The Accidental Movie Star (11 page)

Caz said, “We were talking about what movie we’re going to see tonight.”

Petra blew out a breath.

Ashley felt torn, confused. Olive chose that moment to join them. She dragged a large laundry bag overflowing with envelopes behind her, and pushed the bulk against Ashley’s leg. “You’re going to have to help with this fan mail like the rest of us do. You have to do your share of the work. I’m not going to ask again.”

Ashley had never seen the bag. She lifted an envelope and peeped inside. “Snail mail?”

“Fan mail.”

“Sorry, Caz, looks like I’ll be busy tonight with this.” Ashley tipped the envelope to the side and a slim piece of elasticized fabric fell out. They all looked down at the red lace thong. Ashley read, “Dear Caspian…”

***

“Who’s that?” Ashley asked Petra and pointed to a military-looking man dressed in loose black pants and tight black T-shirt. He was talking to Caz and his agent.

“Trainer. Nice ass. Tight abs.” Powder lined up her makeup brushes. “Where is number four? Olive better not have been in here again.” Her eyes took on a militant gleam that was in contrast to today’s bohemian dress.

“Trainer for what?”

“Caz’s next film. He’s going to be doing some martial arts training on his off-time.”

“Caz barely has any off-time.”

Powder shrugged.

Ashley walked over, blatantly eavesdropping.

Caz said to his agent, “If they want to start early, I can train in September during postproduction.”

“You’ve committed to this movie and a lot of people depend on you making it happen.” His agent crossed her arms over her chest and sent a longing look at the coffee cart.

“I said I’d do the movie.”

“Well, doing the movie means working on other people’s timelines, not just yours. They need you to do this.”

Caz frowned, his mouth tight.

The AD said, “People, gather round.”

Ashley joined the rest of the crew and cast. The AD said, “The studio has read the recent press, and requires me to make a formal announcement regarding cast hook-ups.”

The crew laughed.

The AD said, “There are to be none.” He finished his command and stroked his little goatee. He’d gotten the ends trimmed about an inch.

Several people turned to stare at Ashley, which she found offensive. She hadn’t had a date or even been kissed by any member of the movie crew. Their stares were so unfair.

Petra giggled wildly and tapped her index finger, heavy with layered rings, against Caz’s arm. “Okay, we’ll stop.”

Caz frowned and moved away from her, crossing his arms over his chest.

Powder ran a hand over her hair and looked back at someone in the crowd. Ashley followed her gaze. Four men stood behind her. Ashley couldn’t tell which one was Powder’s secret boyfriend. None wore a monitored ankle bracelet or any suspicious makeup smears. Surely, someone trysting with the makeup artist would have at least a lipstick smudge on his collar or a stray smear of mascara.

Petra’s need for attention interrupted Ashley’s investigation. She raised her hands straight in the air and clapped them. “Don’t forget my party tonight. The bash will be a blow-out. See you there.” Her eyelash extensions made big wink. “And no hooking up.” The crowd laughed.

Powder turned to Ashley. “I’ll see you at her party tonight?”

Ashley wrinkled her nose.

At her expression, Powder said, “The party’s for the whole crew. You’re going.”

“What are you wearing?”

“Feathers and teal makeup. Teal streaks in my hair if we break early enough tonight. Or maybe orange. You?”

Ashley looked down at her jeans and T-shirt. “Um.”

“Don’t,” Powder said. “You show up like that and I’ll take you to the car and redo your outfit and makeup with a pair of scissors and ebony night eyeliner.”

Ashley smiled, fully intending to wear something other than her usual jeans. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

***

Ash could hear music through the door of Petra’s apartment. She raised a painted pink nail and pressed the doorbell, wondering what Powder would think of her outfit. She wore a pink spaghetti-strapped top, black miniskirt, and black flats. Her makeup up was light except her eyes, which were smoky.

The stunt coordinator waved her in. The loft smelled a lot like Petra’s trailer, but the perfume wasn’t as overwhelming here in the larger space.

About thirty people stood inside, most of whom she knew. Glancing beyond them, she drew in a breath at the décor. Every wall glowed a different neon color, and against every color hung a dark-framed artistic shot of Petra. The images were completed in all mediums, oils, watercolors, charcoal, and film. When she tore her gaze from the ego extravaganza, she saw Cutter.

