Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(4)

Dancing Graves


INT. THE GRAHAM MANSION—MORNING

BENJAMIN and SCARLETT talk in the study with Scarlett’s friend EVELIN, twenty-year-old longtime acquaintance of the family, as chaperone, reading a book in the corner but really listening to every word they say. Scarlett doesn’t know, but Evelin has feelings for Benjamin.

SCARLETT

Are you okay? Did you come to any harm last night?

BENJAMIN

We managed to drive them back, barely. I worry your father is too concerned with saving them when we should be more concerned with the living.

SCARLETT

They are the living, Benjamin. You shall see; Father will finish his cure and restore them.

BENJAMIN

I hope you are right. For their sakes.

EVELIN

For all of our sakes.

A loud crash sounds as a stone is thrown through a window and lands with a thud on the carpet just behind Scarlett. Benjamin rushes the women out of the room.

BENJAMIN

Hide! And don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe!





Two


Grant James and I needed to be friends off set. That was all there was to it. It’s not like we didn’t talk between takes and goof around a little, but that was obviously not a big enough bond. If we were friends off set, as ourselves, we’d have a better flow and connection on camera. We’d been filming for only a week, but I should’ve thought of this before now.

It was close to eight o’clock, so I had about an hour and a half to secure Grant’s friendship before my dad would expect me home. As I wove through the remaining crew putting away lights from that day’s shoot, I had to stop for a moment to take it all in. I was on an actual movie set, making an actual movie. I had dreamed of doing this for as long as I could remember and now it was finally happening. Happiness was not the right word to describe how I felt. Maybe euphoric or alive. Like everything I had worked for my entire life had led me to this.

A couple of security guards were stationed in front of a row of barricades that surrounded Grant’s trailer. His trailer was set apart from the rest of them. As if he couldn’t mingle with the common actors.

The guards were older, maybe midforties. I waved.

“Hello, Ms. Barnes,” the guy on the right said.

“Hi, just here to see Grant.”

“Does he know you’re coming?”

“No, but I thought we could run lines.”

“If you’ll just wait here, I’ll check with him.” He freed his walkie-talkie from his shoulder and relayed my presence to someone else. I had no idea why there was the need for a middleman. I could literally see Grant’s trailer behind them with its lights on. All they needed to do was walk twenty steps and knock. Apparently the guards didn’t have clearance for his cell phone . . . or his front door. We all stood there in silence, me and two guys three times my size.

“Do you have to stand here all night?” I asked when the silence stretched longer than a minute.

“Yes, we do. We have the graveyard shift.”

“I’m Lacey, by the way,” I said, but then realized he had said my name.

“Yes, we know who you are.”

I smiled. “Social custom dictates that this is the time when you tell me your names.”

“Oh, right.” The one who’d been doing all the talking so far said, “I’m Duncan, and this is Phil.”

Duncan’s walkie-talkie crackled, and a female voice came on. “Send her back.”

“Let me guess,” I said. “I can go back?”

Duncan smiled and stepped aside. “Go on back, Trouble.”

“You’re not the first person who’s given me that nickname,” I said.

“I have no doubt about that.”

I patted Duncan on the shoulder as I walked by him. When I reached Grant’s trailer, I knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

I pulled on the handle and hopped up the two metal steps. His trailer was much bigger than mine. That was the first thing I noticed. A long couch on one wall, a table on the other, a flat-screen television, an amazing kitchen, a closed door in the back that I assumed was his bedroom. The second thing I noticed was him. He sat on the couch, eating a protein bar. He wore sweats that he’d rolled up to his knees and a T-shirt. It had been awhile since I’d seen him in street clothes. I was used to his blousy shirts, neck scarves, and vests. He looked more like his nineteen-year-old self like this. He met my eyes with his bright blue ones. Yes, he had a reason to be vain.

“Hey,” he said. “I almost forgot what you looked like without all the makeup.”

“I sensed you did.” I put my hands under my chin as if putting my face on display. “Commit it to memory for tomorrow.”

He gave me a half smile and held up his protein bar. “Want one?”

“No, thank you.”

“I thought you went home,” he said.

“No.” I pointed to an open cushion next to him on the couch. “Can I sit?”

He moved his leg, which had been sprawled across the center cushion, down to the floor and said, “Sure.”

“Soo . . .” I sat and looked around. Instant friendship wasn’t exactly something I aimed for very often. I didn’t have a problem making friends, but then again, I didn’t normally feel like my career was riding on having a connection with someone. Apparently that was enough to make me forget how I normally talked to people. I spotted a book sitting on the table across from us. “You like to read?”