Chapter Six

Eli stood outside his trailer and waited as the black SUV slowed to a stop at the edge of the pavement. Another few inches and the wheels would have sunk into sand.

His friend, and the director of Amaretto, stepped out of the rental and stretched his arms high above his head. Christopher was so tall, Eli figured he’d had to scrunch up for the entire drive from the airport. The director had a specially made car to avoid situations like that but had wanted to protect it from the salt in the ocean air. Christopher gave Eli a large smile.

“Quite the setup you have here. Your ocean wave simulator back home not good enough for you?”

Eli’s gaze swept over the waves that lapped at the sand only a hundred yards in front of his trailer. He couldn’t have asked for a better view. “Why use a simulator to help me sleep when I could just use the real thing?”

Christopher’s smile didn’t dip as he took in their surroundings and nodded in approval. “No wonder you were anxious to get out here.”

Eli walked up to his friend and clasped him in a brotherly hug. “It’s good to see you. Thanks for taking a chance on me.”

Christopher snorted as he stepped back and leaned against the vehicle. He folded his arms over his chest. “It’s not much of a risk when you have Eli Hunt both starring in and producing the movie.”

“That’s not what others are saying.”

Eli wasn’t deaf to Hollywood gossip; he just usually chose to ignore it. This time, though…he wondered if everyone was right.

“They don’t know you like I do,” Christopher said, waving a hand through the air like the gossip didn’t matter—like every other person in Hollywood didn’t know what they were talking about. “That being said…”

So. Christopher did agree with everyone else. He was just a lot nicer about it. Eli was already shaking his head, because he knew what was coming.

“Just hear me out,” Christopher said, not allowing Eli to interrupt with his own protests. “You’ve taken a lot of responsibility on yourself. What if unexpected issues pop up? I need someone on the front line—someone I can call on.”

“It’s all taken care of,” Eli said, hoping his tone conveyed the calm assurance he intended. “I’ve spent the last six weeks ensuring everything is perfectly lined up.”

Christopher bowed his head and released a long sigh. “You know better than anyone that nothing ever goes according to plan in the movie business. And if you are going to check out from reality for the next four months—”

“Is that what you think?” Eli interrupted. “That I’m checking out? It’s not like I put myself through this for fun. I don’t have a choice.”

“There has to be a better way, though,” Christopher said, raising his gaze to meet Eli’s. “A happy medium so we have Eli Hunt when we need him, and you can be Benjamin Lawrence when we don’t. You can’t produce a movie on your own, then disappear. Hire someone if you have to, but don’t leave me hanging.”

Eli joined Christopher, leaning against the car. He knew his method of acting wore on others, and his friend had valid concerns. He supposed he’d thought Christopher could take up the slack while they were filming, but he now saw that that had been unfair.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll come up with something.” He didn’t know what. It was too late to hire someone else to supervise production while he was...what? The only phrase that came to mind was the one he’d just gotten mad at Christopher for using. But there wasn’t any other way to say it. Eli would be checking out. Leaving reality behind. Hiding in a fictional world and becoming Benjamin Lawrence.

“You don’t have to do it, you know,” Christopher said, as if reading Eli’s mind. He pushed off from the car. “No one would judge you for choosing to go less ‘method.’ In fact, they might be relieved.”

What Christopher meant was that if Eli dialed things down, it would make Christopher’s and everyone else’s lives easier. Including Eli’s. But he wasn’t a method actor because he was trying to complicate others’ lives. He knew the toll it took on his costars, never truly meeting Eli Hunt, only his characters. He didn’t relish that.

“I don’t have a choice,” he repeated.

Christopher dug the car keys from his pocket. “We all have a choice. But whatever yours is, you’ll need to make it soon, because the rest of the team is showing up next week.”

How had it arrived so quickly?

Eli swallowed hard.

Christopher was right. Eli had a choice. And he’d already made it.

Time to become Benjamin Lawrence. A British actor that needed some serious life intervention.

* * * * *

The hands of the Super Mario clock that hung in Eli’s trailer pointed to six o’clock as he mouthed along with the recording he’d made of the script. Listening to it helped curtail any mistakes his dyslexia would introduce, like mixing up his words or skipping lines entirely. An actress friend had helped him out by reading Katrina’s lines. He’d been up since four o’clock, unable to sleep; the crew had begun arriving the day before, and Eli felt nowhere near prepared.

