Page 67 of Let’s Make a Scene

The next day I find myself fluttering about with nerves over my date with Jack. He’s been very tight-lipped about the whole thing, refusing to tell me where we’re going or what we’re doing.

“I just need to know what to wear,” I whine while he makes me a cup of coffee in his trailer. “Ball gown? Swimming costume? Inflatable minion suit?”

“Do you have an inflatable minion suit?” He looks up, interested.

I nod. “We all did for Halloween last year. Priya was Gru.”

“Okay, I definitely need to see those pictures.” He laughs, expertly topping my cup with foamed milk. “And also, yes, absolutely you should wear that.”

I stretch. “Damn. You’ve called my bluff. I don’t tend to travel with it.”

“Disappointing.” He shakes his head, handing me my coffee. “But anything will do. It’s casual. No need to dust off the ball gown.”

“Casual?” I think about it. “No, it still doesn’t give me anything to go on. I’ve got no idea what we’re doing.”

The door to Jack’s trailer bursts open and Arjun sticks his head in. “Hey, Jack, I have everything set up ready to go to the”—he catches sight of me and falters—“dry cleaners,” he finishes weakly.

“Why are you doing Jack’s dry cleaning?” I ask, puzzled.

“Yes, Arjun,” Jack says, and it looks like he’s trying not to laugh, “why are you doing my dry cleaning?”

“Hmmm?” Arjun looks innocent. “What?”

“You’re being weird,” I say.

“Well, you know me,” Arjun says brightly. “Anyway, I have to go. Now that I’ve told you the news. About the dry cleaners.” He leaves, closing the door firmly behind him.

“What was that about?” I ask.

Jack shakes his head. “With Arjun? Who knows.”

Almost immediately, there’s a knock at the door. “Come in,” Jack yells.

This time Hannah stands in the doorway, and when she sees me her eyes widen. She’s clutching a clipboard. “Oh. Hi, Cynthie!” The words come out in a bright staccato.

“Hi?” I reply. Then Hannah says nothing, just smiles at me. “Did you need me for something?”

“Nope,” she says, then, seeming to collect herself. “I mean yes, obviously.” She looks from Jack, back to me. “Can I get you anything to drink?” she asks, finally.

I look down at the coffee cup in my hand. “Er, no, I’m fine, thanks.”

“Great!” Hannah says and then she whirs back out the door.

“Okay, something strange is going on,” I say. “Why is everyone behaving like they’re on drugs?” I look more closely at Jack, “And why is your eye twitching?”

His smile looks a bit more pained now. “I have no idea. Maybe you were right and the caffeine is finally catching up with me.”

“If you say so,” I reply, dubious. I think about it for a moment. “Are you going to prank me?”

“What?” His surprise looks genuine, but I remain suspicious.

“There’s a lot of big prank energy in the air,” I say, waving my index finger in a circle. “And I’ll remind you, that’s not something you want to start with me.”

He laughs, looking delighted. “I solemnly swear no one is pranking you.”

“Fine,” I grumble, sipping my coffee. “Whatever is going on, I’ll get it out of Hannah later.”

“So, finish telling me about Brooke,” he says, changing the subject and slipping into the seat across from me. “Do you think you’ll talk to her on camera?”

“I don’t know.” I frown. “I need to know a bit more and speak to a few more people first, but it seems like she could be a good person to trust with the story. Don’t you think?”

He nods. “Yeah, actually, I do. I think she’s smart and her work is strong. She’s using the documentary here to boost her profile and make contacts. It also might be better to explore Shawn’s behavior in the context of a wider problem.”

“That’s what I think too,” I agree. “So it doesn’t come off as some sort of personal vendetta. And either way, her project sounds interesting. She’s already managed to get interviews with some high-profile people. I was thinking maybe I could come on board in a production role…”

“Wow.” He leans back in his seat. “That’s a big step.”

“I know, but I’ve been talking about setting up a production company for years. It would be the perfect thing for Hannah to run—she’s the most capable person on the planet, and she knows everyone. The assistant network is no joke.”

“Oh god, you’re right. She’d be brilliant at that,” Jack exhales.

I tap my fingers against the side of my coffee cup. “Plus, she shouldn’t be my assistant forever, no matter how much I love having her around. She’s got way too much talent.”

“It would be hard on both of you, though. Not to be together so much,” Jack says gently.

“Yeah, it would,” I agree with a pang. “But I don’t ever want our relationship to hold her back. She’s outgrown the job, and I know her—she needs a challenge.” I take a sip of my drink. “And it feels like…” I hesitate.

“What?” Jack prompts after a moment.

I look at him and think again how strange this is. It’s not just that I can tell him what I think or how I feel; it’s so obvious that he wants to know. It’s in every line of him. I’m like his favorite book, the one he can’t put down.

“I don’t know, it feels like things are changing. Like the timing is right somehow.”

Jack nods wisely. “You’re both thirty-three,” he says. “That’s a year of transformation.”

I laugh. “You sound like Liam.”

“Don’t knock it,” he says with a shrug. “It’s a whole thing apparently.”

“What did you do when you were thirty-three?” I ask, settling my chin in my hand. He’s not the only one who’s fascinated. I want to roll around in his thoughts; I want to own every secret he has and hoard them with my own.

He rubs his hand across his jaw, thinking. “I decided I was going to stop caring what my parents thought about my career.”

“Just like that?”

“Pretty much. It had been coming on for a long time, but I was working on Blood/Lust .” He sits back in his chair.

“I hadn’t had the best offers coming in and I took that part against their advice.

