Behind the Scenes Page 5

  “Come down anytime and I’ll take you. You might be able to afford a scarf without taking out a loan.”

  Sharyn laughed. “Think of it this way: you’ll have lots of stories to tell when you get back.”

  “Does anyone besides you miss me?”

  “Everyone does. But the celebrity factor is helping them get over the pain of it all.”

  “Tell them not to mourn too gleefully. I’m blowing this place as fast as I can. I want to come home, Shar.”

  “I know, honey. Wish I could be there to help make it better. But, hey, your boss isn’t hard on the eyes.”

  Tanya snorted. “Where’d you get a look at him?”

  “In the latest issue of People. He was escorting Tracy Dillard to the première of her new movie. He is seriously cute.”

  “Only on the outside. And his haircut stinks.”

  “What’s wrong with his insides?”

  “Besides the fact that he’s part of all this . . . glitz and glamour stuff?”

  “It’s like cleaning the litter box. Somebody has to do it. What else is wrong with him?”

  “He thinks I’m an idiot.”

  “On your worst day nobody could think you’re an idiot.”

  “I brought Gran’s ziti to a lunch meeting.”

  There was a pause. “Okay, on your very, very worst day you could be mistaken for . . . uninformed. But not an idiot.”

  “He does. He laughs at me because I don’t know the stupid rules.”

  “You’re just being overly sensitive because you’re attracted to him.”

  Tanya’s mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Not. A. Chance. None.”

  “Right. That’s why he’s the only thing you complain about anymore.”

  “That’s because there’s so much to say on the subject.”

  “And I say you’re attracted to him.”

  “And here I used to respect your instincts,” Tanya said, pretty annoyed.

  “You still do. You just don’t know it yet. So are there any other cute, available guys hanging around where you work?”

  “What happened to Bill?”

  “Bill?” There was a pause that Tanya knew meant Sharyn’s brain was sifting through her boyfriend Rolodex. “Oh . . . Bill. Get with the program. Bill was one Ted and one Jordan ago.”

  Tanya shook her head. It was hard to keep up without a spreadsheet. “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy with the show to check out . . . oh, wait. Denny.”

  “Denny?” Sharyn said, sounding as if she’d just sat up straighter. “Who’s Denny?”

  “The director. He’s really cute.”

  “Single?”

  “I don’t know, but I can find out.”

  “Ha. I’ll find out before you will. You have got to start reading the industry rags, babe. What’s his last name?”

  “Block.”

  “Block? Sharyn Block. Doesn’t work for me. I can’t marry him. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be a lot of fun when we double-date with you and Mr. Cute Stuff.”

  “We’re not double-dating.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “I DON’T MEAN to complain,” Tanya started, but got interrupted by a rude snort from Mr. Big Shot, which had become her private pet name for him.

  Admittedly, he didn’t actually act as if he were some huge deal or anything. You knew he was in charge, but he wasn’t Castro-like. He had a disgustingly sterling reputation around the studio for fairness. And the trade papers she couldn’t seem to ignore, since Sharyn put the bug in her ear, rained accolades down upon his egotistical head for being a pleasure to work with. Which was a joke.

  Not that he acted egotistical, either, but considering industry papers seemed to dub him the “Boy Genius” and gossip rags couldn’t manage to publish an issue without his picture gracing it somewhere, she figured he was really egotistical on the inside but somehow managed to hide it at work.

  At work he was just in a bad mood all the time.

  Well, no, that wasn’t true either. She’d come upon him in conversations with everyone from the studio president to the cleaning crew, and everyone seemed to enjoy talking with him.

  But he’d take one glance in her direction and any smile would up and disappear under a thundercloud expression.

  Tanya wasn’t sure what she did to cause his foul moods. So she asked a dumb question occasionally—what did he expect? She was still learning. And, so she sort of liked disagreeing with him just because. It was almost always about things that were worth discussion. And she even got him to look at things her way once in a while. She just hated that when her question or request was obviously dumb or ill-advised, he showed exaggerated patience in explaining his view to her.

  She was sure he was being condescending, as if he was just humoring her. At least she thought he was. He was too cagey to be obvious, that was all.

  The turkey.

  So it was with determination that she approached him one day after rehearsals, rehearsals he didn’t deem worth his precious time of late.

  When he looked up and caught Tanya approaching, his smile melted faster than an ice cube in the desert. He handed a picture back to Donna and faced Tanya. “What now?” he said, then glanced pointedly at his watch.

  No wonder she loved egging him on. The idiot. He deserved her, as far as she was concerned. “I have a question.”

  “Of course you do.”

  She ignored that. “Is there any way to cut the wind blowing on us while I’m styling hair?”

  “We’re trying to keep you from frying under the lights, Tanya.”

  “I know that. I’m on board with the concept.”

  “That’s good to know,” he said.

  Tanya’s mouth snapped shut for a second. Finally, when she’d gotten the urge to kick him under control, she said, “You know, sarcastic isn’t a good look for you.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “Then again, with that haircut, not many looks would work.”

  “What is wrong with my hair, exactly?”

