Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle (83 page)

Dane looked at me.

“Wanna meet Chrissy Jones, Savannah?” he asked. My mouth opened wide at the thought of meeting my favorite starlet. She was elegant, classy and talented -everything I wanted to be. I had no idea what I would say to her but I knew I would have to say something.

Mark quickly shot that idea down.

“Sorry, but I think it's best if you guys rehearse alone. Chrissy gets very particular about these things,” he said. The two men exchanged knowing glances. Oh, so she was a diva. I hadn't expected that. I guessed that if I was in her position that I would be too.

“What about Savannah?” he asked, turning to me, “Won't you be bored here?” “I'll be fine,” I said. Mark nodded eagerly.

“She'll be fine. Hey, what's say I stick around and look after her?” he suggested. Dane's nose turned up as if he'd just suggested something disgusting.

“She doesn't need looking after. She's a grown adult with a fucking brain,” he snapped, “She'll be fine.”

I didn't like the tone he was taking with Mark. What was the big deal? I needed someone to hang out with while he was busy spending time with the most beautiful actress on the planet. I didn't have a book to keep me occupied. Mark would do just fine.

“Hey, Mark's just being nice Dane. Come on in and I'll make you some coffee,” I smiled at him. He gave Dane a nervous glance before slipping into the trailer. Why was this such a big thing? Dane was looking at Mark like he wanted to strangle him. It was so silly, such a typically masculine attitude. He couldn't really be jealous, could he?

“That's really nice of you,” grinned Mark. He took a seat on the couch, “We're good from here,
Dane. Chrissy's waiting for you.”

Dane looked at me. I'd never seen him look so angry before in all the time I'd known him. How fucking ridiculous.

“Fine,” he growled, and barged out of the trailer.

“Jesus, what's his deal?” asked Mark. I shook my head.

“I have no idea.”

Dane

I should have known that bastard Mark would take a liking to Savannah. He was an 'anything that moved' kinda guy. In the weeks we'd been working on the movie he'd fucked three interns, five extras and any female on set who would have him. It was pathetic. I had no idea how they agreed to it, but somehow the found this puny little man child appealing. I hated him from the moment he met. I could tell right away that he thought actors were beneath him and that he had never struggled for anything in his life. Things are a lot easier when you have Daddy's money to fall back on. Despite this, I'd accepted the job and figured I'd deal with it as best I could until it was over. Hollywood was full of dickheads, so I didn't let him get to me.

But Savannah was different. He couldn't have Savannah. That was just going too far.

Then I realized it wasn't up to me. She wasn't my wife. She wasn't even my girlfriend. Unless I planned on changing that then I had no say in what she did.

I walked to Chrissy's trailer with my hands shoved in my pockets and the scrip tucked under my arm. Suddenly, I didn't feel like doing work today. I didn't feel like myself. Dane Reynolds didn't do love and he certainly didn't do girlfriends. Having a girlfriend meant being tied down and expected to conform to ridiculously high standards. I was just a guy. Just a guy who wanted to live his live without getting berated for forgetting an anniversary or not buying a good enough present for Valentine's day. Savannah was special, that much was obvious. She was sexy as fuck, but it was
more than that. I liked her. I liked her personality. I liked hearing what she had to say. I liked holding her in my arms. I liked her a lot. Dating her would ruin all that.

Plus, she just wasn't ready for my lifestyle. We were from two different worlds. She valued privacy and she could kiss goodbye to that if we ever made our relationship official. It was silly to even consider it. Savannah might sleep with Mark or she might not. Either way, it wasn't my problem.

I knocked on the trailer door.

“Just a minute!” called Chrissy. She answered the door and I couldn't help but laugh. Her hair was still in hot rollers and she had some sort of terrifying green face mask on. It was funny to think she'd just been voted the third sexiest woman in the world by some men's magazine. Right now, in her bathrobe she looked more like someone's grandma.

“Hey gorgeous,” I teased and she laughed at me, pulling me into a hug.

