Breaking Free (2 page)

Chapter 3

Tennyson had to be physically nudged in the right direction by his PA before he called it a day, and for a movie set, seven PM was ridiculously early. But he had that godforsaken dinner with Sophie, so he reluctantly refrained from lashing out at his assistant.

The actors had been off for a couple hours already, and Tennyson enjoyed the quiet of going through the raw footage with his closest crew members. He'd have to watch the rest of the dailies tomorrow instead of around midnight as he usually did—unless he could cut dinner short.

That would be incredible.

Technically, he could refuse to be part of this insane farce, but he couldn’t let go of what the studio's publicist had said about creating a buzz. The script was brilliant, and Tennyson wanted the whole world to know it. For that, he depended on PR—as fucked up as it was. A film could be breathtaking, but that meant nothing if nobody had heard of it. So with his bruised ego, Tennyson was ready to give this stunt one try.
One
.

Disappearing into his trailer, he took a shower and then ended up hesitating in front of the fogged-up mirror. He drew a hand over his beard, knowing it was too long to shave. To hell with it. He trimmed it a bit, but he was already late, so the rest would have to come off later. Or never.

He'd had a beard for as long as he could remember, but perhaps having it trimmed wasn’t all that bad. He looked less…unkempt.

Boxer briefs, a standard pair of jeans, and a gray button-down came on. He could live with neater facial hair and leaving his University of Michigan cap and shades at home, but he wasn’t becoming some dress-up doll.

He squinted at the bathroom light, cursing his eyes. He'd suffered from light sensitivity since he was a child, and in this business it had given him plenty of headaches. His PA had thankfully booked a restaurant with dim lighting, though.

After rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he pocketed his wallet, keys, and phone, then walked out into the nice June evening. A car with tinted windows was waiting for him in the parking lot, and he spent the entire ride on the phone. First with Noah then with a couple of the producers.

Vancouver was beautiful at night, but it was rare Tennyson got to see much of it. Whenever he filmed up here, he was always buried in work.

They arrived at some swanky seafood restaurant by the harbor, and Tennyson got out, not spotting any reporters anywhere. But he assumed they'd be here soon enough. He'd had his PA contact the studio's publicist with the details.

Tennyson now knew the man's name was Richard.

He hadn't memorized the name of his own PA, though.

"Good evening, Mr. Wright." The maître d' smiled politely and gestured toward the dining room. "We have reserved a table with a lovely view of the harbor for you and your guest."

Tennyson nodded in thanks and followed a waitress who was eager to show the way. At the bar, he spotted Sophie's assistant and deduced the female he was sitting with—her back to Tennyson—must be Sophie herself. So he told the waitress to let Sophie know he was here now.

"Right away, sir. Can I start you off with a drink, or would you like to look at the menu first?"

"I'll have a beer, thanks." He sat down in the corner so he faced the restaurant, a wall-sized window with the promised view to his right. "Anything you can recommend with fish is fine."

The waitress handed him a menu and placed one for Sophie, then flitted off. Tennyson glanced around the rustic-looking establishment, old fishnets and sea glass hanging between the wooden beams in the ceiling, and he was relieved the lighting wasn’t too harsh.

A few guests had recognized him, so he occupied himself with checking emails on his phone.

Only a minute or two later, Sophie sat down across from him, and he looked up from his phone to see…something different.

Tennyson didn’t read gossip rags, but one had to be blind to avoid every little thing, such as front pages of Sophie Pierce wearing dresses that should be called lingerie. Not to mention an extreme amount of black makeup. But that wasn’t the case now, so he knew she'd put effort into this. She was trying.

Instead of dressing indecently, she'd gone with a short-sleeved blouse—and whatever she was wearing under the table.

"Hi. Wow, you look different without your Ray-Bans." She smiled and combed her fingers through her ponytail, bringing it forward. "Thank you for agreeing to this. I know you're doing it for the film, but it means a lot."

Tennyson didn’t quite know what to say, so he just nodded and focused on his menu.

He frowned, wondering why the hell the changes in Sophie wouldn’t leave his mind. It shouldn’t matter to him that black and cakey had been replaced with light and subtle.

"Is the selection no good?" Sophie asked.

Tennyson cleared his throat and forced himself to pay attention. "It's fine." He quickly scanned the entrees and settled for the grilled salmon with mashed potatoes.

The waitress returned, and Tennyson took a sip of his beer while Sophie placed her order. Basically, she was going to eat air. Or whatever remained of a lobster tail salad,
hold the avocado, dressing, croutons, and please no extra salt or butter
.

