Page 56 of Let’s Make a Scene

“Scene forty-five,” I repeat, trying to pull the schedule up from the dark, dusty recesses of my brain.

“Yes,” Marion agrees. “So get caffeinated and get moving. Your car’s on the way.” She hangs up without any further ado.

I sit up, scrubbing my hands over my face. It’s far from unheard of for the schedule to change suddenly due to weather conditions or the availability of cast members or locations. In fact, it’s only Marion’s iron will—which I’m convinced extends to controlling the weather—that has kept us perfectly on track for almost three weeks. Staggering over to the desk where my filming schedule is laid out, I try to get the letters to stop jumping around in front of my tired eyes.

When I finally make sense of what I’m looking at and get to scene forty-five, I stand very still, staring for a long moment before I let out a string of impressive curses. Someone out there is seriously fucking with me.

Because it looks like I’m going to spend today kissing Cynthie Taylor, after all.

WHEN I REACH SET AN hour later, it’s to find that I’m not the only one having a tough morning.

“Please,” Patty whimpers, face down on the sofa in my trailer. “Close the door. The light! My god, the light!”

I pull the door closed, shutting out the weak morning sunshine. “Patty,” I say evenly. “What are you doing in my trailer?”

“Whaaa?” comes the muffled response, her head still buried in the cushions.

“My trailer,” I try again. “Did you need me for something?”

Finally, and with visible effort, Patty lifts her head, twists her neck to look blearily up at me. “Your trailer?” she says, then she seems to finally take in her surroundings. Her eyes widen. “I thought I was in hair and makeup.”

“Right.” I glance around. Pause for a moment. “But hair and makeup doesn’t have a sofa.”

Patty frowns. “I’m on a sofa?”

I’m not sure what to say to that, but she staggers to her feet. Her red hair is pulled up in a ponytail and her face is pale. She’s still wearing the same clothes she had on last night, although her T-shirt does seem to be on inside out. And back to front. Finally, she grins at me. “Good night, eh?” she says, wobbling a bit and then righting herself.

As the last time I’d seen her she was trying to detach her jaw and swallow Arjun whole, I smile back.

“You certainly looked like you were having fun. Where’s Arjun this morning?”

We’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and then the man himself strides in. “Oh, hey, Jack,” he greets me, before turning to Patty and holding out a brown paper bag. “I got you a bacon sandwich.”

Apparently such a romantic overture cannot possibly be ignored, because Patty launches herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him hungrily.

I stand frozen, but when neither of them looks like they have any intention of stopping, I clear my throat noisily. “Er… still in my trailer, guys.”

They break apart, and Arjun regards me with stars in his eyes. “Oh, hey, Jack,” he says again, blankly.

“There you are, you horny trolls,” Cynthie’s voice interrupts from the open doorway. She’s already in her costume, but the historical effect is slightly ruined by the enormous pair of sunglasses she’s sporting.

“Patty, Liam says they need you now.” She turns to Arjun, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “And I think your walkie-talkie must be off.”

“What?” Arjun’s eyes widen and he removes his hands from Patty’s ass. “Oh shit,” he mutters, pulling the radio from the back of his belt and fiddling with the buttons. “Sorry, babe, got to go.” He presses another hard kiss to Patty’s mouth and then sprints outside.

Patty just blinks.

“So.” Cynthie’s tone is teasing. “You two had a good night then.”

Patty licks her lips, her expression one of deep satisfaction. “Let’s just say, I was wrong… That is definitely not a nice boy.”

Cynthie laughs, pushes the sunglasses up onto the top of her head revealing tired eyes. “Well then, come and give us all the gossip. Liam’s practically climbing the walls.”

“Cynthie,” I say. “Can we have a quick word?”

She impales me on a glare, but nods, jerkily. “I’ll catch up,” she says to Patty. “Just don’t spill any of the good stuff until I get there.”

After Patty leaves, I hesitate for a moment, not exactly sure where to start. “About last night,” I say finally. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression…”