“Okay. But the earliest they can get to the shoot now will be this afternoon, so don’t take too long.”
This whole movie was turning into a comedy of errors. “We’ll be quick,” Steve promised, and then he hung up and stared at the phone for a moment.
Drew had made it through his cup of coffee and started on Steve’s. “Thanks,” he said. His eyes were at three-quarters awake now. “That sounded like bad news.”
“Well, we don’t have a dog for the shoot today, if that counts as bad.” Steve handed the phone back and wondered if the trailer fridge had anything in it. He could use something to wet his whistle, but he wasn’t about to take his coffee back from Drew. He valued his life—and his limbs. “Why are they calling you about that?”
Drew looked at him, coffee cup pressed to his lips, eyes suddenly all the way open. Then he looked at Chantelle. Then back at Steve.
Slowly he put the cup down. “Uh,” he said. “Because I’m the producer?”
Steve’s mouth dropped open.
“Should I step outside?” Chantelle said, breaking the silence.
After a moment Steve found his voice. “No, it’s fine, I…. Were you going to tell me?”
“I’m just going to go get something for breakfast,” Chantelle said. The trailer door clicked closed behind her.
Drew scrubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Yeah? I mean….” He sighed. “Okay, you know how you don’t want people to know you’re your parents’ kid?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, at first I didn’t want to be the money. But I didn’t really have a choice. Uh.” He lifted a shoulder. His cheeks were pink. “Well, you already know I love the script. Did even before I met you and even when only half of it was finished. And I knew right away I wanted to be a part of it. The best way to make that happen was to finance it myself.”
Jesus. No wonder they were on a tight budget.
“But I already sort of have a reputation for being… you know.”
“A diva?” Steve supplied, still in shock. Well, he’d thought it himself the night before.
“Yeah. And this was a lot of trouble to go to for something I justhad to be in. And I didn’t want people to see me as the money any more than you wanted people to see you as the scion.”
Okay. Steve could understand that, though he wasn’t done processing how he felt about it. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. What are we going to do about the dog?”
Chapter Seventeen
AFTERthat inauspicious beginning to the day, Drew shouldn’t have been surprised their first scene was a mess.
The scene would only end up being a minute long. It barely had dialogue. The blocking should have been a breeze.
Of course, all that went to hell when the script called for you to kiss your introvert boyfriend on camera. Oh, and it doubly went to hell when you skipped forward to a scene you hadn’t had time to rehearse because you had planned to film something else today instead.
When Nina called action, Steve was supposed to follow Drew at a dead sprint down a hotel corridor. Drew would be one corner ahead of him and turn out of sight, then reach out and grab Steve as he went by to try to make their pursuers run past them. Only Steve would stumble—right into Drew’s arms, where they’d lock eyes. Then Drew would kiss him, only for a sound down the hallway to interrupt before the kiss could deepen.
What actually happened when Nina called action was that they ran, Drew reached out for Steve’s arm, missed, and Steve kept going down the hall.
“Cut,” Nina said flatly over Drew and Steve’s giggles. Even Mel, who was manning the camera in the alcove with Drew, cracked a grin.
“Your aim sucks,” Steve chirped.
“You ran too fast!” Drew complained.
Nina sighed so loud they could hear her plainly from fifty yards. “Reset.”
On the second take, Drew successfully caught Steve’s arm, but they overbalanced and careened into the wall.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Drew said breathlessly—literally; Steve had him pinned so he could hardly inhale.
