Lose Me: (New Adult Billionaire Romance) (Broken Idols) Page 15

  1. Pardon Us - the scene where the boys are taken to jail and Stan’s lose tooth keeps buzzing as he talks to the officer. I’d be Stan, of course. Naturally. (Not that you’re fat or anything, still, your name is Ollie after all. . . Hmm, maybe I’ll start calling you Babe, like people used to call Oliver Hardy. Just a thought.)

  2. The Finishing Touch - the scene where Ollie puts ten nails in his mouth in order to start nailing them to a wall, and then Stan steps on his foot and he swallows them all. (Real nails included in the actual performance, I insist. Babe. Dude.)

  3. Our wife - the whole abduction scene, climbing from the window with a tiny suitcase and trying to jam the buxom lady into a tiny Volkswagen, it’s not that long. (And Anna plays the wife, in a fat suit.)

  4. Berth Marks - now I admit, that sketch is pure gold. Good old stand-up. Pure, grab-your-stomach can’t-breathe tears-streaming-down-your-face laughing. I’d love to do this. Climbing in and out of two tiny train berths, wearing pajamas. Now that’s art.

  5. Another Nice Mess - the piano scene. Nuff said. (You’ll provide the piano.)

  6. You’re Darn Tootin’ - now this we should handle with care. We wouldn’t want a photo of us both inside a massive bloke’s pants, walking in step, tipping off our hats (like the boys do in the last scene of that film) circulating the media, would we? It’s their most famous pic to date. It won’t be ours, though. It won’t. (One can only hope.) Well, anyway, this is one of my picks. That’s right. I play dirty.

  7. County Hospital - all of it. You as Babe with a cast on your leg and me as Stan, trying to drive you home while I’m doped up on anesthetic, well. . . need I say more, good sir?

  8. Beau Hunks - yep. My favorite. I’d be willing to let you butcher it, just as long as I can feast my eyes on the sight of you sighing over the photograph of a devil-woman, and then enrolling yourself to the desert soldiers. (There’s no way I’m touching your boots though to clean them, as Oliver does in the film, not from a mile away. Let’s be realistic here.)

  Ok, so that’s it. Get crackin’.

  P.S. I’m never playing truth or dare with you again, I swear. I mean, Babe. You’re one evil dude.

  P.P.S. hahaha ‘Babe’ hahahahahahahahahaha

  P.P.P.S. I’m going to make you watch my entire golden collector’s edition of the works of Laurel & Hardy right after Ari is done shooting her underwater sequence. Oh, and she’s invited too. (hope she wants to hang out with us sorry lot.)

  Cheers, ‘Babe’.

  Signed

  WESTON SPENCER

  eight

  I go back to work a day later, feeling almost normal.

  Almost being the key word here.

  I spend practically the entire day with Coach at his home gym and he tries his best to get me back in shape—as in, he tortures me for eight hours straight. He keeps stealing these weird glances at me, as though he’s wondering how a simple stomach bug could leave me so worn out.

  Anyway, we do our best, and by the end of the day I tell him I feel a bit more energized. The truth is I feel tired and sick and scared.

  “Glad to hear it,” Coach says with a look that tells me he isn’t buying it, and we take it to the pool.

  ◊◊◊

  The next morning I’m one of the first in the yellow villa, but Tim’s assistant immediately whisks me off to a beach somewhere in the south.

  “This is what you’ve got to do,” he says, and gestures for Matt to take over.

  I’m already dressed in the white bikini that looks like Elle’s, and warmed up, but as I stand there, listening to Matt explain to me what I will have to do, I feel a frown coming on my face. The beach around us is deserted, and it’s a little chilly today, but the sun is shining in the sky, peeking between the clouds. I hate this in-between weather, but that’s not why I’ve got that sinking feeling in my stomach. I wrap my arms around my waist.

  “You’ve got this,” Matt tells me with confidence. “You’ve got this.”

  Do I?

