“Seriously,” she says. “Did we get it? I want out of the rope.”
“We got it,” our director answers, his eyes reviewing the footage. He gives a big thumbs-up. “That’s a wrap for now, folks. Check your schedules on Monday for a list of reshoots. And donotget hammered this weekend. Save it for after the premiere, all right?”
Harper snorts as one of the assistants frees her from her bindings. Ezra gets to his feet and heads my way.
“Ez,” I caution, taking a step back, knowing full well what that glimmer in his eye means.
He grins sharply. Right before he tackles me to the floor.
The wind puffs out of me, and several people on the crew laugh as my veryworstbest friend proceeds to wipe fake blood all over my face and neck.
“Gonna get you back for this,” I wheeze.
He pats my cheek twice. “Who’s the pretty boy now?”
Ezra stands, holding out his hand to pull me to my feet. I accept it, only to tug him rightback down. He grunts upon impact, rolling onto his back next to me to catch his breath. Harper shakes her head as she passes, a smile on her faux-bruised face.
I reach over to slap Ezra’s chest. “All right?”
“You suck.”
I keep my voice at a whisper. “Not as well as you, I’ve heard.”
He flips me off.
“People are going to hate you for this,” I point out. “The literal golden boy of Hollywood, turning rogue?”
“Nah.” His head lolls my way, a rakish grin on his blood-smeared face. Even at forty-six and covered in blood, Ezra Gold is as handsome as ever. “Everyone loves a bad boy.”
“If you say so.”
With a mighty grunt, Ezra pushes to his feet. He holds out his hand again, willing to gamble I won’t pull him to the floor a second time. Or just not caring. I clasp my hand with his, and Ezra hauls me up, the two of us heading off set.
There’s a lightness to the air within the studio, smiles on people’s faces now that the brunt of filming is done. We’ll likely have a few reshoots to take care of, but we’re in the final stretch now.
No matter how many times I do this, it never ceases to amaze me. If asked twenty-some years ago if I ever saw myself as a movie star, my answer would have been a resounding no. It wasn’t even on my radar.
How quickly life can change.
Ezra and I split into our respective trailers, my friend grumbling about the fake blood as he goes. The man’s prima donna act is purely a show, meant for others’ amusement, even my own. It’s how Ezra is hardwired. Wanting to make people smile and laugh. Wanting them not to take him too seriously, even.
Because if people expect one thing, they’re not likely to look closer. Who would possibly think the flippant superstar Ezra Gold is actually one of the most genuinely thoughtful and caring individuals out there?
If you keep people at a distance, well, then they can’t hurt you where it matters, can they?
Ezra may play it up for the crowd, but despite the fame and glory that follow him around like a gnat seeking light, he’s humble beneath it all. A kind soul.
Assuming you don’t piss him off.
Red dye circles down the drain as I shower, my clothes in a bag I’ll take to Wardrobe later. I let out a sigh as I turn my face into the softly pelting water, the weight of this shoot so close to being behind me.
It’s not that I dislike filming. I don’t.
But each role I play consumes my life for however long it is I have to live it. It’s different for Ezra. He can slip into anybody’s skin in a moment’s notice. Action star? Romantic lead? Villain? There’s not a set of shoes out there he doesn’t feel comfortable in.
Whereas for me, it doesn’t come easy. It takes time to prepare for my part. To figure out who the person is I’m supposed to be embodying. To understand what makes them tick, their mannerisms, their patterns of speech.
Ezra often jokes I’ve lived a thousand lives because of how deeply I immerse myself into a role. And he may not be wrong. It feels that way sometimes.
