Just Physical (4 page)

A grin slowly made its way onto Jill's face. “Well, when you put it that way… Maybe I should be glad that the stuntwoman is doing it.” Despite her words, she couldn't bring herself to be relieved. Shame and anger made her cheeks burn. She hated that the stuntwoman now assumed her to be a prissy diva who had requested a stunt double because she was afraid to chip a nail. Crash Patterson seemed to be the only person in the room who had no idea that Jill had MS. Hard to believe that anyone in Hollywood had missed the tabloid frenzy last June, but it seemed Crash had managed somehow. Normally, Jill would be glad about it, but now it meant the stuntwoman thought she was a slacker.

Jill glanced over at Crash. Wearing the wig and the same costume, she could be mistaken for Jill from behind, but a closer look revealed that she didn't look like Jill at all. While people often referred to Jill as cute, Crash was gorgeous, in that nonclassical, almost androgynous way that would have immediately captured Jill's interest in the past. The woman's jawline was a bit too square and her nose a bit too strong for her to ever make it as an actress, but Jill liked her dimpled chin and her striking blue eyes.

She watched as Ben and Crash—or whatever her real name was—did a quick walk-through of the scene. Lighting was adjusted and the boom mikes moved back a bit, and then the cameras were rolling.

“And…action!” Ben called.

It was weird to see someone who looked so much like her, at least from behind and with a wig, walk down the row of beds. Was it just her imagination, or had Crash even adjusted her long, loose-limbed stride to the way Jill moved? Either she was really that good, or it was the skirt that changed the way she moved.

Halfway toward her patient, Crash tripped over the bedpan. It looked real, as if she hadn't known it was there. Crash almost fell and then careened into a metal cart that held medical supplies, which went flying in all directions.

“Cut!” Ben called. He reviewed the take on his monitors, then immediately nodded. “Great. I don't think we need to do it again.”

Crash took off her wig, revealing short, disheveled black hair, and grinned. “Well, that was easy money.”

Jill gritted her teeth. When the stuntwoman glanced over at her, she scowled and looked away. While it was Floyd who'd made that decision, it was hard not to resent Crash for being allowed to do what she no longer could.

“Jill?” Ben called. “Ready to film the lead-in?”

“Ready,” she answered, resolved to bag it in one take too. She'd show that stuntwoman that she wasn't a difficult diva who held up production whenever she felt like it.

They didn't have time to break for a hot, sit-down meal from catering, so once Jill was done with her scenes for the day, she changed out of her costume and headed over to the craft services tent to see if there was any leftover food.

She ran her hands down the seams of her pants while she walked. God, after thirteen hours in petticoats, skirt, and corset, jeans had never felt so good. She grinned inwardly.
I might just set up a shrine to Levi Strauss!

Someone cleared her throat behind her and said, “Hi.”

Quickly, Jill snatched her hands away, embarrassed to have been caught practically caressing her own legs. Her cheeks heated, so she refused to turn around. She had a pretty good idea of who was behind her anyway. That low voice with the faint Texas accent was unmistakable.

“Long day, huh?” Crash commented.

Jill nodded but otherwise didn't react to Crash's obvious attempt to start a conversation. She wasn't in the mood to make small talk with someone who had called her difficult in front of half the crew. She was working hard not to cause any trouble on the set, and she wasn't about to let this stuntwoman—who didn't even know how lucky she was to have her body do anything she asked it to do—make her look bad.

When she stepped up to the twelve-foot-long craft services table that had been set up on one end of the tent, Crash joined her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Jill saw that Crash had changed out of her costume too, apparently just as eager to get rid of the corset as Jill had been. Her low-rise jeans fit her like a second skin, making Jill's dormant libido take notice. They had filmed some of the same scenes today, so the director would have the best material to choose from, but while Jill felt ready to drop, Crash looked fresh as a daisy.

Figures.
At least temperatures were still relatively cool for the middle of May in LA, so except for the fatigue, her symptoms didn't flare up.

Other actors and crew had wrapped their scenes too and were now descending on the food like a locust swarm.

Jill threw a longing glance at the rapidly disappearing brownies, grilled cheese sandwiches, and muffins. In the past, she would have grabbed some of that food too, but she tried to stick to a healthier diet these days.

Suppressing a sigh, she put a mango-lettuce-cucumber wrap onto her paper plate and reached for an apple—only to have her hand collide with another set of fingers reaching for the same piece of fruit.

A shiver ran through her body. Quickly, she snatched her hand away. Not turning toward Crash, she felt more than saw Crash watch her. “What?”

“Listen,” Crash said and gestured for Jill to go ahead and take the coveted apple. “I wanted to apologize for calling you difficult. I shouldn't have said that.”

Jill weighed the apple in her hand. “Then why did you?”

“Well, I'm not usually hired for a simple scene like that, so I assumed—”

“You know what they say about people who make assumptions, don't you?”

Crash folded her arms over her chest and regarded her with a dismayed expression. “Are you always this…?”

“Difficult?” Jill finished for her.

One corner of Crash's mouth twitched. “I didn't say that.”

