Page 46 of Lights, Camera, Love

I’m worried that I’m falling in love with her, and that I won’t know how to handle it and do right by her.

I mean—look at what I’ve just done, practically deciding to apply for this Melbourne position without even considering what it would mean for us.

The last thing I would want is for her to think I’m pushing her aside without a second thought, after everything she’s been through with her father.

When I remember what she told me about him not contacting her since their lunch, and the disappointment in her face when she said it, a feeling of pressure suffocates my skull.

There’s something I’ve been wanting to do since then, and after this morning, I think I’m pissed off enough to do it.

My lips press tightly together as I snatch up my phone and tap through my contacts until I find Jenna from the PR agency. She answers on the first ring.

‘Calling on a Saturday; you must be asking me out,’ she says, her tone carrying a glint of hope. Jenna and I had a fling once, but I’ve never wanted to pick things back up.

‘Trust me, I’m not good boyfriend material,’ I deflect. ‘But I do need a favour. And I am sorry to ring you on the weekend.’ I know she won’t give a shit, though; PR people are used to getting calls at all hours.

‘I’m waiting,’ Jenna says.

‘ I’d like the address for wherever Gabriel Dean is filming next week. As well as the date and time.’ I could ask one of my contacts at Village Pictures, but I don’t trust any of them not to tip off Gabriel that some guy who has a bone to pick is looking for him.

‘Oh, jeez. That could take a bit of doing,’ she replies.

‘It’s for a movie he’s helping to bankroll; he’s recording a cameo in it. So what do you think? Can you find out the details and let me know whether it’ll be at the studio lot, or else get me an address?’

‘Funnily enough, my bestie just started working at Village recently. She’s got zero scruples, so don’t worry, ha. Let me see what I can find out. I’ll call you back.’

‘Thanks.’

We’re two minutes from home when Jenna rings me. I feel my eyes widening as she fills me in on what I need to know—and how close I am to being out of time.

I cup my palm over the speaker. ‘Change of plan,’ I tell Mike. ‘Sorry; do you think you could drop me off over at the Village Pictures studio lot instead? That’ll be on your way home, right?’

‘Yeah, no probs.’ His gaze skips to mine. ‘What’s going on? Should I be worried?’

‘Nope.’

But Gabriel Dean should be.

I dig out the crew pass I got for Moving from my wallet and flash it at the Village Pictures studios security booth, where a half-asleep officer waves me through.

I’m owed some luck after this morning, and I finally get it when I discover that the soundstage I’m looking for is only a short walk away.

I step inside the dark entryway and check the sign taped to the black-painted wall, making sure I’m in the right place for the big-budget epic that Gabriel Dean is recording his small part in—a US army general, apparently—today.

I guess Buzz isn’t the only director who makes their crew work on a Saturday.

I wander deeper into the studio, heading towards the hum of voices and activity on the film set. The noisy chatter makes it clear that the crew is between shots—likely on their lunch break, judging by the time.

I probably wouldn’t even need to know what Gabriel looks like to figure out that the man hovering beside the catering truck in a GI uniform is one of the world’s most famous film stars.

He has a pretty intense magnetism about him; I’ll give him that.

Even the crew members thrusting mugs beneath the coffee urn, who presumably work with celebrities all the time, keep stealing slightly awed glances at him.

Hanging back in the shadows, I wait for an opening. I want to approach Gabriel when he’s alone.

I take one step forward—but nope, some asshole with a horseshoe ring through his nose cuts in front of me and hands the star a barista-style coffee. I guess Gabriel considers himself too good for the urn-issued stuff.

Gabriel says something gruff to the minion and then turns away to, presumably, drink his coffee in peace. He takes a sip, grimaces, then sticks a pinkie finger into his mouth like he’s about to pick something out of his teeth. I decide to seize the day.

‘Mr Dean,’ I say, walking right up to him.

He slips his finger out of his mouth and frowns, giving me a once-over.

‘I’m not with the film crew,’ I begin.

He must be constantly hounded by the press because he says, ‘I’m not interested in an interview.’

‘Neither am I. I’m a friend of Evie’s.’

Gabriel freezes; he doesn’t even blink. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘ Evie ,’ I reply slowly, like I’m uttering a foreign word. ‘I believe she’s your daughter. Well … in her eyes she is, at least.’

He dumps his coffee on the table next to him and shoves himself forward, making me stumble; I wasn’t expecting him to crowd me so suddenly.

He guides me into a corner and holds a gnarled finger up to my face, stale coffee wafting off his breath.

‘Listen to me,’ he says through his teeth.

‘I’m not interested in some prick whom I’ve never seen before charging at me and talking to me about my daughter. ’

‘Oh, so she is your daughter.’

