His Dark Secret - Part 1 (Erotic Romance Serial Novel) Page 2

  By this point my hair and makeup were done and a stranger looked back at me from the mirror. My brown hair was pulled back in a tight bun, a gold fan stuck in it, making a halo behind my head. My lips were done in crimson, my cheeks rouged to give me high cheekbones; my eyes were tapered with liner, making them look larger. I was thrilled, feeling empowered in my new look.

  On set, I was handed a gold tray decked with meats and fruits. Again, I was instructed to offer the tray to each guest as I made my way around the table.

  “Be servile, but flounce what you’ve got.” The production assistant said.

  Directly under the lights, it was unbearably hot. I was worried the tape holding up my costume would melt, but it seemed to be holding fast. Looking at the men in robes and leather, I was suddenly thankful for my own skimpy costume. A voice called out, “Action,” and I looked up.

  Standing next to the camera was the dark-haired, green-eyed man from before. He was whispering rapidly to the cameraman, gesticulating wildly. I would have smacked my forehead if I weren’t in front of the camera. It was Scott Rushmand, the director, that I had been goggling before.

  “Captain Malcolm, I do hope you and your men enjoy the bounty of my people.”

  That was my cue. Working backstage, I had found that the skirt sparkled more in the light when it swished, so I swayed my hips as I walked, the platter held before me. I was getting a kick out of this. I went to each guest, and would kneel down, eyes lowered, offering up the food. I repeated this over and over, making my way down the long table. Reaching the middle, I felt a tingling on the back of my neck as I knelt down, as if someone was watching me. I looked up quickly, locking gazes with Scott Rushmand himself. He was riveted, transfixed. I was afraid I’d lose focus, so I broke away, moving to the next guest. Moments later, I heard him call, “Cut.”

  A skinny, harried looking man in glasses came up to Scott. “What’s up? I thought the scene was going well.”

  “It is, Gary, it is, but we’re missing something here. I feel like we’ve got to reveal the plight of the Yusian people sooner, in this scene actually. Something that Captain Malcolm can be thinking about while he’s dealing with the king. Add a little tension to the meeting.”

  “So you want a rewrite?”

  “No, no, just a small line. One of the slaves tries to reach out to him during the banquet. He starts to question the new alliance with the king, transitions more smoothly down the line when he comes to the aid of the rebels. We ad-lib it. How does that sound to you, Troy?” This last bit was directed towards the actor playing Captain Malcolm, a brown haired, rugged looking guy dressed in brown leather jacket and matching pants.

  “Tell me what to do and I’ll get it done.”

  “Perfect.” Scott made his way onto the set. He was searching through the cast, shaking his head, whispering to himself. Despite his circular wanderings, he seemed to be making his way straight to me. His eyes sparkled when they locked onto me.

  Stopping in front of me he asked, “What’s your name?”

  Suddenly, I was very much aware of my outfit. Trying not to let myself blush, I replied, “Samantha Jane.”

  He smiled. “Think you can handle a few lines?”

  “Sure. What do I need to do?”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  He briefly ran the cast through the scene change, the crew quickly rearranging the set into a series of small tables and piles of cushions. They took my tray away, replacing it with a golden pitcher. Once everything was set, Scott called out, “Action!”

  This time I wove my way between the guests, filling goblets, bowing. The King moved away from Captain Malcolm, which was my cue to walk over. As I poured him a drink, I whispered, “Will you save us, outsider?”

  Captain Malcolm gave slave-girl me a quizzical look. “Excuse me?”

  That was my cue to look up, and notice the King returning with one of his attendants.

  “All is not as it seems on Yusia,” slave-girl me finished with a bow and headed off the set.

  “Cut,” Scott shouted. “Everyone, Tony, Samantha that was great. Let’s keep rolling.”

  I was ecstatic. My first day working on a movie and I already had a speaking part. Small, sure, but it was enough to get me through the next few hours of shooting, which involved a lot of bowing, serving, and posing. When the shooting was finally done, I was happy to get out of my costume and into some normal clothing. I needed a shower, badly, especially since the adhesive wouldn’t come off my nipples, so they stuck to my bra. I was making my way past the set when I saw Scott again. He’d been talking to Gary, when he broke off, waving me over.

  “Great work today, mind having a chat with me in private?”

  My stomach did a flip. A private chat with Scott Rushmand, the director himself. I nodded and he led me out of the studio, to his trailer. It was cozy, in grays and whites, furniture and even a small kitchenette crowding the interior. We sat at a kitchenette table as Scott started up again.

  “Honestly you did a wonderful job today. Did you study acting?”

  “No. Art history. Painting, when I was in college.”

  “Well then I don’t know how to explain it, but you have this special presence in front of the camera. Very striking, intense. Been in town long? Sound like you’re from the mid-west.”

