Before A Perfect World: Movie Trilogy, Book Two (The Movie Trilogy) (22 page)

Keaton called me a gold-digging whore.

I suggested that he must be very attracted to me then, since I was just his type.

He said not really, my tits weren’t big enough.

I stomped off in a huff to
our trailer, and he cornered me in the kitchen.

“
Up
you go,” he rumbled from deep in his chest, hoisting me onto the table. He grabbed me by my chin, just as he’d directed Ash to the night before, jerking my legs apart with his other hand.

“
Keaton
,” I moaned, pulling at his shirt until he finally let me wrench it over his shoulders

“I better hear you panting,
my little actress,” he commanded, tearing my thin, lacy panties away from my hips.

I replied with a breathless nod.

Heavy pounding sounded on our trailer door. He growled, continuing to kiss me.

“Keaton! Get out here, you have company.”

“Fuck off Frank,” he snapped, grasping my breast in his hand and lowering his mouth to my nipple.

“It’s Kelsey.”

It was as though someone reached inside my vagina and flipped the breaker.

“What
the
fuck?
” he demanded, grabbing for his shirt. I slid off the table, adjusting my skirt.

I hurried after him as he rushed through the tunnels, stopping short before the exit. I realized that I couldn’t walk out into the open with him, so I waited.

There she was.

All body, all blond
, all curls and hips and breasts.

Her boobs practically gravitated
toward
him, like some kind of fuck-me compass.

Her tight, yellow, strapless dress was
zigzag printed. She looked like a hooker stuck in a Chinese finger trap. I had no idea how she managed to look down with her boobs banging into her windpipe.

“
Keaton, baby!”

“What in the
fuck
are you doing here?”

“I saw the tabloids,” she started, trying to keep her voice hushed. “
You’re finally through with her?”

I could feel Keaton’s impending
rage.

Smoothing my hair, I rolled my shoulders back and took a deep, steadying breath.

And I stepped out of the tunnels.

Her brown eyes flicked to mine, and she arched one eyebrow, dropping her diamond-covered fingers to her cocked hip. “
Oh.”

“Hello,” I managed, thankful that my voice was even. Frank stood by, watching us excitedly. Ash, Trent, and Maya hung back, trying to appear nonchalant as they listened to the drama about to unfold.

“Vivian, right?” she asked, and I tried to ignore her snide, indignant tone.

“Right. You must be Kelsey.”

“Kelsey King,” she replied haughtily. Neither one of us extended our hands.

That would be a fucking charade.

“She’s none of your business. Turn around and go the fuck home,” Keaton ordered.

“Can we talk? Please?”
she begged.

Click
. Click.
Click
.

Cameras. Always.
Everywhere
.

Keaton’s eyes met mine, and I shrugged, forcing my arms to cross over my chest.

“I don’t care what you do anymore,” I managed, completely insincerely. “Ash,” I called, and it took all of my strength to turn away from them.

Ash was at my side in an instant, escorting me toward the set. “Nice, Viv. So brave. You’re ten times hotter than that slut, you know that, right?”

“My stomach hurts,” I complained softly. I meant I was nauseated.

And not from the baby.

“Let’s go to my trailer. I’ve got a PlayStation four.”

“Alright, let’s roll!” Keaton’s voice interrupted us suddenly. I turned, watching as Kelsey
stomped to her convertible, stumbling in her heels before dropping into the driver’s seat.

“Everything okay, man?” Ash asked Keaton.

Keaton continued walking past us, flipping us the finger from over his shoulder.

I grinned, quickening my pace.

. . .

The first two weeks flew by.

We had no more interaction with the killer, thank God, but the FBI had gotten nowhere with my phone or additional leads. When I finally got my new phone and texted Matthew, his reply pulled at my heart.

I’m glad you’re safe. Don’t make me wait and worry again.

His tone was almost cold, but I shrugged it off, recognizing that he was finally,
hopefully
, moving on without me.

I was filming, learning so much so fast. I never imagined how much work was involved in acting, and dropped into bed exhausted every single night. Occasionally, Keaton would wake me up and make love to me, but most of the time, he let me sleep and kissed me awake in the morning.

I loved making love to him the moment I opened my eyes.

Surprisingly,
I was enjoying Keaton’s creative, witty insults, and it quickly became a flirty, mean little game.

Until he hurt my fucking feelings.

“Fu-
CUT!
” he practically screamed, and I jumped, backing away from Trent. “One kiss. You’re eating her face. You go for it, she resists. She doesn’t want her husband’s best friend, she wants her husband. You’re going to respect her. Easy. Why is this taking all fucking afternoon?”

“You don’t want me to respond at all?” I clarified. Five minutes ago he’d told me to start to kiss him back, and then push him away.

“No!
Resist
him! Try to at least
act
like you’re able to make a decision!”

I stilled, crossing my arms over my chest. “You just told me to kiss him back.”

“For a split second. Not a half an hour. Close your legs and listen to me. I know that’s hard for you when you’ve got four eyes’ tongue down your throat.”

I flinched at that one. Trent adjusted his glasses, taking a step away from me.

“If you speak to me like that again, I’m
leaving
,” I burst, digging my fingernails into my palm.