Tennyson had never understood the frenzy with diets, especially in LA. Being healthy was one thing, but many of the women today starved themselves. Sophie didn’t look like she had an ounce of extra body fat, and her bones were visible.

If she continued, she'd disappear.

"Of course, miss." The waitress jotted down the order then paused when Sophie added a glass of water—some brand Tennyson had never heard of. "I apologize," the waitress said, "but we don’t carry that water here."

"I see." Sophie was displeased. "Then why are you still standing here? I suggest you run out and get—"

That was Tennyson's cue to interrupt. "She'll take whatever bottled water you have," he told the waitress. He threw Sophie a look of warning because he had no goddamn patience for diva antics. Then he placed his own order and returned the menu.

The waitress grabbed the menus and scurried away.

"What did you do that for?" Sophie asked irritably.

"Don’t be ridiculous," he said. "It's water. You won't taste the difference."

"I sure as shit do," she replied. "I need that particular—"

"
Need
?" Tennyson leaned forward a bit so no one would overhear them arguing. "Do you even know what's so special about it, or do you only want it because all your jet-set friends are drinking it?" He shook his head. "Trust me, princess, you don’t
need
that water."

Sophie huffed and sat back, folding her arms across her chest.

Tennyson sat back as well and then brought out his phone when it buzzed in his pocket.

"It's rude to be on your phone when you're with someone else," Sophie pointed out.

Tennyson didn’t miss a beat. "So is demanding a waitress run out and buy a brand of water they don’t have here." He glanced at the message from his brother.

Mom is complaining that her two sons are almost forty and haven't settled down yet. Shall I tell her about your new girlfriend? She'll be fucking delighted!

That
was the opposite of how their mother would react to Sophie, and Tennyson could bet Ash was cracking up over this.
Asshole
. But at least it wasn’t a real relationship. Their mother would be relieved to hear that—once she learned about the PR stunt.

He suppressed a sigh and slipped his phone into his pocket again. This was a bad idea. Think of all the work he could've gotten done if he hadn't been stuck here.

"God, what I wouldn’t give to have my phone now." Sophie sighed and tilted her head back, as if God were actually there.

Tennyson smirked faintly, having heard from her assistant that she wasn’t allowed to have her phone anymore. It distracted her too much, and Tennyson had to agree. Before and after most scenes, it had been glued to her hand, which had infuriated Tennyson and made him question the studio's decision to cast her.

"It must kill you to miss out on all the parties at home." He was amused, he had to say. "But I'm sure your friends will have a few drinks for you."

"You don’t get it." She shook her head. "My reputation depends on it. There's always someone ready to take my place in the spotlight."

It was she who didn’t get it, clearly. "On the contrary, if you do well in this film, it could be the beginning of a reputation that’s actually worth something."

Sophie dropped her jaw. "Are you saying I'm worthless now?"

Holy fuck, she was a dramatic one.

"That’s not what I said, was it?" He arched a brow. "It's your reputation we're discussing—not you as a person."

Sophie scoffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Like, what's the difference,
anyway
?"

He couldn’t believe her stupidity. Literally—he couldn’t believe it. He narrowed his eyes and studied her. Sophie stared right back, defiant, but after a while, her phony bravado gave way to fidgeting and darting glances.

"What?" She put the last of her attitude in that word.

"You're actually playing stupid," he said in wonder. "Why would anyone do that?"

"Excuse me?" Now she was going for insulted, but she wasn’t that good of an actress. Tennyson saw through her. It was a damn front. "In the span of five minutes, you've called me both worthless and stupid—"

"Cut the shit." Tennyson rested his forearms on the table, keeping his voice low. "Give me something real." There was no judgment or anything condescending about his tone. If anything, he was baffled. But persistent. His gut instinct told him there was more to Sophie Pierce than being an airhead. "Right here, right now. Tell me something genuine."

Sophie glanced around, appearing to battle with herself. Her perfectly white teeth sank into the softness of her glossy bottom lip, and she hesitated.

"Like what?"

"Anything." He was curious about what the hell was going on inside her head. "Something your so-called friends would find…uncool, perhaps. Something you keep to yourself. A hobby, a song, an opinion."

But Sophie didn’t go down that easily, evidently. "You know, you've got some nerve…"

"All right." Tennyson surrendered. "Never mind. I apologize." When he thought about it, he didn’t even know why he'd bothered. What was he thinking? This was Sophie Pierce. She existed in another universe. They'd never be on the same wavelength.