He wore a gold top loose over shiny gold skinny jeans. His brown hair was thick with mousse and stood straight up.

Cutter eyed her up and down with a hand clasped to his mouth. “O.M.G., it’s like you’re a girl. Who knew?”

“So says the guy wearing eyeliner. Where are—”

Cutter moved past her to greet someone else.

The eyes in the portrait hung on the lemon wall seemed to follow her steps. Creepy. The doorbell chimed and more people flowed in. Ashley spotted a wave, and was happy to see Powder. She was dressed in an orange leather jumpsuit and stood talking to a short, sturdy-looking guy in a pastel, button-down collar shirt over in the corner. What was his name? Ashley couldn’t remember, but it had something to do with sound. He worked in one of the offices.

Heading in their direction, she took a glass from one of the circulating waiters, and sipped the pale gold liquid infused with fizzy bubbles. Mid-path she ran into Petra holding court. “Hi, Petra, thanks for inviting me.”

Petra stared to the left and right of her, as if trying to see if Ashley brought a date. Spotting Ashley alone, she waved a dismissive hand weighed down by a sparkling emerald ring that matched her large emerald earrings. “Yeah, have fun.” She turned her focus back to her minions to continue her story. “I sat there.”

Olive said, “You’re kidding.”

“For at least an hour, in that wooden chair with its straight back.”

“No way.” Olive covered a mouth with her hand.

“Exactly. Only my dance training kept me sane. Having to hold my posture that long. You can’t imagine.”

Olive’s jaw dropped. “You know ballet?”

“Oh yes, I’ve studied all kinds of dance.”

Ashley left their group and continued toward the corner. After she reached them, she greeted Powder with a hug and the guy with a wave. Then she tried to be subtle about attempting to identify Powder’s date. She peered through the crowd. There were no chain-wearers in sight.

“Hey, I was about to tell Jason here about the kissing pentagon or maybe show him.”

Ashley’s eyes widened and her head swung back to pastel shirt. Jason? Powder was dating a guy who favored pastel and dressed like an accountant? Sipping her drink, she flushed a little and didn’t know what to say.

“Is the technique so secret only the Pentagon knows?” Jason’s gaze focused on Powder’s orange lipstick. He seemed half-scared and half-eager.

Powder smiled. “Probably, but that’s not what the name means.” She looked at Ashley. “Come on, architect, what’s pentagon mean?”

“Five-sided?”

“Right.” Powder proceeded to detail the five-step plan.

Ashley was embarrassed, but she totally wanted to know, so she stayed glued to her spot, trying to contain her amusement during the rendition.

When the waiter came by with a drink tray, Powder scooped off three martini glasses and passed them out. Ashley took one, placing her empty champagne flute on the tray. She’d totally have to catch a ride with someone. Putting her lips to the cold rim, she tried the drink. The concoction tasted like bitter, dry Sprite laced with orange juice and cough syrup. Ashley took another sip.

Powder smiled at Jason and put a mango-orange fingernail against her cheek. Jason took a deep drink, his eyes still on Powder. “That is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Caz walked up in the middle of Jason’s sentence and took the martini from Ashley’s hand. He took a sip. “What’s hot?”

Ashley straightened and didn’t answer.

“The pentagon,” Jason said with reverence. “Powder and I have to be somewhere.” He took Powder’s hand and led her away with an intent expression.

“Ta,” Powder said, not hiding her smirk.

Ashley shook her head. She guessed the technique didn’t even have to be perfected to capture a guy, just vocalized. What ’til Marissa heard. She’d totally try it out. Ashley wasn’t that gutsy. Her fingers flexed. Empty-handed, she turned to Caz. “We’re not on set, why do you get to take my drink? It’s not very gentlemanly.”

Caz lifted the cold crystal to her lips, offering her a sip, and the cool drink filled her mouth.

He said, “What was the pentagon—”

Petra’s embrace cut off the rest of his sentence, and the jolt caused the gold liquid to slosh toward the rim of the glass.

Ashley wiped the wet spill off her chin and backed up a step.

“I am so glad you came,” Petra said. “I knew you would.”

This close, Petra’s perfume filled the air. She must have spritzed on some more because the fragrance was like her trailer—eau d’ overwhelming. Ashley brushed at the end of her nose.

A new pop song came on, causing Petra to sway her perfect body in time with the beat, bumping into Caz.

