Heartthrob (10 page)

“I know these scenes might not seem very important,” Kate told her, “but they really are.”

“Oh,” Susie said, “I didn’t mean they wouldn’t be a big deal in importance—just that they wouldn’t be hard to do.”

Yesterday they’d shot scenes of a very reserved and serious Jane using her training as an herbalist to take care of slaves who were sick or injured. Today’s scenes of her playing in the woods—of letting herself still be a kid—would contrast with that, leaving the audience a little confused about the character. Who was she? A woman or a child? Jane existed in both worlds, but didn’t quite belong in either.

Susie could really relate.

“Settle!” someone yelled from the set. It was the command to be quiet—for watchers to get into a position that was comfortable, where they wouldn’t feel the need to shift around and make noise.

“Rolling,” someone else shouted. “Speed!”

“Action!”

Out in the field, Jericho fell to his knees. Susie suspected that he was able to relate to Laramie—just as she was able to relate to Jane. She’d been living a double life as both a child and an adult since she could remember.

She’d been six years old when she got her first movie role. And she’d gone onto the set, memorized her lines, and performed like a professional right from the first day. She’d been six, and she’d done a job that many adults had difficulty doing. She’d played with dolls in her trailer, but when it was required, she’d met the producers and
backers, shaken hands, and carried on conversations as if she were twenty-six years old.

She had no problem when it came to speaking to studio suits. It was her father she couldn’t talk to.

But her father—with all of his disapproval and disappointment—wasn’t on set with her this time. And that was good, since there was quite a bit in this script he would’ve disapproved off. Along with a scene where Jane stumbles across plantation owner Reginald Brooks brutally forcing himself on a female slave, there was another scene, at the very end of the film, in which Susie would share her first on-screen kiss with Jericho Beaumont.

If he knew, her father would totally have a cow.

Susie, on the other hand, was looking forward to it.

Not that she had any ideas of an actual real-life romantic relationship developing. After all, she was fifteen, and Jericho was something ancient like thirty-four or thirty-five.

Well, okay. Maybe she
did
entertain fantasies of Jericho pulling up to her house when she turned eighteen and announcing—now that she was finally of age—that he hadn’t been able to forget her ever since that kiss they’d shared as Laramie and Jane.

In her fantasy he would take her hand and help her into his car and …

And this was the point where the fantasy got a little foggy. Sometimes—actually, most of the time—this was where Leonardo DiCaprio pulled up in
his
car and refused to let her run off with Jericho.

Susie smiled. It was ridiculously, wonderfully silly.

Still, she wasn’t going to have trouble getting into character on the day they filmed that kiss.

“Cut!”

Beside her, Kate started breathing again. “They’ll only have time to do one more take before the crew mutinies and demands lunch.”

Susie cleared her throat. “Kate, will you do me a favor?”

“Sure, what do you need?”

“Will you introduce me to Jericho?”

Susie had been on set for nearly four days, and she hadn’t managed to come face-to-face with him yet. Although she’d had rehearsals with some of the other actors, Victor Strauss had decided Jericho would play these early scenes unrehearsed. His character, Laramie, was drunk most of the time, and Victor thought it best if Jericho were allowed spontaneity. Later on, though, Laramie would discover that Jane worked for the Underground Railroad. After that, and after they shot a scene in which he sobered up during a harrowing trip north with a wagonload of runaways,
then
Victor would schedule full rehearsals with all of the cast for the remaining scenes.

“You haven’t met Jericho yet?” Kate asked.

Susie shook her head. She’d seen Jericho laughing and talking in the restaurant used as a dining hall, but every time she headed toward him through the crowd, he’d vanished. If she were at all paranoid, she would think he was avoiding her. But if there was one thing she was sure of on set, it was that time was often in short supply. People frequently relaxed until the last split second, and then hurried away.

“Settle!”

“As soon as they’re done here, I’ll introduce you to him,” Kate whispered.

“Action!”

Out in the field, Jericho fell to his knees. Susie was too far away to hear his dialogue, but he said his lines and then slowly toppled forward onto his face.

“Cut!”

There was silence, then several of the crew applauded. Jericho stood, bowing grandly as he dusted himself off.

“Come on,” Kate said. “They’re going to call lunch in about ten seconds. Let’s catch him before he escapes.”

Susie followed the producer out onto the field. “Jericho!” Kate called.

He turned and saw them coming. He’d been laughing, but now his smile faded.

“Susie tells me you haven’t been introduced,” Kate continued. “She wanted a chance to say hello before tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“We do our first scene together tomorrow.” Susie held out her hand. “Hi, I’m Susie McCoy.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she cringed. Susie. Why had she called herself Susie? She’d decided that the credits on this movie would read “Susannah McCoy.” Susie McCoy made cute, fluffy movies like
Slumberparty.
Susannah McCoy appeared in movies with great depth and intensity.

“Nice to meet you.” Jericho’s hand was warm as he briefly shook hers. But it was the only thing that was warm. There was absolutely none of his legendary friendliness in his eyes.

But maybe that was because he looked so dreadful. Hungover. Whoever was doing his makeup had really done it right.

“Excuse me,” he said, scratching the stubble of beard on his chin. “I’m really hungry—I’ve got to get some lunch.”

Susie bolstered her courage. “Maybe—if you don’t mind—I could join you? I don’t have to be in makeup until two o’clock. I’d love to get a chance to talk about the scenes we’re shooting tomorrow.”

“Oh,” he said. “Well”—he glanced from Susie to Kate and back—“actually, I was gonna have lunch in my trailer. I need to run some lines and … take a nap if I have time,
so.… Today’s probably not the best day to do that. Sorry.”

Jericho hated her.

