Just Physical (34 page)

“Nonsense,” Lauren said. “Jill is always up for contributing to a good cause. Last year, she participated in a celebrity waitress dinner benefitting unemployed actors and their families.”

“Yeah, but there she was the one raising money for other people and didn't belong to the group being helped.”

Lauren rubbed her chin. “You know what? Let's just do it anyway. If Jill wants to join us, great. And if not, it's still a really good cause.”

It was, no doubt about that, so Crash nodded reluctantly.

“Good. Then let's go over and ask her.” Lauren stood, walked down the three steps, and turned back. “Aren't you coming?”

“Uh, I need to…finish up here.” She gestured vaguely at her laptop. After hardly talking to her for eight days, she'd rather not be the one ambushing Jill with the walkathon.

When Lauren nodded and walked away, she opened the media player again. But now, not even the pre-visualization of the fire stunt could hold her attention. She would have paid good money to be a fly on the wall during that conversation.

CHAPTER 18

Jill was about to get
into her car after a long day of shooting when someone called her name from across the parking lot.

Crash?
Her heartbeat sped up. Aside from the interactions their jobs made necessary, they hadn't talked for eight days. Jill missed her, and that was a completely new experience. She had never missed anyone before. But she didn't know how to bridge the distance between them without agreeing to date Crash. Slowly, not ready to face her but unable to resist, she turned.

It wasn't Crash.

“Hi,” Lauren said. “Are you okay? You just looked at me like you didn't know whether to hug me or kick me.”

“No. I'm always happy to see you, screenwriter lady.” Jill forced a cheerful smile. “What's up?”

“There's something I wanted to ask you.”

“No, thanks. I don't think I'm up for a threesome with you and Grace today.”

Lauren snorted. “You wish. No, I have a proposal of a different kind. A local MS group is organizing a walkathon at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena this Sunday. I was thinking we could all walk together—the entire cast and crew of
Shaken to the Core
. What do you think?”

An MS walkathon and Lauren wanted all of her colleagues to participate? Everything in her screamed,
No
. She struggled to compose her features. “I don't know about this, Lauren. Shooting keeps me pretty busy.”

“We're all busy. But the walkathon is on the weekend. So?” Lauren looked at her expectantly.

“If you don't mind, I'd rather pass.”

“But it's for a good cause. All money raised goes to MS patients who can't afford their medication and into promising research projects trying to find a cure for MS.”

Jill leaned against her car and pressed both hands against the sun-warmed metal. “I know that's important…”

“But? I thought you were always happy to support nonprofit organizations?”

“I am,” Jill said. “You know that. I was a waitress at that celebrity dinner last year, remember?”

“I know. I was there.”

Jill snorted. “Like you had eyes for anyone but Grace in that cute waitress apron.”

“I was just keeping an eye on her to make sure she was fine waitressing with her broken arm.”

“Her arm? And here I thought you kept your eyes on a pair of completely different body parts.”

Lauren cleared her throat. “Back to the topic at hand. We were talking about the MS walkathon.”

If not even talking about Grace could distract Lauren, Jill knew she was a woman on a mission. “Why are you so hell-bent on getting me to participate?”

“Well, for one thing, it's great publicity. I'm sure I can get several well-known actresses to participate, including a certain Grace Durand, so it would be good for your image.”

“That might be, but you're no longer my publicist.”

“But Marlene is, and I know she would say the same,” Lauren countered.

Jill jingled her car keys. If only she could escape into her car. “I just… I like to keep my job and my private life separate.”

“No one can understand that better than I. In my previous job, that was essential. But some of these people…Nikki, Shawn, Crash, and me…we aren't just your colleagues. We're your friends.”

That made it even worse for Jill. If she agreed to walk with them, she would become the face of MS to them. She would lose the fight she fought every day—to establish herself as a good actress, a reliable colleague, and a loyal friend—and become a person suffering from MS. It would give the MS a status in her life that she didn't want it to have. But she didn't want to talk about that with Lauren, so she said, “You weren't very successful in keeping your job and your private life separate, seeing as you got involved with one of your clients.”

“Since you're trying to change the topic again, I take it that's really a no on participating in the walkathon?” Lauren asked. “Crash said you might not want to do it. Guess she was right.”

Crash? Lauren had talked to Crash about the walkathon? Had Crash agreed to participate? “Did she think I wouldn't be able to complete the walkathon?” As soon as she'd said it, she knew that wasn't it. Crash knew her better than that. She had to realize why Jill wouldn't want to participate.

“No, she never said that. Besides, you could use a scooter, if that's what has you so worried. There was a picture on the website that showed some of last year's participants using one.”

A scooter? No.
If she did this, she'd cross the finish line on her own two feet. Finishing wasn't her problem; showing up was.

“Will you at least think about it?” Lauren asked. “There are less than four weeks of shooting left, so this might be the last chance for all of us to do something together. It would be great.”

Jill sent her a doubtful gaze.

“Come on. Say yes. Or I'll…”

“Yeah?” Jill drawled and then paused when it instantly reminded her of Crash and the way she sounded when she teased Jill. She shook off all thoughts of Crash and continued, “Or you'll do what? You don't have any dirt on me.”

“Or I'll rewrite your character's storyline.”

“You wouldn't let Lucy die,” Jill said, her hands on her hips.

Lauren seemed unimpressed. “Who said anything about letting her die? I'll give her a seedy sex scene with…let's say…the corrupt mayor.”

