Page 56 of Behind the Scenes
The sun had long since set, and they still were not letting me go back to the hotel. They claimed that they wanted to get a head start on one of the scenes for the next day, but I called bullshit.
At the pace they were going, they wouldn’t even get to that scene for another two to three hours, and I was supposed to have left two hours ago already.
Unable to stop myself, I brought out my phone and looked at my conversation with Laura. She hadn’t replied yet. Anxiety clawed at my throat as I imagined all the awful things that could have happened to her while she was sick.
Are you doing okay, my love?
I waited a few moments, but there was no response, and that only made my frustration worse.
Penelope had stopped giving me updates, so I was flying blind. Frustration and anxiety swirled together and made the murderous thoughts even more potent.
Every time anyone even looked my way, I would imagine bashing their head in.
Time to reassess the surveillance clause.
To top it off, I was stuck watching as my co-star fumbled her lines over and over. She was stumbling through them, probably feeling the pressure of my glare.
But I didn’t care. She was a professional.Or at least she was supposed to be.
On any other day, this would piss me off. Today? I wasenraged.
“Sorry,” Julian said, coming up to me. He had a water in his hand and gave me a sly smile. His dark hair was slicked back and he wore an embarrassingly bright tropical print shirt.Like he’s on fucking vacation. “I didn’t think it’d take this long. But you know the director has been a bit annoyed with the progress, so?—”
“If he’s annoyed, you should be having this conversation withher,” I growled and pointed my chin at the still fumbling actress.
I couldn’t keep my anger in anymore.
I was exhausted. Cranky.
Worried.
I hadn’t slept that badly the previous night. Especially after pushing the fucking pillows out of the way. Especially after Laura had let me cuddle her. That was progress, and I smiled at the memory.
But I’d had enough, and I couldn’t remember a time when I had a stronger urge to kill someone.
“Well, I’m not her manager?—”
Fuck this.
“I’m leaving,” I spat out and turned away, but his hand was on my shoulder, holding me back.
“Harley, don’t fuck this up. You need to work with me here and?—”
His words became muffled by the rush of blood through my ears. I clenched my hands into fists as the shaking took over.
More than ever, I was ready to kill him. Not ready, Ineededto. Like I needed to breathe. Like not doing it would crush me.
How dare he touch me? How dare he stop me?
The risks of killing him here were high. It would just be losing his connections. It was high exposure. The lights from the set had attracted tourists, and as much as our security tried, we were unable to keepallof them away.
In that moment, I considered it all. All the work—the years—I’d put into building my mask. Letting go of it and the loss of all the money that came with it.
And yet it still seems like it’s worth it.
I slapped his hand away and turned to him, getting unreasonably close. I could smell his sweat. I could feel the heat from his skin.
So close. Just one move and?—
