Encore (Famous Book 4) Read online

  This is killing my first-day happy vibes.

  I approach Ben and put my hands on his shoulders. “Hey.”

  He flinches.

  “What’s happening?” I ask.

  “We’re already an hour behind, the shot isn’t set up, if we don’t get it all together soon, the sun will disappear behind the building and the lighting will be all wrong, and—”

  “Breathe.” I take a deep breath and try to get him to mimic it.

  He pulls out of my grasp. “Go hit wardrobe and makeup. We can’t be even more late than we already are.”

  I don’t bother arguing with him. The thing is, I’ve been with Ben for almost a year. He’s a genius, and I admire his work, but he’s the epitome of the stereotypical artist. Meaning, he’s stubborn when he gets in his head, and there’s no talking him down.

  I stand back, let him have his rant, and then he’ll get over it and pretend it never happened. An apology? I don’t think he knows the meaning of the word.

  “Oh, and Jordy?” Ben calls after me when I walk off.

  I hate when he calls me Jordy, but that’s a whole other thing. “Yeah?”

  “Go check on your friend. The one you insisted I needed to cast. He’s freaking out.”

  Aww, fuck.

  Why can’t anyone love the first day of filming as much as I do?

  I hit wardrobe first because I already know what my outfit will consist of: me in a Speedo. That’s it.

  The scene today is Blake’s character, Madden, meeting me for the first time after my meddling onscreen sister sets us up on a fake date. Madden’s ex is getting married, and he needs a date to the wedding so he doesn’t look as pathetic as the script tells him he is. It’s like the gay version of The Wedding Date with Debra Messing and Dermot Mulroney. Just with less male prostitution.

  I think Ben chose to shoot this scene first so he can play with our chemistry a bit. He originally wanted to shoot the first sex scene on the first day, but I told him doing that with a straight actor would only lead to scheduling problems when we ran overtime.

  Turns out we didn’t even need the love scene for that to happen.

  I get in my Speedo, and they give me a robe to cover up in and slippers to wear around on set. When I get to the makeup trailer, they oil me up and then contour my abs so they look more defined on camera.

  It’s a rough life, but someone has to do it.

  Jojo follows me like a shadow, fetching me water while I get makeup done, but when I head for Blake’s trailer, I tell her to go take a break in mine.

  I knock, movement sounds inside, and then a wide-eyed Blake, with his blond hair perfectly styled—and I don’t mean Coby Godspeed styled where they slicked it back but teased and molded it into a high pompadour—and wearing a white button-down and chinos answers the door.

  “I heard you were freaking out,” I say.

  “I’m not freaking out.” His voice goes high-pitched. “You’re freaking out. Why would I be freaking out?” Okay, now he’s squeaking.

  I won’t admit it out loud and make him uncomfortable, but it’s endearing and cute and somehow makes him hotter.

  “What are you freaking out about?” I ask.

  “I’ve never done a serious movie before. Half of my Coby Godspeed movies don’t even make sense.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Ben keeps playing with the script because he’s not happy with it. Soon, this won’t even be a serious movie. Did you hear the new title for it? Faking It. That’s not an Oscar-winning title.”

  “That doesn’t help. At all. I did this to get more exposure and depth and be taken seriously as an actor. I already don’t get taken seriously as a musician, and with Eleven doing this reunion—”

  “Whoa, Eleven is getting back together? When?”

  “Shit. No one is supposed to know that. I didn’t say anything, okay?” He mimes zipping his lip.

  “Trust me. I’m not telling anyone.”

  “We’re writing and recording while this film shoots, and we’ll be touring afterward.”

  “What about acting?” I ask. Like I said, Blake has so much potential to be huge, so I don’t understand why he’d go back to being a backup singer in a boy band.

  “I’ll still do that too. The Eleven thing is supposed to be for in between gigs. We’re doing it more for fun than the money or fame.”

  “Doing something for … fun? And … no personal gain?” I speak in a robot voice. “Sorry. Does not compute.”

  “Haven’t you had something you’re passionate about and want to do for the sake of it? Bungee jumping? Reading? Watching old movies?”

  “Sex? Does that count?”

  “Uh … sure. Anyway, Eleven is like that for me. For all of us, I think. But now I’ve bitten off more than I can chew with this movie and the reunion, and I went from someone who would shoot back-to-back action movies with time off in between to someone who has multiple projects going on, a schedule, and, and, and—”

  I step forward and rub my hands up and down his arms, consoling a second person before the day has even started. “Breathe. You’ve got this.”

  He sucks in a sharp inhale. “Yeah. I got this. I so got this.”

  “I’d believe you more if you weren’t hyperventilating.”

  Blake takes one last deep breath to compose himself. “Are they ready out there?”

  As he asks this, there’s a knock on the door, and Jojo appears. “Set’s done. Time to get this show on the road.”

  Blake looks like he’s freaking out again.

  “Breathe,” I say again. “And squeeze my hand if you need it.”

  “You … want me to hold your hand?”

  I shrug. “If anyone asks, tell them we’re getting into character.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” I ask.

  “Trying to calm my nerves.”

  “Is it working?”

  “Nope.”

  Damn.

