The Director's Cut Page 13

  “Sounds nice.” I smile, still breathless from what we’ve just done.

  “The others will be back soon,” says James. He leans forward and tugs my skirt back down into place.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to get through the rest of the day,” he says, buttoning his trousers, “knowing that you’re not wearing panties.”

  “You’re a professional,” I smile, “I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

  James gives me a rueful smile. “I always thought I was extremely professional,” he says. “And then I met you.”

  Chapter 20

  James and I have been standing on set for a few minutes when the crew and cast come swirling slowly back.

  I step carefully away from James in a whirl of feelings. I’m loving the acting. But this is going to be hard. How can I act this scene, knowing what we just did behind the set?

  “Crew, take your places please!” announces James. “Cast, come to me please. We need to run through this scene. Natalie!” he adds in a voice like thunder. “That means you too!”

  Natalie had been talking intently with Carol. At the sound of her name, she jumps and looks guilty.

  Something about the movement catches my attention, and my eyes sweep to Carol’s face. By the looks of her, James just interrupted a serious conversation.

  Carol sees me watching, and she looks away. It’s exactly the gesture of someone who has something to hide.

  What were they talking about?

  “You can order your staff on your own time,” James is saying to Natalie. He sounds slightly sardonic, and it’s hard to tell if he’s really angry with her.

  Natalie clearly can’t tell either, because she trots towards him with uncharacteristic speed, looking uncomfortable.

  There’s no time to think further about what I just saw between Carol and Natalie.

  Callum is already at James’s side, and I make sure to come last and hang slightly back. Partly to dampen any suspicion, and partly because I don’t trust myself near him.

  “Come in closer, Issy,” says James patiently, and I try to keep my face neutral as I step nearer.

  “Ok.” James is brandishing a script in his hand. “So we all know this next part. Callum has been inside the café, whilst Lisa and Grace were outside.”

  “What we’ll get next is Callum crashing straight through this window,” continues James. He’s pointing to the slightly mistier, sugar-glass window.

  “Callum’s happy to do his own stunts for this,” adds James, “so we can do it in one nice take.”

  James stands to one side and puts a hand on Callum’s shoulder.

  “Callum, you’ll come out here,” he points. “Fall, just how the stunt guys showed you. Left shoulder to the ground, curl into a ball, and roll. Ok?”

  Callum nods. “Do you want me to turn my head a little,” he asks, “so we get a dusting of glass in my hair?”

  “Yes, great idea.” James nods and looks pleased.

  He turns to Natalie and me to check we’ve understood.

  “He’ll fall around two feet away from you,” continues James. “We want it very light, very comedy. Lots of great shocked expressions from you girls.”

  Natalie and I both nod.

  “Wait,” says Natalie. “Would it be a good idea to dislodge some of our coffee cups and things? Spray us both with coffee?”

  James pauses for a fraction of a second.

  “Yes. I think that could work,” he agrees. “We’ll do a few reaction shots without the coffee spill, and then try it with.”

  He smiles at Natalie.

  I have a sudden wave of uncertainty. The acting part, I can do. But it looks as though actors can also contribute more than I realised.

  I decide, slightly miserably, that I’m not sure I’d be brave enough to offer my opinion like Callum and Natalie.

  Pull it together, Issy, I tell myself sternly. Concentrate on getting the acting right before you worry about being as good as the mega stars.

  “David. Props please!” calls James, and in a moment, David is on set with us. He seems less shy of me this time around and gives me a warm smile.

  James explains he wants coffee spray set up, and they discuss equipment and what level of soaking Natalie and I should receive.

  “Ok,” says James, once the equipment is arranged. “Issy, I want Grace to be really shocked, horrified. Ok? Really ramp it up.”

  I nod.

  “You’ve added a really nice character touch by dressing her semi-formal,” adds James. “So when we shoot the coffee spray, let’s see that in full comic effect. Her nice clothes are drenched. She’s disgusted.”