  I turn to gaze out into the sea. Crew members have already installed a huge, and I do mean huge, plastic tube in the water, supported by a frame of metallic beams, invisible from the surface. All I can see is a light, rubber structure—right now, only the top half of it is visible above the surface, rising about five feet in the air and forming a round shape like a half-ellipse. It’s bright orange and scary and there are divers and waterbikes with divers bobbing on the waves beside it. The scene is surreal.

  Or maybe scary would be a better word.

  The camera crew is already heading out to the water and it suddenly hits me that within minutes I’ll be in there, too, performing. Being filmed.

  Yes, definitely scary.

  Coach and I have trained endlessly for this sequence, of course, but this is the first time I’ll be working with this equipment. And they’ll be filming me, too.

  I can’t even begin to think how much equipment like that may have cost. The mere sight of it is intimidating. I mean, I’ve done flyboard stuff before—it was the single most exciting stunt thing of my life, by the way; it’s a combination of flying and surfing, as well as skateboarding, in a way. I can’t wait to try it with all this equipment. But this. . . this is going to be a legit massive-scale underwater sequence with no more than three to four cuts, and it’s freaking intimidating.

  Matt sees me freaking out and puts a hand on my shoulder. He is seriously the coolest dude I’ve ever met. Calmness is exuding his every move, he doesn’t even look nervous. “I’ll guide you through it.”

  Here we go.

  Today is Fake Dolphin Day.

  Or, actually, rubber dolphins. I’ll be filmed swimming with them out in the sea, and they’re going to add the real dolphins digitally in post-production. Tim stressed the importance of this stunt, it’s one of the most expensive shoots we are going to do, he said. Great, I replied.

  I’ve never done anything like this before, and it’s making me nervous. I get into the water to start practicing before the camera crew is all set up, and Matt strips his shirt off and joins me, giving directions as I go.

  I have to perform a ridiculously well-calculated sort of circular dive from the top of the plastic tube and then swim along with the dolphins, matching their slow, rhythmic movements. There will also be a few underwater close-up shots, but we’ll do them at the pool on a different day.

  Tim has given a day off to the cast, seeing as they are more than half-way done, and he really, really wanted to try this today. He tells me not to think about the cold or the possibility that it might rain, and I tell him I won’t.

  It’s the long dive and the synchronized swimming that worries me.

  Matt does it over with me a couple of times and then I’m on my own. He shouts corrections and then pronounces himself satisfied and me ready.

  I’m shaking with nerves.

  I get out of the water to rest for five minutes before we begin the take. As I approach the beach, a strange sight greets me.

  There is a literal crowd watching us. Most prominent, in the middle, is Wes’ tall form, and he’s holding a tablet in front of him, somberly filming my every move.

  He’s wearing boardshorts and a light blue linen shirt, which accentuates his tan and makes his green eyes pop. Almost the entire cast and crew are gathered next to him. Wait, weren’t they given a day off? And yet, here they all are, waiting to watch the stunt sequence. Wes starts running towards me.

  Okay, so this stunt is an even bigger deal than I thought. Even Tim looks a little red-cheeked and nervous, which is so unlike him. And he did say it was the most expensive shot.

  Well, everyone being here and watching me is making it that much easier. Whatever, I just have to focus on my performance.

  “Hey,” Wes’ voice says softly in my ear.

  “Hey.”

  “How are you feeling?” His eyes are searching mine.

  “Nervous.”

  I haven’t seen him since the day I was sick. His hair is ge
tting too long, curling at the nape of his neck, and he looks worried, sort of uncomfortable. Elle approaches him in a minute, and he stiffens.

  “Hey, babe, come on,” she says. He ignores her.

  “You okay?” he asks me again.

  What to answer to that? “What did you tell Tim to let me off the hook for the last two days?” I ask instead.

  He bends his head down, hiding a smile. “You’ll never know,” he says after a pause.

  “O-kay,” I reply and get up to go. Tim is frowning at his watch.

  Wes blocks my way abruptly, taking my arm, and his touch sends shivers up and down my spine.

  “What?” I whisper.