  “Have an hour?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Now you’re just trying to annoy me.”

  “Right. I live for it,” she said, which wasn’t far from the truth. She didn’t live for it, but she got something of a childish pleasure out of it. Really, she had no idea she could be so immature. Just another reason not to like him. “Can we redirect the air-blowing or not?”

  He nodded. “I’ll see what we can do.”

  It would have been a lot more satisfying if he’d acted huffy about the whole thing. “Thank you.”

  “Anything to keep the star happy,” he said, but, strangely, he didn’t say that sarcastically. And she really didn’t like the way he said the word “star”. It was as if it tasted bad in his mouth. Which made being labeled one a real—if unintended—insult.

  “I don’t mean to be difficult,” she said softly, feeling stupidly close to choking up.

  His head snapped back a little. Then he laughed. “If you’ve been trying to be difficult, you’re throwing softballs. Trust me, Tanya, I don’t put up with difficult. I get rid of difficult.”

  She cocked her head to the side, studying him. “Then why do you always seem to be annoyed by me? It just makes me . . . want to annoy you even more, you know.”

  He laughed. “I’ve noticed that.”

  “So . . . why?”

  AJ was silent for a moment and Tanya had the feeling he was debating how honest to be. Finally he sighed. “I’m just not looking forward to the day that you graduate to difficult. It makes me testy.”

  “What makes you think I’m going to be like that?”

  “Experience”

&n
bsp; “Well, I’m not.”

  “Good. I look forward to you proving me wrong.”

  Tanya watched him walk away, a weird melancholy settling in her chest. She had to wonder who had disappointed him in the past. And for some odd reason she was angry at whoever it was.

  Maybe she should try a little harder not to be so aggravating.

  But then the image of a picture she’d seen in a show-biz magazine this morning came flying back into her head. AJ had been at some party, a luscious blonde hanging on his arm.

  The notion of becoming a kinder, gentler Tanya flew out the window.

  Chapter Five

  “HAVE YOU NOTICED that Pretty Women now has the best-looking crew in Hollywood?” Denny asked AJ, a week later.

  AJ glanced around the set. “I suppose so,” he said, suddenly realizing that he barely recognized crew members he’d worked with for years. “Guinea pigs for Tanya?”

  Denny nodded. “Warm-ups. And now they’re taking numbers.”

  “Well, she’s not going to have time after today,” AJ said, irritated for no good reason. He ran a hand through his own hair. Tanya never missed an opportunity to remind him he needed something done to his hair, but she’d never volunteered her services.

  Today was a big day for her. It was finally time for a straight dry run, with commercial break cues, the works. Actually, it was well past time, but it had taken this long just to get Tanya used to working with all of the equipment around her and the people running back and forth in the shadows of the set.

  If the dry run played out without too many glitches, they’d be ready to start doing actual show taping next. But first the glitchless dry run—

  “We have a little glitch,” Denny said.

  “What now?” AJ growled. He’d never met a more demanding non-celebrity in his life. If she wasn’t stumping for a different chair for the “guests”, she was demanding to use products that weren’t being supplied by sponsors.

  So what if her wishes and demands weren’t outrageous by any stretch. He’d be happier if they were. He almost longed for a hissy fit over the type of bottled water stocked in her dressing room. Then he could really be mad at her. Mad at her would be infinitely better than what he’d really begun feeling. What he had no right to feel, no place to feel, no desire to feel.

  “Tanya’s a little freaked by the darkness. And lack of noise. She says it’s unnerving,” Denny said.

  AJ forcefully kept his jaw from dropping. “She wants lights and noise . . . on a TV set?”

  “She’s used to it in her shop.”

  “This isn’t her shop.”

  “She’s acutely aware of that . . . unfortunately.”

  AJ glanced around the studio until his eyes lit on the lunatic in question. His crazy star stood there laughing with the assistant director—who had a soft wave to her hair where spikes had been before Tanya’s arrival.

  Tanya’s hair, on the other hand, was a gorgeous disaster. She had this habit of blowing at it when it strayed toward her face. Or shoving it impatiently out of her way. It was wild, wild hair, and he thought it was almost ironic—in a really sexy way—that she couldn’t seem to control it.

  He supposed she could cut it short, but the mere thought sent a bolt of panic right to his gut. Not that it was any of his business, but he’d personally melt down her scissors before he’d let them get near her hair.

  His gaze traveled down her body. She was so erotically innocent—long and lithe, she had a soft grace about her that came through even when she wrestled with curlers. Watching her work was mesmerizing. The way she moved around the chair, the way her hands seemed to caress the hair, the way she bent down to retrieve the blow dryer from its holster.

  Her voice could hypnotize a crazed savage, too. It was low and husky and soothing.

  Except when she was snapping at him, that was. Which happened to be a lot of the time.

  He didn’t quite know when he’d become the enemy. Once he’d resigned himself to the situation, he’d jumped in to help make the show a success as much as anyone involved. But she didn’t see that part, because most of the work he did for Pretty Women wasn’t visible to her. When he’d grudgingly approved adding a few hair products, it was he who had got advertising to start making deals with those new manufacturers. Tanya didn’t know that. All she knew was that one day her wish had been granted and those products were now available for use on the show.

