Page 13 of Romance Is Dead

“Jigsaw,” I repeated flatly. “I look like a seventy-year-old terminally ill man?”

“Yeah, kind of that vibe.”

“Fantastic,” I grumbled. Teddy threw back his head as he laughed, his eyes crinkled with delight.

I watched him as we continued our way through base camp. I’d been so angry with him the day before, so frustrated with how selfish he’d been by not preparing and wasting everyone’s time. And his arrogance after his lame attempt at an apology. But I had to admit he’d helped me talk to the cops, and he had brought me coffee. And I did like the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed, even if it was because he’d compared me to a horror movie villain.

Shaking my head, I snapped myself out of it. No. The man just knew how to be charming, as evidenced by the fact that he seemed to be in active relationships with three separate Instagram models at the moment. And falling for that charm had bitten me in the ass earlier in the summer.

As we rounded a trailer a few steps later, I had my answer to why everything was so quiet. Everyone had gathered in the middle of base camp, and Natasha was facing the crowd as her voice boomed across the space.

“. . . did not make it.” Her voice was solemn. “His family has been notified.”

Gasps and murmurs echoed through the crowd. As she waited for everyone to quiet down, Natasha spotted us.

“And actually, here are the two that found him.” She outstretched an arm, motioning to where Teddy and I stood at the edge of the throng.

Everyone craned their necks to stare. Two boom operators caught my eye, whispering behind their hands, while a group of lighting techs openly gawped. I squirmed, uncomfortable under the scrutiny. I took another sip of coffee, trying to shield myself with the cup.

“As I was saying,” Natasha continued. “He was taken to the hospital, where it was determined he was already deceased by the time he was found. Police are willing to talk to anyone with information, but after carefully examining the scene, they are considering the death accidental at this time.”

Something twinged in the pit of my stomach. Rationally, I knew it made sense that Trevor’s death had been an accident. But something, some alarm bell buried deep in the back of my mind, made me feel like what happened the night before was more sinister. I just couldn’t put my finger on what.

“Thankfully,” Natasha said, “PAs are easy to find and we’ll get a replacement in here soon.” She straightened her shoulders and clapped her hands. “In the meantime, the show must go on. Filming will resume today as originally planned.”

Before Natasha could stride away, the AD placed a hand on her shoulder and whispered something in her ear.

“Oh. Right. If anyone feels ‘traumatized’”—Natasha put scare quotes around the word with her fingers, looking pointedly at Teddy and me—“counseling is available if you find it absolutely necessary. Back to work!”

I only made it a few yards before Mara caught up to me, grabbing my arm as we fell into step.

“Are you ok? Why didn’t you call me last night?” She tightened her grip, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Oh my God, Quinn, you found a body! How awful.”

I winced, as much from the pain as the guilt of not telling her. “I know, I’m sorry! It was so late when I got back.”

“Who cares? You found a body.”

“Stop saying it out loud! And Mara, you know damn well you’re in bed every night by nine.” On a previous movie, I’d had to fetch her from her trailer when she’d fallen asleep before what she referred to as a “late night shoot.” It started at nine thirty.

“I’ll have you know I was up until ten last night.” She finally relaxed her talons, slipping her arm companionably into mine instead. “But even if I wasn’t, you know you can always call me or bang on my door. Especially if you—”

“If I found a body. I know. And thank you.” I took a sip of coffee with my free arm. “It’s so wild, it all kind of feels like a dream at this point.”

“More like a nightmare.” Mara opened the door to the makeup trailer. “Come on, I’ll even let you fall asleep in my chair.”

Mara was able to spackle enough makeup on my face to make me look more like a fresh-faced college student and less like a zombie fromNight of the Living Dead, but I had a harder time summoning the energy to focus on my scenes. I missed my mark twice and accidentally spoke other characters’ lines for them. Teddy remembered more lines than the day before, but still made some truly bizarre acting choices. Why he thought it would be appropriate to give his character a Southern twang in the middle of one scene, for example, I had no idea.

The rest of the cast also seemed affected by the news about Trevor. Brent, for all his cool-guy bravado, kept missing his cues. Audrey kept spacing out, falling out of character by the time the camera landed on her. And while Chloe’s personality was usually as bouncy as her champagne-colored curls, she kept pausing between takes to dry her eyes.

When we finally wrapped for lunch, I was so exhausted that I almost skipped it in favor of taking a nap. Knowing I’d feel worse if I didn’t eat, I picked up my meal from catering, double-checking that the top was marked with “No peanuts.” Apparently, my parents learned about my peanut allergy when I was two and stole a peanut butter cookie from Drew Barrymore at theScreampremiere. My mom’s yells of panic were initially attributed to the movie before someone finally realized I needed medical attention and whisked us off in a limo.

Choosing a seat under the tent where I could eat alone, I tossed the lid onto the table and dug in. I’d barely forced myself to eat three bites in when a shadow hovered overhead.

“Mind if I sit here?” It was Chloe, eyes bright and holding a salad identical to my own.

Hesitating, I finished chewing a cherry tomato to buy myself some time. Chloe seemed sweet, but she also seemed to spend a lot of time on set chatting and asking questions whenever the cameras were off. I was in the mood to sulk alone, not listen to a barrage of small talk. But her face was so hopeful that I couldn’t help but acquiesce. I nodded and she sank onto the seat opposite me, smiling in relief.

“Thanks.” She pushed her disposable fork through its plastic film wrapping. “I feel like the new kid at school trying to find a seat in the cafeteria.”

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