  “Nothing, just . . . take care out there, will you? I can’t . . . I’ve reached my capacity of watching you get hurt. Promise me you’ll put yourself first, and not a stupid stunt.”

  “That’s not the way it works,” I reply softly and he presses his eyes shut.

  “I’m serious, Ari,” he says. “If anything goes wrong, I’m going in and pulling you out, no matter what.”

  “Great.” I look up at him, half-smiling, half-frowning. “That doesn’t add to my stress level. Nor will it ruin the shot.” I try to lighten his mood by joking, but it’s not working.

  “Sod the shot,” he says.

  I laugh. “You don’t need to keep saving me, you know,” I tell him. “I’m not that girl.”

  “No, I know.” He’s shaking his head. “’Sides, it’s the other way round. You are the one who saves me.”

  He slides his hand down my arm, once, and then I’m running to the water.

  “All right, children, we’ll try to get it all in a couple of takes,” Tim yells over the speaker. “Three, max. So don’t screw it up for me. After that the light will change.”

  Did I hear him correctly?

  Matt nods at me to dive. A tall, dark figure waves at me next to him, and immediately I feel safer. Coach is here.

  I dive in and come face to face with the lens of an underwater camera. A plastic dolphin is waved in front of my face and I pretend to play with it. I touch its mouth carefully and try to hug it, while not making it obvious that I’m holding my breath. Then, just as the air in my lungs is running out, the cameraman gives me the thumbs up, and I turn my back on him and swim towards the base of the tube. I grab on, just as Matt instructed me to do—at this point I’m practically bursting for air—and push my strength into the whole rubber structure, so that when I let go, my body will burst through the surface, propelled with force into the air in a—hopefully—graceful arc.

  I pull it way down until I almost reach the bottom of the sea, more than six meters deep.

  Then, when I can push no more, I let go.

  I am thrown upwards with such force that my breath slams into my throat. I try to relax my muscles, my mind wandering to the texts Wes sent me the other day.

  Can I trust you?

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  With a gasp, I shoot to the surface. My body arcs gracefully over the water, and I throw my head back, as Matt told me to do. I turn slightly, while I’m in the air, gathering my body to dive in again, head first. It feels terrifyingly like flying. It’s awesome. Once back in the water, the world slams to a stop. I lift my head above the surface, slowing my movements, and start a slow freestyle alongside the rubber dolphins.

  Somewhere behind me the camera crew rafts are following me closely, but I pretend they don’t exist. I swim rhythmically, synchronizing my movements to those of the dolphins, slicing the water evenly—there are divers holding their nylon strings, making them move as naturally as they would if they were real.

  “Cut!” Tim yells from the shore and I can already hear the excitement in his voice.

  I lift my head from the water and the sound of heavy applause fills my ears. Out on the beach the crowd is clapping. Wes lifts his arms in the air, hands in fists, and whistles long and loud.

  Tears prickle the backs of my eyelids.

  I’m never going to that operation table, I vow inwardly. I don’t want to miss even a second of this. Of living.

  “Bloody brilliant,” Tim yells, and Matt leans down from the boat and grabs my shoulder, giving me an encouraging squeeze.

  I turn to look at him and he’s smiling, beaming really, as he nods his approval. “Good job, Ari. That was excellent.”

  I have to do it many times again, and none of them is as flawless as the first time, but that’s okay. They take as many shots of the stunt as they need to—way more than three, of course—and then we’re done.

  Immediately as I step onto the beach, Wes’ arms envelope me in a warm hug, saltwater and all. “That was really hot,” he whispers into my hair, “for a twit.” He lowers his eyes to mine and my throat gets dry when I see the naked desire in them.

  If only he knew what a coward I am.

  And that’s when I realize it: I can’t do this anymore. I asked him not to contact me for the past two days, and he’s completely respected that. But now he’s here and I can’t put it off any longer. I’m lying to him, I’m pretending to be something that I’m not, and it’s not fair to him, no matter who he is. It’s not right. It has to end now.

  I’ve made this huge mess and it’s up to me to fix it.