  He turns to Natalie.

  “Natalie, I want Lisa to be easy-going,” he says. “Laugh, roll your eyes. Lisa has seen the funny side. Grace hasn’t. Let’s really play that contrast. Ok?”

  The rest of the day passes in a whirl. We shoot scene after scene, take after take. It’s exhausting, but it’s fun.

  Lunch comes and goes with an incredible array of local food. But we barely have time to fill our stomachs before we’re back on set.

  Towards early evening, a runner brings us all fresh coffee. And although I’m not a big coffee drinker, I take it gratefully. I’m beat.

  For all the hard work though, I am enjoying this. And it feels as though Natalie, Callum and I are bonding.

  Lorna and the other extras are only needed for the morning, so for the rest of the day, it’s just us working through our scenes.

  When James finally calls an end to filming mid-evening, Callum and I file gratefully off set.

  We change into our regular clothes, and I study my inch-thick layer of make-up.

  I’ll need an entire bottle of make-up remover, I think, staring at my face. Maybe Natalie has something I can borrow.

  I emerge from changing to see Callum.

  “Where’s Natalie?” I ask, noticing she’s vanished.

  “Probably she’s off to enjoy the Barcelona nightlife on her own terms,” says Callum. He gives a large yawn. “Suits me,” he adds. “I’ve been waiting all day to call my wife. I have a date with my cell phone and a club sandwich on room service.”

  He gives me a cute little smile. “How about you, Issy? You got any hot dates planned?”

  I smile back. “I don’t know,” I admit. “I think Lorna may have other plans, so I guess I’ll just wait and see.”

  James has vanished into some production trailer, and I don’t think it would be appropriate to go after him.

  Callum winks at me, knowing full well I’m waiting on James.

  “I’m sure there’s something very exciting awaiting you,” he says.

  As if on cue, my phone beeps, and I take it out to see the message icon and James’s name. My heart does a little flip as I read the message.

  I have to finish up here. Wait for me at the hotel. Won’t be long. xxx

  James’s text etiquette is improving marginally, I guess. But it’s still on the curt side.

  I shrug at Callum. “I guess I’m coming back to the hotel with you.”

  We arrive back at the hotel to find all the crew seem to have disappeared to their rooms, or out into the city.

  “It’s been a long day,” I say. “I’ll bet everyone is exhausted.”

  “Yeah,” agrees Callum. “But the crew work hard willingly. They all love James.”

  “They do?” It’s hard to imagine they could be fond of someone who makes them work such long hours.

  “Sure they do,” says Callum. He pauses. “Issy, you fit so well on set, I forget it’s your first time.”

  I laugh at this.

  “But believe me,” he adds, “you don’t see this level of commitment from the crew on many movies.”

  Oh. I didn’t know that.

  “James deserves his loyalty,” adds Callum. “You see how he is with the crew? James knows everyone by name. Most directors just shout for ‘props’ or ‘hair’, but James calls for Scarlett or David. People like t
hat.”

  I hadn’t noticed, but now Callum says it, I guess it makes sense.

  “I guess that’s good,” I say.

  “It’s very good.” Callum nods decidedly. “It’s going to be a great movie. For all of us. Now. I’d better go call my wife and get my beauty sleep.”

  Callum kisses my cheek and heads off across the lobby.

  “Give your wife my love,” I say as he drifts into the elevator.

  “Thanks,” he replies with a tired smile.

  The elevator doors slide closed, and I find myself suddenly at a loss.

  I glance at my phone, wondering if I should call James. And then I hear a familiar voice.

  “Well, well, well. I didn’t know you were such good friends with the A List, Issy.”

  I turn in surprise.

  It’s Ben Gracey.

  Chapter 21

  “Hi, Ben.” My words come out weakly as I turn to face him.

  He looks me up and down, his eyes open wide.

  “Good God, Issy!” His upper-class accent comes out full pelt. “You look… incredible.”

