Indiscreet by Nicole French

17

At six o’clock, after I’d slept for two hours, gone for a dip in the pool, and was thinking about taking the Tesla in the garage out for a spin tomorrow, there was a knock at the door. I found Garrett standing outside, twirling another set of keys in his hand.

“Dinnertime?” he asked.

It took about fifteen minutes to drive to the studio lot, where I handed over my ID with wide eyes to a security guard and was then driven through New York, then the Wild West, and eventually out of a manmade jungle toward a row of giant hangars lined up at the far end of the lot. A cluster of trailers stood together near one of them, while on the other side, several people loitered around what looked like the smashed top of a high-rise building.

“That’s the set for next week,” Garrett said, pointing at the skyscraper. “They’re shooting the finale. Loads of pyrotechnics, from what I hear.” He grinned gleefully.

Garrett parked next to the trailers, then escorted me past a hum of people toward a smaller building marked “Stage 6,” which looked more like a motel, with two floors of doors facing outward in an L-shape.

“This way,” Garrett said as he led me up the stairs. “I think he’s in choreography right now. That’s down here in 6F.”

Most of the doors were closed, and one even had a red light blinking outside that indicated someone was filming, or at least recording, inside. A few other rooms were open, two in which there seemed to be active construction, another containing racks and racks of costumes, another plain room where a few people stood around a table gesturing at what looked like a script. One or two looked up when we passed, but no one paid me much attention.

“In here.” Garrett opened the door of 6F and we walked into a sizable room that was almost fully padded on the floor, walls, and even parts of the ceiling. In one corner, most essential equipment was set up for a gym—there for the use of the actors, it looked like, to train when they weren’t filming. In another corner, several men were hitting each other against the thick pads while being directed.

“No, no, stop!” called out a little man.

The group fell apart as he walked to the center, where he leaned down to help someone up in the middle: Will.

“Listen, mate, you’ve got to get that elbow up at the end,” said the shorter man in a thick Australian accent. “That’s Matt’s cue to bounce, and if he can’t see it, he keeps going like a bull. That’s why he knocks the wind out of you, and if that happens on film, you can’t say your lines. And we all know that Corbyn’ll have my head if he can’t get your sweet voice on camera.”

There was a trickle of laughter around the room. Will grinned and shook his head, which was coated with sweat.

“Okay, okay,” he said. “I get it, Dom. One more time?”

There was a collective groan around the room.

“Let’s break for dinner first,” the man called Dom said with a smirk when he realized I was there. He looked around to all of the guys. “Thirty minutes? We gotta have this ready for tomorrow, guys. We’re close, but not there yet.”

There was a murmur of assent, and then everyone broke off, some jogging out of the room with a curious glance my way. Will traded a few more words with Dom until he looked up and found me. I gave a shy wave. His smile bloomed.

“Lil, come here,” he called, waving me over.

“Thanks, Garrett,” I said. The big man nodded and took a seat in the corner.

“Lil, this is Dominic, our fight choreographer. He’s the one responsible for making sure I don’t break my nose. Dom, this is my girl, Maggie.”

“Well, if this bastard could figure out how to find his mark, I wouldn’t have to work so hard,” Dominic said good-naturedly. He shook my hand with a kind smile. “Nice to meet you, love.”

I smiled and nodded shyly. “Nice to meet you too. That, um, looked complicated.”

Dominic looked back at the set of pads and shrugged. “Come back in two weeks when we do the third fight scene. That one’s bound to be a doozy. Poor Fitzy here might chip a tooth.”

Will grimaced slightly at the use of his stage name, but Dominic seemed to be joking.

“Lighten up, mate,” he said with an elbow to Will’s side. “If you can’t deal with me saying that, what are you going to do at the junket, eh?”

Will rolled his eyes, but didn’t answer.

“All right. I’m going to get some grub. Thirty minutes.” Dom strolled off, leaving us together.

Will took my hand and leaned in for a sweaty kiss. It was disturbing how good he smelled, even covered in perspiration.

“Mmmmm,” he hummed. “Damn. I really wish we could go home and do that a little more.”

“Just that?” I joked.

