“I’m done here.” Without wasting another second of brainpower on DeLong, I stride in the direction of my trailer.
“You walking away from me, boy?”
Mitch is one of only two men I’ll let speak to me that way. For a guy on the downhill side of sixty, he’s got some speed in his gait as he tails me down the dusty path.
Good. Means I don’t need to slow down.
“Thought you were done leveling threats, old man.”
The slicing power of his arctic glare would make many an actor blank on a line or blow a cue, but I refuse to fear him. He stomps up the stairs behind me, the aluminum door slapping against the side of the trailer before it slams shut with us both inside.
“You ever going to lose that chip on your shoulder?” Mitch asks, crossing his arms over his chest. Even at his age, he’s still got power in those muscles, and right now he looks like he wants to take me out back and beat some sense into me. Not a chance in hell, regardless of how much I respect him.
“Probably not.” My answer is surprisingly honest.
“Shame, because any other director would toss you off the set and fine you for what you just did.”
I raise my chin, that chip on my shoulder fueling my response. “Then fine me.”
His steely blue gaze bores into me. “I would if I thought it would make a damn difference.”
He’s right. It won’t.
“What do you want from me, Mitch?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“How about an explanation about what set that shit off? You don’t want a reputation as a loose cannon, Cav. It’ll kill your career so fast, you won’t know what happened.”
While I might not have wanted to be Hollywood’s hottest new action star, I’m not ready to give it up either. I’m hooked. Not only on the challenge of it, but being part of creating something that allows millions of people to escape from their lives for a few hours at a time.
I spent plenty of hours trying to escape my childhood reality holed up in a ratty movie theater watching larger-than-life heroes take on the bad guys. The thought of giving that same escape to a kid like me is more than enough to keep me going, and that’s only part of my motivation.
Although at that age, I wondered why bad guys in movies didn’t win like they did in real life. Some lessons are learned early and often.
“Cav, you gonna give me something here or am I talking to myself?”
I yank open the mini fridge door and snag two bottles of water. Wishing they were beer doesn’t replace the cans I crushed last night.
Almost done with this fucking movie, I remind myself. Then I don’t ever have to work with DeLong again.
I toss one to Mitch and twist the cap off the other before lowering myself into a recliner.
“I wasn’t talking about a bottle of water, kid.”
Mitch won’t let this go until he has some sort of explanation. I can bullshit him, but instead I go with the truth out of respect.
“He was runnin’ his mouth about a woman.”
The old man sinks onto the kitchenette bench, drops the bottle of water onto the table, and runs a hand through his thinning gray hair. “For fuck’s sake, Cav. A piece of tail ain’t worth your reputation.”
That’s where he’s wrong. Especially when she’s a hell of a lot more than a piece of tail.
“It’s a long story.” I want him to drop it and save me from getting sucked any deeper into the life I left behind.
“Enlighten me.” The steel in his gaze has made its way into his voice, but I don’t follow orders any more.
“Not important.” A lie. Because it’s damn important to me.
“Important enough to put your career at risk. Come on, kid. Spill. Maybe I can help before you make this into a bigger mess.”
Mitch is the only guy I’ve met in this business who has ever made me an offer of help, expecting nothing in return. That’s not something I can buy, and the knowledge pushes me to loosen my tight grip on my secrets.
“There’s a girl I was hung up on back in the day. She put herself front and center in the news, and DeLong was looking to cash in on what he considers an easy score.” Little does DeLong know, nothing about Greer Karas is easy.
Mitch cranks open his bottle of water, his eyes never leaving mine as he sucks half of it down. He replaces the cap, his brain working over everything I’ve told him before he finally speaks.
“Is this going to be a problem?”
I follow his lead, drinking and considering before I answer.
“I think DeLong got the message loud and clear.”
Mitch lays an arm on the kitchenette table and leans forward. “Fuck DeLong. Is this a problem for you? Because we’ve got two days to wrap this project so I can start my vacation.”
Mitch’s daughter is taking him to Italy for some relaxation over his birthday. No one on this set will let filming slip even a day because no one wants to be responsible for fucking that up for him. Me included. Even when all I want to do is get on a jet and get my ass back to New York so I can shake some sense into that girl.
“No, man. My head’s in the game. I’ve only got the one scene left, and I’m done. I ain’t holding up shit.”
“You sure? Because you’re goddamn lucky I don’t need Peyton’s face anymore.”
A twinge of guilt slips into my chest. I didn’t even consider whether Mitch did or not before I popped DeLong in the nose with a jab. He’s lucky I didn’t swing with a right hook, or he would have a broken face for sure.
Mitch waits for an answer, his attention fixed on me.