Bad Boy Brody(18)

Another one of the actors, the one sitting across from me, joined the conversation. “Do you guys know what’s going on with the movie?”

“Shanna’s been in meetings all night and this morning. She blew a gasket about that herd of horses last night,” a third member said as she joined us.

“Really?”

The woman nodded to the other actor.

I should know their names. This wasn’t me being an arrogant ass or thinking I was better than them, I just mainly had screen time with Kara. I had learned early on that if I got close to the secondary actors, they assume I’d help them become better than I was. Every time I corrected their assumption, it never went well. Gayle said I could choose “softer” words, but the message had to be hard or it wasn’t going to resonate. I liked to go for broke in those situations.

Hell. I sighed to myself. Maybe I just liked being an asshole.

I narrowed my eyes.

Did I?

“What are you doing?”

“What?” It was the second actor who asked me that question.

Kara had been watching me, and she grunted, hiding a smile before she looked down at her plate. “Hey!” She slapped the table. “Where’s my strawberry?”

It was on the end of my fork. I popped it into my mouth and shrugged. “Maybe it fell.”

She groaned, rolling her eyes upward before getting up from the table and stalking back to the breakfast buffet.

The second and third actors were still watching me. Oh right. He asked what I was doing. I countered him with, “What are you doing?”

“Huh?”

I raised my eyebrows. Exactly.

The third actor’s eyebrows pulled down, causing a crease in her perfect, marble-smooth skin. I looked more closely at her. She had the beauty to be a lead actress. “What’s your role?”

“My real name is Kelly. I play the sister.”

Karen had a sister? I made a note to ask Morgan about that. Then the actress said, “Technically, I’m your sister. We haven’t shot those scenes yet.”

Oh. Peter had a sister.

“Do we get along in the script?”

Gayle’s head moved back an inch. I could feel her disapproval. “I thought you memorized the script.”

“I memorized my scenes in the script, and”—I turned to my on-screen sister—“we don’t have any together.”

“We do but not till the end. There are some phone conversations, and I comfort you when you think Karen is dead.”

“Do you like Karen?”

She started laughing, shaking her head. “God no. My character hates the bitch.” She motioned between us. “It doesn’t go over well for you and me.”

As if on cue, the Kellermans walked into the dining area. Shanna was behind them, steam coming from her ears. As the siblings went to the breakfast buffet, Shanna bypassed everyone and left the room, sweeping outside. I locked eyes on each Kellerman in turn, wondering how much was truth and how much wasn’t. The aunt hating Karen made sense. That rang like something true, but I still wanted to know. Was there a real aunt? Did she hate Morgan’s mom? Did she hate Morgan?

The whole secrecy about Morgan, knowing she was out there, knowing how much she was out there, made me feel as if a lot of the script was off. I wanted her there, but at the same time, I didn’t. I wanted to know her, but I may never see her again.

She was like watching a masterpiece being painted by a painter. You knew the outcome would be breathtaking, but you had to sit back and let the painter do his thing.

And I was officially a pussy with that last thought.

I grabbed my coffee and shoved back my chair.

“Where are you going?” Gayle asked.

Somewhere I didn’t feel like such a pussy.

I shrugged. “I want to run over some lines.”

“You want company?”

I turned, feeling my jaw clench. “No.”

The Kellermans looked up as I walked past.

I was heading to my cabin when I heard someone behind me. The gravel crunched under a shoe, and I looked back.

Matthew held his hands up. “I come in peace.” He glanced back over his shoulder, putting his hands into his pockets. “I noticed you take off from breakfast. Is everything okay?”

No, no, buddy. I knew what he was doing. I read through his bullshit. It’d been a guess before, but I goddamn knew. He wanted to know if I knew about Morgan.

“I was hoping to see Morgan.” I narrowed my eyes, watching for his reaction.

I promised her I wouldn’t tell, but this guy already knew. I wasn’t breaking that promise, and I had a strong feeling he was going to dog my movements anyway, just from suspecting I might know.

I do. Deal with it, fucker.

He blanched, then gulped, and then narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

Did he now? A snide voice commented in my head.

“She’s the stepsister, right?”

His eyes rounded. “You have met her.”

“We had a nice long conversation last night.” I heard the disbelief in his laugh and added, “Down by the river.”

His laugh died. He grew serious again. “I see.” That damn phrase again from him.

“She’s under the impression she’s a secret. My question is: why?”