I glanced out into the darkness, searching for my wife, only I couldn’t see her. Set visitors were kept out of the actors’ sightline. It was for the best, at least for me. If I’d seen Shontae’s reaction, I would’ve been totally distracted.
The scene called for hot, intense passion. Drumming that up with Toccara wasn’t easy. I wasn’t the least bit attracted to her. Oh, she was beautiful all right and had an amazing body, but she was also one of the new Hollywood girls – a spoiled brat who’d never learned to play well with others. Toccara annoyed the hell out of me. During our first run-through of lines around the conference table, her perfume had overpowered the room, so much so that I left with a headache. I asked the director to tell her not to wear any fragrance during the shoot. Still she showed up reeking of the stuff, which probably cost seventy dollars an ounce. To me it smelled like lemon-scented Raid.
Everything about her was overpowering. It took an extra level of concentration to not let my feelings show in my facial expressions or body language. You have to hypnotize yourself into believing it. The worst thing you can do is to get on camera and look like you’re faking it. So I closed my eyes and thought about my Shontae. The light, fresh scent of her skin, the feel of her perfect breasts, her soft sighs when we made love. Toccara’s breasts felt like basketballs against my chest. Her exaggerated sighs made me want to cringe. All the while I fixed my mind on Shontae, and I kept reminding myself to say the character’s name and not my wife’s. We’d only been married for six months and had been living apart for half of those. Now that she was here with me in L.A., we were still in what people called the honeymoon phase. I looked around again, longing for a glimpse of her sweet smile, craving her like a crackhead needing his next hit.
To make matters worse, Toccara tried to be cute and do a little improv under the covers that no one could see. She didn’t know my wife was on the set. Not that it would have made a difference. Under the sheet she kept letting her hand drift to my crotch. Of course she knew I wouldn’t wreck the take by saying anything. I simply moved her hand and continued with the scene. Once the director called the final cut, I whispered in her ear, “You play too much. Let’s keep this strictly business, okay?”
Two lines formed between her exotic dark eyes. “Why? Are you gay?”
“If by that you mean happy, yes. I’m happily married and intend to stay that way. You’re wasting your time, sweetheart.”
Her liquid ebony gaze ran over my body. “That’s too bad. We could have some real fun together.” She tightened the belt on her robe, spun around and headed for her dressing room.
That should make for great vibes on the set tomorrow.