Jill shuddered at the mere thought. “You wouldn't do that to your script.”

“Why not? Now that I think about it, I can see the possibilities of such a scene now. A night of passion with the upright doctor could be the motivation he needs to redeem himself and—”

“I'll think about it, okay? That's all I can promise.”

“All right. Just let me know, okay?”

Jill nodded and unlocked the driver's side door with unsteady fingers.

“Oh, Jill?” Lauren called before she could settle into the driver's seat.

Jill gritted her teeth so hard that she thought she'd crack a molar. “What?” she asked without turning around. She knew Lauren meant well, but this was just too much.

“If you decide to participate, I'll need to know what size you're wearing. I want to get team T-shirts made, and I need to move quickly since it's just six days until Sunday.”

Team T-shirts? God. She could see it already—ugly oversized T-shirts with a
Walking for Jill
slogan. No. She didn't want that. If her colleagues insisted on participating in the MS walkathon, fine, but she didn't want to be their charity case.

“And could you ask Crash what size she wants?” Lauren continued.

So Crash was participating. Jill turned around. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

“I have a feeling you'll see her before I do,” Lauren said with a knowing smile.

“No,” Jill said firmly. “I won't. You'll have to ask her yourself.”

Brow furrowed, Lauren stared at her. “I thought…you and she are…”

“Friends,” Jill supplied before Lauren could say something else. “Yes, we are. We're just…taking a break.”

Lauren's eyebrows arched up over the rim of her glasses. “From friendship?”

Jill regarded the tips of her shoes and shrugged. “I really have to go, Lauren. I'm late picking up Tramp.” She nearly dove behind the steering wheel, closed the door between them, and sped off before Lauren could say anything else.

When they wrapped the last scene on Friday, every member of the cast and crew called, “See you on Sunday” over to Jill, obviously expecting her to show up for the walkathon.

She still wasn't sure she would. In fact, she had almost convinced herself that it was okay for her not to participate. There would be thousands of people there, so what difference would one person make?

But her colleagues didn't want to walk for the thousands of other people. They wanted to walk for her.

She was touched, really, but she didn't want that kind of support. It came too close to admitting she needed to be pitied and helped.

“See you,” Crash murmured as she squeezed past her in the wardrobe trailer on her way to the door.

She hadn't added an “on Sunday,” as the others had. Didn't she expect Jill to come? She stared after her. “Crash?” she called just as Crash had opened the door.

Crash turned back around. Incredible how much she could say with just a look. There were so many emotions in her eyes—hope, wariness, relief, and affection.

“Will you…?” Jill licked her lips. “Will you be at the walkathon?”

“I'll be there.”

The words were reassuring, maybe because she trusted Crash more than the others to see her as more than just a person with MS.

Crash stepped back inside and closed the door so that no one but the wardrobe assistant helping Jill with the costume could overhear. “How about you?”

So Crash didn't take it for granted that she'd participate. Jill wasn't sure if that made her feel better or even worse. She was starting to feel like an ungrateful coward. “I don't know.”

“I think it would be important,” Crash said quietly.

Jill sighed. “I know it's for a good cause and all, but—”

“Important for
you
,” Crash said. She looked into Jill's eyes for a few moments; then, without additional explanations, she gave a short wave and left.

When Crash parked her SUV in one of the parking lots of the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, there had to be thousands of people getting out of their cars or gathering in groups.

Wow. So many lives touched by MS.
She had jogged the three-mile loop around the Rose Bowl stadium before, but she had never seen it like this. Tents and registration tables had been set up at the end of the parking lot. Music blared from speakers, and people were laughing and shouting greetings to each other. Some of them were dressed in athletic clothes and looked like experienced runners, but Crash also saw many families with strollers, men and women with scooters, and some in wheelchairs. A few were even preparing to walk the loop with canes.

As Crash climbed out of her SUV, she recognized several members of the cast and crew, all in the orange T-shirts of team
Shaken
, as Lauren had named their team. Some of her colleagues and two people she knew from the support group meeting waved and pointed at the registration tables and the tents where people were handing out bottles of water.

Crash shook her head. She wanted to stay in the parking lot a little longer, keeping an eye on the new arrivals just in case Jill was among them.

She hoped Jill would come and be able to embrace her colleagues' support, but she was afraid that Jill couldn't bring herself to do it.

The closer it got to ten, when the walkathon was supposed to start, the more she lost hope. Still, she wanted to wait until the last possible moment to move to the registration tables, so she instead walked over to the large board at the edge of the parking lot. At the top, bold orange letters read, “Why I walk.” Many people had already scribbled their answers onto the board, and Crash stepped closer to see what they had written.

A teenaged girl who'd just finished writing down her reason turned and gave Crash a smile before handing over the black marker. Before Crash could protest, she was holding the marker and the girl was gone. She stared down at the thick pen, then at the board, rubbing her chin. What was she supposed to write?

Only one thing came to mind, so she uncapped the marker and was about to write “Jill” into one corner of the board when someone stepped next to her.

“Hi.”

Crash would know that voice anywhere.
Jill. She came. This is big.
Crash wanted to let out a shout of sheer joy and relief, but she was afraid to startle Jill away. With a lump in her throat, she turned toward her.

She took in the shorts and the copper hair tied back into a short ponytail, exposing the creamy skin of Jill's neck, before her gaze zeroed in on Jill's T-shirt. It was the same orange article of clothing Crash was wearing,
Team Shaken
written across the front.