As he rehearsed his lines in the British accent he’d been trying to perfect, he slipped into jeans that looked like they had gone through the wash fifty times too many. They had holes in the knees as well as the thighs. But his character, Benjamin, didn’t care. He liked the rebel image the jeans gave him, or at least, he liked to think they did. The T-shirt came next. It was a tad too small, a bit tight around Eli’s biceps. Just as Benjamin liked it. A leather jacket and boots completed the ensemble. He turned to the floor-length mirror and examined his image as he continued with his lines.

He raised an eyebrow, surprised. Eli had expected to laugh at the idiocy of the outfit, feeling more like a grunge rock star than the successful actor that Benjamin was. But he actually looked good. And, aside from the too-tight T-shirt, it was comfortable. Maybe Eli needed to look into getting a leather jacket for himself.

Now to get the walk right.

He closed his eyes and listened as the recording shifted to the scene where he would meet Katrina for the first time. His walk would change as he moved along Benjamin’s character arc, but at the moment, it needed to be full of careless pain. At this point in the story, Benjamin didn’t care about much. He didn’t care about the movie he’d been working on or the people he’d been working with. Heck, he didn’t even care about himself.

Eli tried to capture that self-deprecation as he swaggered across his trailer. He’d nearly gotten to the opposite end when his leg rammed into the corner of a small fold-out table.

“Son of a—” He shook out his leg. The space was too cramped; he needed to do this outside. Other actors had these crazy fancy trailers that were huge and could fit ten of him, but what was the point? Once filming started, Eli would barely sleep let alone have time to lounge around inside.

The brisk air attacked him the second he opened the door, instantly replacing the warmth of his trailer. Eli breathed it in as he stepped out and secured the trailer door.

The song “Walk Like an Egyptian” sprang into his mind as he positioned himself on the beach, ready to once again attempt Benjamin’s gait. He grinned. It was the song his acting coach would always play when they practiced different walks. Eli pulled his phone out and found the song, before blasting it at full volume. There. Now he would be able to swagger. Except, he couldn’t. As he moved across the sand, it felt all wrong. This wasn’t Benjamin. Benjamin tried to act all cool, but his walk was the one thing he’d never been able to fake.

Eli turned so he faced the trailer, ready to try again. Just as he’d started, the music abruptly stopped and switched to his ringtone. He glanced at the phone.

Jonathan.

It had been a couple of weeks since he’d heard from his lawyer, and that made Eli nervous enough that he didn’t answer the phone with the usual banter that he liked to greet Jonathan with.

“Hello?”

“Eli, it’s Jonathan.”

“Everything all right?”

“Just wanted to let you know that I finally managed to settle things with Diane and her lawyer. They were surprised that you handed the Tesla over so easily and didn’t know what else to ask for. I just got word that the judge approved everything. You’re officially a single man.”

Eli should have felt elated at those words. He’d been waiting for this. It was what he wanted. Well, not exactly what he wanted, but since Diane had turned vengeful, it was what he needed. Knowing that he was finally free of his wife, though—it didn’t feel good. In fact, a large knot had formed in the pit of his stomach, and he sat down hard in the sand.

He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

A pause.

“I know this has been hard on you, Eli. If there is anything you need—”

“No, no, I’m good. I’ll talk to you again in four months.”

Eli ended the call before Jonathan could bestow any more of his sympathy. He stood, shaking off the cold sand as well as the mood the call had placed him in. This was only one of the many reasons he needed to separate work from his personal life. But when Eli had seen who had been calling, there had been no way he was going to ignore it. He regretted it now.

“Walk like an Egyptian” resumed, but Eli turned it off. He’d try again later. What would Benjamin do right now? He’d find a pub to drown his sorrows. There were no pubs in Starlight Ridge, and even if there had been, Eli wasn’t a drinking man. So, he’d do what Benjamin did in scene five when he tried to get drunk off amaretto chocolate. Eli wondered if that were even possible. Adeline Baker, the owner of the chocolate shop, would know.