Two
Sterling
I slam my trailer door, exhaustion heavy in me. I’m having to travel more than I’d like to next month. I’m running myself ragged over here with interviews and photoshoots. I can’t even rewind in my usual way. No more going to clubs and engaging in random hookups with strangers. No more going to my favorite bakery and sitting at the back table enjoying a handmade lemon-glazed pop tart.
I leave the studio and the cameras follow. Here, they’re sure to get the best sides and version of me. Not out there, though. There are no do-overs or makeup crews. The last picture the paparazzi got of me was when I was on my way home from yoga. I was in workout clothes, with sweat stains and my hair going in different directions. I guess it’s better than the shot they gotof me at the movies a few weeks ago, shoving popcorn into my mouth with butter dripping down my chin.
I take a deep breath, press my back to the door, and scream into my hands. I need a vacation. Some time away from all of this. I love being in front of a camera, but lately it hasn’t given me the adrenaline rush it used to. I’m lacking something and I don’t know what. There’s a need inside me that I can’t make sense of. A knock has me jolting and spinning around. I open the door and one of the production assistants is lifting a white bag between us. “Lisa said to bring you this and to make sure you eat it.”
“What is it?” I eye the bag warily.
“A severed head.”
My eyes bulge and she laughs.
“Relax, it’s just a sandwich, chips, and a fruit cup.”
“Yum,” I say, faking enthusiasm.
She laughs. “If you want, I can try to get you something else before I head home.”
“Nah. I’ll be fine with my school lunch,” I deadpan, taking the bag from her hand, and she laughs again. For a minute, I consider inviting her into my trailer and then shake off the idea. “Never shit where you sleep,” my friend Luke always says. I wish I would have followed that advice the last time I’d slept with a colleague.
“Anything else I can get you? A drink perhaps? Some brownies from the crafty?”
I take some time to think of my answer before finally saying, “No. I have plenty of drinks in my fridge. One of the other PAs made sure to restock it during filming.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“That you will. Have a good night.” I glance at her badge. “Jodie.”
“You too, Mr. Maxwell.” She scurries away and I close the door, peeking into the bag with a curled-up nose. If I never have to eat another sandwich in my life, it’ll be too soon. I toss the bag onto the small table and grab a cold can of root beer from the mini fridge. The first taste buzzes on my tongue and I swallow it back, my stomach aching with hunger.
Sighing, I look at the white bag again and snack on the barbecue chips as I scroll through my phone. I read over the comments on a video I shared on IG of me in one of my outfit changes between sets. They’re always a mixed bag. Ignoring the bad ones, I smile at the good ones, trying to make myself feel everything they say I am.
The hollowness in me only grows. I can’t make myself believe any of them. The praises and compliments are nice, but they aren’t coming from the right person. I don’t know who that would be, but I know it’s not any of them, or the director, or the other actors. I reach into the chip bag again and my hand comes out empty.
Frowning and still hungry, I look in the fridge for any snacks, but all I find is one lousy string cheese. I lift it off the side rack and then put it back. Not only am I not in the mood for it, but I also know damn well it’s not going to help anything. I need real food.
I change into something more comfortable before exiting my trailer. A gust of heat hits me, and I hate how bad the humidity is here, never letting up even at night.
“Hey, Sterling,” another co-actor says, looking up at me from his script. “Hey, Cam.”
“Going for a late-night stroll? Don’t let Lisa catch you. You know how strict she is about us getting enough sleep before shooting in the morning.”
“I’m well aware.” This isn’t my first movie working with her, and as long as she keeps asking me to audition for the mainprotagonist in her horror flicks, it won’t be my last. I play the bad guy too well, and she knows it. I have to question myself after every role too, especially when the dark, twisted thoughts take over. Someone switched the prop for a real hacksaw last week, and I didn’t notice until I scraped it against the other actor’s skin.
He screamed and held his hand to the long scratch while jumping away from me. Lisa was furious, running around the studio like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to find the person responsible. It wasn’t the first time that’s happened either, and now I hope for each weapon I pick up to be real. It’s not normal to think that way, and it’s not normal to sneak into the prop room to smell the blood on the blade either.
I shake off my thoughts, walking to the crafty area, scoping out the snack options. They’re pretty scarce since they’ve been sitting out all day. Two oranges sit on the edge of the table and I pocket one, then I toss some crackers, cheese, and salami on a plate. I add apple slices and grapes. I’m not sure any of this is going to cut it, but I don’t have a lot of options right now. I’m way too tired to drive, and my manager doesn’t want me leaving without a bodyguard.
Not that I don’t do it anyway, but there are too many witnesses around and everyone is ready to gossip about something. I pick a grape from my plate and pop it into my mouth. A delivery man walks by, being escorted by a guard, and a whiff of what smells like cheese pizza hits my nose.
“Who’s that for?” I ask no one in particular, and someone nearby shrugs their shoulders.
Setting down my plate, I follow the mesmerizing scent to one of the back rooms, where the cameraman from earlier takes the boxes from the delivery guy and hands him a tip.
“Thanks, man,” Hayden says. His name is Hayden, and I remembered that easily for some reason. I’m usually horriblewith names, but his kept playing in my head like a mantra. That smile kept randomly showing up too, during breaks and clothing changes.