Page 59 of Fool's Gold

I scurry over to the table housing the espresso machine and around the opposite side, hiding behind its bulk to catch my breath. I press a hand to my stomach and feel the swirl and gurgle of upset.

What the hell am I going to do? Surviving heartbreak is one thing, but having to work with the man every day? It’s salt in a gaping wound with no hope of healing.

This relationship, this film, this life aren’t working out the way I thought they would.

Even in my wildest fantasies, I never would have imagined this.

The timer goes off before I have a chance to do anything besides fight off a panic attack. It leaves me trembling, weak kneed, breathing hard.

Days blur into one another, and no matter how many hours I spend in front of the camera, it’s never done. The filming and the stress are intertwined. At night, I overthink and toss from one side to another.

During the day, I struggle not to lose my shit.

There’s no end to the torment of having to run through the lines time after time with Marcus watching me like a vulture. He’s a black cloud hanging over this production, and when I ask the others if this kind of schedule is normal, they always blow me off. They make up what sound like empty excuses.

I’m the newbie here; I get it.

They have their own lingo, which I’ve heard for most of my life but have never really been a part of, until now.

Still, it seems suspicious that they’re muttering around me, yet no one is willing to answer my questions. None of them are willing to explain why we’re killing ourselves to get this movie completed. The kind of talk where you walk into a room and know exactly who the subject is.

The girls playing Alicia’s friends stand together beside the set with me on the outskirts.

My cell vibrates in my pocket, and I jump at the surprise. “It’s like having a mini heart attack,” I mutter, reaching into my back pocket. An unfamiliar number lights up the screen. “Hello?”

“Empire Stone?”

The voice is just as unfamiliar as the number, and I quirk a brow. “Yes. Who is this?”

“I’m sorry. I realize I’m kind of a creeper in this case. It’s Jacob Kessler. We met at the viewing last week?”

My mind is a blur, and warmth spreads along my arms and legs. The film viewing…was it only last week?

The pieces are slow to click into place, and when they finally do, I smile. “Definite creeper vibe, Jacob. How did you get my number?”

I lean a hip against the wall to steady myself.

“I ran into your friend River at an opening for a café down in Santa Monica a few days ago. I convinced her to give it to me. Trust me, it took a lot of convincing on my part. She was reluctant to part with it. You’ve got a good buddy there,” Jacob says with a laugh.

“And yet she did part with it,” I reply.

“Aw, don’t be mad at her.”

I brush my hair out of my eyes. Something about his voice is oddly endearing. “Maybe I should be mad at you instead?”

“In a perfect world, you wouldn’t be upset with either of us. Anyway, I’m calling to see if you’d like to meet up. Chat about a few scripts I’ve got in place that I think you may find interesting.”

I purse my lips. “Would this be a date?”

Automatically, I want to say no. No, because I’ve given away my heart, and I don’t feel like a single person yet, even with all the bullshit going on. Like it would be some sort of mistake or cheating to even consider meeting with another man.

I’m clearly out of my mind.

I’m living in a delusion which, instead of helping me, keeps me shackled to the past.

Marcus has made it clear he wants nothing to do with me. With him being distant and overbearing at the same time…why not go out with Jacob? I need to breathe. I need to resurface from the nightmare of this movie and talk about something that isn’t it or Marcus.

“Sure,” I find myself saying. “Where would you like to meet? Things are a little crazy right now, but I’ll carve out time for you.”

---