Page 87 of A Lucky Shot

The sweetest man in Hollywood found some sugar in Calgary

Dozens of photos, splashed across all social media platforms. Each post shouted similar interpretations of the cheesy headlines he was looking at now. Big, bold sans serif letters and big, bold full colour pictures. Some taken through a paparazzo’s telephoto lens, others with a surreptitious snap on a cellphone. All from set over the course of several weeks.

A grainy photo of Cass tugging on Dawson’s suit months ago in the converted athletic facility. A wide shot with their heads together and laughing in the farmer’s field with the sunrise glowing behind them, Dawson looking like a previously unknown Hemsworth and Cass all gilded and gorgeous, her red lips a fiery beacon in the snowy morning. One from just yesterday—he recognized her hangover clothes—with Dawson shooting a dopey grin down at her, her hands all over his chest.

Half the pop culture-consuming world would think Cass and Dawson were madly in love.

“What the fresh fuck is this?” Josh demanded, barging into Melanie’s office without knocking. Three heads turned to him with wildly different expressions. Melanie sat behind her glass and metal desk in her temporary office with a calculating look on her face. Dawson rocked on his heels in the corner with hands shoved in his pockets. A middle-aged man who looked familiar pecked away at a laptop, face oddly blank.

“That,” Melanie said, pointing at the same headlines pulled up on the oversized monitor, “is free publicity.”

“I ordered a closed set.” Ever since Cass had hinted that Brynne’s chilly personality was more shyness and less divaness, he’d closed the set when filming emotional scenes. Without the extra bodies milling around, Brynne’s “visualising time” had been cut down to a fraction.

And now there were paps sneaking around when Brynne thought they had privacy. “How the fuck did someone get close enough to get these?”

“They have their ways,” the man chirped, his voice overly animated, as if trying to make up for the overzealous administration of Botox halting emotion at his eyebrows. “As long as we don’t let Brynne get cast as getting between them. We don’t want her looking like a homewrecker.”

“Hard for her to look like a homewrecker if there were no homes to wreck,” Josh bit out through clenched teeth, swivelling his head to the man striking keys on his laptop like he was playing a piano concerto. “And who are you?”

“Bernie Scott. Promotions,” the man said. Ah, that was where he recognized him. Bernie Scott had worked on several projects with Melanie, the latest of which the lead actor had been nabbed for drunk driving. A few unsanctioned photos from a remote film set were probably a welcome, and comparatively sedate, diversion. He hit a few more keys and shut his laptop screen. “It’s a bit of a situation.”

“It’s an opportunity, not a situation,” Melanie said, and Bernie’s mouth pulled into a semblance of a grin.

The film was getting attention. Like Melanie said. Free publicity. A good publicist could spin anything. Any time the film hit in the news cycle was a win.Josh should be delighted with this.

Even if it meant the fandom would get their hands on every unedited still shot, scouring for Easter eggs Josh had meticulously planned. And Brynne would retreat further into her trailer between takes. And everyone would see photos of Cass cozying up to Dawson with her hands all over him and those wide doe eyes of hers gazing into his.

He wanted to launch the free publicity through the window.

“It would look better if the shots were all of Brynne and Dawson,” Bernie said. “It would make people want to see if they look as hot on screen as he and Cassidy do in these photos. But as long as we can get some good photos of her, we can work with this.”

Melanie jumped in. “Or we could work the angle that Dawson just has chemistry with everyone. Release the screen test footage?”

Dawson shot her a quelling glance and read over her shoulder. “Has Cassidy seen these?”

“I would assume so,” Melanie said in a distracted voice, still scrolling through headlines. “It’s trending on socials.”

“Since we got a bunch of people in here talkin’ ‘bout her, seems like a pretty good idea to find out.”

Melanie furrowed her brow. “Why does that matter?”

Because she’s not his, Josh wanted to growl, but swallowed the words. Terry had hired her a wardrobe assistant. Maybe she needed another one. Then she could focus on the design and look of the movie and not be so hands on. Specifically, hands on Dawson. Unless she wanted to spend all her time touching him. Her hands weren’t on Brynne nearly as often. Fuck.

Josh refrained from kicking the foot of the nearest chair.

Melanie waved her hand. “Cat’s out of the bag. Best we can do is control the story. Besides, the gossip cycle is short. If we don’t move fast, this could all blow over before we even figure out our angle.”

“And if she hasn’t heard already, she’ll get wind of it soon enough,” Bernie added.

“In the meantime, let the paps shoot what they will, Dawson and Cass looking chummy?—”

“Intimate.” Bernie cut in, his eyes sparkling. “Everyone loves an on-set romance.”

Fuck on-set romance. Terry was getting a budget increase to hire more set security, along with another wardrobe assistant, as soon as this meeting wrapped.

“Cassidy didn’t sign up for this,” Dawson said, feet planted. “I’m not putting her in an uncomfortable position.”

You have no idea the positions she wants to be in.

---