Between You And Me

15~The Kiss

“I know things must be hard for you right now but it’s good to have family with you to help you through this ordeal,” Dr. Grace stated, trying to sound empathetic, but it only made her sound foolish. The ordeal she spoke of, the copycat killer, had become a whisper compared to Cindy's boisterous presence since 5:44 a.m.

She’d never met Cindy and barely spoke with Dad, having no sense of the chaos my life had become since her arrival. She has already started calling management for furniture changes (or an entire rental change) and my teenage half-brother has been placed in my room because there are only three bedrooms and ‘Ralph needs a place to rest his head after a busy day.’ Cindy’s words. Then she went through my script, in an attempt to help me practice despite having very little talent for acting, only modeling. She has been bothering Director Cross all morning since Dad invited her onto the set, embarrassing me when she asked if he had a girlfriend upon introducing herself.

No.

Then he gave me a wink while ignoring my father, who scowled at both of us, reminding us that the Director was off limits and he didn’t need any more scandals, like always. But knowing Cross didn’t have a girlfriend relieved a part of me wondering.

Knock, knock.

A crew member stuck her head into the kitchen, the makeshift office Dr. Grace claimed as her own while on location. “Sorry to bother but Daphne’s needed for filming in five minutes.” As quickly as she appeared, she slithered her head out the doorway without lingering for Dr. Grace’s reply.

She turned her attention back to me. “We’ll talk more later and remember—”

Starting to get up, I mimicked her usual wording, “If I need to talk when overwhelmed, come to you. Got it.” If the tone in my voice perturbed her, she didn’t let it show, a calm smile remaining confidently on her face.

With a nod, I escaped her makeshift office and headed towards the prepping table for my scene. Once Suzan saw me approaching, she whisked out some light foundation and lipstick, turning the chair my way. She looked at me in the mirror and sighed in relief, setting down the foundation. “Don’t need much around the eyes. Just need to prep those lips for the kissing scene.”

I felt my entire body deflate at the word ‘kissing.’ I would be kissing L.J. for this upcoming scene together, told this morning by Director Cross as though he were telling me the weather forecast. Partly sunny with a chance of kissing. And to make matters worse, tonight I would be dined and wined by the men of the cast who I’d have to be romantic with for the movie, including Owen Francis. In front of Director Cross.

“Oh, sit up now,” Suzan snapped, tapping my shoulder to sit up straight for the makeup. When I did, she quickly went to work on my face while talking. “You’ve kissed before, right?” She didn’t let me answer, applying a moisturizing chapstick before the light-colored lipstick. “It’s just a little peck and you get to slap him afterward—but not too hard though, Romeo worked hard on those cheeks.” She pointed to Romeo’s station two down from ours where he was prepping L.J. “But I’m sure you’ll do fine. You have to, especially if you’re going to be doing those s*x scenes.”

As though my confidence couldn’t get more damaged at this point. Director Cross granted me the option of a body double or sticking with the intimacy coordinators for those scenes and I chose the latter. Mainly before, Rosemarie, only an earshot away from our conversation, gave me a look of ‘If I were in your shoes, I would.’ And after watching her audition tape the night before, I felt the wound of her words puncture me again.

Rosemarie’s talents were obvious from the very first minute and, yes, if it weren’t for the Brookshaw name and my proximity to the story, she could have easily scooped up the role of Lilah. I have to say, she kept me on my toes in a strangely competitive yet endearing way.

“And done,” Suzan smiled, looking at me as though she’d just finished a masterpiece. Through the mirror, she looked at me with a loving affection I wasn’t used to, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You have been doing an amazing job, Daphne, and I have no doubt you’ll continue doing so.”

Smiling at her words of encouragement, I placed a hand on top of hers. “Thank you.” Finally done, I stepped out of the chair and headed towards the placement of my next scene, upstairs by Lilah’s bedroom door, noticing L.J. already in position while Director Cross talked.

“Ok, Daphne, as I was telling L.J., in this scene, this kiss comes with him touching your thigh before you inevitably slap him. He’ll turn his head in pain but there won’t be any contact. He will smirk and you will both be called downstairs. This will be filmed continuously until we get to the dining room.”

L.J. and I both nodded our understanding, knowing we needed to get this scene so we could move on to the next. Director Cross, I realized, likes the satisfying thrill of checking off a scene on his very detailed schedule, always smiling like a child after a job well done, even if he thought no one noticed. I noticed and it would bring a tiny glimmer of satisfaction to my lips as well.

He stepped away as the crew member, a girl with braids fixed in a tight bun, told me to step inside the room, acting as though I were stepping out. Once in position, I heard the clapperboard as she announced, “Quite on set. Scene fifteen, take one.” Clap!

That minuscule second, the weight of an exhausting night of tossing and turning, nightmares and dreams, fell upon me at once, stepping out the door. Asher leaned against the wall outside my bedroom, keeping his body positioned in a way that wouldn’t allow me to cross. This gave him an ounce of power, looking down at me with a prideful smirk, knowing exactly how to annoy me. “Good morning, step-sis. You sleep well?” he asked roguishly.

