Take Two

Chapter Twenty-Four

Maddie’s eyes welled, an infuriating inconvenience since she was only steps away from video village. Dammit. She couldn’t let Beaumont see her cry. She blinked, clearing her tears.

She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on Micah and his interview, hadn’t even really been interested in it. Beaumont had summoned her to bring him the footage from that morning—a job that should have been relegated to a P.A. or one of Adam’s other assistants. So she shouldn’t have even been walking past Micah in the first place. And then she’d heard her name. How could she not be intrigued?

“So you’re still Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor?”

“Definitely.”

The words stung more than she could have imagined. And then he’d flirted with the journalist…

Dammit all to hell. She was definitely hurt, but more than that she was embarrassed. What had she expected? Did she think that he’d proclaim his love for her in some entertainment magazine when he hadn’t even said the words to her? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

And okay, she shouldn’t care what he said to the press. She knew it was all fake.

The problem was she did care. Fake or not, she couldn’t stand it. Maybe if he’d given her some indication of what he really felt for her she could deal with whatever lies he told others. But since he hadn’t, the words he’d told the reporter were the only ones he had to cling to.

“There’s Maddie,” Sam said as she reached video village. Beaumont had been antsy waiting, she could tell.

“Here I am.” She was surprised at how controlled her voice sounded. Inside she was reeling. Shake it off. “If you scoot over, I’ll load it.”

An assistant sitting in front of the main monitor relinquished his seat. Maddie slid into the chair and connected the hard drive into the USB slot of the computer. Micah’s words rang in her ears as she pulled up the contents of the drive. “Without a doubt. Free and single as ever.”

She shook her head and redirected her focus to her job. She dragged the folder to the computer’s desktop and a warning box came up. The file already exists do you want to replace the existing file? Maddie paused. There shouldn’t be a file with the same name. She squinted at the file’s title. It should have said which scene they had filmed that morning, but it didn’t. The file name still said the date and scene from the previous shoot. The second assistant must have forgotten to change it.

What scene had they shot that morning? She closed her eyes, trying to clear her head. “Free and single as ever.”

“Get outta the way.” Beaumont pushed her out of her chair. “You’re taking too long.”

Numbly, Maddie stepped aside. She watched as Beaumont grabbed for the mouse in front of him. “Wait,” she said. Scene fourteen. That was the scene they’d filmed. Beaumont needed to change the name to say Scene Fourteen. “You need to save as—”

But Beaumont had already clicked.

Panic coursed through her veins. “What did you just do?”

“I saved the file.”

“But it had the wrong name! You just saved it over the last footage!” Hoping she was mistaken, she leaned over the director and grabbed the mouse from his hands. She clicked open the file on the desktop with the previous scene’s date and watched in horror as that morning’s footage played. “No, no, no.” She scrolled through more of the files. All of the footage from the last shoot was lost. “It’s gone. Scene twenty-four is all gone.”

Beaumont furrowed his brow. “What do you mean it’s gone?”

Maddie’s words came soft and measured. “You just clicked ‘yes’ to replace the file and it had the same name as the other day’s shoot.” A lost scene was a disaster. They would have to hold actors over, adjust the shoot schedule. And they were already behind schedule.

“Fuck!” The director stood abruptly, knocking his chair over in the process. “Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“No. I wouldn’t do that.”

Beaumont’s face reddened. He swept his arm across the table in front of him, throwing a stack of papers and clipboards to the ground. “Fuck.” He turned to Maddie. “How the fuck could you make that kind of a mistake?”

Maddie usually kept her cool, no matter what her boss threw at her, but she’d reached the end of her emotional rope. “I was the one who was fixing it when you pushed me out of my chair. If you hadn’t been so goddamned anxious and just let me do my job—”

Beaumont screamed so loud that Maddie wouldn’t have been surprised if they could hear him on set. “It shouldn’t have had the same name in the first place. You are incompetent, unprofessional, and completely out of your league. I should never have agreed to let Adam bring you on.”

“No, I should never have agreed to come on.” Out of the corner of her eye, Maddie saw Sam take a step toward her, trying to stop her. She ignored him. “You’ve been an arrogant bastard since you fucked me over years ago. My coming here saved your ass.”

Beaumont laughed. “Add cocky to the list. Assistants like you are a dime a dozen. Do you even realize how much your mistake is going to cost?”

“I don’t know how much your mistake is going to cost. And frankly, I don’t give a shit. You deserve it.”

His eyes narrowed. “Get your things, Bauer. You’re fired.”

Maddie took her tape measure off her belt loop and threw it at Beaumont’s feet. “Fuck that. I quit.”

She’d never been so angry in her life. Accused of making his mistake? She didn’t have to take that shit. She stormed off, high-tailing it to the trailer where the crew kept their personal items.

“Maddie,” Sam called after her.

Sam was the last person she wanted to deal with. Well, maybe not the last person. She didn’t want to deal with anyone.

He called again, running to catch up. “Maddie!”

She spun around. “What?”

He put his hands on his hips, panting. “Do you need a ride?”

Sam’s voice was kind and gentle, and it broke her. Tears welled up again in her eyes, this time she couldn’t stop them from falling. “Yes,” she mumbled. She nodded to make sure he understood.

“Go get in the car. It’s unlocked. I’ll get your things.”

