Risk Taker by Sonia Stanizzo

Chapter 2

“Cut!” someone yelled behind Holly.

She flinched and shielded her eyes from the bright lights shining in her face as her gaze skidded around the circle of people. They shook their heads staring at her like she was as thick as two bricks.

Standing in front of Holly with hands on hips, the frustrated expression Ethan Doyle aimed at her showed the same feelings. When a makeup artist rushed to him, he turned his back to her while the woman powered his face.

A voice yelled from behind the cameras, “hooker number three.”

Holly spun in the direction and found a small, balding man with an orange beard pacing in front of a monitor. “When Detective Morris—Ethan says, I have something you need to see, that’s your part.” The man speaking, she assumed was the director, smiled encouragingly but tension stiffened his face.

How could she do and say what is in the script? Ethan Doyle was a stranger. Buy her a wine or two and then maybe she’d be up for it. With all these people staring, it gave her a huge case of stage fright.

“Do you need a second to read your line again?” the director asked.

Holly nodded.

The man blew out a breath and clicked his fingers at Trudy—Clipboard Woman. And she ran over to Holly, rolling her eyes as she held out the script. The film crew weren’t very nice. If they hadn’t lost the original hooker number three, they wouldn’t be in this mess. She was doing them a favour. They didn’t know about the mix-up and she wasn’t about to speak up now.

Holly only pretended to read it.

No, no, no. How am I supposed to do what they’ve asked?

She’d memorised the lines, but she needed a moment to calm her jittery nerves. Trudy didn’t give her enough time to chill the butterflies in her stomach before she snatched the paper from her hands and stormed back to her position next to the director.

Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a pep talk. You can do this. No big deal. Read the lines, put your hand on… on… Oh crap. A stampede of elephants now replaced the butterflies and her body grew warm despite the chill in the breeze.

“And… Action!” the director yelled, and Ethan Doyle began to saunter with a lazy stride to her that belied the angry expression on his face. Why was he mad? What caused the gash on his forehead? She’d have to watch the movie to find out.

Ethan Doyle, she was conscious of referring to him by his full name, said, “I have something to show you.”

Okay, this was it, bring out your inner Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman and nail your scene. “Sugar, I charge for that, but I can see you’re packing a big one, and I don’t mean your gun.” Wink. “So, I'll blow you for free. Consider it my civic duty.” Now she needed to lick her lips, step closer and rub her hand along his crotch.

Lick. Check.

Step. Check.

Tap hot star’s inner thigh. Check.

“Cut!” the director screamed and scuttled over. His cheeks flushed red and probably not because of Holly’s less than erotic performance.

Ethan Doyle shook his head and stomped away.

“You remembered your lines, great. You’re a prostitute, you need to loosen up. You’re stiff as a board. Act sexy and you have to caress his dick not his leg.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a shake so her arms flung from side to side. “Better?”

“Yes.” No!

“Wonderful. Let’s try this again. Places people,” he yelled as he took a seat behind the monitor.

Ethan Doyle stood in front of her again and her heart sped up. God, he was good looking. Even with his strong jawline clenched tight with frustration. He had sparkling green eyes a woman could get lost in if they weren’t firing deathly missiles. And his stubble Holly was sure was soft and would tickle rather than scratch. She inwardly gave a fangirl sigh.

“And… Action!”

Holly’s breath quickened as she swung her hips suggestively toward Detective Morris. She said her lines without tripping over the words and steadied her shaking hand while stroking it over his penis.

When she touched his generous package, Ethan Doyle’s body grew rigid. She glanced at his face. A vein pulsed in his clenched jaw. Desire flashed from his green eyes and she got caught in them.

“Great job,” the producer called. And the moment broke. No, not a moment. He’s acting. “We need to do a few more takes.”

And the process began again.

It took another eleven times which included filming at different angles before the director was happy with the scene and called it a night.

“Finally,” Ethan Doyle grumbled as Trudy ran to him with a bottle of water. “Next time make sure they hire professionals,” he said to Trudy.

Holly sucked in a sharp breath. Did he not care that she stood right next to him and overheard the insult? Yes, he was one hundred percent correct on the non-professional part, but he didn’t have to practically say it to her face. What a jerk! A sexy jerk she got to cop a feel eleven times. Bet he has socks stuffed down his pants.