  “No, yes. Just been here a few days. From Iowa, originally.”

  “I’m going to guess you haven’t had a lot of down time since moving to L.A. Care to come to a party tonight?”

  I was thunderstruck. “A party?”

  “Sure, an after-shoot get-together. Everyone will be there, cast and crew, and I’d love it if you came as my guest.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course, we’ll be meeting at Frost, I’ll write the directions down for you. So I’ll see you there?”

  He was already writing on a slip of paper, eyes still fixed on me. I felt carried on a wave, pushed forward by a powerful force.

  “Sure thing, I’ll be there,” I replied, dazed.

  Chapter Two

  Later that night, Jenny helped me into one of her dresses, black, with a high slit that showed off the curves of my left leg. The neckline dipped, revealing the inner curves of my breasts. I had never owned such a dress, but Jenny had told me it was the perfect thing to wear.

  “This’ll catch Mr. Scott Rushmand's eye for sure. Classy, but shows a little skin.”

  “Pretty sure I caught his eye earlier, walking around more naked than Princess Leia.”

  “Was it really that bad?”

  “Well I didn’t fall out at least. Had tape on my nipples preventing that. Just got over the chafing.”

  “TMI!” Jenny laughed, “But at least it’s got you going to Frost. Pretty ritzy place.”

  “So you tell me every five minutes.”

  Jenny was pushing me onto the sofa, working on my hair now. I felt like I was back on set, though Jenny was a little less careful with the comb than the makeup artist had been.

  “You trying to comb my hair or scalp me?”

  “Quiet you. I want you to look nice for your date.”

  “It’s not a date.”

  “Honey, he asked you to show up as his guest to a party after barely meeting you. If anything he wants to get to know you better.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

  “You’d like that right?”

  “Of course. He’s kind of strange, almost frenetic. But he’s very handsome.”

  “So you’d like to get to know him better,” Jenny offered suggestively.

  A few more strands were yanked out of my head as I whipped around.

  “Not like that!”

  Jenny turned my head forward. “Keep still. And it sounds exactly like that. He’s handsome. He’s famous. When you got home today, it was like high school again, how excited you were to be asked out.”

  “I just don’t want to rush into something.”

  “Which is a totally
reasonable. Especially with these Hollywood types, don’t go into it expecting a lot.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “There’s a precedent for, how do I put this, just kind of tossing girls to the side.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “These powerful guys, artsy guys, they run through women like nothing else. Get into bed with any girl who’s feeling star struck, and then they move on to the next conquest. I don’t want you to be his flavor of the week.”

  “Well I’m not going to let things get that far. I’m not looking for a boyfriend or anything. I just need to have some fun. A night to myself.”

  Jenny stopped combing. “Well you deserve it, Sammy. Just be careful. I know you’re taking the whole situation into consideration, I just don’t want you to get hurt”

  “Thanks Jenny.”

  “Well I’m done back here. How does it look?”

  She handed me a mirror. My hair was held back, with the bangs on one side curving down. It matched my understated makeup perfectly.