  Ben is looking at me as though he’s trying to devour me through his eyes. I realise I’m still in my full screen make-up and raise a distracted hand to my face.

  I don’t like him looking at me like that.

  “Did you hear the latest news?” Ben adds, raising his arm. My eyes flick down to see he’s holding a newspaper.

  “What news are you referring to, Ben?” I reply tartly.

  I feel caught between several conflicting emotions. By all accounts, this is Lorna’s new boyfriend. He flew out to Spain to be with her. But he’s also got some serious history with James. And here he is, waving a newspaper at me and staring at me with frankly all-too-obvious intentions.

  “Oh, yes,” says Ben, as if he’s forgotten. He raises his newspaper. “You didn’t see the headlines then? It looks as though Berkeley is finally getting his comeuppance.”

  Anger and fear churn in my stomach.

  “What do mean?”

  Ben waves the paper at me, and I grab it off him and read the headline.

  World Exclusive! James Berkeley admits that he’s not marriage material.

  My mouth falls open in shock.

  I feel like I’ve been body-slammed. The unexpected sight of Ben and his revelation of the headline are hitting me in double time.

  “So,” says Ben, smugly. “Looks like Saint Berkeley has finally been brought low. I hope you weren’t foolish enough to be taken in by him, Issy.”

  Something about the genuine pleasure Ben takes from this raises alarm bells.

  Could Ben be the leak, after all? He certainly seems unnaturally pleased by the negative press.

  I close my eyes for a second, trying to take everything in. Of course I knew the divorce had been announced. James told me days ago.

  Out of the UK, I’d managed to avoid any celebrity news. But seeing it in black and white makes it all so real.

  But the headline means something else.

  It looks as though James has given the interview he promised to the reporter yesterday. And by the words of the headline, James has not come across well.

  I wrench open the newspaper to see an old picture of James, taken with Madison. They’ve managed to catch an angle where Madison looks sad and James looks bored.

  I catch a few key phrases. They seem to be referring to James as a spoiled bachelor who is unable to commit to a single woman.

  “Berkeley claims he missed his bachelor lifestyle,” I read. “He admits he is still not ready to settle down.”

  It’s so unfair. And it’s so untrue. James would never have said that. Why are they reporting him like this?

  I feel tears welling up and fight to push them down.

  Suddenly, I realise what’s happened. James is too smart to have let slip the things written in this interview.

  He’s made a deal to convince the reporter to drop the story.

  James’s words are replaying themselves in my head.

  I’d walk over hot coals to protect you, Issy.

  James must have promised the reporter a chance to drag him through the mud to prevent a story on us being published.

  Oh James. Why did you do it?

  But I know. I’ve been naïve. No reporter would have agreed to drop such a big story unless there was something very compelling in the exchange.

  James knew that. The thought brings a flood of love for him. Stupid, brave James. He sacrificed his reputation to keep us out of the press.

  “I thought you might have had a crush on Berkeley,” Ben is saying.

  I force my attention back into the hotel lobby, only barely registering that Ben is still here.

  “But Lorna told me you were too smart,” he adds.

  I hand him back his newspaper in a daze.

  “Um. Yeah,” I say vaguely. “James Berkeley is not really my type.”

  “Then you’re cleverer than most,” says Ben. “He’s a handsome son-of-a-bitch. Most girls don’t see through that. They can only think from between their legs.”

  Ben says this last part with an unpleasant look of distaste on his face.

  I have a sudden picture of the contempt which Ben feels for women.

  Ugh. Ben Gracey might be handsome. But he is a truly ugly person.

  I am itching to be away from him. I can almost feel my skin crawl.

  “So, are you waiting for your girlfriend?” I ask, hoping to bring the subject to his leaving.

  Ben’s face flickers surprise, and then confusion.

  “Lorna,” I clarify, not bothering to keep the disgust from my voice.

  “Oh, yeah.” Ben gives me an easy smile. “Well, me and Lorna. You know. It’s very free with us. Very casual. You know.”