My own hopes for it hadn’t exactly been high, but, fuck, I loved it pretty much straightaway.

The cast and crew are fantastic, and we got really tight; the writing is great; the opportunity to work on a single character for so long and really get to know him, the fandom .

” He exhales a chuckle. “Being part of that is wild.”

I grin at him, at the enthusiasm coming off him.

“I’d finished the first season and I was having a ball. I realized I wasn’t going to be able to stop my mum and dad from making their comments, but I didn’t have to listen to them. I’d made something without them, and I liked it. They didn’t approve, and it didn’t matter. It was liberating.”

“I bet,” I murmur. “You know, it’s impressive all the work you’ve done since we met.”

“I’m a very impressive man.”

“I’m serious,” I insist. “You’ve grown and changed so much over the last thirteen years.”

“So why do you sound sad about it?”

“I’m not sad about it. I’m happy for you. I’m actually weirdly proud of you.”

“But…” He watches me steadily.

I sigh. “I suppose I can’t help comparing the two of us. You’re happier, steadier. You found something, but I feel like… I don’t know, like maybe I lost something along the way.”

He’s quiet. “You know, that year I also let Nico drag me along to get my tattoo,” he says after a moment, and the turn in the conversation throws me.

“Oh, yes.” My eyes flick to his beautiful torso, currently hidden by his T-shirt. Unfortunately. “I meant to ask you about that.”

“It’s a bonfire,” he says, mischief in his face now.

“A bonfire?”

“Mmm.” He rubs his fingers against his chest, over the spot where I know the tattoo is. The one I traced with my tongue only days ago. I blink. Focus, Cynthie.

“It’s a reminder of that decision, to find the fun in my work, to do what makes me happy. Just like you told me that night by the bonfire.”

“Like I—” I give an incredulous laugh, but his expression is serene. “You’re serious? Wow. You weren’t kidding about that conversation being important to you.”

“Everything about you is important to me,” Jack says simply.

“That’s…” I trail off, my heart too full to find words.

“I don’t think you lost anything, Cynthie,” he says quietly. “I think you’re full of joy and light and you always have been.”

“Oh,” I manage, eloquently. Fuck, he’s so good at this. All this emotional intelligence, it’s driving me crazy. “You’re just going to make me feel safe and cared for and heard until I start believing in true love and fairy tales and happy endings, aren’t you?” I grumble.

“That’s pretty much my evil plan, yeah.” He grins. “Thirty-three, Cyn. The year of transformation. Let’s make a romantic of you.”

“A romantic of me and a producer of Hannah.” I sigh, steering the subject back to safer ground. “Not sure who’s going to be a bigger challenge.”

“You’ll both find your way,” Jack says with an awful lot of certainty. I wish this self-assured, confident thing of his wasn’t doing it for me, but it really is.

“I just need to convince her, I guess.”

“You will,” he says cheerfully. “No one can resist Cynthie Taylor for long.”

“You put up a pretty good fight.”

“Nah, I was a goner on day one; I’m just an excellent actor.” He gets to his feet. “Speaking of which, I need to go and get into costume. I’ll see you later. The car will pick you up at eight.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll see you wherever we’re going in my cowboy hat and daisy dukes.”

“Can’t wait,” he replies, leaving on a laugh.

I HANG AROUND SET FOR a bit longer, though I don’t have any further scenes scheduled for the day, and I don’t think it’s my imagination that everyone is behaving strangely toward me.

Barry, the key grip on set and one of my favorite gossip buddies, turns around and walks off in the opposite direction when he sees me coming, even though I’ve been waiting all day to catch up about the latest episode of our favorite reality TV show.

“Hope you’re looking forward to tonight,” Hilary from the costume department calls as I’m leaving, and then Greg, the driver, digs her in the ribs and says “Shhhhh!” Even Logan goes out of his way to avoid me, muttering something about a health and safety meeting that definitely isn’t happening.

Brooke treats me to a cheery thumbs-up for no apparent reason and looks startled by her own hands.

I don’t think she’s ever given anyone a thumbs-up in her life.

It’s deeply weird.

Still, I have other things to think about, and my nerves pick up again as I get ready for my date.

A date.

A real date.

With Jack.

I wonder what it will be like. I wonder if he’ll finally put his hands on me. God , I hope he puts his hands on me.

As promised the car picks me up at eight sharp, and I have no idea what’s going on when it starts taking the road back to Darlcot. “Are we picking Jack up from set?” I ask Greg as we bump up the drive.

“Yes?” Greg says, sounding troublingly uncertain.

When we reach the house, Jack is waiting outside. He’s wearing jeans, a mossy-green sweater, and a nervous expression. He comes round to open the car door for me.

“What’s going on?” I ask, confused. “I thought you wanted to go on a date?”

“We are,” he says. “The date is here.”

Greg is beaming at us.

“Here?” I repeat, no wiser. “At work?”

“Do you trust me?” He’s smiling, but there’s something in his voice, something in his eyes, that tells me the question isn’t lighthearted.

“Yes,” I say, and the words come easily.

He looks relieved as he holds out his hand to me.

“Come on, then.” His fingers tangle with mine, and it’s the first time we’ve touched in almost a week.

It’s the tiniest taste of what I’ve been craving, a drop in the ocean.

I wonder how quickly I could get him naked.

His outfit has a reassuring lack of buttons so I’m thinking it wouldn’t take me too long.

I’m so distracted by my own thirsty schemes that I barely register where we’re going.

He guides me around the side of the house and there, on the edge of the formal lawn, I find my friends waiting for us.