Eight
Cora
Traffic this morning is uncharacteristically smooth. Packed, but there aren’t any accidents or dead stops and I pull into the studio a good hour before schedule. A flash of my identification badge and a smile to the guard grants me entrance through the gate.
I cannot wait to continue with this project. I’m fangirling and crushing on the protagonist harder than I ever have before. I always become a little obsessed with the role I’m playing, but this time is different. More. Maybe because I’m the lead. Maybe because I was able to meet the real-life Gwendolyn Wright. Or that I relate to her character and the brave way she pursued a career when everyone around her told her it was useless. Oh, and don’t get me started on the forbidden romance element. Movie-goers are going to love the angst and sexual build-up. Hell, they already love my co-star. It’s up to me to nail the acting.
No pressure.
Yeah, right.
The studio lot bustles with the usual weekday flurry. I remember the first time I stepped foot in Americana Studios. I was a bubble of nerves and felt totally out of place. Hell, I couldn’t even find Hair and Makeup. I felt like an imposter. Not even six years later and look at me now. The lead in a major film, with serious acting and a story that matters. Hell, I even get my own trailer! I’ve clawed my way to this spot, and through a lot of luck and hard work, this place feels more like home than anywhere.
I park in my reserved spot, careful not to take more than my space, which is somewhat hopeless when driving a military-grade vehicle. I hop down from my cab just as Scott pulls in next to me.
“Morning, Cora.” He waves and slides out from his red rocket roadster.
“Hey, Scott.” I tip my travel mug in greeting.
“None for me?” He stares longingly at my coffee as we walk toward the doors.
“Save it for the cameras, big guy.” I slap at his arm and let loose a laugh. “I don’t fetch coffee.” I thought about stopping by the coffee shop again this morning to see if I could get any info on Isaac, but that was stupid. He wouldn’t be working and I already checked last night. I won’t resort to stalking. Yet.
“I’ll remember that.” Scott chuckles, steps ahead, and reaches for the studio doors to hold them open. His hand rests at my back and he ushers me inside. Always the gentleman. “Jennifer says hi by the way, and asked me to invite you to dinner. Maybe a night next week?”
“Your wife is amazing.” She really is. An actress herself, which is nice considering Scott and I have several intense and intimate scenes to film. She understands what we’re doing is strictly work because she’s been in the same position. That and she knows I’m not coming after her man. “She’s too good for you.”
“Don’t I know it.” His lips pull with the hint of a smile, but it fades as he nods across the warehouse to where Gwen spews orders next to our director, Isabella, and one of the set assistants, Melissa, while a crew places a giant canvas on set. “She’s back.” Scott isn’t infatuated with Gwen the way I am. In fact, I’m pretty sure he finds her constant hovering annoying.
“I want to be her when I grow up,” I gush.
He chuckles and shakes his head. “You and Jennifer need to start a fan club. Between the two of you, I know more details about that woman’s life than her Wikipedia page.”
“Don’t hate.” I send him a mock glare. “We still love you too.”
“Thanks.” He rolls his eyes.
I laugh out loud and pull him into a side hug, no easy feat since he’s got me by weight and height.
He humors me by slinging his arm around my shoulder and dropping a kiss on the top of my messy bun as we close the distance to the set.
Gwen twists, pointing at the man who’s fastening the painting in place. Something about his arm causes me to pause. I know that ink. My heart leaps and thrums at an erratic pace. My breath catches in my throat. It can’t be. How? My gaze darts to his face.
Isaac.
My Isaac.
Right here on the set of my film.
“Morning, Isabella. Gwen. Melissa.” Scott’s greeting makes me jump, and draws everyone’s attention. He still has his arm around my shoulder. I didn’t mind before, but now I wish he’d pull it away.
Isaac glances away from the painting and his gaze lands on us. His eyes widen, brightening with recognition a split second before they catch on Scott’s arm at my shoulder. He drops his eyes to the floor. If I hadn’t been watching I would have missed it.
I step out of Scott’s hold and rush over to Gwen.
“My younger self!” She cups my face in her hands, her skin soft and warm. “How are you, my darling? Ready to misbehave?”
My gaze flicks to Isaac’s. He still won’t meet my eyes. God, he’s even more beautiful than I remember. I want to say hello. I want to ask him why he’s here, but this isn’t a stolen moment in the protection of an empty coffee shop. I’m here to work, and Gwen asked me a question. Shit. I need to answer her. My lips part, the words sticking as I race for something clever or cute to say.
She laughs, the deep husky sound as warm as her smile. Busted. She caught me staring.
Isabella slides her arm in mine and turns us away from the set to where Scott waits. “That was perfect. Keep that innocent act up until next week. Then you need to embrace your sexuality. Remember, Gwen holds the power. Not him.”
“How come every conversation with you two leaves me feeling emasculated?” Scott jokes.
“Oh, please.” Isabella shakes her head, tipping her chin up with a laugh. “You knew what you were getting into when you signed on to this project.”
“It’s worth it to work with your genius self.”
“Stop.” She rolls her eyes and pushes him in another direction. “Go see Wardrobe. We’re on time for once. I don’t want to lose that.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Scott salutes and struts away. He’s so easy-going. Not a man-diva like some of the co-stars I’ve had. This entire crew is down-to-earth. We all bonded in Brazil, to the point we’re practically family. No, it’s more than that. As if everyone knows there’s something magical about this film. It’s nothing measurable. I can’t quantify it. But it’s there all the same.
“You feeling okay?” Isabella stops and levels me with a stare.
“Fine, why?”
“You went white as a ghost back there.”
“Oh, yeah.” The man I’ve been dreaming of for the last month is here. Why is he on set? Will he be here every day? My heart warms at the thought. I have to find him. Speak to him. “I forgot to eat.”
“Then hit Craft on your way to your trailer. Hair and Makeup should be there within the hour. Can’t have you fainting on us. Today’s a long day.” Her brow etches with concern. Delays and health issues are a director’s worst nightmare. It throws everything off, and going into a twelve-hour day of shooting, her worry is apparent.
“I will. I’m fine. Promise.” It’s all I can do to hold her eye contact when what I really want is to turn around and find Isaac.
“Good. Go.” She nods to someone over my shoulder, her attention already onto the next problem.