitely needed rest.
He almost told her that, but he’d learned his lesson about hovering.
The first day of filming, she’d been so pale, he’d suggested she ask Sojo for a break and she’d snapped at him, reminding him that she’d been acting since he was in diapers, thank you very much.
He’d pointed out that he was just worried about her, but that hadn’t done anything to lessen her ire.
Of course, he was the only one who seemed concerned.
Even Dash carried on like everything was perfectly normal. He was playing the murdered cop and there were a few scenes early on where he and Marin were happy, laughing, teasing . . . kissing . . . touching.
Kind of like what they were doing now.
From the corner of his eye, he watched as Dash whipped a flower out of a vase that stood on the snack table near the exit and offered it to Marin. She accepted, then smacked him with it and put it back. As they headed out, one of the other actors in the scene moved up to join him.
“Never would have pictured the two of them together. You two, yeah. But her and Dash?”
Sebastien fought the urge to bare his teeth as he turned to look at Antonio Ortega. They had acted in a few projects together early on, but over the past couple of years, their careers had gone different ways. Tony had focused heavily on crime dramas, the bloodier, the better, while Sebastien rarely found a part—or was rarely offered a part in one that appealed to him.
Torn was the first movie they’d worked on together in almost five years.
“Whatever makes them happy,” Sebastien said, although even he could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his voice.
“Think you can say that with a little less joy, buddy?” Tony nudged him with his elbow and then nodded to some of the people gathering by the gates. “We’re going out, grabbing a pizza, some beer. Not going to be out super late or anything, but you wanna come?”
The desire to say yes was strong—go out, have a drink. Hell, he would be with friends. He could have a drink, even ask Tony to make sure he stopped at one. But . . . “No.” He shook his head. “Thanks for asking.”
“Oh, come on, man. You never do anything—it’s like you’re still shut up in your house out on the beach.” Tony grabbed his arms and shook him playfully. “Come back to the land of the living.”
Sebastien shoved him good-naturedly. “Not up to it. Spent the last year sleeping half the time. Going to take a while to get out of the habit of not being a total bum.”
“Whatever.” Tony held up his hand and they bumped fists. “Soon, though. Not going to let you hide away the entire time we’re working, Seb.”
“Okay, yeah.” Mentally, he told himself he’d join them next time. Or maybe the next. Soon. Really soon. When he knew he could be around others drinking and not have to fight it so hard himself. Then he headed off, his eyes automatically scanning for Marin.
She wasn’t with Dash.
Like him, she was walking slowly to the gate.
Because he was watching her so closely, he saw it—the way she stumbled. Her hand fluttered out, as if to grasp some invisible support.
There wasn’t one, though.
He took off without really thinking about it.
He wouldn’t reach her in time. He knew he wouldn’t. But he tried anyway, legs and arms pumping furiously. He didn’t make it. Superman couldn’t have made that distance in time.
He skidded to his knees, hitting the ground next to her just as everybody else realized what had happened.
She had fainted.
“Marin!”