Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
I’ve been around long enough to see the writing on the wall.
I survey the set again and find everything is calm.
“That was fun.” Paxton steps up beside me.
I turn to look up at him. “Did you get him sorted out?”
“We found the tarp, if that’s what you’re asking.” He sucks his teeth, eyes turning to slits as he watches the cast.
“Something else wrong?”
He lets out a sigh. “So much, but I don’t even know where to start.”
“From the beginning?” I raise an eyebrow. He chuckles, but now that I know Paxton better, it sounds hollow and forced.
He looks around before continuing. “Listen, the whole set is on edge. Not only are we behind on shooting, but the storm, well, it did damage to locations we need for key scenes. Stefan is trying to figure out what to do.” His voice drops to barely above a whisper. “And the worst part . . . is that it will be leaked.”
“How do you know that?” My voice pitches.
He gives me a look that says, isn’t it obvious?
“Since the storm lifted, the tweets have already started back up. It might be too late for us to control the effects.” He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. “I just hope we can get back on track and this whole thing doesn’t implode in our laps.”
I’ve been sleeping on the job, and it shows. He’s aware of these new tweets, and I haven’t even gotten caught up on them. I need to turn my focus from all the dirty things Paxton and I got up to during the storm and back on my work. If I don’t find a way to fix this, it could bury Teagan’s career . . . and mine.
“Thanks for telling me,” I reply sincerely. “I appreciate you not leaving me in the dark.”
A few weeks ago, he wouldn’t have told me any of this. He would have let me sink.
“I’ve got to go deal with Brad. I’ll see you later.”
I nod. His comment is vague, and I spend too much time mulling it over. What’s going on with Brad? Is it something to do with Teagan?
Finally, I take a deep breath and say fuck it.
If it is, I’ll find out soon enough.
Instead, I find a quiet spot and queue up Twitter, ripping off the Band-Aid and getting caught up. If I don’t uncover the leak, this entire movie could be over before it wraps.
38
Paxton
@Stargossip: Welcome back, cast and crew of Twisted Lily . . . I’d say welcome back to Stefan, too, but we all know how that would go over. If pictures tell a story, what would this one say? You’re welcome ;) * Picture of half-crazed Stefan attached. *
@Cruelgirl810: I was served meat as a vegan.
@Bradforlife: I haven’t shit in two weeks.
@Deathtothesystem: Why are these people still here?
@Lastman_standing: How much is this going to cost me?
@Sirkernals: Taxes! I hate taxes.
It’s been five days since we’ve been back on set. Five days of pretending Mallory and I barely tolerate each other while spending five days secretly in bed with her every night.
Her thatched roof has been fixed and the water removed. The place is spotless, more so than mine. Every night as the island sleeps, I sneak into her hut and have my wicked way with her.
Both of us are insatiable.
It’s a wonder we can keep our masks on during the day.
To be honest, it gets harder every day. Just watching her talk to another man is taxing on my nerves.
Even right now, as I’m leaning against a tree, supposedly watching whatever shit they are filming, I’m watching Mallory look uncomfortable as Jeffrey rattles on about God knows what.
I will have to ask her about that one of these days.
But the thing with Mal is that neither of us ever talks business when we’re alone. It’s an unspoken rule.
It’s as if we both understand how precarious of a situation we’re in. If we let the real world into our bubble, there’s a very good chance it will pop.
I watch for a few more moments before turning to walk down the path to get some privacy.
There’s a call I have to make, and I can’t interrupt filming.
The path is overgrown, dense, and dark. Despite being two o’clock, the sun is only a sliver of light where I am.
The path forks and I take the way that leads back to craft services; at this time of day, it should be empty. It also happens to have the best reception.
Flies buzz around me in swarms, and I swat them away as I move forward. Ever since the rain, the island has been overcome with bugs, which is just one more setback.
Finally, I’m in the familiar clearing, and just like I thought, no one is here.
I take out my phone. The battery is almost empty, but I have enough to make this one call. I key in the number I’ve been dreading to dial, and as soon as he says hello, I can tell that he knows what this call must be about.