  I’m not yet fully convinced that Wes is that serious about me; all these endearments and stuff, I don’t know if that’s just flirting. I don’t want to put more meaning into his actions than I should, but it is clear he is beginning to care for me. And I for him. And that’s so not okay. I have to stop this thing between us before it becomes stronger.

  His arms are rubbing mine quickly, trying to warm me up; so many people surround us, talking and laughing, but he doesn’t stir an inch away from me. I’m not even looking at him, but still he stays.

  Dammit, how do I tell him that I have an expiration date on my back? It wouldn’t be fair to drag him into it, it wouldn’t.

  This is it, Ari. For once, you’ll have to be brave.

  All I do is push him gently away, but he senses the movement immediately and his freezes hands freeze on my arms. Crap.

  “Ari? What is it?”

  “Let go.”

  Just like that, he steps away from me, no questions asked. People I’ve never met swarm in to fake-congratulate me, I guess mainly because Wes is there, watching me from the side, tight-lipped and frowning.

  Then, out of nowhere, Anna is there, looking at me with regretful eyes.

  “That was cool, girl,” she says and then her face turns serious. “For the record, Ari, I wish I had handled things better.”

  I am completely thrown. She does? “You could have apologized.”

  “Would you have listened?” she asks me, surprised.

  “Of course. We’re all human, we make mistakes.”

  “Wow,” she says. “I never thought. . . Okay, listen. I’m really, really sorry for what we did. I have been from the start. I hope you will give me another chance.”

  “Anna. . . ” I start, but she interrupts me.

  “That’s not who I really am,” she says, her eyes looking honestly at mine. “There aren’t many decent people around, and I know you’re one. That’s why I wanted to get to know you. That day on the yacht when you had that accident. . . I don’t think many girls would have been as brave as you—you didn’t even look scared. I know if it had been me, I’d be panicking my ass off.”

  Suddenly, I laugh. It’s impossible not to, the way she speaks, all her words coming out in a tumble, as though she doesn’t bother to put them in order, just says what she thinks. Maybe my first impression of her was right, after all.

  “I was freaking out,” I tell her.

  “Well, so was I,” she answers. “And Ollie and Wes. Especially Wes. After you left, he went downstairs and we didn’t see him until the next afternoon.”

  I look away at this, not knowing what to say.

  She puts an arm on my shoulder.

  “I
want to try to be friends,” she tells me, “if you can forgive me. I didn’t even want to do it, but Elle. . . she has a way of making people do what she wants, you know? I’m weak like that, but I’ll try to keep away from that kind of toxic people in the future.”

  “It’s okay, she’s your friend, I get it,” I reply, wondering at the vehemence in her words. “And yes, I’d like to get to know you better. One mistake doesn’t define who you are.”

  She flashes a brilliant smile at me, looping her arm through mine, as she had done that first day on board the M&M.

  “I’ve been dying to get to know you better. Someone has been talking my ear off.” She smiles, nodding towards Wes’ tall form behind us. “Oops, better watch out,” she goes on, indicating Elle’s approaching form with her eyes. “Toxic waste incoming. And. . . yep. She’s going straight for Wes.”

  “We’re just friends,” I answer, blushing.

  “He is clearly not,” she retorts, as Elle reaches him, a few paces away from us, and starts chattering in his ear.

  A few minutes later I head for the trailer to get changed into dry clothes—this wet suit is making me so cold I can barely stand it. Tim said I should normally wear a diver’s suit for this kind of stunt, but a bikini would be sexier in the movie, so that’s what we’d have to ‘go for’.

  I saw him checking out my rake-thin arms and my ribcage that’s showing through my skin nowadays, as he said the word ‘sexy’ and waited for him to fire me. He didn’t. Probably he was hoping that my current un-sexiness wouldn’t be noticed from this angle.

  “Hey, Phelps!” a voice stops me as I reach the street. It’s Wes. He runs toward me, kicking up sand with every step. “Where are you going?”

  “I just need to change,” I reply, feeling suddenly self-conscious about my almost naked body in front of him.