Page 26 of The Singapore Stunt

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes for strangers. It’s unnecessary. “I know it’s not the same, but I’ve been judged by my looks. Pointed to the casting couch instead of the demanding role set to the side for the serious actresses. I hadn’t even realized I had settled until someone reminded me I was more.”

“Trace?” I ask. The one name that I can’t escape. I force myself to turn and read her reaction. It’s a brilliant smile filled with happy memories, even after the turmoil their fake romance caused.

“Yeah, my ride or die.” I brace for a streak of jealousy to hit, but it doesn’t. If anything, I feel the opposite. She no longer hides her truth. She’s mentioned on more than one occasion that he’s her best friend. And everything I’ve heard says he’s a good one. “Everyone needs someone in their corner to remind them how good they can be.”

“Xavier,” I whisper my ride or die. “He’s my half brother—same father, different mothers. We found out about each other when he turned sixteen. He sought me out. I was excited to have a brother but was just a kid myself. I had no idea what to do; neither did he.

“We checked in with each other a couple of times a year. Until my injury and I lost everything. One day, he showed up at my doorstep with a crappy proposition. Join him in Hollywood and do stunt work. I had just turned twenty-one and didn’t want to go back to my mom’s house, so I followed him.” I think back to those early days. Two kids doing reckless stunts for nickels on the dollar. We risked every part of our bodies until we came across a fifty-year-old stuntman with more broken bones than dollars in his bank account. We made a promise to each other to never turn into that guy.

That’s when we started our company. “Xavier claims he needed me, but we both know that wasn’t the case. He rescued me, and for that, I’m forever grateful. When he looks at me, he only sees the potential. It’s a look no one’s given me until you came along.”

“I’ve learned the hard way to never judge a book…”

I cut her off. “By the scar-filled cover.” I provide the light we need tonight. We’ve had a tremendous day and don’t need to go down the rabbit hole of the darkest days of our past.

“Something like that.” Her finger returns to my knee, small circles drawn by her nails. “I’m so glad we got to know each other, Mattias. No matter what happens, these last few days here in Singapore will always be with me.”

I turn the car down the quiet, dark street, our compound coming into view. “Are you planning your graceful exit?” I half joke, curious about her response. She’s said she wants a relationship. But it’s early days, and minds can shift with a conversation.

“Not hardly.” She leans back in her seat, her gaze up ahead at the compound. “I just wanted to let you know I appreciate you taking care of me.” The car comes to a stop, yet neither one of us makes a move to exit. “They have a room waiting for me at the Marina Bay with the rest of the cast starting tomorrow. We have one last quiet night here—together. Let me take care of you.”

My pulse kicks up, but I don’t turn to face her. I can’t. If she repeats these words with a desperate look of desire in her Mother Earth eyes, I will give in. “Not tonight,” I whisper into the dark night in front of me. “You need to rest and prepare for tomorrow.”

“I’m thinking of tomorrow. What if…” I connect the dots. It’s always been there, yet we’ve tiptoed around it.

“Never going to happen,” I snap the words, hoping to tamp them down before they get life. Negative thoughts and distractions will make for a self-fulfilling prophecy. “I’d sooner die than let anything bad happen on my set. We are a well-oiled machine—you and I.”

I force myself to face her. She needs to see the sincerity. “I know how you are feeling based on how you exhale a breath. Shaky, solid, frustrated, happy.” I’ve watched her on the rehearsal floor every second. “I know the length of your stride when you run. I know your resting heart race and what it’s like when you are excited—like now.” She exhales a shaky breath, pauses as if realizing what she’s doing, and leans forward with a guess you are right smile.

I’m not done yet. “I know how much work you put in and how important this stunt is for you. But most of all, I know you trust me, and I trust you. We trust each other with our lives. We—you and I—are ready for tomorrow. And tomorrow, we will celebrate.”

I exit the car and walk around to her side before she can speak. When I reach her door, she is still sitting, hands in lap and eyes staring ahead. A few of the team members wave at us as they pass us and head into the compound. I wait until the footsteps die down before opening her door.

She takes my hand and doesn’t let go. She leans against the frame of the closed door. “Kiss me, Mattias.”

The desperation has returned to her voice. I’m no longer sure of its source. Is it the stunt, her last night on the compound, the full team being here, or something else? I don’t let my thoughts consider that it’s about me. It can’t be.

No matter how much I want it to be. I press my lips to hers and swim in a world I don’t belong in. It’s better than I could imagine. A place I know the longer I stay, the more pain it will bring when I’m shown the exit.

I push away that thought and get lost in Kimberly. As much as I know I can’t be the source of the desperation she feels, I know in my heart she is the source of mine.

Chapter Twenty

Kimberly

I knew it was bad news the minute I saw her face.

Arlene. Here at the compound.

She stands, arms wrapped across her body, even though it’s a sticky, hot evening. Under her arm, I see the two weapons that would inflict the pain—her phones.

“I’ll see you in a few,” I whisper to Mattias as he waves to Arlene and scuttles up the steps, glancing back twice at the unscheduled visit.

“We have to talk,” she says, turning and leading me up the steps to my room. I don’t say a word, already knowing what would bring her to my doorstep at this hour. We reach the room, and I wave her inside, the door unlocked.

“Your kiss reached the Entertainment Insider.” I drop onto the bed as Arlene takes the chair by the desk. Of all the outlets to pick it up, they were the worst.

“Please tell it wasn’t Jim Talbott.” I shake my head with the memory of Jim gloating in my face when the lie of my fake romance with Trace fell apart. His publication had spied on us and Jill for months, our downfall used as a justification for them ratcheting up their dirty tactics ever since.

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