There never would be again.
No matter how treacherous my legs were as they wrapped around his body like they belonged together — like we still fit.
But Will had changed.
Everything about him was different, from the way he carried himself to the way his language had shifted from this playboy to some psycho adult who should have five kids and a mortgage.
Tremors wracked my body, maybe I was getting sick, maybe it was him. It wasn’t the type of physical response that happens after trying to get clean. A sick metallic taste filled my mouth.
I needed a minute.
One damn minute.
To gain my composure.
To forget about his touch.
And the way he used to look at me.
But the problem with the way I had loved Will, with such abandonment, with such desperation, with such stupidity — my body always remembered what it felt like to have that loved returned.
When he was my only safe place. When I had nothing but empty fame, money, and friendships that led down dark roads.
I’d followed him.
And clung to him.
And he’d been every damn thing.
I don’t think he expected that last song to hit like it did — worldwide phenomenon was what it was.
And suddenly Will was everywhere but by my side.
And I was on set.
The band went on hiatus while Will dealt with even more fame, while he sent his own bandmates to cheer me up when I’d call him in tears.
“Ang!” Jaymeson’s voice pierced through my muddled thoughts, through the memories. Through the other voices that always said that there was a really quick way to fix the hurt in my body, the ache in my bones.
No.
I physically shook my head and took another step, my tennis shoes sunk into the sand as I trounced toward the British accent currently yelling for me to hurry the hell up, toward the same kind makeup artist from the previous day’s work.
“Am I late?” I blinked under my baseball cap in confusion, while Jay’s eyes narrowed in on me, scrutinizing from head to toe. Suddenly, I wished I would have at least tried to do something with myself, I probably looked homeless with my sneakers, boyfriend jeans, and old Yankees shirt. At least my eyes weren’t swollen, right?
Instead, he took a step back, tapped his chin, nodded twice, and said, “Keep it.”
I was way too tired and stressed out for crazy directors. “Keep what, exactly? Help me out, Jay, it’s just after five and I forgot to get coffee.”
He thrust his Starbucks cup in my hand and turned on his heel. “Don’t touch her Gem, she looks perfect for the scene.”
I gaped after him. “Wait, no, Jay, my face—”
He waved without looking back.
The coffee cup was singeing off my fingertips.
What the hell just happened?
I gave Gem a help me look.
She simply winked and went back into the trailer while one of the assistant PAs shoved a few sheets into my hand. “A few changes, nothing much.”
I glanced down.
A few changes, my ass.
There was an entire new scene, new lines, all starring—
I gulped.
No, no, that couldn’t be right.
That wasn’t how the story went.
I’d read the script months ago and it never had a scene where the villain, also known as me, Amy, myself, whatever, breaks down and has a heart to heart then almost jumps into the ocean and drowns herself only to rescue herself at the last minute.
Rescue herself?
How does a person even do that?
The damn chills were back, wracking my body. I quickly took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. Damn it, Jaymeson! Did he really not believe in sugar or creamer? Would probably commit a crime just to snatch one of Zane’s marshmallows.
“He’s been here since last night,” Lincoln’s voice came from my right, scaring the absolute shit out of me. He steadied me on my feet, bracing my shoulders with his hands before looking into my eyes. “You look different.”
I growled, “It’s called no filter jackass.”
“Huh?”
“Makeup isn’t on my face.” I said slowly.
“Whoa!” He held up his hands, flashing me one of his stupid movie star smiles that I’m sure worked one everyone but his sister. “I didn’t say bad different, did I?”
I opened my mouth then closed it.
“You look… innocent,” he finally said, then immediately flushed like he felt guilty for even saying it, probably because of how wrong it fit with the person that I was, the person I would always be.
Angelica Greene, sexpot.
If I got paid every time someone tried comparing me to Lindsay Lohan I’d be able to buy a boat and plan my escape from Seaside — from the world.
“Quiet on the set!” Jaymeson yelled.
I groaned and took another sip of his stupid coffee, why was he giving me coffee anyway?
I didn’t have time to wonder, before Lincoln was nudging me toward the action. My scene was next.
It was the new scene.
The one with all the lines I’d never seen before today.
“Jay wrote this in last night.” Lincoln said quietly while the scene played out in front of us, it was one Jay was actually in since he’d starred in the first one.
Worst idea ever, agreeing to play myself.
When the person that existed a year and a half ago was dead.
I’d killed her before the drugs could.
Maybe that’s what was wrong with me. I’d somehow lost myself in the process of killing off every nasty part, maybe I’d always been bad, maybe nothing was left.
“Relax,” Lincoln said under his breath as people mulled around us, a PA jerked the coffee out of my hand while Jaymeson crooked his finger toward me. “You’re a professional. Besides, how hard can it be playing yourself?”
Not hard at all. I’d been playing myself — acting — my entire life.
I just never imagined that going back to that place, being that person, would have such a negative emotional impact on me.
Or make me realize how horrible of a person I’d been — still was.