He lifted his eyes to mine, his angry expression softening.

A hush grew over the entire set, and Keaton lowered the script in his hand, walking toward me.

“
That was incredibly rude and uncalled for. I’m sorry.”

The chill over the set turned everyone’s attention our way.

“
I need a break,
” I murmured, pushing past Trent and nearly running from the set.

I knew he was close behind me, but I truly didn’t want to speak to him.
I made it into the trailer, slamming the door behind me.

I was sobbing by the time he reached the door.

“Vivian, please let me in.”

“You’re being too mean,” I cried, locking the door. “Just go away, I need some space.”

“Let me in. I want to hold you.”

“Leave me alone!” I begged tearfully.

“Open the door, goddamnit.”

I waited, counted to ten, and brushed the tears away from my eyes.

Finally turning the lock, I pulled the door open.

He
sighed, nodding toward the crack in the door. “I fucked up. Let me come in.”

“I can’t tell if you’re acting anymore.”

“I’m that good, huh?” he asked, grinning.

Ugh
,
fuck
those perfect white teeth.

T
hat tan.

That
scruff
. He hadn’t shaved in days and made me think of the first time I’d met him.

The memory of him walking into the video store
sent a warm rush of liquid to my undies.

“I know that look. It’s reaching for me, isn’t it?” he teased. I exhaled a breathy laugh, opening the door for him.

“Stop being mean. You know the difference.”

“I do. I’m sorry.”

“I’m ready for a break. This is grueling,” I admitted. “Even the paparazzi have thinned out. The police protection is a joke. They sit around watching TV or screwing off on their phones. We’re getting all comfortable, and he could be out there, watching us right now.”

“Your appointment is tomorrow. We’re flying out first thing in the morning,” he reminded me. My eyes darted to the corkboard on the door tha
t was now littered with yellow Post-it notes written between the two of us.

“I completely forgot!
What about the press? We’ll be together…”

“Fuck ‘em.”

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m glad we’re going. I’m so overwhelmed by all of this.”

“Vivian.” He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry, kiddo.”

I sighed, moving into his arms. “Whatever, jerk.”

He chuckled against my neck.

. . .

The
plane ride was turbulent, and I gripped Keaton’s hand, so thankful when we finally landed. There was a car waiting for us, of course, with police escort, our own personal body guard that flew with us, and a swarm of press.

My appointment was a scene out of our fairy tale in the making. I was officially
ten weeks, just two away from being done with my first trimester.

“
Keeping your peaceful aura, Vivian?” Dr. Grey asked with a twinkle in his eye, and I nodded, smiling.

“Yes. As much as I can on the set.”

“No bad stress. Just good stress. Good stress is healthy. You understand the difference, I assume,” he urged, and I nodded.

“I think so. I’m
making the movie… my dreams are coming true. But it’s stressful.
Good
stress.”

“Good,”
he agreed.

The room was filled with a sudden whooshing sound
.

“There we go.” Dr. Grey moved a probe over my bare stomach, the warm gel allowing him to glide against my abdomen. “Very nice.”

“What is that?” Keaton asked, his eyes wide as he focused on the sound.

“This is a fetal Doppler,” Dr. Grey replied, “and that sound is your baby’s heart.”

“I hear it,” I cried, gasping as Keaton dropped to my side, pressing his lips to mine.

“Thank you,” he whispered, deepening his kiss as the doctor looked away politely. His fingers thread
ed through mine, and he closed his eyes, pressing his forehead against my chest. “I’ve never been this happy. With you. The three of us.”

His poignant words sent burning tears to my eyes. I nodded, unable to respond.

. . .

The Mercedes that had picked us up at the airport waited along the curb for us outside. Keaton rushed us through the door and to the car, and I narrowed my eyes, realizing that the sidewalk
was crawling with paparazzi.

“Get in,” Keaton ordered brusquely, and I tried my best to avoid the shouting press.

“Keaton, Vivian, is it Ash’s baby?”

“Are you getting back together?”

“How long will you be in LA?”

The door slammed, and the driver hit the locks. Keaton sat back, taking a deep breath. I turned in the seat, looking for my purse that I’d left behind.

“I left my bag in here… is this a different car?”

He
settled in next to me, and I felt him stiffen as his eyes fell on the driver.

“Who the fuck are you?” h
e demanded.

Everything happened too quickly.

With all of the cameras flashing at the car, we were distracted as the man in the passenger’s seat turned around.

“Sit back.”

He looked like a young Henry Winkler. Fonzie.

What was happening?

As my eyes fell to the gun in his hands, I gasped, a cry strangling in my throat.

Keaton’s arm shot out to block me, and he moved his entire body to cover me.

The gun made a sound that I’d only heard in movies, and I was pretty sure that the man had just cocked the pistol.

“If I shoot you, you won’t know what I’ll do with her,” the man growled. “And I think you want to know what I’m going to do with her.”

Keaton kept his body on mine, and I struggled to let the circumstances of our situation sink in.

We were being held at gunpoint.

He’d just threatened to kill Keaton, and do who knows
what
with me.

“What is happening?” I cried, and the scream from deep in my throat pierced my ears as the car took off, peeling away from the curb.

And the man shoved the gun against Keaton’s forehead.