“Shut up Dane,” she pulled away and looked at me, “Thank god it's you. Mark's been bugging me all morning and I was afraid I'd end up slapping him or something. Please, come in.”

Chrissy's trailer was similar to mine but she'd gone out of her way to decorate it. The little kitchen area had a vase filled with fresh flowers. She even had a vanity with lights around the mirror, old Hollywood style. There was a plate of peanut butter sandwiches, cut into perfectly equilateral triangles on the kitchen table. That was good. I'd heard second hand about the tantrums she could through when they made her sandwiches the wrong way. It was pretty funny, actually. I liked Chrissy a lot, despite her reputation. As long as I wasn't the subject of one of her hissy fits we were good.

I sat down on the sofa and got my script out, but she wasn't ready to start yet. Instead she sat across from me, a giant smile on her face.

“What?” I said, “Why are you looking at me like that? It's creepy.”

“You're like a changed man,” she replied. She still hadn't blinked. Her big doll eyes were giving me the creeps. A changed man? What the fuck was she on.

“Yeah, well I haven't been to the gym this week so I might be losing some definition,” I said,

feeling a little defensive. I was ripped by anyone else's standards but I always tried to push myself that little bit further. Missing a week of work outs was way too much for me. Maybe Chrissy had noticed the difference already. She just laughed at me again.

“Don't be stupid Dane, we both know you have the best body in this trailer. Come on, are you going to tell me or will I have to say it?” she asked. I didn't even have time to enjoy the compliment. Why did women have to be so damn confusing? She could have been talking about literally anything.

This was why I didn't have a girlfriend.

“Say what? Chrissy, I have no idea what you're talking about,” I said slowly, so she'd know I wasn't joking. Even so, it took a moment for her to respond.

“Oh my god, men are so terrible. I don't know how she puts up with you,” grinned Chrissy. Then she glanced at my body, “The abs probably help.”

“Jesus Christ, will you speak English woman? Who is 'she' and what are you talking about?” I said. This just sent Chrissy into another fit of giggles, “Please, just tell me what you're talking about. I'm really confused here.”

“Your fiancee!” she exclaimed, “Of course I'm talking about your fiancee! What happened to Dane Reynolds the ladies man, huh? I thought you didn't do commitment? Well, I guess this girl must be special if she managed to get you to put a ring on it. Do you have a date set yet 'cos I better be getting an invitation.”

It took a moment for me to take all of this in. I knew that the tabloids had been pushing this bullshit story about us being engaged, but I hadn't realized quite how far it had reached. If Chrissy knew about it then things must have been worse than I'd thought.

“Chrissy,” I took a deep breath, “I'm not engaged.” She laughed at me once again.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Then I hear you come to the shoot with a pretty blonde girl with a ring on her finger. That's just too much of a coincidence. I've never in my life seen you bring a girl on set before,” she said, before lowering her voice, “If you're trying to keep it on the down low I can
respect that, but you can tell me the truth. You're engaged, right?” I sighed.

“No. No we're not.”

Chrissy looked disappointed. It was strange seeing her so enthusiastic about the idea of me in a relationship with someone else. Back in my early days working on big pictures we'd fooled around a little. She'd wanted things to get more serious and I'd shot her down. She'd gotten married since to some musician twice her age and we'd somehow managed to keep something of a friendship going. It was nice working with someone who had your back.

“Oh. So she's just another bimbo?” she asked. I hated that word being applied to a woman as intelligent and talented as Savannah.

“No, she's not. She's really smart. Went to college and everything, and she reads old books and knows tonnes of classic movie trivia. She's smarter than me,” I found myself saying, “And she designs clothes and sews and stuff. She's really talented.”

Chrissy gave a smug smile. “You love her,” she said. “What? No, I don't.”

“You love her,” she repeated, “I can see it your eyes. You're crazy about her. It's pretty adorable.” “OK I don't know what the fuck you've been smoking but I want some. I don't do the love thing, all right?” I said, my voice slightly raised. I was genuinely starting to believe that this girl was on crack. Me, in love? What the fuck was wrong with her?

“All right,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows at me.

