“She won’t go for it,” Cole said flatly.
“Since when does that matter?” Don said with a laugh. “She doesn’t have script approval!”
“She’ll hate it.” He glanced at the screens. “Play it again.”
“I’m not crazy about the idea either, Cole, but the more I think about it…” Don tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair.
“Play it again,” Cole repeated, leaning back in his chair, his arms across his chest, his eyes on her face.
A button was hit, and the clip restarted.
The mixer was right. It was hot. And Don was right; a romantic element, or hell, just a sexual element between Ida and Royce would draw in the female audience.
Summer would hate it. But Don was right on that card, too. But Summer wouldn’t have a choice. She’d have to go with whatever Cole said. And that, despite any moral ramifications that should have existed, made him smile.
The clip finished, and Cole sat forward, turning to Don, the director’s eyes wary.
“Let’s do it,” Cole said. “Call the writers. Get them in here now.”
CHAPTER 65
“How was it?” Mama’s question came from her bedroom, her voice’s edges slurred with sleep.
“It was fine,” I said quietly, sticking my head in. “Long, but fine. I did good.”
“Of course you did,” she mumbled, her form rolling over in the bed. “Love you.”
“Love you too.” I flipped off the hall light, and she disappeared, a blanket of black swallowing the room. I stepped back to the living room and dropped onto the couch, pulling the afghan off its back and over my chest. The day hadn’t been fine. It had been stressful and long and hot and horrible. I thought I could work with him. I thought I could spit out lines and be in character and be fine. I thought, because the set was on Georgian soil, that it’d be my turf. I didn’t realize how foreign that world would be. So many terms I didn’t know, tossed effortlessly between hundreds of strangers, no attempt made to clue in the new girl. The Southerners they brought in from Atlanta were all in the movie business there, so they waltzed around with ease, taking their cues, their places, without a stumble. I was the odd girl out, looking like an idiot. I saw the looks, the side glances and raised eyebrows, saying, What is she doing here? clear as day. By lunch, my confidence was shot. By afternoon, I’d used up every pep talk I had. And by the time Cole Masten introduced me to condoms, my defenses had crumbled to nothing. I’m gonna blame that fatigue on my weakness when he had come around the desk and touched me.
After that touch, on my way to hair and makeup, I had ditched Mary and ducked into a restroom. Called Ben’s cell and left a teary voicemail. He’d flown to Vancouver that morning for his next gig. I’d begged him to stay just one more week, offered him money, dumplings, freedom to use my makeup… but he’d had to go. We’d hugged it out in front of the Raine House at seven AM before he’d all but pushed me in the direction of the Pit. A half-hour after my pathetic voicemail, I got a text from him.
I’m in the air. Toughen up. Where’s the Summer I know?
I had smiled at his text. Blotted my eyes before the makeup artist had my hide, and reached down deep. He was right. Screw all of the side looks and whispers. Cole and Don had wanted me for a reason. I would learn the things I needed to. And in the meantime, I couldn’t show any weakness—not to any of them, but especially not to Cole. I was stronger than that. I was better than that.
By the time I had pushed out of the makeup chair, I was ready for battle. And now, five hours later, I was bone tired.
The next day would be better. I knew that. The first day was always the hardest.
I reached up to rub my eyes, but my hand didn’t even reach my head before I fell asleep.
“Summer’s lucky she could round up six bridesmaids. Really, Scott was the only reason those girls were even doing it. They were saints! And then for Summer to go and do that to them. White trash, that’s what she is. I told my Bridget. I told her not to associate herself with that girl, but my daughter’s too nice, always has been. And look, I was right.”
“Bridget is your daughter?”
“Oh yes. She’s Bridget Anderson now. She married a doctor. I’ll give you his card in case you ever have any feet issues.”
CHAPTER 66
The first thing I saw my second day on set was Cole’s rooster. It stood on a fenced-in patch of grass that hadn’t been there yesterday. I stepped from the truck, shutting the door with my butt, and walked over to the pen. Pat and Gus from Colton’s Construction were there, in the midst of construction on what looked to be an open coop.
“Hey Summer,” Pat greeted me, Gus looking up with a nod.
“Hey guys.” I stared at their creation, the grass still pieced out in sod squares. “Did you jackhammer up the concrete?”
“Yep. Started at seven. Sheriff Pratt already showed up about the noise.”
“I bet he did.” I stepped over the knee-high fence and bent down, the rooster suddenly at my side, pecking at the sparkles on my bag, which hung over one arm. “Stop that,” I chided him, running a hand over his back. He was bigger, his red comb developing, his eyes alert and proud as he tried to step on my knee, while I held him off.
“Friendly thing,” Ben remarked, putting a bit on the drill and tightening it into place.
“He should be,” Gus scoffed. “I heard Cole Masten keeps him in the house.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Around. He brought him here this morning in his truck. Inside the truck,” he clarified.
“The Kirklands are gonna freak,” Ben chimed in.
“You making the coop open?” I nodded to the half-built house.
“Yep. We told him it would just fly over this little fence, and he told us to cover the whole thing with chicken wire.”
“The whole thing?” I looked at the piece of grass, which covered three parking spots. Valuable parking spots on a piece of land as crammed as Walmart on Black Friday.
“Yep.” The look that passed between the two men clearly communicated their opinion of Cole Masten, and I laughed, giving the rooster one final pet before standing.
“I’ve gotta go.” I waved to them and stepped over the fence, the rooster squawking at me.
I was smiling to myself when I entered the madness, weaving in between the tight cluster of trailers, bee-lining for mine. My baby was about halfway into the lot, wedged in between a sound trailer and a coffee truck, the latter causing a long line, which I skirted around on my way in. When I pulled on the door, Mary was already inside, her head snapping to me, a polite smile stretching over it.
“Good morning,” I greeted brightly. My resolution for today was to be cheerful and strong. My sub-resolution was to avoid anything that affected that mindset. Mainly Cole. I’d received the call sheets yesterday for the day’s scenes, and none of them involved Cole, so my outlook was bright.
“Good morning. I’d like to put in your breakfast order. Do you know what you’d like?”
“Breakfast?” I dropped my bag on the floor and moved to the table, thinking of the leftover biscuits I’d slathered with jelly and choked down on my drive in. “What do they have?”