  We move to the set, and then makeup comes after me to run some more gel through my hair to give it a wet look and then spray my body with water so it looks like I just climbed out of the pool. They’ll get that shot after we do the talking so I’m not all different levels of wet throughout the conversation.

  Moviemaking has always fascinated me, the way scenes are chopped and shot at different times and glued together. Sometimes it feels impossible that the stories can even make sense when as the actor, you experience the scenes out of order. Watching it at the premiere for the first time is always a thrill.

  When everyone’s ready, Ben calls action, and I smile my character’s cocky grin and say the cheesy dialogue.

  “Well, well, well, what have you brought me, sis?”

  Actress Lori Lacy says her line and pulls Blake forward. “This is Madden.”

  Blake, not Madden, looks like he’s going to throw up. I can tell he’s not in character.

  “Madden,” I say softly, softer than the script calls for, but I’m hoping to pull him into the scene.

  Blake blinks at me.

  “Cut,” Ben says.

  We all let out a collective breath.

  “Blake, you’re supposed to be awed by Jordan,” Ben says. “Not scared of him.”

  “Uh. Right. Sorry.”

  “Go again.”

  We do it again. And again. And again, and again, and again.

  “I give up. Take five.” Ben storms off set.

  My first-day happy vibes are gone now.

  I lean in and ask Blake, “Does it usually take this long to settle into a scene?”

  “No!” Blake yells, and everyone on set freezes at his raised tone. He lowers his head and says quieter, “And it’s driving me crazy.” He runs his hand over his face and then remembers the makeup. “I’m screwing the whole production.”

  “You’re in your head. How do you usually get into Coby Godspeed’s character?”

  He looks around the set. “That’s different. Coby is a walking meathead w
ho’s dumber than shit but can blow stuff up. It’s easy to get in that mindset. Being a newly out gay guy who’s nervous about going home to his family who haven’t quite accepted his sexuality is …”

  “A story many queer guys have faced. It’s why Ben and I wanted to do this movie. We need good representation, and—”

  “Which is why I didn’t want to do the film to begin with because I know absolutely nothing about being gay or closeted or needing to come out.”

  “Your bandmates do, though. Can you draw inspiration from them?”

  Denver Smith and Mason Nash recently came out, but I also happen to be on the inside Hollywood loop that they’re not the only queer guys in Eleven. I’d bet my left nut that Blake has been there for behind-the-scenes conversations about staying closeted. I know he can draw from personal experience on this one, even if it’s not his own.

  “It will be a travesty to the gay gods everywhere if you and I don’t have chemistry onscreen,” I say. “We’re too good-looking not to.”

  Blake allows a laugh, his shoulders relaxing a little, and the next take is almost perfect. After a few more, Ben is confident we have the shot.

  “Let’s move on.” Ben levels me with his I’m unhappy look. “Finally.”

  I think I’ll be staying at my place tonight.

  “Blake, you’re done for the day. Jordy, I still need shots of you getting out of the pool.”

  I swear Ben added this scene just so he could see me all wet and practically naked, and oh, look at that, with one take and one heated look from Ben, all is forgiven when he drags me to my trailer.

  Best first day ever. Okay … well, best beginning and end to the first day ever. The middle kind of sucked.

  Let’s hope tomorrow is all smooth sailing.

  Chapter Three

  Blake

  The first day of filming was shit. The second is not much better.

  From only two days of working with Ben, I know he’s one of those directors I was warned about when I came from the music biz to acting. He treats everyone like shit, he doesn’t treat Jordan much better, and I have no idea what Jordan sees in him.

  At one point, Ben threw up his hand and said, “I can’t deal with this. I’m an artist!”

  But … he’s the director. He’s in charge. So every time he tells me to stop looking constipated or scared, I do my hardest to please him. Because I have to. It’s my job. I also don’t want to burn my bridges with directors. That’s how actors become unemployable.

  Somehow, we manage to get through my scenes, and I’m sent on my merry way. I can’t get out of there fast enough.

  Then I remember I’m crashing with Denver and Mason because we’re writing for the new Eleven album, and I can’t be bothered tonight.

  Yesterday, they were out late doing an interview—something they’ve been doing a lot of since coming out—so they weren’t home when I got back and crashed out from pure mental exhaustion. Today won’t be much different.

  I go to my trailer and message my driver to come pick me up, and by the time I’ve had a quick shower and changed my clothes, he’s outside waiting for me.

  The drive to Malibu is long and silent, only giving me more time to dwell over how shitty my performance has been so far, and when I let myself into the house, I find Denver and Mason making out on the couch.

  I try to sneak past them and not disturb them, but they pull apart when they hear me.

  I wave my hand in the air. “Keep going. I’m just passing through.”

  “Wait,” Denver says. “How is it? We didn’t get to ask you yesterday.”

  I crash to the floor on my stomach. The answer calls for drama. “I hate you both. This is all your fault.”

  “That bad?” Mason asks.

  “The worst.”

  “What’s the problem?” Denver’s scrunched brow in concern is all types of cute.

  Denver’s the youngest of us Eleven guys, and he has this baby face where he looks barely twenty. We all kind of see him as the innocent little-brother type. Ironic when he’s the least innocent of us all with a drinking problem to boot.