“Can we just run through the script?” I snapped. Chrissy giggled. Her laugh was supposed to be the most endearing thing about her, according to most magazines. Right now it was pissing me off. “There's nothing to run through. You tell me you're going to fuck me, you fuck me, I tell you to go faster and then I fake an orgasm. Kind of like when we were together, huh?” she teased. Now that was a bit much to believe. She was a good actress but certainly not good enough to fake that kind of
response.

Despite her protests, we did a run through. It was only occasionally interrupted by Chrissy's fits of giggles and her asking me if I was pretending she was Savannah. I ignored her and powered through my lines, though my hands were shaking. Chrissy had always been so perceptive. She knew our first day on set that Mark would want to re shoot. She could always tell which of our co stars were screwing around she'd predicted at least ten celebrity marriages (and fifteen celebrity divorces). Could she really be right about this?

Did I love Savannah?

Savannah

Mark was nice. A little bit too nice, really. He reminded me of my study buddy in high school who let me copy his math homework and then threw a bitch fit when I didn't agree to blow him as a reward. That was a mean comparison but it fit.

“So, do you want to be an actress?” he asked, handing me a beer from Dane's fridge. I took it, though it was a little early in the morning to be drinking. I didn't want to be impolite. For all I knew this guy would be the next Quentin Tarantino. If I could say that I was friends with him that might get me somewhere. In LA they called that networking.

“No, not at all,” I said. He sat down next to me, just a little too close.

“A model?” he grinned. Ugh, was that just a generic line that Hollywood guys used on dumb small town girls? I was too short to go on most roller coasters for Christ's sake. I wasn't going to be walking down a runway in Paris anytime soon.

“No,” I said, “And I don't want to be a singer either.”

“You're not like most girls in LA then,” he said. I couldn't argue with that, though I hadn't met any so far. I'd just heard about them.

“I guess not.”

“It's a real shame, you have the face for camera,” he said, “It's really symmetrical.”

“Thanks.”

I could sense his eyes roving around my body and suddenly I knew why Dane didn't want us to be alone together. This guy had a thing for me. It wasn't like I wasn't used to being hit on. I wasn't unattractive by any means and men liked my curves. It just felt strange that to have a guy who was surrounded by movie stars twenty four seven interested in me. It was flattering at the very least, even if I didn't find him attractive. It was funny to think that Dane was jealous of this guy. There were very few women in the world who chose a guy like Mark over a guy like Dane.

“I think you'd be great in romantic comedies. Down to earth and palatable but inspirational at the same time, you get me?” he said.

“Sure, I get you but I don't act,” I said. He was getting on my nerves now. I opened my beer and took a sip.

“I know, but you should think about it,” he said, “So, what do you do if you don't act?”

I took another long gulp. Normally when I told people I designed clothes they looked at me like I said I worked in Santa's toy shop. However, this was Hollywood. Everyone had unrealistic career goals in Hollywood.

“I'm a designer,” I said, wording it that way on purpose. It was true. I didn't want to be a designer. I was one. It was in my blood and my spirit. I just wasn't a very successful designer. Yet.

Mark nodded and drank his own beer.

“Cool, cool. You know I'm always looking for costume designers for these movies. We have all we need for this one but I'm directing a period piece soon, set in the twenties. Prohibition, flappers, all that cool shit. You wouldn't be interested, would you?” he asked. He said it as if he was asking me if I liked spaghetti when he was literally offering me the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Wow! I mean, of course I would! I love the twenties aesthetic, I think I could make some really great pieces!” I said, not able to hide the excitement from my voice. The twenties was my absolute favorite period in fashion history. As a junior I'd designed a whole dress line for Daisy from The Great Gatsby. A local museum actually used one the dresses for an event it was having on fashion in
the twentieth century. This was just the opportunity I needed.

“Sweet, well I'll let you know when it's up and running,” he said, “God, it's warm in here isn't it? I hate these tiny trailers.”

If this trailer was tiny then I really wanted to know what a big one looked like. I would have been perfectly happy to live in here by myself. I'd have more room than I had in my own apartment. “Yeah, it's pretty warm in here.”

