Page 17 of Hollywood Crush (West Wales Romance #2)
Daniel
It was raining. As it had been consistently for almost two weeks.
And we’d been filming back on the beach for a week.
There was sand in my hair, shoes, and trousers.
It stuck to my makeup and prosthetics, requiring Stacey to come along with a brush every few minutes to brush it all away.
We were stood in the makeup tent, protected from the rain just for a second.
Production runners and assistants were stood around holding umbrellas to ferry more important members of production between the various tents.
“Honestly, this is why I should’ve gone to work for Disney,” Stacey muttered. “All green screens there. Their directors have never even heard of location shoots.”
“I’m not entirely sure that’s true,” I replied. But still, she had a point. If The Mandalorian could create all their stunning vistas through special effects, why couldn’t we?
The answer to that question was marching over the beach towards us. Short, red-faced and apoplectic with rage, Roland looked like he could use a holiday.
“What the fuck is taking so long?” he asked Stacey. “I needed twelve elf extras on set five minutes ago!”
“And as you only told me we would need an additional six this morning, my team have been working like slaves to get that done for you. You’ll have them in another five minutes and if you can’t wait you’ll have to do it yourself.”
Roland stormed back off to the other side of the beach in a huff, his poor assistant trailing him with the umbrella. He might technically have been Stacey’s boss, but no one walked over her.
“That man will have a heart attack on set one day and I have a champagne bottle ready to pop when that day comes,” Stacey said with a grim smile. I snorted.
A runner approached us, soaked from running between both production tents. “Roland has said he wants to start now with or without the extras,” he said. “Get ready to shoot.”
“Fuck’s sake!” Stacey shouted after him, presumably hoping she was loud enough for Roland to hear. She patted me with makeup pads for a couple of seconds then gave me the thumbs up.
A runner followed me with an umbrella as I exited the tent. The crowd of watchers from the village had shrunk significantly with the bad weather, but the number of paparazzi had grown exponentially since the news of Thrones of Blood’ s shiny new potential power couple had hit the blogosphere.
Speaking of…Patrick ran from the director’s tent and gave me a hug, another poor production assistant with an umbrella trying to keep up behind him.
I heard the click of cameras from the top of the beach wall.
I wondered how the paparazzi were managing to get any photos through the rain.
It seemed like a lost cause to me, but no doubt the internet would be buzzing with the blurry photos and another caption about how we were ‘stepping up’ our relationship.
It was exhausting, draining. But worst of all I hadn’t seen Tudor in the whole two weeks.
Not intimately, personally, anyway. We’d messaged each other via Instagram, and sent saucy snaps back and forth.
But in person we wore the same masks of professionality that we had when we first met.
It had hurt to not see him at all, but it was necessary to keep up the ruse.
The ruse was working, too. Sandra and Patrick’s manager were delighted by the whole thing, my Instagram following had doubled, and I was getting more job offers than I could handle.
35 years old and reaching a new zenith had the papers calling me The New Fassbender , but for once I didn’t want it.
I felt like my career was running me more than ever, when all I wanted right now was for someone to tell me to stop .
My phone pinged, and I swore as I took it out of my pocket to silence it. Roland looked over at me with an expression like I’d shot his dog, and I gave an apologetic wave. I caught sight of the message on the screen. It was from Tudor. My room tonight? Once you’re finished filming. Bring supplies.
It sent a thrill through me and I was glad I was wearing a big coat over my skintight leggings and tunic that the scene required me to wear.
I had noticed since the Patrick deal my clothes on set had been getting skimpier and skimpier, and I suspected Roland and the producers in their ivory towers were capitalising on the success of our fake relationship just as much as we were.
“Right, places everyone!” Roland shouted. I was only needed for some establishing shots with Patrick, as our two characters would be sword-fighting and I was not remotely qualified to be trusted with sharp and pointy objects.
We both shucked our coats to the nearest runners and took our places on the beach. It was hard for cameras to pick up on the rain, but it still soaked us through pretty quickly.
“Action!” called Roland.
“You’re going to die, Lord Kazran!” I shouted over the rain.