I looked around, but we were alone other than Garrett, who was staring at his phone, so I reached down and squeezed Will’s ass. His shorts were clinging to it in a way that was very distracting, and I couldn’t help myself. Will groaned and dipped his head for another, much more involved kiss—one that quickly had me as breathless as him.

“Will?”

We broke apart at the sound of a female voice, and Will spun away slightly, though his hand kept mine in a tight clasp. A woman stood in the doorway, her hand braced on the doorframe while she perused the room with a pair of sharp blue eyes that matched her skintight dress. I knew immediately who she was. Tall, willowy, and impossibly blonde and beautiful, Amelia Craig was Will’s ex-fiancée and current co-star.

Her gaze traveled over me curiously and perhaps a little cutting. Her perfectly plump lip curled as her eyes met mine.

“Well, hallo there,” she said with a bright, plasticine smile over a posh British accent. I didn’t know what was worse: the fact that she looked like Malibu Barbie, or that she sounded like the Queen of England. “You must be Maggie. Or shall we call you ‘Lily pad’? What an adorable little name. I do hope you didn’t get tangled in anything on your way here.”

I swallowed, taken aback. Even though to Will, I was Lily or Lil no matter where we were, it felt strange to know that this stranger, whose history with Will went far beyond my own, knew at least some of the details of how we met.

Amelia sauntered into the room, narrow hips swaying from side to side in a pair of skin-tight black pants and a cropped shirt that showed off her enviable waistline. I looked down at my appearance: a pair of torn jeans, a simple black t-shirt, and no makeup. Why I hadn’t considered getting a little dressed up before visiting a place where actual movie stars spent their days, I didn’t know, but I was seriously regretting it.

“Hi,” I said, accepting her outstretched hand. Her grip was limp, almost as if she was expecting me to kiss her hand rather than shake it. I let it go quickly. “Nice to meet you.”

“You done for the day?” Will asked her.

She nodded, though her deep blue gaze lingered on me for a moment before turning to him with new vigor.

“We finished up the bits in the office. You know, the one where you’re saving the world and I’m left to watch next to a computer? You’re lucky that set was done ahead of schedule. Corbyn is an absolute beast about time.”

“Well, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed.”

The two of them tittered, sharing some inside joke that I clearly didn’t understand.

“So, Maggie, how long are you visiting LA?” Amelia asked me.

I shrugged. “I, um, don’t really know. I kind of came down last minute.”

“Lil’s here as long as I am,” Will said. He looked down at me hopefully. “At least, for as long as I can convince her to stay.”

“Please illuminate immediately why anyone would need convincing to stay with you, darling,” Amelia broke in.

This time, it was Will’s expression that darkened. I knew what he was thinking of—their nasty breakup, the way it had been splattered all over the papers. The way Amelia had played him to the press for the good of her own career.

The thought gave me about ten more reasons to hate this woman beyond petty jealousy. But the way it clearly bothered Will got to me even more. If it was that far in the past, why did it still get under his skin?

“Well, we’re so lucky you stumbled upon Will and got him out of his shell,” Amelia said to me. “Honestly, we thought we’d lost him.” She gazed at Will almost longingly, and if I wasn’t mistaken, there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. “It really did break my heart, thinking you were dead.”

Will softened a bit. “Hey, Amy. I’m okay. You know I’m sorry.”

Sorry? He was sorry? I wondered then how many people Will had been apologizing to while we’d been apart. And how many times he’d had this conversation.

“I’ve missed you dreadfully, you know,” she said quietly.

Will shifted uncomfortably beside me and rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. Well. I’m back, I guess.”

“And I’m so glad for it.” Her voice was breathy, soft. The kind that probably appeared in many, many men’s fantasies.

Maybe even Will’s.

I blinked, trying and failing to shake that image out of my head. If I went down that road, I already knew it would be incredibly hard to dig myself out of it.

We stood there together, the three of us, me feeling uncomfortably like a third wheel. It was very, very difficult not to glare at this woman, who, of course, had said nothing but nice things to me for the last few minutes. But I didn’t like her. At all.

“Oh, darling, come here,” Amelia said. “You’re an absolute mess, you know that? Dom’s working you much too hard.”