Their food arrived, saving Tennyson from polite conversation that would've been too contrived, and they spent the next half hour eating in silence.

Well, Tennyson amended,
he
ate. Sophie picked at her food.

She looked…small. Not only in size but overall. Small in the world.

It shouldn’t bother him in the slightest.

"Was it not satisfactory?" he couldn’t help but ask. And he had a feeling he was about to receive a bullshit answer.

"Sorry?" Sophie looked up from her plate. "Oh, it was great. I'm just not very hungry."

Yeah. Bullshit.

He'd seen enough to know it was about calories or whatnot. She ate bits of spinach and asparagus, but she didn’t touch anything that glistened with cooking oil.

This evening was a bust. As predicted. How the producers could have believed this was going to work was beyond him.

"We should probably do something," Sophie murmured, dabbing her mouth with a napkin. "Don’t look outside, but I think I saw paps."

Terrific.

Then an idea struck him, and he couldn’t stop his mouth from twisting up a little. "Fair enough," he responded quietly. "Smile for me." He gathered some salmon and mashed potatoes on his fork, struggling to withhold his smirk, and brought it close to Sophie. "Try this."

Disbelief flashed in her eyes, followed by annoyance. But the party girl played her part and closed her lips around the fork. Wanting to see this through and ensure she didn’t spit it out in her napkin, Tennyson snatched hers up.

"It was…good." Sophie chewed slowly, reluctantly, and threw him a look for the napkin theft. "Wow. How much butter was this cooked with?"

"Probably a lot." Tennyson smiled genuinely and drained the last of his beer. "I take it you don’t want dessert?"

Sophie laughed softly under her breath. "You've got to be fucking kidding me. I'm gonna be on the treadmill for a week because of what you did."

"Ah. Naturally." Tennyson had had enough, so he flagged down the waitress. "I suppose the only calories you have room for are the ones in alcohol. Check, please."

The silver lining with this disaster of a dinner was that he would have plenty of time to go through the dailies when he returned to his trailer. Another upside was that he wouldn’t be seeing Sophie for the next four days. She and Kelly were off with the second unit to shoot in Denver, where the movie was set.

Chapter 4

"Fuck!" Sophie threw a shoe at the door in her hotel room in Denver. "Arrogant bastard!"

She slumped down on her bed and squeezed her eyes shut.

Even three days after her dinner with Tennyson, the wounds were raw. Whenever she was alone and found herself thinking back on that night—which was more often than she cared to admit—the humiliation washed over her again and she ended up throwing something.

"You okay in there, Sophie?"
Daniel called from his adjoining room. He shared it with Kelly's PA.
"We gotta go downstairs in five."

Sophie grabbed her bag and ripped the door open, stalking toward the elevators. She was apparently loud enough to be heard through walls, and Daniel was quick to follow.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"Don’t pretend to give a shit," she snapped. Then she waved a hand. "Give me an update on my texts and emails."

"Yes, Ms. Diva." Daniel scrolled through her phone as they headed down in the elevator. "Callie's back in rehab, whomever you named 'Hoebitch' in your phone wonders when you'll be back in LA, there's a bunch of drunk texts from Cassandra, Lachlan tells you to go fuck yourself for cheating on him with Tennyson. According to TMZ, Lachlan moved on with Audrey last night."

Sophie cursed. "I'm getting fewer texts every day. They'll forget me soon, I'm sure of it."

"I wonder why," Daniel muttered. "Oh, you just got an email from Tyler."

"Who?" she asked, annoyed.

"Tennyson's assistant. He's forwarded a schedule from the studio." Daniel paused, eyes on the screen. "They're dates for you and Tennyson. When we get back to Vancouver tomorrow, you're going to dinner again."

"Great." She rolled her eyes. She had half a mind to ask why they'd have to go out again together so soon, but she knew why. Rumors had definitely begun circulating about her dinner with Tennyson, but the pictures had raised both questions and doubts. While the paps had gotten photos of Tennyson smiling as he'd fed Sophie, they'd also gotten plenty of photos where Tennyson and Sophie looked pissed at each other. Not exactly what one would call a romantic date.

In the car ride going downtown toward the University of Denver, Sophie stewed in silence and tried to rub the tension out of her neck. She was extremely tired, and she missed her bed back in LA.

Classes were over for the semester, so the campus area wasn’t as crowded as Sophie guessed it usually was. She'd never gone to college, nor had she been to Denver before. It was pretty, she supposed.