“But you thought it,” Jill countered.

“Oh, now you're a mind reader too?”

“I don't have to be a mind reader to know what you're thinking.” Jill knew she was a bit touchy, but she couldn't help being hurt that this stranger had formed an opinion about her so quickly.

At a stand-off, they stared at each other. Crash's blue eyes were almost eerie, and it irritated Jill even more how fascinating she found them.

“Ms. Patterson?” One of the PAs peered into the tent. “Mr. Brower is looking for you.”

“Tell him I'm on my way,” Crash said but made no move to follow him out of the tent. When the PA walked away, she turned back to Jill. “I really want us to be able to work together.”

“That's one thing you don't have to worry about. If you knew me at all, you'd know that I never allow my personal feelings to interfere with my work.” No matter what Crash thought of her, she was a professional.

Crash didn't look happy with the way they left things, but she finally gave her a nod. “I'd better go see what Ben wants. See you tomorrow.”

Jill watched the tent flap fall closed behind Crash. God, it was going to be a long three months of shooting.

CHAPTER 3

Two sound technicians who'd sneaked
off for a smoke stared at Jill as she passed them on the way to her car.

What is it, boys? Never seen a woman in her underwear before?
Chuckling, she glanced down at the pair of knee-length drawers and the chemise she was wearing. She unlocked her Beetle and let herself sink behind the wheel with a relieved sigh. Sitting down felt good, and so did being inside the car, where it was warmer. This was only the third day of filming, yet she was already exhausted. Today's night shoot was kicking her ass, but Jill was determined to prove herself in the upcoming fight scene—even if she was only allowed to film the lead-in and the close-ups.

Just when she reached for the jacket on the passenger seat, her cell phone rang. She fumbled it out of the jacket pocket and glanced at the display.

Great.
Her mother was calling. If she didn't answer, she'd later have to listen to her ranting and raving about how worried she'd been. Sighing, she swiped her finger across the screen to accept the call. “Hi, Mom.”

“Finally! I've been trying to reach you for hours!”

“I'm still on set, so I couldn't have my cell phone with me. I just went to the car for a minute. Did something happen?”

“Oh, yes!”

Jill gripped the steering wheel with her free hand. “Is Dad okay?”

“What? Oh, yes, nothing like that. Your brother got a promotion! Isn't that great?”

“Yes,” Jill said dutifully. “It's wonderful.”
And it would be wonderful too if you didn't scare me half to death!

Her mother started to go on and on about the promotion.

“Mom, I really can't talk right now. We're doing a night shoot, and I have to get back to the set.”

“I just wanted to give you the good news and ask if you got my e-mail,” her mother said.

The e-mail sat unread in her in-box, but there was a good chance it had to do either with her brother's great accomplishments or with MS. Since her mother had chosen to tell her about James's promotion on the phone, that left option number two. “The one about the MS health advice?”

“Yes.”

Bingo.
Jill halfheartedly listened to her mother's monologue about acupuncture, bee sting venom, and pH balance, all of which she was supposed to try out. Shaking her head, she thumped the steering wheel with her free hand. Since she'd finally told her parents about the MS last year, she'd stopped being their daughter and started being the family patient. Her mother hadn't even asked how the shooting of
Shaken to the Core
was going.

“Mom, I need to go,” she said when her mother started talking about some aloe vera drink. She hung up, threw the phone onto the passenger seat, and closed her eyes for a moment.

When Crash started to shiver in the cool night air, she slipped her leather jacket over her costume, not caring how ridiculous it might look.

It seemed to take forever until the cameras and the rest of the equipment had been set up. Why was it that everything always seemed to take twice as long on night shoots?

Spotlights cut through the darkness, illuminating a sea of tents that, in the movie, housed the injured and sick after the hospital had burned down.

When her colleague who would play the looter breaking into the makeshift hospital arrived, she went over the fight choreography with him.

After two run-throughs, both she and Ben were satisfied that all would go smoothly.

“Okay, let's get this over with so we can finally go home and get some sleep,” Ben said. He looked around. “Where's Jill?”

Crash peered around too but couldn't locate her anywhere. Come to think of it, she hadn't seen her for the last half hour.

“I think she headed to her car to get a jacket,” one of the PAs said.

Crash looked over to the parking lot, but everything was pitch-dark over there. A hint of worry skittered down her spine. Why was it taking Jill so long to get her jacket?

Ben let out a sigh. “Can someone go and get her? We're losing time here, people!”

“I'll go,” Crash said before anyone else could volunteer. Maybe this would give her the opportunity to apologize again.

In the last two days, she'd had a lot of time to watch Jill while she waited for her next stunt. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Jill was not the difficult diva she'd first thought her to be. Even after half a dozen takes, Jill was always ready to repeat a shot as often as it took to get it right. She never complained, and she never treated any member of the crew with disrespect.

Crash jogged toward the parking lot. Once she'd left the circle of light on the set, she couldn't see much.

Voices drifted over from the edge of the parking lot. When her eyes adjusted to the near darkness, she could make out two members of the sound crew who'd wandered off for a smoke.

