Page 5 of Love At First Fright
Jenna gave him a flat stare over the top of her menu. “Did it ever occur to you that I might be using him for his connexions? My brother is a lawyer, he did my whole contract. Brody wasn’t happy about it, but the moment I want out, I’ve got it. He’s a means to an end.”
Ellis exhaled. “Well, I am glad to hear that.”
They ordered drinks and food, a platter of tiny bites that did nothing to slake Ellis’s post-gym hunger pangs.
“So what’s the master plan?” he asked, entirely bemused by the strange trajectory this dinner had taken.
“Oh, I want to direct. Rom-coms. I’m gonna be the next Nancy Meyers.”
—
The rest of the meal went swimmingly. Jenna was sharply witty and no-nonsense, but once he got her talking about rom-coms, he only had to sit back and listen.
It was like attending a very excited TED Talk.
Ellis had the sense that if Jenna was twenty years older, they would have been firm friends.
As it was, his brain glazed over a little when she started talking about hashtag views.
She was very sweet, but he was aware they had nothing truly in common other than their careers.
It only had to look like a date, though, it didn’t need to actually be one.
Not that Ellis had been on a real date in ages.
It wasn’t that he was high maintenance, it was just tricky to tell who liked him for him and who just wanted to be famous by association.
And then he had to be even more careful when sex was involved.
The things he craved couldn’t be trusted to everyone.
A bright flash drew his attention to the corner of the restaurant, where a woman had not so subtly snapped a picture of them on their “date,” evidently not realising that her flash wason.
And although he couldn’t see any yet, he could sense the paparazzi, like vipers waiting to strike, outside the restaurant.
Sure enough, when they left together, hand in hand—part of the deal was that he would give Jenna a lift home to really cement the idea that they were dating—a swarm of paparazzi was waiting there.
The sickening flash of their cameras, and the way they called and taunted from every angle reminded him of the night he lost Hank, his last dog. Ellis forced the memories down.
“Once more unto the breach,” he said to Jenna, who gripped his hand.
“The things we do for money.” She winked, and lifted her face to the cameras.
Ellis drowned out their voices and glazed over his expression as they walked quickly to the car, Jenna offering the photographers a starlet smile.
Sinking into the soft leather seat of his car, he sighed in relief, thanking his past self for forking out extra for tinted windows. They drove off, the flashes of paparazzi disappearing among the lights of Mayfair, frost in the air.
“I need to invest in more sunglasses.” She grimaced, pulling on her seat belt. “I nearly went blind for a second there. You sure you don’t mind dropping me home?”
“Not at all. It’s all part of the deal anyway.”
“Ah, yes, the deal. Brody never did say what you get out of it. You’re not a pervert, are you?”
“Jesus Christ. No, I’m not a pervert. I just…Brody and I have a few IOUs, and this is how he chooses to cash them.”
Ellis felt her eyes on him. “I get it. And if you were some kind of cradle snatcher, I’m sorry to say I’m not interested in dating a man of your age.”
“Ha. Well, that makes two of us. But you can stop calling me old, you know. I’m only forty-one.”
“Okay, grandpa. This is my street.”
Ellis pulled up outside a block of Georgian apartments. This was a nice area of London.
“Wow, look.” She waved her phone in front of his face, flashing a tabloid article about their date.
“Those bastards work fast.”
“Hmph. At least they got our good sides.” Jenna climbed out of the car. “Thanks again, grandpa.” Ellis rolled his eyes, but felt a strange protectiveness of Jenna. He was disgusted at the idea that the industry seemed totally cool with people of their age gap dating.
“I’ll see you at the pre-filming dinner in a few days’ time then. Where is it again?”
“The Cloverwood Hotel.”
“Fancy.”
“You’re living the fancy life now, kid.”
It was Jenna’s turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t call me that.”
Ellis waited until she was safely inside her apartment building, and drove home.
—
An hour later, Ellis lay in bed, the hearth of his bedroom lit and crackling with applewood, Fig snoring as she lay across his legs like a fluffy blanket.
Struggling to fall asleep, he grabbed When the Devil Takes Hold, which he’d already read cover to cover three times.
His copy was full of thoughts and annotations that he’d scribbled in pencil in the margins, giving himself context from the book that he would need to translate onto the screen.
He flicked open to one of his favourite scenes, the big climactic finale, where his character, Alfred Parlow, realises that the ghosts infesting his uncle’s crumbling manor weren’t trying to kill him but his uncle.
Ellis couldn’t wait to act out that scene in the pouring rain, the moment when one of the ghosts would reach out a bony, mist-clad finger and point to the elder Parlow.
The idea of it sent shivers down his spine.
It was the most excited he’d been to act in years, principally because the story was so different to all the action flicks he was known for.
He would finally get to play a role that was more than quippy one-liners, performing slicked in oil and tanning lotion, and talking to a tennis ball on a stick.
Only a couple more days and he’d be on set.
Only a couple more days and he could finally meet this Rosemary Shaw in person and give her a piece of his mind.