Jay barked out instructions about the lighting as sand was piled in front of a little castle made in front of the ocean.
The only thing the scene said I needed to do was kick the castle, fall to my knees, sob a bit, then slowly walk into the ocean, fall again. End scene.
Oh, it also had a little note that there would be a rescue team on site just in case the current took me.
Hah. Hilarious. I’m sure Will would love that.
Speaking of Will…
He was supposed to be on set.
Always the babysitter.
I groaned, read through the scene again, still curious what purpose it served when Jay crooked his finger at me again.
The only reason I was able to put a smile on my face was because I imagined breaking that finger off — God knew it was bound to happen if he kept doing that to me every time he wanted my attention.
“Yeah.” I folded my arms over my chest as the breeze picked up, a cold chill crept down my spine until my teeth started chattering. And of course, it just had to start raining on the day I was supposed to be jumping in the ocean.
“I added the scene.” Jay didn’t smile. Instead, he tilted his head and then blew out a forced breath. “I think it’s going to help the audience empathize with you and your reasons for trying to break up the main characters, I think it also helps them see some closure.”
“Closure?” I repeated. “I don’t understand. Isn’t this taking place at the beginning of the movie? What’s the timeline?” I started searching through the notes, when Jay put his hand over my papers and pushed them down so I had no choice but to look into his eyes.
“This is the opening scene of the movie, Ang.”
My heart dropped. “What? No. No. That makes no sense, this movie isn’t abou
t me, I mean not really.”
“You’re the protagonist. Of course it’s about you. Besides, I decided to go in a different direction.”
“Two days into shooting?” I felt a headache pulse, wrapping its tentacles around my head like a vice. Ah tentacles, just like the ones that belonged to all the squid that were waiting to attack me in the Pacific Ocean.
He shrugged. “I’m the director and producer, plus I know my shit. The writers agreed and have been working on the changes I wanted to make since last night.”
I snorted in disbelief. “So my brother getting punched in the face did what? Dislodged a creative demon that took possession of your brain?”
He smirked, “Something like that, love.”
I gritted my teeth. “It’s a mistake, giving me more lines, more scenes, using me as the opening. People don’t…” I licked my dry lips as more rain smacked against my frozen skin, God it was so embarrassing saying it out loud. “Don’t tank your movie, Jaymeson.”
He looked over my head and crooked his finger at someone else then waved.
I smacked him with my call sheet. “Are you even listening?”
“There she is.” He winked. “Ang, I need you to do something for me.”
Could this day get any worse?
“You mean other than try not to puke over the fact that you’re putting the weight of the movie on my shoulders? Yeah sure, what next? You need a kidney? Two maybe? Because we all know my liver’s probably not a good option.”
“I forgot how funny you could be when you’re not trying to play the part of the bitch.” He winked.
I glared willing all the squid to come to shore and strangle him to death.
“Turn around very slowly, make eye contact with Will, and when you do, I want you to tell me what you feel.”
“I’m not playing this game.” I crossed my arms.
Jay grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me until I had no choice but to see Will’s face, he was laughing with Lincoln, one of the extras walked by him, stopped, giggled, then asked for his autograph. She should be fired from set for that. I rolled my eyes.
“I feel… irritated.”
“Try again.”
“Why are we doing this?” By now people were starting to turn their heads toward us, including Will. Great just what I needed, more attention without my armor.
Without makeup.
Sexy clothing.
Without a shield.
His nostrils flared the minute we made eye contact, his half-lidded glare was filled with a mixture of heat and hatred. All I wanted to do was run. Jay held me in place.
He asked again. “What do you feel?”
Several more people looked our way, looked at me, looked through me, judged me. Hell, the world judged me, and the one person I trusted never to do that, to always be there when I needed him, was doing the exact same thing.
“I feel…” My voice caught as Jay slowly released me, my eyes darted from right to left, so many people, so many stares, so many personal opinions about my life, my past, my even being in the movie. “I feel afraid.”
Jay sighed then said in a low voice behind me. “Now you’re ready for the scene.”
I had no time to prepare.
He walked behind the camera.
The scene slated.
“Action.”
I stared at the camera as if I’d never seen one.
I stared down the audience that would watch this movie, that would see this scene, the audience that would judge me based on the first few minutes of this movie, judge this movie on the first few minutes of seeing my face.
And suddenly, just like the waves behind me, in synchronized rhythm against the sand, tugging and shifting the earth — I crashed.
Sobs wracked my body as I fell to my knees, lifting my head to the sky as ran pounded against my face mixing with the tears that slid down my lips. Palms open I sat there, I sat there and let them judge, let them see how deep the cuts had been, how badly I’d been injured both by myself and those who promised to love me, and then on shaky legs, I stood, stumbling into the sand castle, stumbling to my knees, and then for some reason, I just, couldn’t stand.
So I crawled, then pressed my cheek against the sand as a wave crashed over my body, chilling me to my core.
