Page 23 of Out of the Gold

Melody

At Thomas’s sci-fisuggestion, Chase’s body goes rigid. I yank my needle away from his leg to avoid pricking him.

The muscles in his body relax, one by one, until he’s his normal self again. This is the second time he’s reacted this way. The first time was about a rom-com movie role, if I remember correctly. What’s up with that?

Why do I care? He’s just a movie star. A body to showcase our design work.

Besides, he got me to spill my secrets about growing up. Even if I managed to leave his sister’s name off the “Mean Girls” description I gave earlier.

“Why don’t you see what you can find out about the movie first?” Chase instructs his PA.

Thomas clicks his stupid pen again and writes the order down. Chase should call Sam himself. What a pampered jerk. Annoyed at myself as well as irritated at the leading man, I mutter, “Doesn’t seem to me you’re too interested in the role.”

While I’m talking, Thomas makes a show out of picking up his stuff and heads out of the trailer. I focus my attention on Chase’s freakishly long legs. Damn him.

“See you on set,” Chase calls to his PA. The door closes. Chase directs his attention down to me. “What did you say? I didn’t hear you over Thomas.”

Clenching my jaw, I reply, “I said you don’t seem into the sci-fi movie.” I go to finish another complicated Manipul8 Stitch.

His leg flexes.

My needle misses its mark. “Shit!”

He bends down. “What happened?”

“You shuffled, Mr. Movie Star.” With deliberate movements, I rip out the stitch.

“Oh. I didn’t mean to ruin your work.”

He sounds sincere. I glance up at him, and his expression seems contrite, despite his tight leg muscles. Annoyed with myself for treating him poorly—even actors deserve to be acknowledged as human—I sit on my heels. “That was on me. I apologize.”

He places his hand on my shoulder for a brief moment, causing me to be the one who stiffens. His stance returns to normal. Keeping my own counsel, I focus on the stitches.

“Listen, you hit a nerve. Thomas did, too.” He rubs his forehead. “And I would appreciate it if you don’t refer to me as ‘Movie Star’ from now on.”

“What?” The word escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

“I may play roles in film, but I’m not simply a movie star.” He clears his throat. “I actually graduated from Yale’s drama school. My favorite courses were about Shakespeare.”

I mull over his words. “You did?”

He nods. His posture relaxes slightly.

I consider his shocking words. “I have to say I’m not overly surprised. I’ve been watching you on set here, and you’re clearly well-prepared. You know your stuff, and I’m not only talking about your lines. You got the blocking, and an awareness of the other actors on set with you.”

“Thank you. I did a lot of acting on stage in school. Some of my best work, if you ask me.”

I pull the material around his calf. “What was your favorite role?”

He pauses. “I think my favorite play wasHamlet. As for musicals—”

I remember the fuss he caused when he played Fiddler in high school. Of course, I was only in middle school at the time, but Lindsay never shut up about it. “I had forgotten you sing.”

“I’m all right. No Braxton Hunte, but I can put over a tune.”

I smile at his use of my dad’s name. “Few have his talent.”

“That’s true.” He rubs his palms together. “As for my favorite musical, it wasAida. Not as popular as many others, but I loved the storyline. And Elton John’s score rocked it.”

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