  At first he’d wanted to lock her in a room and explain exactly how it was, that he was on her side. But Denny had talked him out of it. Denny felt that as long as Tanya had a name and face to be mad at, she could work off her nerves productively.

  By blaming him for everything from a spotlight in her eyes to the scuff mark on the floor she could have some other focus besides her anxiety.

  He’d never before cared if he was the ogre, but this time it kind of bothered him. Except he recognized that Denny was right. The more AJ egged her, the more she forgot she was scared to death.

  Realizing his mind had strangely drifted far afield from the conversation at hand, he blinked and looked away from her, back to Denny. “I know I’m going to regret asking this, but what exactly does she want us to do about it?”

  And why was he even holding this conversation? The answer, unfortunately, was simple: because he’d come to care about her feelings. And that was unacceptable.

  He wanted her to be happy. Unforgivable.

  He . . . wanted her. Not good, not good, not good. His mind was wandering into shark-infested waters and he wasn’t particularly in the mood to get chomped.

  “She wants to make the atmosphere more like a real shop. Dryers humming, gossip flying, the whole thing. Otherwise she feels too self-conscious.”

  “I see.” The woman is a loon. AJ had actors who couldn’t begin a project until their personal psychics gave them the go-ahead. He had actors who couldn’t do a scene if they’d just had sex, they didn’t like their horoscope, they hadn’t rubbed a troll doll’s belly, their dog wasn’t on the set, or their mother hadn’t called in a week.

  He’d never had one who couldn’t use a pair of scissors unless he made the set feel like home. “Have you managed to use the ‘N’ word, yet? As in no freakin’ way?”

  “It’s Tanya, AJ,” Denny said, holding out his hands.

  Unfortunately, AJ understood completely. “Let me think about it.”

  “Here’s the tricky part.”

  “It gets worse?”

  “She would like it today, please. Otherwise, could we postpone until we fix the problem?”

  “You have got to be kidding me.” He waved his arm around the set. “Does she think we have a freeze button?”

  “Well, no, she thought you’d fix it. According to Tanya, you always manage to find a way.”

  AJ stared at Denny for a long minute, waiting for the punchline. When none came he said slowly, “I’ll fix it.”

  Denny nodded. “Miracle worker that you are, and all.”

  AJ felt his temperature rise about ninety degrees. “Ms. Pierce, a word, please?” he boomed across the set.

  She jumped about a mile, then turned. At her first sight of him, she scowled, then took her sweet time setting down her coffee-cup before sashaying over as if she were going for a stroll in the park. “What now?”

  AJ was infuriated and he knew it didn’t count for beans. He’d be a lot happier if she cared what he thought. Unfortunately, his power to fire her seemed to be the only thing he had going for him in her eyes, and she was doing her damnedest to push him into it.

  So he smiled at her as if she were the only ray of sunshine in the room. “And just how are we supposed to make you feel all homey?” he asked.

  She turned wide eyes on Denny. “You told him?”

  Denny shrugged. “He’s
the boss.”

  “You didn’t think I’d notice that we’re not getting any taping done because you can’t hear yourself think, much less hold a conversation with the subject?”

  “It works at home.”

  “Of course it does. Is this something you’re taught at beauty school?”

  “You really need to do something about the sarcasm—”

  “Can we work this out later?” Denny said as the stage manager approached, twirling her forefinger in the air in an “all systems go” sign. “Looks like we’re about ready.”

  The stage manager approached and gave Tanya a few more directions, pointing toward various cameras around the set.

  AJ wasn’t paying much attention. He was watching Tanya’s body grow stiffer and stiffer with each passing moment. Her breathing started getting choppy and her hands shook a little. Her eyes became so big and bright and fixed, he was worried she’d pass out.

  Denny took her arms. “We’ve done this before dozens of times.”

  “I know,” she whispered.

  “We’ll work on the set later. Today just forget everything except having fun.”

  “Fun. Right,” she said, with about as much conviction as a death row inmate facing the chair.

  The stage manager pulled down her headphones and tapped Tanya on the shoulder. “Your grandmother said to tell you not to bite your lips.”

  Tanya nodded and swallowed. And froze completely.

  AJ recognized that Grandma was a key here. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he’d figure it out. In the meantime, he had to show Tanya how to get around it.

  “Give us five minutes,” he said to Denny.

  Denny looked skeptical. “I don’t think you’re the best—”

  “Go away.”

  “Gone.”

  AJ grabbed Tanya’s wrist and pulled her to a deserted corner of the set. “What are you afraid of?” he asked, his voice low.

  “I don’t know,” she answered, looking at him with eyes so stricken, it just about cracked his heart.

  He thought hard for a moment, trying to come up with words that would settle her down, that would give her the confidence to do this thing. He didn’t understand her fear, but that didn’t mean he was discounting it. Tanya was too proud and stubborn not to do her best at anything she tried, so something was seriously problematic for her. It was no act.