“I, die? It is you who is going to perish!” Patrick shouted back. The cameras had pulled out into an epic wide shot that took in both of us and the beach. Even with my hatred of the Welsh rain, I knew the stormy beach would look absolutely amazing on camera.
“Face me then!” I stepped forwards and pulled out the plastic sword from its sheath. Patrick did the same, and we advanced towards each other across the beach. Each of us drew back our sword arms, the blades crashed together-
“Cut! Thank you!” Roland signalled for the cameras to move into position for close ups. I repeated my lines a few times more, this time with a stealthy umbrella held overhead. The cameras moved to Patrick and I took cover under the eaves as he recited his lines.
We took another seven takes with similar angles until Roland was satisfied.
“Right, that’s you two done for the day,” said one of the assistant directors. I hadn’t bothered to learn the poor man’s name as Roland had fired so many it was starting to not feel worth it. Somehow Dani had survived all the culls thus far.
Patrick sidled over and put one hand on the small of my back. I sidestepped slightly to make it more difficult for him.
“I think that’s enough of this for one day don’t you think?” I asked him.
“Sure. Gotta give the people what they want,” Patrick grinned. He was a genuinely lovely, likeable person. It just seemed like he was better at playing the media machine than I was. I got the feeling that he enjoyed it more too.
“Right, I’m getting out of here. Busy day tomorrow.
” The shooting schedule had us on set for about 12 hours.
It was a high stakes scene being filmed with lots of stunts, and Roland’s poor time management and inability to go any more over budget meant that it had to be done quickly.
And I always worried about stunt days being done quickly.
It was a recipe for danger. But I was being paid to do a job, and I would do it for as long as I needed to.
Despite the many job offers I’d had, I needed time to reflect on my life.
Perhaps being stuck in Wales full time wasn’t that life, but being with Tudor had taught me that things didn’t always have to be about the job.
Maybe I’d go home, see my Mum. Maybe I’d take on an acting role in a low budget show off the West End, or volunteer myself to help with a community drama school.
One of Stacey’s assistants hurried over and grabbed my elbow, interrupting my thoughts.
She walked me over to the tent without saying a word as Stacey removed the prosthetics and makeup that had been so carefully applied earlier in the day.
I was aware of others taking pictures of my face for continuity as she did.
My whole body buzzed with the knowledge that I would get to see Tudor earlier than anticipated.
With such a busy shooting schedule over the next couple of weeks I had no idea how much we might get to see each other after that, and I still had no idea what I was going to do at the end of filming.
Would Tudor take kindly to me sticking around if I did?
Would he want me gone as soon as possible, like ripping a plaster off rather than trying to slowly peel it?
I had no idea what he would want and no idea how to ask.
“Right, you’re done. Go get him, tiger.” Stacey had finished working on my face and legions of costume assistants had pulled apart my complicated costume as I thought.
“What do you mean?” I asked. I had been very careful to keep my romance quiet, not mentioning it to anyone. I didn’t even know if Tudor’s friends knew.
“I sleep in the room below yours,” said Stacey. “I heard noises before Patrick even arrived.” She smirked and smacked me on the bum. “Now as I said, go get him. Whoever it is that’s been making you so jittery.”
“You’re the best,” I replied. “I’ll see you up bright and early.”
“Six o’clock call, better not have bags under your eyes for me to cover.”
◆◆◆
The hotel was quiet as most of the crew were still out at the beach and Patrick had stayed behind to flaunt himself in front of photographers.
There wasn’t even anyone at reception so I headed upstairs to my room quickly.
Tudor probably wouldn’t be expecting me for a couple of hours so I took my time to shower and grabbed a sachet of lube and a condom from the bedside drawer.
I checked my watch. Six o clock. Earlier than Tudor was expecting me but surely he wouldn’t complain if I was a little early. The more time we could spend together the better, I thought.
I left my room and headed down the stairs. Clare was at reception with a young girl I didn’t recognise. She was in jeans and a t-shirt, with chestnut-brown skin, dark hair and honey coloured eyes. The girl can’t have been much older than sixteen, and her eyes widened when she saw me.
“Hi, I’m Daniel,” I said. “Who are you?”
“Nadia,” she replied quietly.
“Nadia’s joining us for some weekend and evening work. I thought Tudor might have told you?”