She climbed in the front seat of his car and slumped down. Fired. She had been fired. She’d never been fired from anything in her life. She was an exemplary employee, devoted to her job. Now she’d been fucked over by Joss Beaumont twice in one lifetime. Christ, she’d be lucky if she worked anywhere in film again.

She wiped at the tears falling down her face. There would be some serious crying later when she was alone. She knew that. She just had to hold on until then.

Her phone buzzed alerting her of a text. Micah from the party. She stared at her phone, not sure if she wanted to read it at the moment. Sam’s arrival helped her make the decision. She pocketed her phone and took her purse and computer bag from him. Then she curled up next to the window. Please don’t make me talk, she willed silently. Please, please, please.

“Don’t worry, you only have to talk about it if you want to,” Sam said as if reading her mind.

As they drove in silence, Maddie replayed the scene with Beaumont over and over in her mind. She didn’t want to think about it, but as soon as she stopped, thoughts of Hollywood’s most eligible bachelor crept in its place. Those thoughts were too much to bear.

When they’d nearly reached her hotel, she found she could no longer stay trapped in her mind. She peered over at Sam. He really was a nice kid—not a douchebag at all. “Won’t you get in trouble for leaving the set?”

Sam stole a glance at her before answering. “I called Joe’s cell phone. He agreed I should drive you.”

“You called Joe?”

“Yeah. I told him what happened. I’m sure Beaumont’s version of the story will be different than yours and I wanted him to know the truth.”

How thoughtful. And irrelevant. “Beaumont’s version of the story is the only one that matters.”

“On this film, maybe. But Joe and Adam—they’ll make sure you get hired again.”

She nodded. Sam had never experienced the joy of being blacklisted by Beaumont. “I don’t even know if I want to be hired again.”

“You might feel differently later. I mean, Beaumont’s a dick. And you’re good. You don’t want to give that up.”

Maddie stared at Sam. He was sweet. Would Micah say the same thing to her? Would he comfort and reassure her?

Yes and no. He’d tell her to get the hell out. Tell her to take this as a sign to move on, to direct her own stuff. And he wouldn’t say it because he was reckless and irresponsible. He’d say it because he knew that was what she really wanted to do.

Sam pulled into the front circle of the Comfort Inn and let the car idle. She looked out the window, suddenly realizing he didn’t know she wasn’t at this hotel anymore. What should she do? She couldn’t walk to the other hotel. She was exhausted—emotionally and physically. She could call a cab after Sam drove away. What a pain.

Fuck it. “Sam, I’m not staying at this hotel.”

He nodded and put the car in drive. “I know.”

Shocked, she soaked in his response while he pulled out on the road toward Micah’s hotel. He knew. “Does everyone, uh, know?” Just what she needed, for her love life to be the talk of the production crew.

“I don’t think so. No one’s said anything.”

“That’s good, I guess. Especially considering how incredibly fucked up that situation is right now.”

“I bet it’s not as fucked up as you think.”

She studied him again. There were so many thoughts and emotions running through her that she found it difficult to make her brain work. “Why didn’t you say something?”

The lips of his mouth curved slightly. “I didn’t think you wanted me to.”

She looked out her passenger window, knowing she’d break again if she met Sam’s eyes. She’d dismissed him so easily, put her sights on the unattainable Micah Preston. What the fuck had she been thinking? Micah was right—she was emotionally unavailable.

They pulled into the circle at Micah’s hotel and Sam again let the car idle. “I could come in, if you want me to.”

She pictured inviting Sam into the hotel room she shared with Micah. “That might be weird.”

“I suppose it would be.”

“Thanks, though. For everything.” She got out of the car, threw the strap of her bag over her shoulder and waved goodbye.

Inside the room, the tears Maddie had expected to fall generously didn’t come right away. She’d been fired. And she felt like shit about it. But Beaumont had fucked her before. She had survived then, she’d survive now.

But Micah…Micah… Just the thought of his name shot like a bullet through her heart. She was such a fool. She couldn’t even be mad. All along he’d said it didn’t want a relationship. How had she convinced herself that he had told her anything different?

She pulled out her phone to read the text he had sent her.

She was just a journalist. What I say to her doesn’t matter.

She stared at the screen. He probably hadn’t realized she’d been fired yet, but she’d hoped for more in his response. She’d wanted him to say…what? What exactly did she expect?

I’m sorry. I love you. That’s what she wanted.

Micah had been right about her here too—she was a hopeless romantic. She wanted a guy who loved her, who gave up everything for her, who wasn’t afraid of telling reporters how he felt, who didn’t care that choosing her might jeopardize his career.

She’d told him she loved him. And he’d told the world he was single.

Such an incredible fool.

She turned her phone off and tossed it on the nightstand. Then she wrapped her arms around herself as the tears began to flow, fast and steady. Even in the generic space of the typical hotel decor, she felt Micah’s presence. She wished he were there to hold her and comfort her.

But he couldn’t fix her when he was most of the reason she felt so forlorn. She grabbed a T-shirt of his from his laundry pile, threw herself onto the bed and curled up in a ball, clutching his clothing to her. It smelled like him. She stayed like that, sobbing, for more than an hour.

When she’d run out of tears, she shook herself out of her stupor, and turned her phone back on. She scrolled through two more texts from Micah. The first said, Are we okay? The second read, Where are you???

She erased both messages and dialed a number from her favorites list. “Bree, can you book a flight for me tonight? I want to come home.”