Before Holly could form a smart and witty response, he’d spun around and ambled away. Trudy followed at his heels like a faithful puppy dog.

A swarm of activity buzzed through the park. The crew packed up equipment and turned off lights. Now that her train had well and truly left the station, Holly needed to find Nancy and take her up on the offer to stay the night. She rubbed her temples and wobbled back on aching feet to the trailer. This was not how she’d planned on spending the evening.

She found Nancy tidying up and putting makeup back in their cases. Holly’s heart did an excited skip at all the wonderful products.

“I’m sorry to break the news to you, but I molested your son more than once tonight,” she said gliding gentle fingers along the bottles and palettes of colour still on the benches like they were delicate flowers.

A startled laugh burst from Nancy’s lips. “Well, that’s something I haven’t heard before. And actresses tell me lots of things they get up to with him while they’re sitting in my chair.”

“They talk to you about your son?” Holly’s eyes widened with surprise.

“It’s never easy to listen to, over time I’ve learned to block most of it out.”

Holly wasn’t a mother but when she was, she couldn’t ever imagine she’d get used to hearing about what her kid was getting up to. Maybe because when she’d become sexually active, her mother was the last person she could talk to about it. Sex wasn’t appropriate conversation.

“You keep staring at that brush like it’s your long-lost friend,” Nancy remarked, nodding towards Holly’s hand.

While deep in thought, Holly hadn’t realised she’d picked it up and was fanning the soft bristles with her fingertips. “Sorry, I’m madly in love with the Indulgence brand,” she said and placed it back with the others. She loved the feel of the smooth timber handles. Holding them felt so natural between her fingers.

Nancy inspected Holly’s face. “Who did your makeup?”

“I did.”

“You’re a makeup artist?” Nancy again took in Holly’s made-up face.

“I wish,” she answered as she looked at herself in the mirror. Meticulous care went into the application of foundation, the multiple colours of eyeshadow to get the right shade and contouring to achieve the perfect look. She hadn’t gone to all that extra effort for the party, it was because it made her happy to create herself into a different person. Too bad she couldn’t change her life as easily.

Swiping her fingers along her cheek, she said, “I should take this off.” She also needed a change of clothes. Before she caught the train tomorrow, she’d swing past Declan’s place and pick them up. She’d rather not go to the station in this costume again. “I wish I hadn’t left my stuff at Declan’s house,” she mumbled.

Nancy handed her facial cleansing wipes and asked, “Who’s Declan?”

“Thanks,” Holly pulled two from the plastic packet and got to work scrubbing her face. “He’s a friend. I thought we were going to be more than that then things changed when I found him making out with a nun at a party a few hours ago.”

“A nun?” Nancy’s mouth dropped open.

“It was a fancy-dress party.” Holly held out her arms and done a spin. “The reason I’m dressed like hooker number three.”

“Ahh, now your costume makes sense. What a dirtbag. I hope you kicked him in the nuts.”

Holly gave a surprised laugh.

“Are you okay?” Nancy asked.

“Yes, I’m more mad, than upset for falling for his lies.” Actually, it was a relief. Deep down she knew it wouldn’t work. Declan was a rebound from Oliver. A band aid covering the wound Oliver had left. “We were friends in high school until he moved to Sydney. When I arrived here five months ago, I didn’t know anyone, so I looked him up.”

“What brought you to Sydney?”

“A change of scenery.” A cheating fiancé and a family with too many conditions. Tension squeezed the back of her neck. She shrugged it away, balled the dirty wipes in her hand and tossed them into the bin under the bench.

Nancy must have sensed Holly’s reluctance to talk about it and changed the subject. “Where did you learn to do makeup like that?”

“YouTube tutorials. By the way, this room is amazing, I’d kill to have your job.” Picking up a bottle of lotion, she gave it a quick sniff, squeezed a dollop on her fingertips and massaged the cool moisturiser onto her face.

“Your makeup was perfect. Why aren’t you doing this for a living?”

