He quirks an eyebrow, stepping in to grab a pickle and snap off a bite. He was kind enough to put his shirt back on and re-button his pants, but my memory still burns with the image of how incredible he looked. “I shouldn’t have taken your bait,” he says. “I don’t want to compromise our professional relationship.” He lowers his voice. “And if I did, I don’t want to degrade you like that. You’re not like the others. You deserve better.”
“Right,” I say, a little too quickly. “We should keep this simple.” For now, at least.
31
Jesse
I wander the set while Makayla gets ready for her scene. It’s a fascinating place, even though I would rather there weren’t so many unknowns. My eyes trace the rafters overhead where someone could easily sneak up with a weapon, or the many nooks and crannies behind the flat set-pieces and large equipment. Even the caterers and delivery guys who seem to endlessly stream in and out of the set could be here to hurt her. I’m on edge the whole time, clenching my hands and regularly straightening my suit just to reassure myself with the weight of my Glock holstered at my side.
Last night was… interesting. I woke up in the middle of the night, having the same nightmare about when I was captured back in Abu Siad and tortured for a week. I could have sworn I heard Makayla shushing me and felt her hands gliding down my body, easing me back into bed. It’s impossible though. I’m as light a sleeper as there is, and one glimpse of her would’ve had me completely awake.
I hate how much vulnerability I’ve already shown her. All the years of hardening myself to emotion and shutting it out seem to have melted away as soon as I saw her. She has me feeling real fucking pussyish right about now, and I could use an outlet for my anger. I haven’t even had a chance to hit the gym, grab a few drinks, or get in a good fuck since I’ve been watching her. The job is nonstop.
I watch Makayla reading her lines with Kennedy. They’re laughing about something, and her friend keeps glancing my way. Makayla eventually bulges her eyes at her slightly, pulling Kennedy’s chin away from me with two stiff fingers.
“She’s something, isn’t she,” asks Jason, who slips up to my side.
I don’t dignify him with a response, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he settles in beside me, crossing his arms.
“We dated once, you know,” he adds. “Makayla and I. Well, I took a go at Kennedy too, come to think of it.” He punctuates this by trying to give me a back slap, like it’s a funny fucking joke.
But I turn slightly, catching his wrist before he can touch me. I meet his eyes, making sure I have every last ounce of his attention. “Next time you try to touch me, I’ll break your fucking arm.”
I let go, shoving him away a little as I do. He straightens his jacket and stalks off, glaring once at me over his shoulder as he goes. Fucking asshole.
A kid who can’t be older than eighteen shuffles up beside me. “Don’t mind him,” he says. His voice is a little higher pitched than it should be for his age. I give him a curious look. His lanky arms are folded and he’s clearly trying to look casual, even though the way his hands are shaking and his throat is tight makes his nervousness painfully clear.
I could tell the kid to fuck off, but something about him amuses me, so I only grin down at him. “You know him?”
“Oh yeah. My name’s Ed, by the way,” he shoves an oversized hand toward me.
I grab it and shake, trying not to smile when he squeezes my hand so hard it makes his face scrunch up.
“Jason’s a douchebag. He never deserved Makayla,” he adds.
My grin grows. “Is that right?”
He laughs a little and blushes. “She’s the reason I took this job. I pretty much just go get coffee and things like that for the crew, but hey, it gives me a chance to watch her every day, so I’m not complaining.”
I open my mouth to say something because he’s starting to give me the creeps, but he sees my expression and laughs. It’s a quick, halting sound--sharp intakes of breaths and a wheezing exhale.
“It’s not like that,” he says. “I’ve always wanted to be an actor. I love watching her work. She could do so much better than this crummy show. She should be on broadway or on the big screen.”
I size the kid up again, trying to imagine what sort of roles he could play, but come up short. I feel a little sorry for him. “What makes her so good?” I ask. To me, acting never seemed too impressive. You just read off lines from a script and go through the motions they tell you to. How hard could that be?
A light enters Ed’s eyes. “Her presence, for starters. She knows just how to use silence to demand attention. She regulates the volume of her voice to force you to want to lean in closer, wanting to hear every word. I mean, just watch her,” he says, pointing toward the set and lowering his voice. “They’re about to shoot.”
I look toward her. She stands on a set that looks like the outside of a bar. Blue light bathes her to simulate night time, and a single, yellow streetlight buzzes overhead. She moves to wait inside the door to the “bar” while Camillo, the director, counts down and then calls action.
Jason bursts from the door of the bar, grabbing Makayla hard by the arm and dragging her behind him. My muscles tense and I itch to walk out there and rip him off her. It’s just a TV show, Jesse, don’t be stupid.
Makayla pulls, trying to free herself from Jason. He pushes her down and she crumples to the ground, defeated. Her small hands rise to cover her face as her body shakes with sobs.
“Get up!” he yells down at her.
My hand slowly moves to my side. I feel the shape of the Glock and briefly entertain the idea of shoving the barrel as far down Jason’s throat as I can. Ed snaps me out of it when he nudges my arm.
His voice is so low I have to lean down to hear him. “...absolute control. See how much she says with her body language?”
I look back to her. Yeah, I notice. That’s why I’m having so much trouble remembering they are just pretending. Maybe it’s her skill at acting that has me ready to go end this fucking Jason guy.
Jason stomps toward her, less convincing in his actions than Makayla. Seeing them side by side exaggerates the difference, now that I’m looking for it. He has an artificial air to his voice and movements, making it obvious he’s conscious of how he’ll look and sound on camera. Makayla on the other hand… she’s really feeling the emotions somehow. When she pulls her hands away from her face to scoot back away from him, the terror and pain in her face makes my heart twist. Where is she going to find that kind of pain? What memory is she calling up from the depths of her past? I wonder if she remembers what I did to her to feel that kind of sadness. The thought pisses me off. Seeing the emotion on her face and knowing I could have caused that makes me hate myself. I’ve wondered all this time if I did the right thing, and looking at her now makes me sure I didn’t. I fucked up. What else is new?
They died because of you. All my fucking men. Dead.
“Stay back!” she shouts.
Jason stops short. A few extras on set are gathered around them, watching the scene in shock.
“You knew who I was from the start. Don’t play stupid now. You knew the whole time.”