His eyes narrow. ‘What the fuck do you want? Who the hell are you? Actually—just get out of my way.’

He goes to move, but I block his path, meeting his glare. I’ve had a shithouse morning, and I’m not about to let this self-important superstar intimidate me. I also know that I have less than ten seconds before this conversation is cut short, so I get down to business.

‘I’ve clearly hit a nerve with this topic,’ I say steadily, ‘but I came here to suggest a way that you could try to start making things up to your daughter.’

Gabriel blanches and throws an aghast look around, as if searching for one of his manservants to save him.

Yes, I’m out of line here, but I can’t bring myself to care.

‘Do you have any idea what it’s like to be completely ignored by your own parent?’ I persist, speaking in a low tone so no one hears this but us.

Gabriel remains mute, and a vein pulses in his temple.

‘Well, I do,’ I say. ‘Two parents, in my case. But do you know what? For years and years, while I was in foster care and my mum was in jail, all I wanted was for her to walk through the door and tell me that she loved me. And that she was coming to get me. It didn’t matter how much she’d hurt me or how long she’d already been dead. ’

‘Why are you telling me this?’ Gabriel snarls, his face a lightning storm of indignation. Yet, through the clouds, I sense a trace of compassion. ‘I don’t even know who the hell you are,’ he says. ‘How did you get in here?’

‘You don’t need to know who I am. Forget about me—I’m fucking no one.

But your daughter? She’s everything. She’s sweetness, and kindness, and positivity, and trust. And believe me when I say that she’s waiting for you to walk through her door and tell her you love her.

And that you’re sorry. You fly back to America without doing it? You’re going to miss your chance.’

A ragged breath slices through his lips. ‘You dare come here and lecture me on my own child?’

‘Yes, I do. But not only that. I also came to say that Evie has been working extremely hard on a film by Village Pictures, which is about to self-destruct because it’s got a toxic, egomaniac director attached to it. You are going to get that pissant, Brian Winter, kicked off the movie.’

Gabriel laughs, but there’s no mirth in his eyes. ‘Oh, I am, am I?’

I cross my arms over my pale blue shirt.

‘You are. You’re going to do this for your daughter.

You’re going to pull whatever strings you hold in this business and get a new director assigned to the film who actually knows what they’re doing.

Someone who has the perfect vision—and the skills—to cut all the footage we already shot into a fun, engaging, commercial dance movie. You know anyone like that?’

He doesn’t respond, but I can see the cogs are turning.

A woman with a headset crowning her curly hair paces up to us. ‘Mr Dean, we’re ready for you,’ she says. She squints at my face and then looks for the lanyard I’m not wearing. I guess lunch is over.

‘I was just leaving,’ I say.

‘What did you say your name was?’ Gabriel mutters to me.

‘Kye. Kye Evans. And the film I was talking about is called Moving ,’ I say before this stressed-looking woman can pull him away. ‘Evie might want to tell you more about it,’ I add pointedly.

He swallows hard and then marches off with the crew member.

It’s only ten minutes later, while I’m finding my way back to the main road, that the unease begins rolling through me in increasingly intense waves.

When I call Evie to tell her what I just did, she might be utterly horrified.

I didn’t really think this through—when Jenna rang to say that Gabriel’s cameo was happening right fucking now , I raced straight over to the studio lot, determined not to miss my chance.

Plus, there are people I care about who I didn’t protect when I should have, and I’m not making that mistake again.

I pull out my phone to book an Uber, only to see a string of texts from Austin.

AUSTIN: OH MY FUCKING GOD SHE DID IT

AUSTIN: Where the hell r u???????

AUSTIN: She posted the video!!!! NADIA’S VIDEO OF ME IS ONLINE

AUSTIN: Answer ur fucking phone!!!

AUSTIN: Evie’s not picking up either. ARE U WITH HER? Answer ur fucking phone! I am ur BOSS and its a work day. FFS Kye! WHERE ARE U???

Jesus Christ.

I pull up Nadia’s social media page, and my gut clenches at her latest post. It’s a blurry screengrab of Austin, stamped with an ‘adult content’ warning.

I inhale sharply and tap on the video. Austin stands in front of a full-length wardrobe mirror, wearing only a pair of boxer briefs.

While filming himself with one hand, he glides his other down the front of his stomach.

I hit the pause button. I’ve never seen the rest of this recording, and I have no desire to.

He already told me what happens: he undresses, he talks dirty to himself about how hot he is, and he jerks off. Imagining it makes me cringe.

I take a number of screencaps, then close Nadia’s page and tap out a message to Austin.

ME: Meet me at the Bondi police station in ten minutes.