  I smiled at her in the mirror, “Looks like I’m ready for tonight.”

  ~~~

  Almost the instant I stepped foot into Frost, I realized how wrong I was. The place was dark paneled, black for the most part except the soft blue lights that illuminated the bar and dance floor. I soon found the cast and crew, milling about the bar in a distinct social hierarchy. The extras and bit players were shoved together at the end of the bar behind a group of obnoxious socialites whose connection to Chimera was a mystery to me. A larger group, gathered around the star Troy, was laughing in the middle, all sharply dressed and holding the attention of the staff. A circle of club goers with drawn, desperate faces, hung back at a distance, trying with varying success to sidle into a conversation. Everyone was holding expensive looking cocktails, well out of my price range. I watched as Troy, evidently drunk, reached behind the bar, grabbing a bottle of vodka, and threw down a stack of bills when one of the bar backs protested.

  This was definitely not my world. I had a sudden urge to become invisible, to melt into the crowd before anyone recognized me, especially in my low cut, high slit dress. I decided to stand at the edge of the dance floor, soak up the deep bass of the music. I didn’t know anyone here, but I was having fun on my own. I began to sway, my pulse in tune to the beat.

  It was in this state, dancing alone, that Scott found me as he emerged from a dark, curtained off section of the club. My heart stopped for a second. He looked fine in a dark suit, blue shirt unbuttoned at the top. A smile cracked his face as he came over.

  “Glad you made it. But what are you doing alone over here?” He was practically shouting over the music.

  I glanced back at the rest of the crew just as Troy poured a copious amount of vodka over his head. I pointed a thumb back at the celebration saying, “Didn’t seem like my kind of crowd.”

  He nodded knowingly, taking me by the arm.

  “Why don’t we head somewhere a little quieter?”

  He ushered me past a thickset bouncer and through the drapes. The heavy curtains did wonders absorbing the sound, the music reduced to a dull thrum. Scott led me over to a low set table where a group of his friends, maybe just associates, were seated.

  “Everyone, this is Samantha, a bit of an unknown talent I discovered on set today. Samantha, you know Gary.” He motioned to the spectacled man, who looked absolutely ridiculous in a flamboyant purple suit. “This is his girlfriend Megan, she’s an editor over at Sharp and Company.” This was directed at a mousy haired girl in a flashy silver dress with a genuinely happy smile. “Next to her, that’s Desmond Alvarez, the photographer.” Desmond, in comparison to Megan, didn’t smile, barely possessing the niceties to nod in my direction. “And last is Cynthia. She does modeling for a number of our friends.”

  The woman dressed in a peacock patterned silk dress extended a limp hand to me.

  “Samantha, good to see you, please join us,” she said in a magnanimous voice.

  She was gorgeous, but there was a pinch to her face that didn’t sit right with me. The smile on her lips didn’t reach her eyes, which glistened with a predatory light.

  We scooted in next to Gary, who seemed much more at ease than he had earlier that day. Scott handed me a drink, and I shook my head.

  “I can’t afford this.”

  “Don’t worry about it. This whole thing’s on me as it is, I’d be happy to pay for your drinks.”

  “I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

  “Well then we’ll have to train you up for the title belt.”

  Desmond guffawed at this. Cynthia twittered out a shrill laugh that grated across my nerves. Scott shook his head at his own joke.

  “Let’s celebrate a bit. You were key to helping me out with a pacing problem today. I think that’s something to drink to.”

  “Alright, just a bit of one then.”

  Scott motioned to a waiter for another drink. Once furbished, he raised a toast.

  “To surprises and being one step closer to being done with this goddamn film.”

  “Hear, hear,” Gary intoned, downing his drink.

  I took a sip of the amber cocktail in my glass. I couldn’t identify the liquid, but it was good and sweet, almost tart. A few sips later I was feeling warm. For a while, the group seemed to forget me, the conversation turning to a recent shoot that Desmond had been doing in France.

  “Good to be doing my own work for once, not this commercial drivel they have me working in the States.”

  Cynthia chimed in at this.

  “The beaches are exquisite this time of year. And so much less prudish than here, if you ask me. I tell you, it was good to feel the sun on my breasts again.”

  I was unable to stop myself from glancing at the navel cut of her dress, which revealed a distinct lack of a tan line. Self-conscious, I put a hand to my own low neckline.

  “Scottie, when are you going to join us in Cannes again?”

  I was happy to see Scott shudder at the nickname.

  “Cynthia, between this film and my other projects, I doubt I’m going to have any real down time until winter. Which is the way I like it.”

  Cynthia turned her gaze to me, her eyes again refusing to smile with the rest of her face.

  “And what about you Samantha? Have you ever been to Cannes?”

  I felt my face grow red. “No, I haven’t?”

  “Oh. How about Cancun?”

  “Never.”

  “Singapore?”

  I didn’t like the way she was driving at me. I felt skewered in her gaze, unable to escape.

  “Actually, until a few days ago, I hadn’t been outside of Iowa.”

  At this, a cruel mirth reached her eyes. She set down her glass, looking sideways in my direction.

  “That’s a shame to hear. Anyone who’s anyone has traveled overseas.”

  Dour Desmond guffawed again. Gary and Megan looked uncomfortable. I was shocked as Scott let out a loud, hearty laugh.

  “You’re so right Cynthia. I wish more people could be as massively in debt to their wealthy parents as you are. Then we might have a bit more class in the world.”

  Cynthia’s face fell. This got a hearty laugh from Gary and, I’m ashamed to admit, a small grin from myself. Cynthia excused herself and Scott ordered round of drinks for us all. He gave another toast.

  “To bad blood.”

  After we drained our glasses, Megan added in a squeaky voice, “And bad bitches.”

  We all had a laugh, even Desmond. Though I was sad to see Cynthia’s return, Desmond, Gary, and even Megan were all smiles and compliments once again. There was something very high school drama in the way this group operated; being nice to someone’s face while sharpening a knife behind their back. Only Scott seemed immune from this trend, standing out by speaking his mind. While I was thankful that he had stood up for me, the whole group dynamic had turned once again to far off places and dealings that didn’t concern me. I sulked next to Scott, sippi
ng my drink while abstaining from the conversation. Suddenly, Scott sat up.

  “It’s been great guys, but fuck this. I’m out. Enjoy yourselves, keep the party going while I’m away.”