Page 29 of The Singapore Stunt

I drop to my back and stare at the ceiling with the image. I have a lot of things to worry about today, but knowing where I’ll be resting my head will not be one of them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Kimberly

Arlene pulls me by my wrist the second I exit the hair-and-makeup trailer. “Whoa, where’s the fire?” I yank from her grip.

“Marlon sent me to grab you the minute you finished.” Arlene avoids my gaze, and I refuse to feed the negative energy emanating from her. I’m still flying from last night and want to live in my bubble just a little longer. Marlon being anxious on the day of filming isn’t anything new. “He’s got Cameron, Wesley, with him, and Elliot and Mr. Pillson are on a Zoom hookup, waiting for you.”

The mention of Mr. Pillson causes my feet to move and keep pace with Arlene. He’s the second-in-charge at the studio. He hasn’t made an appearance since the first day of filming back in LA. I try to figure out the time zone differences and give up when I remember I suck at math.

Two minutes later, we push through the white executive tent, where Marlon coordinates all the activities on the set. We pass the row of monitors displaying the stunt team spread out across the Gardens, warming up. The garden fight sequence will be filmed first before everyone moves to the roof for the rest of the day.

Mattias explained to me he likes to start the days of important stunts with an easy one to shake out everyone’s nerves. That assessment may apply to the rest of the team, but for me, nothing about the scene will be easy. For the Gardens, I am the principal in the long scene. There are five setups for my character. Cameron and the other actors in the scene only have three stunts combined.

And that’s only the start of the day. I really can’t believe I didn’t get any rest last night.

“Good, you’re here.” Marlon snaps to attention the minute I enter the tent. His eyes dart back to the monitors behind him. Elliot, the executive producer, and Mr. Pillson from the studio.

Cameron is slumped on a folding chair, legs spread wide, phone in his hand, scrolling feverishly. He pauses, catches my gaze, eyes widening in surprise. He stuffs his phone into his pocket, rising.

I already know.

“We have a situation.” Marlon’s words are directed at me, and in his eyes, I guess I am the source of the problem. “That kiss you delivered yesterday is causing all sorts of issues for us.”

“What type of issue?” I play dumb, which is what I’m sure they expect from the blonde starlet.

Wesley stands with a silly smirk on his face. “Don’t worry about it, Kimber. We’ll handle it.”

“It’s Kimberly or Miss Conrad to you,” I correct him. Kimber is a name Trace calls me affectionally. Only a few other people are allowed to use it, and Wesley is far from one of them. “And what exactly are you handling?”

“We’re making an action movie.” Mr. Pillson speaks for the first time, and all eyes flip toward his screen. With rattlesnake eyes, a dark suit, and a voice dipped in ice, he continues. “This isn’t one of your happy little romance movies. Our audience isn’t interested in your love life or who you are sleeping with. It’s off-brand.” He clears his throat before continuing. “Now, if you want to take part in a bar brawl, we’ll all be on board.” There is no humor in his voice, and I realize he’s dead serious.

I nod and take a small step toward the screen. “I hear you, sir. But what I don’t hear is the problem. You’ve said the fans aren’t interested in my love life. Good. I’m not asking the studio to create a campaign or promote it, either.”

Elliot speaks from the monitor. “And yet”—he waves a hand at the screen as if that is a sufficient explanation. When he realizes it’s not, he treads forward—“we are here. Your photo is trending on every platform. Old posts from your last romance are being revived. I won’t let my movie become a late-night television punch line.”

Arlene taps the back of my hand to get my attention, and I turn to capture her gaze. It’s focused on the iPad in her hand.

WTF.

Entertainment Insider’s headline stares back at me with their end-of-the-world font. Beauty and the Beast. They’ve blasted a slew of unflattering pictures of Mattias, some of them obviously taken some time ago when his scar was fresh. An ugly, pink-purple, bloated piece of irritated skin, which must’ve pained him in more ways than I can ever imagine.

I grab the screen and scroll to the comments section, already fearing what I will find. The internet trolls do not disappoint. They hide behind indecipherable screen names and take their pain out on others. It is one of the lowest forms of human behavior, and it’s unavoidable.

I thought I had dodged a bullet when the internet didn’t blow up with my kiss immediately. I chalked it up to me being yesterday’s news. I was wrong. I’m thirteen hours ahead of the crazy media in the US, where the tools of mass disruption known as phones are stuffed into the hands of kids before their birthdays reach double digits.

“I know a few of the production people on the set of the Forever movie.” Marlon steps to the plate, ready to add to the pile-on. “They said it became a shit show. Reshoots. Last-minute cancelations. Last-minute secondary photography shoots to cover up the disappearance of the star from the set. Cost overruns. I won’t have any of that here. This picture is too important. It’s bigger than you, Kimberly.”

I don’t bother to remind him that the last movie set produced a billion dollars for the studio. That the studio continues to bend over backward to convince Trace to come out of retirement and return for a third movie. My agent has been approached a dozen times already.

Elliot hops to the meat of the meeting. “Here is the press release we’ll issue in thirty minutes after legal signs off.” His face disappears, replaced by a PDF document, which he quickly magnifies. Even from where I stand, I can read the headline.

Kimberly Conrad enjoying her time in Singapore—a little too much. I step to the monitor and scan the rest of the document, my arms stiffening with every word I read. They’ve spun the entire event as a celebration by the entire team. Happy to be reunited, and I’ve had too much to drink. So excited about the movie that I was kissing any person who came within two feet of me. Mattias just happened to be the one they caught on film.

“You want me to sell this? This piece of…” My anger prevents me from forming the words I want to say. I pause, the anger continuing to swirl and redirecting in the most unlikely of places—right back at me.

They think they can do this because of my history. Because this is what I did last time. I fabricated, I misled, I manipulated. They know I am capable of this. So this is how they see me.

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