The front of one building had been sealed off for the shoot, and Daniel told her which of the four trailers was for hair and makeup and wardrobe.

As Sophie was about to step out of the car, Daniel stopped her with a hand on her arm.

He stared at her. "You know you're obnoxious, right?"

What the fuck?

"Excuse me?" she spluttered. "Maybe we got our signals crossed or something, but you're the
help
. I don’t think my father pays you to—"

"That right there." He pointed at her. "Stop acting so damn superior. Stop pretending to be so fucking shallow. And, for the record, your father pays me to not take your shit."

Sophie felt like she'd been slapped, and she was too stunned to come up with anything to say. Stumbling out of the car, she made her way to hair and makeup where two of Brooklyn's girls were waiting.

Kelly was already there.

Sophie sat in her chair and stared at her own reflection. As more makeup was applied, she lost her Hollywood shine and became the wayward teenager she portrayed. Dark circles under her eyes. Tangled hair. Collarbone and cheekbones shadowed to be more pronounced than they already were.

The sense of loss in her eyes was real, though. She was so fucking lost.

She kept herself from asking if Tennyson and Daniel were right about her, because unlike what they seemed to think, she wasn’t stupid. A bully could tell right from wrong, and so could she. But it was difficult to break patterns, and Sophie barely knew what was real and what was fake about herself anymore.

"Tell me something genuine,"
Tennyson had requested.

Something cracked inside Sophie. It felt like she was about to fall to pieces at any moment.

And what would happen if she showed weakness? She would be replaced, that’s what. Her friends would look down on her, point their manicured fingers, and laugh.

She might as well have been poor.

She cringed at that last thought. Not about being poor, but about thinking less of those who were.

God, she'd turned into a fucking monster.

"You all right?" the makeup artist asked.

"Yeah," Sophie lied.

In an attempt to forget the reality of her life, she listened to the two makeup artists discussing going out tonight. Sophie couldn’t exactly say she felt like going out, but maybe it would help? With her celebrity status, she would most likely be able to help the girls get into something cooler than some random bar, too.

"I can tell my PA to find the hot spots in Denver," Sophie told them. "I could really use a night out."

It got quiet in the trailer, and the two makeup artists exchanged looks that Sophie was too familiar with. Only, she was usually the one giving them.

They don’t want me to come with them.

"Uh…we were just thinking of getting a drink or two," one of the women said. "You know, someplace quiet."

The other makeup artist nodded. "Yeah, it's nothing for you, hon. You prefer clubs, right?"

Sophie flushed with humiliation, but she managed a smile. "You know me," she chuckled awkwardly.

The silence that followed was equally awkward, and she was so confused. Back home, people would pay to go clubbing with her.

Fuck
.

*

"Cut!" Noah yelled.

Sophie's shoulders sagged, and she sat down on the steps outside the university building. Her mind was spinning, and she couldn’t find focus to save her goddamn life.

"I'm sorry," she said, having botched the scene for the sixth time. It was a simple fucking scene.

Covering her face with her hands, she tried to shut out the world for a minute so she could get her shit straight.

"Hey." Noah squatted down in front of her. "What's wrong, Sophie?"

"I don’t know," she complained. "My head's all fucked."

"It happens." He patted her knee. "Do you wanna take ten and go through your lines?" When Sophie removed her hands from her face, she saw he was glancing up at the sky. "We have about an hour until the shadows change too much and we gotta redo Kelly's first scene. So what do you say?"

Sophie blew out a breath, collecting herself. "Just give me five, please."

"No problem." Noah nodded and left, telling Daniel and the makeup artist to stay back for a bit.

Sophie was thankful, and she stood up and paced in front of the old building's entrance. Eyes closed, she went through her lines in her head. She
knew
them.

She rolled her shoulders and lolled her head from side to side.
I can do this
. Thoughts about her own issues faded, and she forced all focus on to the storyline. She wasn’t here to do a scene. She was here to speak to her sister, who hated being around their parents so much that she spent most of her time in her boyfriend's dorm room.

This part of the shoot was one of the scenes that wasn’t shot in sequence, so it was a bit jumbled. But Sophie had been through this several times before.

"Okay, I'm ready," she told Noah.

Noah barked out orders to the crew and his assistants, and Sophie walked off the set to wait for her cue.

As she watched Noah work, she could tell he really burned for this. She guessed he was around thirty, and it probably wouldn’t be long until he stepped out of the director's shadow and stopped assisting. Tennyson certainly seemed happy to work with him.

"Kelly, we'll take it from 'see you later,'" Noah said.