He stepped away. “Thank you for the invitation.”

“Well, I work so hard. So do you. Our roles are so important. I knew we’d need a break. Have you tried my passion Petra punch yet? The recipe was created specifically for me.”

Caz opened his mouth to reply but the beautiful Petra kept talking. “The recipe calls for vermouth, champagne, schnapps, oh, everything. The taste explosion will blow your mind.” Petra laughed. “I mean, literally blow your mind. You wore gray.” Petra crumpled the fabric of his shirt in her fingers. “Gray’s my favorite on you, and we totally match.” She ran a finger down the faint gray stripe in her blouse all the way to the hem then placed her hand on her small waist, pulling the shirt in even tighter.

Ashley took another slow step backwards. Their clothes didn’t match and Caz looked better in blue. If she’d ever wondered what the popular kids talked about, she now knew—themselves. As fascinating as the moment was for them, she preferred to leave. One more step and she could make a discreet turn. Fingers clasped her hand, stilling her.

What was Caz doing? She wasn’t on duty. He’d have to save himself from this one. Ashley was about to yank her hand away when she felt his thumb rub against the center of her palm. Her hand trembled in reaction and her fingers clenched around his.

“So after I left the set today,” Petra said, “I had so much to do, manicure, pedicure, hair. All day, so…”

Their hands were drawn, attracting attention from those nearby, from everyone but the oblivious Petra, who continued her monologue punctuated by less than subtle touches of Caz’s chest. Ashley pulled away again, but Caz’s fingers tightened, not releasing her.

Ashley whispered, “Let go.”

“Yes,” Caz said. “I told Boomer we’d be right over.”

Petra frowned and she noticed their linked hands for the first time. The silence was a blessed respite from her chatting. It didn’t last long.

Petra’s jaw dropped; then she recovered with a high laugh. “Yes, let’s see what Boomer’s up to.”

Boomer sat on the floor in the corner, a deck of cards, a pair of dice, and a stack of spoons beside his leg. “I’m trying to get a game going, but no one’s ready for the spoon-a-thon.”

They were in Hollywood, so they probably thought he was melting drugs on the spoons. Ashley knew he wasn’t a user, so she knelt down, folding her knees to the side to keep her skirt at a decent angle, and reached for the cards. “What are we playing?” The thin cards flipped against her fingertips as she shuffled.

“Spoons.”

Caz sat beside her. “Deal me in.”

Caz’s presence was enough to enlarge the group to ten. And the spoon-a-thon began.

Olive took a center seat. Unless the turn was her deal, she never paid attention to the cards. She hovered on her knees, eyes on the spoons, ready to grab one. Her strategy wasn’t bad for someone so short.

Petra was out after the first round. After four rounds, Ashley and Caz were both out and it was Cutter’s deal.

“Get out of here with me?” Caz asked in her ear.

“Okay.” Ashley put her drink on an end table and followed him across the thick carpet. She needed a lift home.

Exiting the front door, Ashley glanced through the darkness toward his Jaguar limo, the same one from the airport. He must have called the driver because the car wasn’t far from the entrance. They walked straight for it.

A couple of fans and paparazzi stood near, under a streetlight. One fan stripped off her
I love Caspian
T-shirt and swung the cotton overhead like a rally towel while screaming his name.

Another raised her head and howled at the moon. “He’s here.”

Ashley’s eyes widened at their enthusiasm. With a lowered head, she quickly opened the limo door and slid inside, melting into the leather seat.

Caz slammed the door on the fan girls. “Sorry we had to leave early. There were a lot of mobile cell phones out.”

“I saw some.” Ashley peeped out of the back tinted window. Flashes lit up the night, and his fans slapped the trunk of the limo.

“There’s only so much I want to be portrayed partying on YouTube.”

“It was just spoons.”

“The tabloids will doctor the photos.”

Ashley nodded. He was right. Whatever he did at that party would end up online, accessible forever. “Not cool.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m not ready to go home. I had a drink. And my dad will be able to tell.” Not that he’d be home, but this would be the one time he made it in before her.

“We could hang out in my trailer.”

What a line. “And read more of your fan mail? No thanks.”

Caz reached a hand toward the door of the minibar. “Want to drive along the coast?”

“Yes.” Ashley bounced against the Jaguar’s gray seat. “Great view and neither of us has to drive.”