Page 9 of Act Like You Don't Care
Elijah stood up and rubbed at the back of his neck. "Fine. But if your security tells you to do something, you do it, you hear me?"
"Yes, Dad," I said with what was probably an inappropriate amount of sarcasm and stood up myself.
"Tam, that's enough. You're the lead on this film. If something happens to you, it could kill the entire project. I will not have a murder on my set, do you understand?"
I thought about Mike and his new baby and the wedding they were still paying off, about all the people making the gears of the production spin and what a month’s gap in their schedule could do to their finances. There was more than me to think about and, not for the first time, I wished I could just be all alpha and ignore what my choices meant for other people. Because did I ever hate it when someone else was right, especially when them being right meant I had to act like a traditional omega. And hewasright—I had to think about more than my own bruised ego or the headlines in tomorrow's papers.
"Fine," I agreed and slumped back down in my chair. "Are we still filming tonight?"
Pete shook his head. "Go home, get an early night, but be back tomorrow for your scheduled shoot. We're canceling tonight’s so we can go over the sets to make sure there aren't any surprises."
I hadn't considered that, but when he said the words, a chill ran down my spine. "Yeah, okay, no problem." I tried to drawl a little, to prove I wasn't bothered. He seemed to take it at face value, or maybe he was just happy I’d stopped arguing with him, so I supposed it had worked well enough. He knew my reputation for sticking to my decisions and not backing down from a challenge.
I guessed we were both taking what we could get.
Pete stood up and Will followed him. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a wave, and then we all trooped out of the trailer. Elijah reminded me to wait for security to go home with me, and then we split up, each of us heading in different directions.
I was going to go home, have a nap, then start planning what I was going to wear out tonight. I'd be damned if I was going to let them scare me into hiding behind locked doors like a child. Or an omega.
Miles
Ihad exactly two days to settle into my new apartment before life decided I’d had enough leisure time for its taste.
The call came in from the movie studio at some point just after dawn, I found out later. And not five minutes after that, I got a call from my parents.
I rolled up into the parking lot of the office and jumped out of my car. My brother Jim pulled up just as I got to the small side door that was for employees only, so I held it and waited for him
“This guy just went from zero to sixty,” he commented as he strode past me. “Any idea what’s up with that?”
I let the door swing closed behind me and jogged to catch up with him. “This is the first I’ve heard about it. I’m not even technically on the books until Monday.” We turned the corner into the larger of the two meeting rooms, and I found myself enveloped in a massive hug from my mother.
“I’m so sorry to throw your plans off,” she said when she let go of me. “Do you have much left to do?”
“Another day or so. Most of the furniture is together, it’s just figuring out where to put everything.”
She nodded as we moved down the hallway, right to the end, where she opened a door and gestured me in. “I set you up an office. Let me know if there’s anything else you need.”
The last time I’d been in here, this had been storage, metal racks filled with banker’s boxes full of files. Now it was freshly painted in a soothing green with dark wood on the floor and a flashy glass and steel desk right in the middle. A laptop sat in the middle of the glass surface, waiting patiently in front of a leather director’s chair. “Nice.”
“You can put your diplomas up on the wall,” she said. “I have a filing cabinet coming on Monday and I was wondering if you wanted a whiteboard in here somewhere.”
“Let me think about it,” I told her as I rounded behind the desk to check out the laptop. “Do you have that file handy?”
“I’ll go get what we have so far. They’re sending over pictures of the trailer. Apparently he got onto the lot overnight and left a dead pig in the client’s bed.” She stepped out and was back in less than a minute with a red file folder in her hand. “Do you want a coffee while you look that over? Some breakfast?” she asked as she handed it over.
“Maybe later,” I said absently, unable to resist the lure of the new case. I heard her laugh softly and the door close, but I was already deep into the summary page stapled to the inside of the folder.
Tam Laydon. I’d seen a few of his films. Not-quite-B-movie action films mostly, though there were a few more artsy things early in his career. I liked his style and thought he was better than the parts he was playing, but yeah, he was fighting an uphill battle trying to play against his omega status. Occasionally, I wondered how long he’d keep up this level of effort before age or a lack of good roles pushed him toward more traditional parts.
According to the file, Laydon was older than he looked, which wasn’t a surprise in Hollywood. Idly, I debated whether he’d had work done already or just had good genes. He wasn’t classically handsome in the way an omega usually was—a bit more alpha-ish, really—but the camera was very, very kind to him. If he hadn’t been a part of the Hollywood set—and if I hadn’t had my parents warnings about the dangers of dating in Hollywood—he’d have totally been my type.
I started digging into his background, pulling up interviews and stories on various websites.
Professionally, he seemed very focused and mentions of him on the internet often referred to his work ethic.
His social life, on the other hand, was a hot mess that was going to need a massive team, both to trace and investigate. That would be for later, though. After I’d finished this initial profile on him.
Most of the file was letters, a few emails, and a couple of forum screenshots. Maybe two dozen altogether? Studio security had done a pretty thorough job of cataloging and organizing the ones they wanted me to go through, even going so far as to keep the envelopes for some of the more recent letters. There were some gaps in dates and gaps in the structural changes of the letters early on in the timeline that made me think the studio had missed a few in their triage. If we were going to be working with them, I’d need to talk to someone about sending everything the star received over for me to make a determination. I’d learned over the course of my master’s program and after, working with one of the best threat assessment professionals in New York, how to tell someone who was truly working themselves up to do something frightening from someone who was just hysterical and didn’t know when to stop, but it was easier with all the information.
