Page 8 of Act Like You Don't Care
The men in the coveralls carried the bag away and suddenly, I had to get out of there. I turned so quickly I ripped my sleeve right out of Will's grip--I hadn't even been aware he'd been holding onto it--and strode off before I either threw up, which would be bad enough, or fainted, which would make headlines everywhere. I couldn't afford that kind of press, the ‘typical’ omega response to an upsetting incident. It would spread and soon I'd only be offered omega roles, silly love interests, or crazed exes. Nothing real, or meaty, or even fun and full of explosions like this role.
So I took deep breaths as I walked and focused on making it to the make-up trailer. There, I thought I could get a bottle of cold water and have a chance to sit down and talk about something else until my stomach settled and I could deal with the world again.
Tam
It was just a pig,I reminded myself as I got out of the shower after a particularly dusty scene.The cops are dealing with it.
Some crazy person had broken into my trailer and left a half-grown and very dead pig in the cot I sometimes napped in during breaks in filming. The mattress had already been thrown out and the blood cleaned up by the time I was allowed back in to gather up a few things at lunch, but the smell still lingered, not quite covered by the sweet florals of the cleaners and the air fresheners they’d used.
A message had been left on the wall as well, red paint in ragged, uneven capitals. It was still being scrubbed at, but I'd ignored the studio’s orders to go home at the end of the afternoon and instead I’d chased everyone out of the trailer and pulled a chair over to sit in front of the graffiti and stare at it.
Whore, it read. And then beneath it,Go Home.
Yeah, like I was going to throw away all the work I'd done, all the sacrifices I'd made to get to where I was. Like I wasn't made aware on a daily basis of all the ways that this could disappear in an instant, in a flash of ‘oh, he’s just an omega’. That a fucking accident of biology could make me someone other than who I was in the eyes of the people around me who held all the power.
Someone knocked on the door just as I finished getting dressed. It was Will and Pete and Elijah. "Can we come in?" Elijah asked.
"Of course." I gestured to the chairs around the table and we sat. "I'm sorry, it's still kind of smelly in here."
"We'll have you moved to a different trailer tomorrow," Elijah said.
I waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm not going to reward them by running, whoever they are."
"So you don't know who it might be?" Pete asked.
I shrugged. "Other than my ex, no one that I can think of. Why? Do you have an idea?" I grabbed the towel I’d tossed on the back of Will’s chair and began carefully blotting the water out of my hair while we talked. More for the distraction than because it really needed it. I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like this conversation.
“We haven’t got anyone yet,” he admitted. His gaze sharpened as he watched me. "I understand your concern, but this isn’t a slap at your masculinity. This guy has proven he can get on set and get to you. I don’t want to go so far as to have to recast your role, but I will also not take no for an answer, Tam. We’re going to put measures in place to ensure your safety, or I start over again with an actor who can put the project ahead of his ego."
That stung, in particular because he wasn’t right about why I was balking so hard at the thought of a bodyguard. I didn’t give a shit about my masculinity. Except hewasright, too. So I latched on to the one part of his speech that I could argue with. "Measures? Like what?"
"We've contracted someone to watch out for you. Just a bit of muscle to remind people to back off. Obviously, security at the studio and on-site will be tightened and we're going to run the background checks on everyone involved again. Particularly the special effects guys."
The special effects... "You're thinking sabotage?" I kept my expression neutral, but my stomach began churning again.
Elijah shook his head. "Just caution. Once we know how this happened--" He nodded at the still disfigured wall. "Well, then we'll see. But we're touch and go to stay on schedule as it is, and our release date has just been moved up by a month, so we can't afford any delays."
"Longer days?"
"Maybe." Elijah turned his sharply intelligent brown eyes on me. "I need to know how you're feeling."
"I'm fine." I wasn't entirely, but I was here for more than the pleasure of seeing my face up on the silver screen. Acting made me feel alive; the challenge of molding my face and body and voice until I seemed like another person entirely fulfilled me. And I suspected a good night's sleep and maybe a little time on the dance floor would clear up the better part of the tension still riding my neck and shoulders. "Seriously," I added when they didn't seem to believe me. "Come on, Pete, you know me. I don't shake easily." I'd damn near died the last time Pete and I had worked together, though the studio had hushed that story up like it was cold war secrets. But I hadn't let it chase me off, and the next day I'd been back filming the same scene again inside the newly reconstructed tunnel, reinforced to be sure that there was no more risk of collapse.
"He is a tough old coon," Pete acknowledged, and Will snorted a laugh, then turned beet red.
I laughed at the two of them and felt the acid burning away in my stomach recede. "We're too far in to let anyone stop us. All right. But this thing with the bodyguard, I can’t. I’ve worked too hard. But I’ll agree to extra security at the condo." A bodyguard would just raise all sorts of questions about my fitness for these alpha roles again. I was sosickof it all.
Elijah nodded. "We'll make sure you have someone good," he said, correctly reading my bravado and refusing to cater to it, the bastard. "I'll send one of the studio team to drive you home, and we'll have someone pick you up in the morning."
Oh now, wait a minute..."I'm perfectly capable of driving myself. You want to bump up security, that’s one thing and it’s fine. I don’t need a nanny."
"Tam." That one word and I felt like a teenager rebelling against my father, standing in his study while he discussed my ridiculous desire to be an actor.
"I have a perfect driving record," I reminded him.
"It's not about your driving," he told me. "If you're concentrating on the road, you won't be concentrating on the possibility of someone jumping on or inside your car. That's what the security is for. And didn't we just talk about how tight our schedule was?"
Shit, he was right. I almost argued that no one was going to jump on my car because that was stupid, until I remembered the pig. "I'm driving," I stated, not very graciously.