  “The director is a dick, and I suck.”

  “You sucked the director’s dick?” Mason asks.

  I flip him off. “My brain isn’t gay enough.”

  Both of them burst out laughing.

  Mason rubs his chin. “How exactly is one’s brain gay?”

  “Damn it, Mason. I’m being serious. I haven’t lived as a gay or queer person, so it’s hard for me to get into their mindset, and it really showed. The script says I turn into this lust-filled, tongue-tied adorable mess, but apparently my attempts to look like I’m attracted to a man came across as scared.”

  “Just to be clear, I’m not allowed to make a joke about you being scared of the D … right?”

  I sigh at Mason. “Can you go back to being a depressed hermit?”

  He only recently returned to Hollywood after disappearing for eighteen months. He was angry and bitter for a long time, and while I’m glad to see he’s back to his old, sarcastic self, I really wish it wasn’t at my expense.

  “Okay, real talk,” Mason says. “You’re most likely overthinking it, and mix that with first-week jitters … I’m sure it will get better soon.”

  I sit up. “How did you two handle being attracted to a man for the first time?”

  They both look at each other and shift uncomfortably.

  “That’s a hard question to answer,” Denver says. “I knew I had feelings for Mason for a long time, and when I acted on it … it, uh really didn’t go well, and I don’t think embarrassment is the kind of vibe you want your character to convey.”

  “I guess not.”

  “Maybe Ryder and Harley would be better at this kind of advice,” Mason says. “My feelings for Denver were always there but not obvious, and it took being away from him to start to see him differently. We don’t really have the experience to comment on instant attraction to a guy.”

  “Thanks anyway.” I stand. “I’m going to bed early because tomorrow is another day.”

  “I promise it will be better,” Mason says.

  I go to bed, but while I lie there, I take out my phone and contemplate calling either Harley or Ryder. Then I realize it’s late, Ryder has a kid, and he probably won’t answer. Harley it is.

  But as my finger hovers above his name, I realize I don’t exactly know what to ask anyway.

  How do you be gay?

  I can already hear his sarcastic answer: You have sex with men.

  I’ll get right on that.

  Fuck, I’m beginning to think that might be the answer. It’s not like I hate or despise the male form. I’ve admired a guy’s physical body or face from afar plenty of times—Jordan included in that. There’s no denying he’s an attractive man. I’ve just never had the desire to have sex with a guy. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t.

  Ugh. I throw my phone beside me and crash out before I overthink this all over again.

  Like Mason said, things will get better soon.

  They don’t.

  From the moment I get on set the next day, it’s as bad as the last two. It’s a late start because the scenes we’re shooting are at night, but it’s well past nine before we get anything usable done, and even then, it’s only snippets of the scene. It’s not flowing.

  Ben yells cut so many times it begins to sound like he’s choking on his spit.

  “He really hates me,” I mutter to Jordan when a break is called. “Why did he even hire me for this role?”

  Jordan averts his gaze, and a look of guilt flashes across his face.

  “He didn’t want me to do this movie, did he?”

  Jordan’s sympathetic eyes tell me everything I need to know. “Okay, so I might have convinced him to hire you. He wanted someone with more experience and diversity than an action hero, but I told him you were the right choice for what he wanted.”

  “Dude, you have way too much faith in me. This whole
movie is doomed.”

  He grips my shoulders. “No, you’ve got this. We just need to …” His obvious struggle to come up with a solution says it all.

  “Have a brain transplant?”

  “Well, yeah, technically. You’re acting, so you’re not supposed to be yourself.”

  Frustration bubbles inside me. “I know that, but I think it’s difficult because the only queer guys I’ve been around have been closeted for years. Or newly discovering.”

  “What about me?”

  I scoff. “I have no idea what makes you tick. With this project, there’s political aspects, doing the role justice, all the while trying not to offend a community that has so much negative shit thrown their way. It’s too much to focus on and—”

  “All right, I know your problem, and I have an idea.” Jordan leaves and approaches Ben, who’s yelling at a poor intern.

  I want to yell at him to stop, but that will cause more of a scene.

  When Jordan smiles at him, Ben instantly takes a deep breath, though his scowl doesn’t leave his face.

  I can’t hear them from here, but Jordan jumps up and down and flails his arms animatedly, and a second later, he plants a kiss on Ben’s cheek and comes back to me with a gleam in his eye.

  “Come on. We’re leaving.”

  “What? We didn’t get the scenes done.”

  “And we won’t unless you get out of your head and into someone else’s, so let’s go.”

  I follow him but can’t help noticing how many of the staff and crew are watching as we walk off set.

  “I feel like a kid cutting class,” I whisper.

  Jordan laughs. “Did you drive here?”

  “Nah, I’ve got a car service.”

  “Give your guy the night off.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “To get some insight.”

  “Hooray for vagueness being vague.” But I’m willing to do anything to get this movie off the ground before I get fired, so I text my driver.

  It’s not too late for Ben to replace me, and while part of me hopes for that, I don’t want to be known as the actor who got fired from my only serious role. That reputation follows you everywhere.