She crooked her finger, and after a second, Will stepped toward her, dropping my hand. Amelia tipped up on her toes so they were face to face, their mouths only inches apart. It was all too easy to imagine them closing the gap, his full mouth pressing on hers. They looked very, very good together. Natural.

With her thumb, she wiped a large droplet of sweat from his cheek, and stepped back. “There. All better.”

Will gave a tight smile, then turned around to grab a towel off a chair. In the corner, Garrett was watching the entire exchange with veiled curiosity. Amelia looked at me, deliberately stuck her thumb in her mouth and sucked the sweat off of it. My mouth dropped.

“See you around…Lily pad,” she said with a wink, and sauntered out.

For a few seconds, I stared at the doorway, unsure if what I’d seen had really happened. Had this chick really sucked sweat off my boyfriend’s forehead? Had he really not noticed?

“Hey.” Will’s calm timbre broke through the fury of questions spinning in my head. “You ready to eat?”

As if in answer, my stomach gave a massive growl. Will chuckled, and took my hand again.

“Come on, Lil,” he said. “I might be stuck with steamed vegetables and fish for the next eight weeks, but you can take advantage of the snack table for me.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later,we were sitting at a tiny table in his trailer, Will eating not cod, but salmon, me with a plate full of crudité and pizza.

“Not to sound super disappointed or anything, but I expected something nicer,” I remarked as I looked around the trailer. “Bigger, maybe.”

It was basically like the inside of a roomy RV, with a small kitchenette, a lounge area, and a bed in the back. It was a little claustrophobic, especially for someone who usually prioritized space.

Will looked around and shrugged. “Eh. I never bought my own—this is whatever my mother negotiated as part of the rider in the original contract, and Benny didn’t bother to change it. At seventeen, I was just excited to have my own space.”

“You didn’t have a trailer before that?”

He smirked. “Not one I didn’t have to share with my mom or a chaperone.” He waggled his eyebrows, and I swallowed a giggle before taking a bite of pizza.

“God,” Will said as he watched the cheese meet my mouth. “You’re killing me with that, you know?”

I turned the pizza toward him. “Want a bite?”

Will looked pained. “I shouldn’t. The call sheet has me shirtless in two weeks.”

I quirked an eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure your abs could handle a slice or two.”

“That’s not what my trainer says. And if they aren’t looking good enough by a week from Sunday, I’ll be in trouble with the director too. Which means trouble with Max. He’s already mad because Theo released the video.”

I could sense his distress when he considered Max, and only then did I realize the real pressure he was under. Max had him by the balls, so to speak, which was the main reason Benny had argued not to report Theo for releasing unlicensed pornography. Will had done a very bad thing by shirking his contract, and it was clear that he had to deliver the goods with this movie, or else he’d never get out of it.

I pulled the pizza back. “I shouldn’t tease. I’m sorry.”

But before I could pull the slice back completely, Will wrapped a hand around my wrist to hold it in place, and took a giant bite with complete and utter glee.

“Ahmmmm, that’s good,” he moaned as he lay back on the sofa and chewed.

We continued to eat together, but something still bothered me. His call sheet was on the table in front of us—he would be filming into the night to make up for the missed scenes this morning and keep production on track. There was nothing that I could see that involved Amelia, but that didn’t keep me from wondering what was next.

“Can I ask you something?” I wondered.

Will took a large bite of salad and looked up, waiting for me to continue.

“Is there—is there going to be a sex scene in this movie?” I asked. “With, um…with her?”

He set his fork down, alarmed. “Jesus, Lil. No. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Look, I get it. It’s part of the job, so I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

Will interrupted me with a hand on my knee. “It is part of the job,” he said. “For some. But when I originally signed this deal with Beauregard, I was seventeen, and it was for four films over ten years. I didn’t do the last one, which is why I’m stuck on this piece of garbage, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have rights. And one of those includes a no-nudity clause.”

My jaw dropped. “Wait—but—you’ve done sex scenes before. You—you showed the entire world your ass in The Playbook.”