Kelly nodded, and the extra who played her boyfriend walked up the steps of the building to join her.

"Quiet on the set!" Noah's PA called and then walked to stand in front of the camera with the clapper.

Noah took his seat behind a small monitor, headphones on. "Camera rolling."

The assistant announced the shot before leaving the set, Noah called for action, and Sophie turned to watch Kelly.

"I'll see you later, okay?" She moved in for a quick hug, but her boyfriend stopped her and cupped her cheeks. He gazed at her with concern, and then he kissed her. Next, he walked away with his hands in his pockets and shoulders bunched up, and Sophie got ready.

Kelly sighed and ran a hand through her hair, her eyes scanning the park that surrounded the building. Her tired gaze got stuck when she spotted Sophie, who walked over.

"Hey." Sophie climbed the steps and leaned in to hug her sister briefly. "Thanks for finally answering my calls."

"I'm sorry." Kelly sat down. "I can't deal with all that anymore."

"All that?" Sophie repeated, widening her eyes. "This is me you're talking about, Jo. Screw our parents, but what about
me
?" She slumped down next to Kelly. "I barely see you, and I don’t know what I'm supposed to do."

"Leave." Kelly cleared her throat quietly and glanced at her. "Leave Mom and Dad. Get away from there."

Sophie stared at her silently for a beat, then shook her head. "How?" she whispered. "I'm not eighteen yet, and I don’t have any money."

"Find a man or something." Kelly shrugged, the picture of an empty shell. "I don’t fucking know, Anna. It's up to you, but it beats the alternative, in my opinion. I can't sit by and watch Mom and Dad ruin everything. Hell," she scoffed, "feels like they've already done that. And I'm so sick of covering for them. I'm done."

Sophie nodded absently, knowing Kelly was referring to the cheating, the gambling… "I caught Mom the other day," she confessed quietly. "Remember Steve?"

"Oh, dude." Kelly looked grossed out. "He's like our age."

Sophie nodded, and it grew silent.

A few seconds later, Kelly threw an arm around her and whispered, "Leave."

Sophie swallowed hard and looked out at the park.

This was the scene that would send Sophie's character into a downward spiral of self-destruction. Anything to get away from home.

"And cut!" Noah quirked a grin at Sophie. "Much better. I'll send the footage to Tennyson this afternoon. Everyone else, that’s a wrap for this scene. Time to do Denver coverage."

*

Like, really. Who do they think they are?

Maybe it was because everything had worked out with the scene that Sophie had gotten some of her confidence back, but, regardless, now she was pissed. She was pissed because those two makeup artists had blown her off.

An annoying voice in the back of her head kept telling her she deserved it, but she couldn’t afford to break down now. So that was why—once she got back to the hotel—she donned a sexy dress and headed down to the hotel bar.

Screw finding a hot spot. There was some conference in town that filled the bar with men in nice suits.

There was one stool available at the bar, so she shimmied past the crowded tables and slid onto the stool, sending the men next to her a flirty smile.

"Hi, guys."

One of the men cleared his throat and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, but my buddy's sitting there."

Seriously?

"Wouldn’t you rather have
me
sit here?" She grinned, though it felt forced. What was wrong with people today?
You mean to say what's wrong with you, right?
She shook that off and extended her hand. "Sophie Pierce."

"Toby." The man furrowed his brow and shook her hand briefly. "You look familiar."

Finally. "I'm an actress," she said as the bartender reached her. "A vodka lemon, extra ice."

"No, that’s not it…" Toby looked pensive for a beat before he snapped his fingers, grinned, and hollered for a friend. "Hey, Frank! Get over here."

By the time the man in question had wrapped up his discussion with a few others, Sophie had received her drink.

"Doesn’t this girl look like the one in the picture in your office?" Toby asked. To Sophie, he elaborated. "We work in undergraduate admissions. We take education seriously." He winked.

This Frank guy frowned and then nodded. "Hard to tell without the crotch shot, but maybe." He chuckled and slapped Toby on the shoulder. "Here—I have the photo in my phone, too."

Sophie kept her face composed, all while praying it wasn’t her in whatever picture he was about to show her.

She breathed out a sigh of relief when she saw it wasn’t her. But…the relief was short-lived because while it wasn’t her, it
was
one of her friends. Cassandra.

Drunk off her ass and getting out of a car, Cassandra was showing the world she preferred going commando. Her hair was messy, her eyes unfocused, lipstick smeared, and she was holding a diamond-encrusted flask.