  “No,” I reply acidly. “I don’t.”

  Ben puts out a hand and touches my shoulder. I supress a shudder.

  “Maybe we could go for a drink?” he suggests. “In the lobby bar? Whilst we wait for Lorna? You really are looking beautiful, Issy.”

  Is he joking? My eyes widen in shock.

  Ben Gracey actually has the nerve to try and pick me up. Whilst he’s waiting to take my best friend out.

  I’m about to tell him that I rather stab my own eyes out, when a sudden sly thought hits me.

  Could I find out whether Ben knows anything about the leak?

  To my mind, Ben is still a prime suspect. Even if James thinks differently.

  And if Ben is deluded enough to think I’d be interested in him, then perhaps he’s dumb enough to let something slip.

  The idea rolls around my mind.

  Is this a chance to find out if Ben’s behind it all?

  “Ok,” I hear myself saying. “Why not?”

  Ben gives me a broad smile, which I have no doubt has worked to charm countless girls.

  “Then after you,” he says, tilting his head and gesturing with his hand that I should go ahead. “Staggering beauty before landed wealth.” He gives an awful laugh at this last part.

  Ugh. How can Lorna stand him? He’s so smug and arrogant. What kind of guy mentions his wealth like that?

  But whilst my mind is uncertain, my feet, at least, have a clear plan. They walk forward into the hotel lobby bar.

  Chapter 22

  Ben has dialled the charm up a notch as we slide onto the high stools which front the bar.

  “Let me choose you a cocktail,” he says, opening the menu. “I know all the best drinks here.”

  I say nothing in response. My mind is whirling.

  Ok, Issy, strange choice. You’re in a bar with a man you hate. You’d better get the goods, if this is going to be worth it.

  “So Ben,” I say, aiming for a light smile, and leaning closer. “You’ve got a little history with Berkeley, right?”

  Almost as soon as the words are out, I regret them.

  Way to go for subtlety Isabella!

  “I mean, you were stepbrothers,” I add hastil
y. “That’s what I heard.”

  Ben visibly relaxes.

  “Yeah, sure, that’s right,” he says. “You could call us that. Berkeley hated me, of course.”

  I set my face to ‘interested’.

  “He hated you?” I ask, carefully.

  My mother and I weren’t good enough for his family,” says Ben. “Berkeley tried everything he could to get rid of us.”

  There’s no anger in his voice. It sounds more like rehearsed lines. Like it’s a story he trots out to win a sympathy vote.

  “Really?” I try to seem intrigued whilst pushing down my outrage. From what I know, James was mostly in Hong Kong when his father remarried. It would be hard to try and drive Ben and his mother away from there.

  Judging by Ben’s ease of storytelling, I’m by no means the first recipient of this version of events. Inside, I am seething.

  How dare he spread malicious lies about James?

  “Hey!” shouts Ben suddenly. “Can we get some drinks over here? We’re thirsty.”

  I wince as the barman spins around and hastily finishes our drinks.

  “That’s better,” says Ben, taking his glass from the bar. He rolls his eyes. “One thing I hate about Europe,” he says, “the waiting staff. Service is so much better in America.”

  Ben takes a long sip of his drink. “Out there, they work for tips,” he adds. “That’s how you get good service. Money. That’s how the world works.”

  He looks bitter.

  “So, you’re not best friends with Berkeley,” I press, wondering where I’m going with this. I can hardly come out and ask if Ben is leaking information.

  “Nope,” Ben takes another sip of his drink. I pick mine up and take a polite sip. It’s incredibly sweet and not my taste at all.

  Ben looks at me expectantly.

  “It’s nice,” I say politely.

  “All girls love that one,” he says.

  I make a mental note to caution Lorna never to accept Ben’s cocktails. They’d send her diabetes off the scale.

  “So, yeah,” continues Ben. “We’re not friends. Do you know, James wouldn’t even visit my brother when he was sick?” He shakes his head in disgust.