I couldn’t lie. As pretty as he had looked in that movie, I wasn’t exactly happy about watching my man parade in front of the screen naked and then crawl on top of a ridiculously gorgeous and very naked woman. The scene had faded to black, but not until after a few well-timed thrusts and some tongue-heavy kisses. Sexiest man alive indeed. I was pretty sure that one scene earned him the title.

Will rolled his eyes. “Please don’t watch my movies anymore, Lil. That wasn’t a Beauregard film either. And anyway, it was just an ass, Lil.”

I scowled. “Yeah, but it’s my ass. And that was my dick in the unrated director’s cut too.”

“No, it’s not,” he said, “because I was wearing some very sticky tape at the time and humping a pillow that put several inches between us.”

I shook my head. “No way.”

“Way.” Will’s eyes gleamed as he took a bite of fish.

“But I could totally see your—”

“Cock sock and CGI, babe.”

“And what about her—”

He shook his head, then pulled out his phone, typed in a few words into Google, and then turned a photo of said sex scene to me.

“What’s really embarrassing is that my junk gets forty million hits on the internet.” He pointed at the picture. “That’s not me; that’s special effects. You know my dick is bigger than that, anyway.”

I smacked him, and Will chuckled, then continued pointing things out.

“Sweat? Water and baby oil. Pubic hair? Nah, that’s a merkin on top of a pillow. You can’t see her nipples, but they were covered with neon-green pasties and then recreated later. And her mouth? Tasted like cigarettes and Certs.” Then he pointed around the screen, outside of the frame, to people and objects we couldn’t see. “Director. Continuity. Boom. Camera one and operator. Significant other. Camera two and operator. Script supervisor. Makeup. Wardrobe assistant. First AD. Second AD. Gaffer.” He put his phone down. “Want me to keep going?”

I shook my head. “No, I get your point. There’s a lot of people around, and most of it is fake.”

“Lil, absolutely nothing about this shit is hot. I had to sit there awkwardly, almost naked, pretending to be aroused in front of about fifty other people. The only actors who really get turned on by sex scenes are probably deviants in the first place, and not in a good way.”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” I pushed my food away, no longer hungry. “But look at your partner. She’s still beautiful. It couldn’t have been all bad, right?”

I knew what I sounded like: a petty little girl. But I couldn’t help it.

“Hey.” Will took my hands, and I had to fight not to pull them away. It didn’t matter how many times he explained it, I wasn’t ever going to like the fact that he was going to kiss his ex on screen.

I mashed my lips together. “I’m sorry.”

Will shook his head. “If I could get out of it, I would, Lil. I swear to God, I would.”

I sighed. Guilt flooded me—of course he didn’t want to do this. The man had faked his own death trying to get away from this industry. And here I was, the person who had brought him right back into it, getting jealous over moments neither of us had any control over.

I placed my hands on his big shoulders and pulled him close.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Will closed his eyes as I delivered a slow kiss, full of promise.

“Mmm,” he hummed, leaning forward for more.

It was way too easy to forget where I was when he kissed me like that. And much too easy to consider the fact that, other than last night, we had been apart for close to a month at this point. “Will,” I whispered as he started twirling his tongue under my jaw. “Will, people are going to—”

“Fuck ’em,” he murmured into my lips as he pressed me back into the couch.

“Yeah, but won’t they hear—”

“Fuck them, Lil.” He kissed me again, this one full of lips and tongue and the mild threat of what he would do if I didn’t stop worrying.

“Yeah, but—”

“I said, fuc—”

“Mr. Baker?” There was a knock at the door, and immediately, I squirmed out from under Will and to the other side of the couch while he sat up and pushed a hand through his hair with a face full of thunder.

“What?” he barked.

The trailer door opened, and the terrified face of a young production assistant popped in. “Oh, um, sorry, sir,” he said, his gaze boomeranging between us. “I, um, it’s your call to choreography, sir.”

Will sat back on his heels and gave me a look that said, clear as day, next time, before turning to the PA with a nod. “I’ll be right there.”

He hopped off the couch and bent over to give me a quick kiss. “No rest for the wicked. I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up, okay?”

I nodded and scooted back to the food. “I won’t,” I said and watched him go with regret.