“Anyway, what are you doing hanging out with a guy like Dane?” he asked suddenly. I wasn't quite sure how to answer. I didn't know myself. I couldn't exactly tell him that this was all a one night stand that had gotten out of control. Could I?

“We're friends,” I said. It seemed like a safe bet. Actors probably took their friends to movie shoots all the time.

“Friends? That's new. I didn't know Dane had female friends,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. I felt hugely uncomfortable. It sucked knowing how much Dane's reputation proceeded him.

“He does. At least, he has one.”

“Right. Great, that's really cool,” he tilted his head to one side, “Sweetheart, do you mind if I give you some advice?”

“Sure,” I said, though I resented being called sweetheart. At least when Dane called me pet names he knew how obnoxious he was being. It was a deliberate way to tease me. Mark was just patronizing.

“You're a really pretty girl and I can see why you'd get swept up with a guy like Dane. He's a movie star, he's good looking, whatever. But you're wasting your time if you think you'll get anywhere with him. I've worked with this guy and I've seen him in action. He has no respect for women at all,” he leaned in closer to me, “To tell you the truth, most actors aren't very intelligent. I can't imagine that you two have very stimulating conversations together.”

Oh god, was he serious? Dane was a lot of things but he wasn't just some brainless actor. He was smart. No, he wasn't exactly a gentleman but he was totally disrespectful. He had been kind enough
to take me in after all the paparazzi drama. He wasn't all bad.

I edged away from Mark and saw a pronounced tent in his pants. He didn't even try to cover it up. “We're just friends,” I said.

“You need someone with a bit more substance,” he said, “You've got a brain, you're creative. You need someone on the same page. Don't you?”

“Um...” I was looking at the door now, wondering if I should excuse myself to go for a pee.

“I think we could do some really great shit together if you wanted to. I could direct, you could star,” he said, before remembering, “Well, you could design the costumes too. I bet you'd look great in a tiny flapper dress.”

He was looking at my legs now. Jesus Christ, was there any way to shoot this guy down. “You're right, it is too hot in here. I might go outside for a bit,” I said desperately. It was too late.

This guy had seen what he wanted and he was going to get it. Without warning, he took my face in his clammy hands and kissed me hard on the lips. I struggled but he was forceful, shoving his tongue deep into my mouth. It made me feel sick.

Though I tried my best to pull away he took this as me being playful and held on tighter. It was only when his hand reached for my breast that I slapped it away.

“No,” I said firmly, “No, we're not doing that.” He rolled his eyes.

“I thought you wanted to be a big star?” he said. Jesus, the guy had the listening comprehension of a two year old. I shook my head.

“I don't. Especially not if I have to do that,” I said. He just laughed at me. “Playing hard to get, huh?”

Before I knew what was happening he was kissing me again. It felt there was no point in fighting back. This guy refused to take no for an answer. So I let him kiss me, hoping to god that he'd have to come up for air soon and that I could run out of the trailer.

That didn't happen. Instead, the door opened just as we were pulling apart. It was Dane.

“Oh, hey man,” said Mark, wiping his mouth, “You done rehearsing?”

Dane nodded slowly, his eyes practically burning holes in the walls. He was mad. Really mad. “That's great,” said Mark casually, “Meet you on set in about twenty minutes? Thanks buddy.” He patted Dane on the back and left the trailer, leaving the two of us alone together.

“It wasn't what it looked like,” I said softly. “I don't care what you do!” he snapped.

Dane

This was why I didn't do love. It wasn't like in the movies when you meet a beautiful girl and the two of you just fit together. If that was the case everyone would find their true love at twenty five and lead fulfilling lives in the suburbs. Fat chance. Real life was different. In real life people weren't on the same page. People, especially fickle and what they wanted with life could change at the drop of a hat. My parents had been married for sixteen years and never had an argument, but my Dad decided to run off with his secretary and that was the end of that. Falling in love just seemed like a massive gamble to me. It wasn't a risk I was willing to take.