Page 18 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Second…” I pause and take a breath here. “I don’t know how much you know about the show I’m in? Blood/Lust?”

She nods slowly. “I’ve heard of it.”

“Okay, well, we just finished up season five and the ending for my character is… ambiguous. We’re negotiating a new contract right now, and there’s a possibility they’ll decide not to bring me back.” I try not to wince.

In the past I’d rather have died than show her any kind of vulnerability, but if I want things to be different this time around, then I know I need to change our dynamic.

“I don’t want that to happen,” I say finally, keeping the explanation brief. “I love the show, I want to make more of it. Signing on to this film will help with my visibility, but me and you in the press”—I gesture between us—“I’m not going to lie, that will give me a huge publicity bump right when I need it most.”

She only watches me carefully for a moment. “Okay,” she says slowly. “I can see that making sense.”

I was worried that she’d be offended by my less-than-chivalrous reasons for helping her out, but if anything she finally looks more comfortable.

Her shoulders come down a couple of inches. She grabs a bottle of water to sip, while she thinks this over. Then, she picks up a triangle of watermelon from the fruit plate in front of her and nibbles on it with a murmur of appreciation. Her tongue flicks out to catch a bead of pale pink juice left on her lip.

All the blood in my body rushes immediately to my groin.

“What’s the third thing?” she asks.

“Hmm?” I manage, dragging my eyes away from her mouth and shifting awkwardly in my chair.

“The third thing,” Cynthie says. “You said you had three excellent reasons for doing this.”

“Oh.” I laugh a little too loud, willing my body to calm the fuck down. “That’s easy. It’s you. I think you’re an incredible actor, and I’d love the chance to work with you again.”

Cynthie scoffs. “You think I’m an incredible actor?”

I wince at the disbelief in her tone. Jesus, twenty-four-year-old me really was a tremendous ass. “Yes,” I say, leaving it at that, but filling the word with as much sincerity as I can.

She crosses her arms, clearly not convinced. She taps her foot against the plush carpet.

“Right,” she says, finally. “If I agreed to this… I think we’d need to come up with some rules.”

Chapter 7 CYNTHIE

“Rules?” he asks, and he leans forward again, resting those perfect forearms of his on his knees while I try not to stare at him, to keep my body as still as possible. Baby pronghorn antelopes do that to avoid being eaten by coyotes. I know because I watched a documentary about it from my depression nest last week. I’m going full baby antelope on this situation. There’s no way lust is sinking its coyote teeth into me.

“Yes, rules.” I clear my throat, scrambling to stay on track. “Let’s assume that I believe at least some of what you’re saying and you have your own reasons for doing this. How do you picture it working? There will be a documentary crew following us around so it’s going to have to be convincing.” I can hear the anxiety bleeding into my own words at this.

He only nods calmly, like he’s been giving it some thought. “The way I see it, we have a couple of months before filming starts, when we can schedule some public events so that we enter the documentary as an established couple.”

“Public events?”

“Dates,” he clarifies. “Where we get our picture taken. Just a couple, nothing too out there. Dinner, drinks, whatever. The sooner the press pick up on the story, the better for both of us, I guess.”

I nod. That, at least, is true. I still don’t know how much I can trust him, but his explanation about Blood/Lust made sense. I actually feel better knowing that he, too, has ulterior motives for agreeing to this charade. If he’s driven by self-interest, it must mean he’s not going to mess with me just for the fun of it… right?

“So by the time we come to film, we’ll be more comfortable together, have a better sense of backstory,” Jack continues. “We’ll know how we want to play it. We pulled this off once before and in worse circumstances.”

“I don’t know.” I sigh. “The circumstances seem pretty dire to me.”

“At least we don’t want to actively destroy each other this time.”

“The jury is still out on that,” I mutter.

Instead of looking annoyed, his mouth pulls up. “Fair enough.”

Which isn’t really a reassuring answer. I take a moment to look at him again, to try and cut through the thick cloud of pheromones that must be wrapped around him if my tap-dancing heartbeat is anything to go by. He seems genuine enough, those silver-blue eyes focused steadily on mine, but he’s always been a very good actor.