Before Holly had a chance to respond, a knock sounded at the door and a beat later, Ethan Doyle’s head popped through the doorway. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realise you had company.”

“Come in,” Nancy waved her hand for him to enter, “You’ve met Holly. Very intimately according to the script.”

He nodded a greeting and said, “My job’s tough, but someone has to do it.”

Nancy rolled her eyes.

Still feeling a little starstruck, even though she’d had her hand on his dick half an hour ago, Holly felt awkward still dressed as a prostitute exposing a lot of skin. She wrapped her arms around her waist.

Nancy picked up on Holly’s discomfort. “Here, put this on. You can’t stay dressed like that.” And handed Holly a dusty pink Burberry trench coat hanging on a hook. She had a similar one in ivory in her walk-in-robe at home in Melbourne. Now, here she was broke, homeless and wrapped in money. She mentally shook her head at the irony as she tied the belt in a knot around her waist. Once secured, she glanced up and caught Ethan Doyle staring at her with a flare of heat. A woman wearing a trench coat and stripper heels was probably every guy’s fantasy. And even though he’d insulted her acting skills and had been a bit of a jerk, when she met his gaze, her breath caught.

“Will you be sticking around while I finish up?” Nancy asked her son as she wiped down a bench unaware of the blazing exchange.

Turning towards his mother he said, “Sorry I can’t, Victoria is waiting outside. We’re going for a drink.”

With his attention off her, Holly took a moment to get her heart rate and body temperature under control. And to shake the confusion over her reaction away. It’s not every day you meet a Hollywood actor. Which explained the cause of her jitteriness.

Nancy blew out a breath and pointed a blending brush at him. “Why are you interested in her? Yes, she’s gorgeous, that’s all she has going for her.”

He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows. “Do you really want to know?”

“No, I don’t!” Nancy shuddered. “I already know too much about your personal life. Don’t stay out too late, you have an early shoot in the morning. I’m good at my job but it’s difficult to conceal undereye bags.”

Captivated by the teasing exchange between mother and son, Holly wished her relationship with her mother was that casual. Their conversations revolved around a career in the family’s company and marrying their wealthy friends’ son.

“What about hooker number three, will I be seeing you in the morning too?” he asked. A mocking smile slid across his face.

With as much dignity as she could muster while dressed like she was on her way to meet her pimp, Holly pulled her shoulders back. “No, you won’t.”

“That’s a shame.” Was he being sarcastic or was there a note of disappointment? Before Holly had the chance to work it out, he left the trailer.

Through the open door, Holly could see Victoria Martin waiting for him looking like the gorgeous movie star she was. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close as she tilted her face to receive his kiss.

“Oh wow, they look great together,” Holly sighed, wondering for a moment what it would be like to be on the receiving end of his kiss. God, what was she thinking? She needed to remove the Hollywood stars from her eyes and remind herself he was a bit of a jerk.

“It won’t last. They never do,” Nancy said. “It’s great publicity for their movies. Sometimes it even lasts a few months after the premieres they attend, that’s about it.”

Actors seemed as shallow as the people in her parents’ social network. The same people they wanted Holly to associate with. If having money and a social status meant you had to be an arrogant jerk, then no thank you, she’d pass.

“I have a few things to finish up before we leave, I’m sorry I can’t take you home yet. It’s late, I hope you don’t mind waiting?”

“It’s okay, I should go. I’d hate to inconvenience you.” Now that Holly had assisted with filming, surely Nancy didn’t really want a stranger in her house?

“I’m not letting you spend the night on a bench somewhere, especially dressed like that.” Her hand made a sweeping motion up and down Holly’s body. She was glad Nancy didn’t ask why she had no money to stay in a hotel. Dragging up her pathetic story was embarrassing and one she’d rather not talk about.

“I’m doing a few scars and bruises tomorrow, maybe even a bullet wound, would you like to help me get what I need ready?”

Would she like to help? Hell yeah! “Sure,” she answered trying to act cool while on the inside, she hopped up and down like an excited five-year-old girl.

“Great, this will be fun.” Nancy beamed.

Fun wasn’t the word Holly would use. Try fantastic, amazing, wonderful, and much, much more.

Oh my god, what a day. From hand jobs to brush work.