Page 25 of The Singapore Stunt

Mattias presses a soft kiss on my temple. I feel a soft hand land on the back of my shoulder.

“Yet no star has ever done that for an injured stunt person before,” says Sonya Wu, a member of the team. She gives me a bright smile and joins the hug.

“Hell, you sent a limo to pick her up from the hospital and had a cleaning service and private chef waiting for her at her tiny apartment,” Alex, another member of the team, adds, and the group hug grows.

“I may get injured just to get the star treatment for a few days.” Another team member and another hug. Before I can speak, the entire group squeezes me. Over a dozen people let me know that I’m part of their quirky family. A member of their brotherhood.

I take a long breath and close my eyes. Before I stepped on the plane back in LA, Xavier told me not to worry, that everyone on the team would love me. I gave my standard blustered response. Of course they would. But I had my concerns. I’ve seen how Cameron works with the stunt team. I’ve seen Xavier roll his eyes more than once at him. Actors and stunt people have a complicated relationship and an even longer history.

But I’ve navigated it. We’ve saved the movie; I’ve gotten acceptance by the team, and I have the man.

I lift my chin and capture the joy in Mattias’ eyes. “Let’s make a movie.”

Chapter Nineteen

Mattias

I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve her.

She is the light, while I am overbearing darkness. A darkness that typically forces people to run in the opposite direction to avoid the shade.

But she floats in and lights up my entire world.

Kimberly is sitting six inches away from me in the shotgun seat of the rental car. A caravan of vehicles is behind me as the entire stunt team and half the production crew joined us at the hawker market this evening. The giddiness of a successful final practice makes everyone want to hold on to the evening a little longer.

She should be bone tired after the day she’s had, but she’s wired like a teen after their parents have called to tell them they won’t be coming home for the weekend.

They love her. Everyone loves her.

She arrived on the set with her head down, ready to work. No Hollywood starlet attitude. No special requests. Within the first five minutes, the rest of the team discovered what I’ve been experiencing for a few days. She’s real.

Within ten minutes, she melded into the fabric of the team, stopping to ask questions, giving the members her complete attention when they answered, asking for help when needed, following their advice.

By the end of the hour, she had blended into another member of the squad. The team even invited her to join the end-of-rehearsal chant we perform.

“You did good tonight.” My pedestrian words hide the pride I feel. A few days ago, I assumed by this point in time, we’d be canceling the shoot, ripping up contracts, and Xavier and I would be trying to figure out a way to salvage our business. Instead, because of Kimberly, we are about to embark on the impossible.

“Thank you. That means the world to me.” She returns the praise with an uncalled-for modesty. When everyone around her doubted her abilities, she never did. “How are you feeling?”

I scoff. With Xavier out of commission, I’m technically her boss. No one ever asks the boss how they’re doing. “Everyone is prepared and ready to execute. We have a few final morning items to check off, and then we will be good to go.”

Her hand lands on my knee, and I slow the car. “I didn’t ask about the team. I asked about you. How are you doing? For a man who hates the spotlight, you wear it well.”

My chuckle hides my concern. I know there will be blowback from our public kiss this morning, but for some reason, I’ve not heard a peep. I assume some other celebrity has done something stupid and has sucked all the attention in their direction. “I think you may have overestimated the world’s interest in us. Which I am totally fine with, by the way. I need to keep my focus on our stunt—no distractions. Not now. Tomorrow’s life or death, and I’m kinda attached to you.”

I feel the curve of my lips and can’t believe I’m here this quick. I’ve not been in a serious relationship in nearly a decade. The same timeline as the injury. The timing is not a coincidence.

“Ditto, boss.”

She drags her tongue across the top of her bottom teeth and stretches out the word “boss.” It’s never sounded sexier.

“I know you had reservations when I arrived.” I wave a hand in her direction, but she plows forward. She squeezes my leg again. “I just want to say thank you for giving me a fair shot. That’s all I’ve ever asked for. From anybody.”

It’s all any of us want. My fingers find their way to the scar across the left eye. An almost unconscious move, as I think of all the women who took one look and never gave me a shot. That look of disgust in their eyes, or worse, pity. The damage to my eye was enough to put an end to my dream of being a baseball player. I lost my dream, my teammates, and my girlfriend all because of one night. A night that I feel I’m still recovering from a decade later.

Kimberly’s soft fingers land on top of my own. They slide between them, stroking my scar. “Does it hurt?” It’s the first time she’s asked about my injury.

I lower my hand and slow the car. “No. On the good days, I forget it’s there.” I push out a weak chuckle. “That is until I see the look on someone’s face and I remember.”

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