His emphasis on step-sis made me flinch, the tinge of guilt mixed with the fascination of him twisting upon itself inside me Swallowing the feeling, I watched him questioningly. “Yes, why do you ask?”

He now stepped forward, his arm still blocking me from passing, the small space between us enclosing uncomfortably with me now pressed to the wall. The vulnerability of my position with him strangled at my throat as his breath hit my collarbone, his eyes gazing down at me. “I heard you moaning last night. Were you thinking about something…naughty?” He seductively bit his bottom lip at the word ‘naughty,’ his mind spiraling with dirty thoughts of what could have happened behind closed doors.

I didn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing, returning his ravenous gaze with a glare, attempting half-heartedly to push his arm to escape. The intoxicating scent of citrus and clovers filled my senses and if I didn’t escape soon, his playful nature would soon enamor me to the point of no return.

“No,” I snapped within his arms. “And if I were, it’s none of your business.”

He chuckled at my words, reaching a hand to my face. With the faintest of touches, his finger lifted my chin to face him. His eyes seemed to beckon me into a state of submission. I heard the words before he even spoke them. “It’s alright. Be a good girl for Dad, but when you’re with me, you can be as bad as you want.”

“It’s alright. Be a good girl for—”

“CUT!”

The sting of my hand alerted me to having slapped L.J. before I could stop myself, watching him bend over as he pressed a hand to his cheek. I could hear a crew member gasp and I already felt the shameful grimace from Director Cross without looking at him. I slapped him too soon. I slapped him very hard. Regret quickly took over, prying my lips open to apologize.

However, L.J. shook the slap off with a laugh before I could say anything, rubbing his bruised cheek. It didn’t leave a mark, but standing so close, I knew one would bloom soon. “It’s fine. Can we start from the beginning?”

Taking a deep breath, I slipped back into the bedroom, granting a whisper of an apology before returning to my role as Lilah. If I said the scene continued without another slap that severe, I’d be lying. I slapped L.J. a few more times, all at the same moment as “Good girl”, as though it were a whistle to attack when I heard it. And since I completely immersed myself in the role, I didn’t realize it until he was holding his cheek. By the sixth take, he no longer took it light-heartedly, staring at me with a vengeful glare that had me recoiling.

“Do you hate me or something?” he asked, the redness of my multiple strikes finally visible on his left cheek. I could see Romeo ready at the bottom of the stairs to apply some makeup. When I didn’t reply, he wrenched his nose at me like a dog on the verge of bearing his teeth. “Why do you keep slapping me so hard?”

Before I could answer, Director Cross stepped in. “Go take fifteen, Serrano,” he told him, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Everyone take fifteen.” L.J. marched passed me in a fit of rage, heading towards Romeo who coddled his wounded cheek like a delicate baby bird before shooting me a hateful snare. The rest of the crew followed, someone whispering about why I kept slapping him, “I heard she’s a lesbian.” I gulped at the term, knowing since I’d lost my memory, the only person who seemed to have a passionate effect on me was…

Director Cross shot a look at me that froze me in my spot. “Not you.”

He pointed to me to enter Lilah’s bedroom with a stern finger. I had no intention of refusing. Slipping inside, he followed, looking down at the ground solemnly while closing the door, and slowly taking off his headset. He threw it on the cushioned couch, lifting his head to stare at me, his green eyes piercing into me so abruptly, it took me a second to realize he was cornering me.

“D...Director…?” I stuttered, his body eclipsing mine. He now trapped me between his arms, my body pressing against the wall as L.J. had for our scene. The difference between L.J. and him was a matter of distinct movements. With one arm barricading me, his other slowly gathered me in his arms, the palm of his hand squarely on my back, willing me to embrace him. Everything about my body screamed to either run or submit and the way he held me perfectly to him, his bodily aroma of mint and cedarwood, I felt compelled to submit.

“Caleb,” he whispered in my ear, a delightful beam of pleasure shooting through me at the sound of his voice. He stood so close, that the palm of my hand placed on his chest felt the hammering of his heart. For the first time, I noticed golden flecks like swirling stars in his green eyes, which hypnotized me. I felt the brush of his hand touch my cheek softly and I realized he no longer had to barricade me with his arms. I stood submissively before him, which brought a sliver of a smile to his ruggedly handsome face. “Good girl.”

Impulsively, I left my hand to smack him, an ambiguous heat rising behind my ears at the term. I didn’t know why, but being called that brought about a vicious storm inside me. A storm, it seemed, only he knew the course of and could restrain.

Caleb grabbed my wrist before I could make a mark on him, pressing closer to me as our foreheads touched. I could feel the warmth of his body and breath, his hand gripping my wrist, gradually letting go and sliding his palm into mine. Our breaths, our hearts, were in sync at that very moment. This didn’t feel like seduction or vulnerability like it had before with L.J. Standing in his arms, our hands pressed against each other, breathing in the essence of one another, I felt safe and at peace with this moment together. Staring up at him, I knew he felt the same.

This felt like home.

This felt right.

“Kiss me.”