Never Tied Down (The Never Duet #2)(15)

I scrubbed my hands down my face, trying to brush away the troubling thoughts. When I looked at the clock I realized I was late.

“Fuck,” I whispered, and threw my coat onto the couch. I walked out the door, heading back to set, wondering how I was going to make it through filming with Kalli on my mind.



Throughout the day I caught sight of Erin, tried to make eye contact with her, wondering if she’d found anything out for me yet, but she never looked my way. She was running errands for the director, making calls for him, getting lunch for him, everything she was supposed to be doing. Every time I saw her and she didn’t give me any information, I became more irritated.

“Riot, get in the game,” my director hollered at me right after he’d yelled, “CUT!”

The overwhelming urge to punch something rocketed through me. I’d never had violent tendencies, but the electricity running through me, the anger I felt toward myself, needed an outlet.

“I got it,” I said, just loud enough for the director to hear, looking at the ground, unable to meet his eyes.

“It doesn’t really seem like you do, man. We’ve been running this scene for over an hour. Come on. Whatever is clouding your brain, man, leave it at the door.”

His voice was teetering between angry and sympathetic. He was obviously frustrated with the way the day was going, as was I, but he knew it wasn’t normal for me.

“I got it,” I repeated, still looking at the floor.

I heard him sigh, then he bellowed, “Everyone take five so Riot can get his shit together!”

At his words, I walked back to my dressing room, slumping down on the couch, elbows on my knees and head in my hands. After just a few minutes I heard my door open.

“Riot?” Erin’s face peeked through the opening.

“You find something out?” I asked, ignoring manners and demanding information.

“Yeah, turns out Kalli Rivers is the chief costume designer for the new sitcom they’re filming over on Lot B. She’s been here about three weeks. Not long.”

“Chief costume designer?” I asked, a little surprised by her job title.

“Yup,” Erin responded, sounding impatient. “Do you need anything else?”

I thought about what I needed and what Erin could provide. The answer was depressing because there wasn’t anything else she could do. All the other questions I had, only Kalli could answer.

“No. Thank you, Erin. I appreciate the favor.”

She gave me a small smile before her head disappeared and the door closed again.

Kalli had been in LA for at least three weeks, perhaps longer, and she hadn’t tried to reach out to me. She was on my studio’s lot, working here every day, and I hadn’t heard a word from her. The new information was making me ill. My gut turned, actually ached with the news. This was not what I had expected. Not what I was holding out hope for.

I dragged my fingers through my hair, gripping the strands and pulling, trying to distract myself from the hole forming in my chest. Fuck. I had banked on the idea that she would contact me. Call me. Write me. Text me. Anything. I stood up and walked back to the vanity, staring at my own reflection, wondering where in the hell I was supposed to go from here.

I only had a minute or two until I needed to get back to set, so I needed to get back into the game. Kalli was a big distraction, but I couldn’t let the new information cause a problem with my job. This job, so far, had been incredible, and I was grateful for the opportunity. I didn’t want the director or producers to start thinking I was a high-maintenance actor. That reputation would follow me around throughout my entire career. No, I needed to calm the hell down and get back to work.

If Kalli truly was the costume designer for a show shooting here, I’d have my opportunity to confront her. It just wouldn’t be today.

I stood up straighter, squared my shoulders, and turned to return to set. The entire time I was walking through the soundstage I was telling myself I’d have my chance, that I’d get the opportunity to speak with her, I just had to keep my cool until then.

When I walked up to the set, with its lights blazing and people standing around waiting for me to get my head on straight, my director turned to me and asked, “You ready to work?”

“I’m ready, boss. Sorry for the delay. It won’t happen again.”

He looked at me for a few seconds, seeming to decide if he believed me or not. But finally, he nodded and said, “Glad to hear it.” Then he yelled to everyone else on set, “Places. Let’s roll, people.”

And I was back in business.



It was dark when I left the studio that night. Scenes ran long, although thankfully I wasn’t the only one holding up production, and the weight of the director’s disdain landed on someone else not long after I’d tried to shrug it off. It had been a long day, full of mistakes and mishaps, having to reshoot scenes for idiotic reasons, and trying not to let aggravation seep into my performance. Sometimes I found myself thinking about how modeling was so much easier than acting. Modeling, although it came with its difficulties as well, sometimes was just as easy as standing in a certain pose and staring at the camera. Acting, especially on film, was a whole different animal and it came with an impressive list of difficulties, hurdles, and a steep learning curve.

I pulled my coat closed around me again, the chill in the air quite a bit more biting now that the sun had set. I thought that the next day I should wear a cap, or a scarf. I knew it wouldn’t get too cold in LA—snow wasn’t even on my radar—but the early mornings and late evenings warranted warmer clothing.