Another wave followed, my drenched shirt clung to my body as salt water filled my mouth, spewing out with each heavy sob.
I was so tired of fighting.
So tired of trying to prove something only to be judged when it wasn’t the something people wanted.
I was so damn sick of trying to earn back trust I knew I didn’t deserve.
I was tired of the fight.
Maybe I was just tired that I had to.
One more wave crashed, and then for some inexplicable reason, anger followed that wave, and I was suddenly throwing my hat into the ocean, followed by my shirt, leaving me in nothing but my bra.
And then I stripped the rest of the clothes from my body, stumbled out of my jeans, and dove in head first.
I was ice.
I was death.
Dark water surrounded me.
Storm clouds gathered above me.
And it felt good.
Because for the first time in years.
The only thing I cared about.
Was feeling something other than fear.
I wasn’t sure how long I was out there, but my teeth were chattering, my body was shaking.
And suddenly arms surrounded me.
I expected them to be the rescue team.
But they weren’t the rescue team at all.
They were Will’s.
I COULDN’T LOOK away from her.
And I’d bet my entire fortune that nobody else on set could either. The sheer agony on her face was reason enough to be transfixed, but what followed was such raw, gut-wrenching emotion that it hurt to breathe, and it only got worse as she fell against the sand.
I flinched and dug my fingers into my palms, ready to spring into action to save her from the stares — from the world.
It went against every fiber of my being to watch her hurt in that way, to see the real Angelica — the one I had fallen for — expose herself to all of these strangers — the world — to the very people who stoned her when she came clean about who she really was.
When she came clean about our breakup.
The drugs.
Everything.
She didn’t owe them shit.
She didn’t owe me either.
And yet she was giving us everything.
My heart of stone began to beat in those few minutes when I fought with the desire to catch every last one of those tears with my lips and promise they’d never happen again even though I had no business making promises like that.
And when Jay still didn’t end the scene.
When I’d seen enough.
When she’d given enough to these monsters.
She started stripping.
I sucked in a shocked breath as her shirt went flying over her head, her bra, her tangled jeans and thong.
I closed my eyes only to keep myself from doing something rash like beating the shit out of every single person who was watching this blessed moment — this raw — powerful moment that not one of us should be allowed to witness.
I opened my eyes.
The perfect curve of her back faced the camera.
The small spot just near the right side of her hip that I had once worshiped and kissed until I couldn’t keep my eyes open anymore.
The matching tattoo that ran down the side of her thigh.
The same one I’d gotten on the inside of my finger so that when I played my guitar I could see it and know she was with me.
My heart warred with my brain, with logic, with the damn facts that she’d broken us, that she’d chosen herself over us, chosen drugs, chosen him.
When all I’d ever wanted.
Was her.
Angelica’s body flailed in th
e ocean.
“Enough!” I barked.
Jay leaned back in his chair, completely ignoring me, the bastard didn’t even take off his head set.
I stomped over to him and jerked it off and grabbed him by the shirt. “That’s enough.”
“Not yet.” He said in a calm voice, not even pissed that I’d grabbed him.
I waited, my hands still digging into his shirt.
Another wave crashed over her.
She could die.
Hypothermia happened all the time in Seaside.
“Jay!” I roared.
I didn’t think.
Couldn’t think past the need to save her.
To do what I should have done years ago.
To be her hero even when she told me to go to hell which is exactly what she’d done when I’d found her the first time snorting coke with Andrew.
“What are you going to do about it?” Jaymeson asked in that same calm voice as all eyes fell to us.
“I—”
He grinned.
“I hate you,” I spat.
Then I ran like hell toward the ocean, kicking off my shoes in the process. The waves overtook my body like an angry tumultuous storm — they matched my emotions, the same battle within.
I grabbed Ang’s arm, then one of her legs, dragging her body back against mine, she was frozen, and her breathing was shallow.
“Will?” Her blue lips pressed together, yet somehow still trembled with cold. “What…what’s h-happening? Is the s-s-scene over? Do I have to redo it?”
I was too angry to speak.
Too irrationally enraged to do anything else, I peeled my wet shirt off and put it on her naked body then picked her up in my arms and carried her back onto the beach.
I didn’t realize the cameras were still rolling until Jay yelled out, “Cut.”
I was still a mess of emotions when one of the PAs handed me two towels and two robes.
I rubbed down Angelica’s arms with the towel. She must be half dead and delirious with the way she clung to me with her shaking hands. Or maybe it was just because I’d been in the frigid ocean for mere seconds when she’d nearly drowned in it.
People were staring.
And I was done with it.
I picked Ang up again, swept past a smirking Jaymeson, and stomped all the way to Angelica’s trailer.
When I opened the door.
There was nothing there but a couch, a coffee maker, a table, and a TV. The walls were painted white, and from what I could see there wasn’t even bottled water or snacks. Hell, I’d seen trailers for extras that were nicer. Lincoln didn’t even like his bottled water labels facing the wrong way or so people claimed.