Beside her, Kate had stiffened, and Susie knew that she’d picked up on all the negative energy, too.

He absolutely hated her.

He couldn’t see beyond the corny movies and the hokey TV sitcom. He didn’t bother to look into her eyes. He’d already decided that she wasn’t good enough, that she wouldn’t be able to give the kind of dramatic performance necessary for this role.

Susie forced her mouth into a smile. “Sure,” she said. “No problem. Some other time, maybe.”

Jericho nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.” He walked away.

Kate was furious. But she, too, managed to smile as she turned to Susie. “I’d love to have lunch with you.”

Susie shook her head. “I think I’m going to hang out in my trailer, too. You know, get focused for this afternoon?”

Kate watched Jericho, who was still walking toward the cars that would take him back into town. “I don’t think he realized how rude he sounded.”

“It’s not a big deal,” she lied. “He’s probably decided to keep his distance from me while these opening scenes are shot. I mean, our characters don’t really know each other, so it makes sense for us to start out as strangers and …” She shrugged.

Kate nodded. “Do you want a ride back into town?”

Susie shook her head. “No, thanks. I’ve got my bike.”

“You ride your bike barefoot?”

Susie smiled. “My feet are really tough.”

She wished the rest of her skin was as thick.

“W
hat?” Kate clutched her towel as her wet hair dripped onto the telephone. “Jericho is
where
?”

“That’s just it. We’re not sure.” Annie sounded as if she were going to faint. “He’s already a half an hour late for call.

“A half an hour?” Kate’s voice went up an octave as she gripped the telephone receiver. “Oh, my God, Annie! I was supposed to get a call if he was ever more than ten minutes late!”

“I’m sorry.” Now Annie sounded as if she were going to cry. “I didn’t notice until ten minutes ago. I know I should have called you right away, but I thought maybe he was running late. I thought I could take care of it without having to bother you. Your blood pressure’s high enough these days.”

Kate tucked the receiver under her chin and started drying herself in earnest. “I assume you called his trailer?”

“No one picked up. So I went over there and banged on the door. Still no response. The door’s locked, and I don’t have a key. Victor remembers seeing Jericho at dinner last night, but no one’s seen him since.”

Kate felt a flash of hot and then cold. It was happening. Her worst nightmare was finally happening. Despite all of her precautions, Jericho had gone AWOL. “I’ve got a key to his trailer. I’ll be right there.”

She hung up the phone as she fumbled for the day’s shooting schedule. The shorts and T-shirt she’d worn the night before were still on the floor. She pulled them on as she scanned the schedule and read what she already knew by heart.

The cameras were being set up to shoot exteriors at the location they were using for the Willet farm. The first scene scheduled for the morning was one where Jane’s brothers inform her that Reginald Brooks, the brutal plantation owner thirty years her senior, has asked to marry her. The money he’s offered as a dowry will solve their financial woes. Jane has no choice, they tell her, as Jericho’s character Laramie looks on in barely disguised horror. She must accept Brooks for the sake of her family.

Although Jericho had no lines in that scene, his presence was necessary.

Victor could compensate for Jericho’s absence by shooting close-ups of Susie McCoy and the actors playing her brothers first. But Jericho would be needed within a few hours at best.

And it was up to Kate to find him.

Jericho had been a royal pain in the ass since he’d arrived on set. There were troubles with his trailer. The refrigerator was stocked with too many diet sodas one day, not enough diet soda the next. His mattress was too soft. The replacement Kate had had shipped in was too hard. The window blinds let in too much light, but shades made the room too dark.

Jericho’s single-most goal in life seemed to be driving Kate mad. Or at least to run her ragged with his relentless demands.

But this was the first time he’d ever been late to the set.

Kate slipped her feet into her sneakers and, raking her fingers quickly through her still wet hair, she grabbed her keys and headed for Jericho’s trailer at a run.

The sun had only been up a very short while, but it was clear that the day was going to be another steam bath.

Annie was waiting for her outside of Jericho’s trailer, her freckles standing out against the ghostly paleness of her thin face. “I just realized Bob Hollander’s car is gone.”

Kate unlocked the door, then handed Annie her keys. “Go into my office and find the file on Hollander. Leave a message on his answering machine—I know he checks it regularly. Tell him to call in immediately. Oh, and I think he’s got a pager number. Find it and page him. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

Annie ran back toward the production office as Kate pushed open the door to the trailer.

It was dark and cool inside with the shades drawn.

“Hello?” she called, not expecting an answer.

“Back here.”

Kate nearly hit her head on the door frame in surprise. “Jericho?”

He spoke again, each word distinctly enunciated. “I’m back here.”

Kate turned on the light and headed down the tiny corridor to the back bedroom, her annoyance making her voice sharp. “You’re over a half hour late for your call and—”

The light from the main room lit the bedroom enough for her to see Jericho through the open doorway.

He was sitting on the bare mattress of his bed, his legs outstretched and casually crossed at the ankles as he leaned back against the headboard.

He was naked. Completely naked.

Kate found herself staring, her mouth all but hanging open in surprise.

Some men looked better with their clothes on, but
Jericho was not one of them. In fact, the “hero without a shirt” scene was a requirement for almost every Jericho Beaumont movie. And seeing him without his shirt, in person, Kate now knew precisely why.

The man was in outrageously good shape. He wasn’t quite as built up and muscular as he’d been for the
Kill Zone
movies. But his arms, shoulders, and chest had a definite female drool factor of about twelve on a scale from one to ten, and his stomach was enough of a washboard to garner the male audience members’ admiration.

But not only was he shirtless, he wasn’t wearing pants, either. And as for the rest of him … She forced her eyes back to his face.