Crash continued on her way. She'd seen Jill arrive in a cute Beetle convertible this morning, and she tried to remember where Jill had parked it.

Finally, she made out the Beetle across the parking lot. Gravel crunched under her ankle-high costume boots as she strode over.

Someone was sitting in the car.

Crash bent and peered through the window.

Jill sat behind the wheel, her head leaned back and her eyes closed. She was wearing the same historic underwear that Crash had on, but she looked much better in it. A jacket was lying across her knees, as if she hadn't quite managed to put it on.

Just when Crash was about to get worried, Jill's lips parted and she started snoring so loudly that it could be heard even through the closed car door.

Relieved laughter burst from Crash's lips. She watched her for a while. Jill looked so cute—not to mention exhausted—that Crash hated to wake her. But she had no choice. Ben and the rest of the crew were waiting.

Softly, she knocked on the side window.

The snoring instantly stopped. Jill's head jerked up, and she smashed her knee into the steering wheel. She rubbed her leg and looked around as if needing a few seconds to remember where she was.

When their gazes met, Crash grinned and gave a sheepish wave.

Jill opened the door and climbed out of the car, still looking half asleep.

“Not used to staying up all night?” Crash asked and then shook her head at herself.
You'd better cut out the teasing—and the flirting—before she gets mad again.

“Something like that,” Jill mumbled.

“Sorry to wake you, but everyone's waiting.” They headed toward the set.

“I'm fine,” Jill said. “You can let go.”

Puzzled, Crash peered over at her and only then realized that she'd taken hold of Jill's elbow to safely guide her through the darkness. She quickly let go.

Jill crossed the parking lot as fast as she could. The knee-length drawers didn't allow her to wear her foot brace today, so she couldn't outrun Crash.

It was bad enough that the damn fatigue had made her fall asleep while at work, but why did it have to be Crash of all people who found her? The stuntwoman already thought she was a spoiled diva who didn't pull her own weight on the set.

“Jill?” Crash said as they were about to step into the circle of light surrounding the tents.

Jill just wanted to get back to work. Annoyed—more with herself and her fatigue than with Crash—she turned around. “What?”

“I…I really am sorry.”

“No big deal,” Jill said with a wave of her hand. “I wasn't really asleep, just resting my eyes for a second.”

“Not for waking you. For saying…what I did about you. It was a stupid assumption to make, and I'd like to leave it behind us.”

The faint light and the distance between them made it hard to make out her expression, but her words sounded honest. Either she was a better actress than Jill had given her credit for, or she could be taken at face value.

“So?” Crash held out her hand. “Do you accept my apology?”

Jill took two steps toward her so she could see her better. She glanced down at Crash's hand and then back up at her face.

Traditionally, blue eyes were thought of as cold, but Crash's looked warm and sincere.

“Apology accepted,” Jill said and laid her hand into Crash's.

Crash's strong fingers cradled hers carefully. The simple touch felt unexpectedly good, reminding Jill how long it had been since a woman had held her hand.

Quickly, she pulled her hand away, not allowing herself to linger. “We need to get back to the set,” she said and marched off without waiting for Crash's reply.

Once they reached the set, Ben called Jill over to show her the sequence of motions that she would need to execute so the camera could capture her face during the fight with the looter. “He enters and finds you in the tent, asleep in the middle of the medical supplies. When you don't move out of the way, he shoves you back to get to the supplies. You stumble backward and fall.” He pointed to the mat they'd set up in one of the tents. “Crash will do that part. One of your hands finds a broken-off branch on the ground, and you grab it as you get back up. You take a swing at him, but he blocks it and the two of you tussle for the weapon.” He turned and looked at Crash. “Can you show her?”

“Sure.” Crash shrugged out of her leather jacket so she could move more freely. “I can even teach her how to fall safely if she wants to do the stunt herself.” She looked back and forth between Ben and Jill, careful not to make the same mistake as before and assume that Jill wouldn't want to do any of her own stunts.

Jill opened her mouth, but before she could answer, Ben shook his head and said, “No, I'd rather you do it. Just show her what she needs to do so we can shoot the close-ups with her.”

What the hell was going on? Crash was used to producers and directors hesitating to allow their actors to do their own stunts, but this seemed a bit over the top. By now, Crash doubted that the director was so overprotective of Jill because they were lovers. Maybe it was just wishful thinking, but her gaydar kept insisting that Jill was a lesbian. Even if she wasn't, she didn't seem to be the type who would allow herself to be coddled while at work.

But now wasn't the time to solve this puzzle. Crash grabbed the branch with both hands. “You swing it like you would a baseball bat. Like this.” She demonstrated and then handed over the branch for Jill to try.

Jill swung the branch, looking as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

Maybe she really is a lesbian. After all, we're supposed to be good at softball.
Crash grinned to herself.

“What?” Jill asked.

“Nothing.” She led Jill over to the tent so they could practice right where they would shoot the scene. “Now take a swing at me.”

Jill hesitated.

“Don't worry. You won't hurt me. I'll block it.”

Halfheartedly, Jill tried to hit her with the branch.