Page 62 of Last First Kiss
“But when I’m outside this house working, you have to respect what I say. Security is my gig, and you have to trust my judgment.”
He kissed her one last time on the shoulder before stepping out of the tub. “I’m not making any promises. But I’ll try,” he said, repeating her words.
Once they were out of the tub and he’d wrapped a big fluffy towel around her, he said, “Sleep with me tonight?”
She nodded, a smile on her face. The first chink in her armor was out in display.
The second smile came when she’d noticed he’d changed the sheets while she’d been in the bath, not bothering to talk about it or embarrass her. She was sure they probably had some bloodstains and she didn’t want to witness that, as it would be awkward.
As soon as they got in bed, he gathered her close, kissed her forehead, and went right to sleep.
Tomorrow, filming would begin. She was curious to see if he’d live up to his side of the bargain when she went full-out bodyguard on him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Rocco Monroe was spotted leaving his home early this morning with a convoy of cars. Unfortunately, all were decoys and no one was able to get his exact location.
What are you hiding, Mr. Monroe? The world wants to know.
It was five in the morning and they were already on location. The first two weeks of filming were going to take place mostly in the Everglades, in a spot that had been scouted and made to look like a cocaine refinery in rural Colombia. Then they’d be taking off to Colombia for a few days to shoot some of the background scenes and a few key moments in the movie, and then they’d finish the movie on a set in LA.
For two hours, the makeup crew transformed Rocco into Gabriel Mendoza.
Rocco didn’t know his heritage because he didn’t know his parents. But he had that “look”: olive skin and inky black hair. It lent itself to playing ethnic roles, which was one of the reasons he’d been cast to play Mendoza. He hadn’t thought that the fact he was American would be such a big deal because physically, he looked the part. The little Spanish he knew, he’d learned merely from living in Miami and he’d worked with a dialogue coach to get his accent on point.
Funny how people had always asked him if he was Hispanic and he hadn’t really noticed why. Now, as they glued on some prosthetics to make him look like Mendoza, he could see finally see it.
The door to the trailer opened, and Annie stepped inside. “So? Anything I should be worried about?” he asked. She had left him thirty minutes earlier to inspect the set and get, as she put it, the “lay of the land.”
“Yes. We have crappy cell phone reception. I have a portable WiFi unit but it’s not working great out here.”
“I’m talking about safety, not your computer geekery.”
She stuck out her tongue. “My ability to know what is happening outside of this little tropical paradise NHN set up is paramount to your safety.” She sat down on a couch. “The good news is that we seem to be pretty hidden and NHN did a great job of keeping the location a secret. The decoys ICS set up this morning were brilliant.”
“Any other concerns?”
“Well, not so much a concern as an observation. First, you’re spooking me out right now. You don’t look at all like yourself.”
The makeup artist smiled. “Thanks, hon.”
“What’s the second observation?”
“I sort of expected things to be bigger.” She moved an arm around in sweeping circle.
“What? The trailer?”
“No, the set, the production. Everything.”
“Ow!” he yelped to the hairstylist.
“Sorry. Sorry. Don’t move so much,” she said, focused on whatever the hell was happening on his head.
“A lot of the big scenery scenes have already been filmed. There were thousands of extras when they filmed all the scenes showing the cocaine production and the things with Mendoza’s laborers. They’re trying to limit the people on set when I’m here since it’s been such a problem.”
“Yeah, I know, but still. I don’t know, I just expected something else, I guess. More grandeur, or something.” She sat back and crossed her legs.
“I’m sorry to disappoint, Ms. Clad.”
