Page 7 of Romance Is Dead

He lifted his head “I really don’t need another bag of shit right now. I think I got enough from Natasha and that props guy.”

I ignored him. “Didn’t you prepare at all?”

“Not enough, apparently.”

“No, that’s pretty obvious.”

“I had, like, two weeks to prepare, you could cut me some slack.”

“You couldn’t learn the first scene at least?” I balled my fists and placed them on my hips. “If you keep wasting everyone’s time, we’re going to fall behind schedule.”

His face clouded. “So it’ll take a little longer. What’s the big deal?”

“Are you serious?” I let out a humorless laugh. “If we fall behind, that means we’re also going to go over budget, which means it’s less likely that the film will, you know, earn money. And what do you think happens if this movie flops?”

“Hey, I already got my paycheck.”

I narrowed my eyes. This was the Teddy I remembered from the party. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself. What about Chloe? She’s just getting started. What if her first film is a flop? And this could be a really big break for Brent and Audrey.” I poked my finger in the middle of his broad, firm chest. “This is bigger than you. Don’t be such an asshole.”

“Asshole?” Teddy huffed out a laugh. “You’re making a lot of snap judgments about someone you don’t even know.”

“I think I’ve seen all I need to see.” Determined to leave on a high note, I spun around. I strode forward, intent on storming off set as quickly and efficiently as possible. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten about the toppled light fixture that still lay sprawled across the floor. My foot snagged on the hunk of metal, sending me falling painfully to my knees.

“There’s a lamp there,” Teddy offered helpfully as I staggered to my feet. “I hear it was expensive.”

Chapter Three

Mara:You back at the hotel? We’re celebrating in my room!

Mara:Hello?? I know you’re not busy!

Mara:BITCH. When are you getting here?

“I don’t know what you expected.” Mara collapsed into one of the armchairs in my trailer. “You ignored my texts—what am I supposed to do? Not come kidnap you?”

“Yes,” I grumbled, sitting back down on my sofa. It was nine o’clock at night and I was still in my trailer, lounging in a pair of ratty old leggings and an oversized Rolling Stones tee-shirt. And, until thirty-seven seconds ago, I’d been blissfully alone. “That’s exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“Too bad. I’m not letting you mope all night.”

“Good luck trying to stop me.” I picked up my crochet project, a half-finished gray-and-white chevron blanket. An older co-star had taught me when I was seventeen, shortly after my parents had gotten divorced during my first time shooting on location away from home. The woman, a grandmotherly type playing a murderous fortune-teller, showed me how to stitch simple washcloths during downtime between scenes, something to take my mind off my angst and homesickness. Now, whenever I had a hard time turning off my thoughts, the rhythmic movements of a crochet pattern helped tune them out.

At home, I had a whole shelf filled with tiny, crocheted figures of Freddy Krueger, Pennywise, and other horror icons, but on set I preferred a mindless project like a scarf or a blanket.

“Oh, stop. Today wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“It really was.”

Even with my expectations for the industry on the floor, I still hadn’t expected filming to start this poorly. This was my eighteenth movie. I was a pro! It was supposed to be an easy last job that I could check off my to-do list before figuring out what I wanted from the rest of my life. Destroyed property, cast and crew walk-outs, and cussing out my co-star had not been on my last-first-day bingo card. Although, I considered, maybe it was actually a blessing in disguise. Maybe I needed a sign that quitting was the right thing to do. If I hadn’t been convinced before, I certainly was now.

“Well, I brought goodies.” Mara reached into her bag and pulled out a packet of all red and pink Starbursts. “I figured you’d need cheering up at some point—I just didn’t think it was going to be the first day.”

I immediately perked up. “See, I told you I was happy you came over.” I didn’t want to know how many bags of candy the two of us had demolished over various disappointments, heartbreaks, and late-night shoots, but I was happy to add one to the tally.

“Mm-hmm.” She eyed me warily as she tossed me the sweets. “How are you feeling? Lamp disaster aside.”

“I don’t know,” I admitted, carefully unwrapping one of the candies. “It still doesn’t feel real. That this is the last one.”

“It doesn’t have to be.”

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