Page 48 of Home to Me

Between the next set of takes, he took a deep breath and said quietly, “Lauren, I think we just need to be a little friendlier with each other. A little nicer.”

“Are you implying I'm not friendly enough for you?” she asked icily.

Oh, great. The cold tone was back. That wasn't going to be simple to thaw. He knew this from experience.

"I'm just saying,” he said slowly, attempting to be patient and not let his frustration get the better of him, “you can catch more flies with honey than you can with vinegar."

"Hmmm. Interesting,” Lauren replied flatly. “You do realize that, in the scenario you just laid out, you are the insect, correct?"

Paul walked up to them just at that instant. “So I see the honeymoon's over, huh?” he said, tension evident in his face and voice but clearly attempting to make light of the situation in an effort to not bring it to a head.

Lauren and Ben stared at him, neither one of them willing to be the first one to call a truce by cracking a smile.

After a moment of silence so thick with tension, Paul said uncomfortably, “Okay, then. If that's how we want to do it, I'll just be clear and direct. To be honest with both of you, your dynamic this morning has been for shit. I need you to relax. Remember last week? When it was awesome? Think we could harness a little bit of that lightning in a bottle?”

Ben and Lauren just stared at him. Ben wasn't sure what Lauren was thinking or feeling, but he, for one, was scared shitless. This was not a talk you wanted to have with your director, not if you wanted to keep your job.

This was the first time in his career—in either of his careers, really—that he was in a situation where he had to sternly tell himself to get his head in the game, get his shit together, get ahold of himself, and still not actually be able to do it. .

If he followed this train of thought out to its logical conclusion; this could be an indication that he was losing his touch. If he couldn’t transition into professional mode at a moment’s notice, regardless of what stresses were weighing on him or what else might be going on in his life, then game over. Stick a fork in him—he was done.

Determined not to let that happen, resolute to prove to both Paul and himself that this was just a bad morning and he could, in fact, pull it out, he said with renewed focus, “Absolutely, Paul. You got it. I can adjust. No problem. I’m a professional.”

Even without looking at her standing next to him, he felt Lauren bristle. He didn't need to see her in order to feel her annoyed gaze as she cut her eyes sideways at him.

“That's a yes for me as well, Paul,” Lauren said, her voice as smooth as a baby's bottom. “I am certainly a professional as well.”

Ben sighed inwardly, kicking himself. Well, of course she’d taken that statement personally. He certainly hadn't thought about how it would sound before it came out of his mouth, particularly from her perspective. He was so worried about his life and his career, and what this disastrous morning meant in the scope of both of those things that he hadn’t thought about her feelings or the implications this morning might have for her.

He wanted to pull her aside, look into her eyes, talk to her honestly, lay all of his cards on the table and at least see what kind of reaction that might get, because this passive-aggressive routine was doing nothing for him. It wasn't the way he liked to operate. It wasn't who he really was. As with so many things in his life since he’d met Lauren, though, it was a steam engine that was moving forward under its own powerful momentum and he felt utterly powerless to stop it.

Anyway, that conversation wasn't something that could happen now. Paul was about to call action again, and then he and Lauren would be working. They had to focus on the professional now. They could deal with the personal later.

But he did want to deal with it. He hated the cold shoulder. He didn't like giving it, and it was driving him nearly insane to receive it.

And the worst part was that he was still overcome with almost irresistible lust every time he stood within close proximity to her—which was all day long. The ups and downs he had experienced since meeting this woman were unprecedented.

The rest of the shooting day progressed well. But it was no comparison to the brilliance they had experienced the week before; he and Lauren weren’t vibing and showing the camera the magical chemistry like they did in Aspen, but they were doing a good job. Their reading today came across as warm and engaging, and they related to each other with a professional respect that read onscreen.

When the long day finally came to a close, Ben gathered up his things and walked out to the front of the house to climb in the town car that production provided for both him and Lauren.

To his surprise, it was nowhere to be seen, and neither was Lauren.

Well, of course, he thought to himself sarcastically. Perfect end to a perfect day.

He went back inside the house, where the crew was still striking the equipment, and grabbed the first PA he saw.

“Got any idea where my car is?” he asked, doing his best to keep the tension and sarcasm out of his voice. After all, it wasn't this poor kid's fault that Lauren decided to take off in the car.

“Sure, one second. Let me check,” said the PA.

He turned and stepped away a few feet to speak into his headset mic. In just a moment, he walked back over with a regretful look on his face.

“Sorry, Mr. Stevens,” the young man said, nervousness showing through the polite and respectful tone he was delivering the bad news in, “but I guess Ms. Harrison took the town car back to the hotel. Do you want me to call you a taxi?”

Ben nodded, not trusting his voice, sure that it would betray the anger and despair he felt within. He didn't want to take it out on some innocent PA who had nothing to do with his being stranded.

Damn. He'd love to know what exactly was going through her head.

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