Page 13 of Accidentally Wed to My Enemy

“Lacey was just telling us about her ring.” Shana grabbed my bare hand and held it up.

Eric frowned. “Hey, Grace. I’m sorry, her ring?”

I felt my whole head flush to the tips of my ears. Why hadn’t we thought to coordinate our lies? I blurted the first thing that came to mind, anything to keep Eric from blowing us up.

“Wait, your name’s Grace? I thought it was Shana.”

“Shana? Who’s Shana?” Grace burst out laughing. “I’m dying to know, though—”

“Okay, enough chatter.” Berg came striding up, wielding a clipboard. “Congratulations, you two. I’m sure we’re all thrilled for you. But Idohave a budget and a schedule to meet. Go get into costume, and Grace, get set up. I want everyone ready in forty-five, tops.” He clapped his hands twice and Grace’s team dispersed. The extras stood for a minute, unsure what to do, then Berg shooed them off to the costume trailer. I found my own trailer, and Eric must’ve found his, because we were both dressed and ready in half an hour flat, all ragged camo and artful dirt-smears.

“Grace asked about my ring,” I said, my voice low. “I kind of panicked. I didn’t know what to say.”

“So I have to buy you one?”

“No! No, I’ll do it. But if anyone asks you, it’s—”

“Quiet. Incoming.”

I shut my mouth as Berg hustled up. He mussed Eric’s jacket, then jabbed a finger at mine. “You’re not meant to have that. I told them, bare arms.”

I peeled off my jacket and Grace whisked it away. Somebody dusted dirt down my arms.

Berg turned to his assistant. “Where are my extras?”

“The last group’s nearly finished. They’ll be out in five.”

“Then, let’s head over.” Berg started walking. We followed him down to a narrow strip of jungle, white beach on one side, a cycle path on the other. The path had been blocked off to make room for filming — cameras on trolleys, lights and reflectors. Chairs with our names stamped on their backs.

“So you’ll crawl along there.” Berg pointed at the forest. “It’ll be pretty chaotic, bodies dropping around you, but you need to look out for tape on the trees. That’s where the gaps are, where you’ll say your lines. Anywhere else and the shot will be cluttered.”

Eric’s brow furrowed. “Can’t we stop and shoot closeups?”

“It needs to be one long, continuous shot; no cuts, no zooms, total immersion. We only switch angles when you run down the beach.”

Eric let out a whistle. “That’s at least twenty minutes. One continuous shot?”

“Twelve minutes,” said Berg. “I’ll be in your ears if you’re lagging or rushing, telling you when to scramble, run, fall. Do what I say and hit your marks for your lines, and we ought to get it in one or two takes.”

Eric and I exchanged horrified glances. We both knew, of course, about Berg’s reputation. He swung for the fences, took crazy risks. But this, on our first day, a twelve-minute shot with explosions in the background because CGI wasn’t ‘real?’And then our big beach scene right after that?

Eric’s jaw tightened, and I thought he might protest. But he just squared his shoulders and headed for the trees. I followed him, wishing I’d asked for bug spray. The soil was still damp from yesterday’s rain, and Eric’s lip curled as it sucked at his boots.

“Make me run through this twice and I’ll divorce youtonight.”

That shouldn’t have bothered me, but somehow it did, the way he assumed it’d be me who screwed up. Me, the dumb blonde coasting on looks. I’d seen him be sweet with the staff at the club. He wasn’t always an asshole, so why me? Why me? Was I really so talentless he couldn’t hide his disgust?

Berg was yelling at the extras, herding them into groups. Grace ran up to Eric and concealed his earpiece. I stood trying to breathe through my mounting panic. It was like I’d told Eric: for me, this job mattered. It had been a while since I’d booked anything major. A picture like this could make my career. Getting turfed off it… well, that could end it.

“All ready,” called Berg. “Runners in position?”

If anyone responded, I didn’t hear. I couldn’t hear much through my pulse in my ears.

“When I call action, run for your lives. Run like the boogeyman’s after your toes.”

My heart did a stutter step. I forgot how to breathe. He’d said ‘crawl’ before. Did I run or crawl? I half-turned and called to him, “Do I run, or—”

“Action!”

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