American library books » Other » Every Single Thing About You: A “Tuck Yes” Love Story - Book 3 by Hopkins, Faleena (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

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somewhere?”

Ice pours into my spine, eyes sharpening at being talking to in such a rude way, I nod, “Yes, I have to be home now,” and walk to reclaim the offered clutch, addressing only Will with my kindness. “I hope you have a fun day.”

Passing him I give his father a seething glare and head for the door, thankful it’s not a long walk.

As I turn the knob, Josh says, “Tempest!” and grabs a coat from the rack. “It’s a long ride back.”

Our gazes lock as I take it, nails disappearing in cushy material I know will be a lifesaver. Over the lump in my throat I manage to tell the jerk, “Thank you,” and walk out.

His deadbolt locks into place behind me, and I close my eyes, alone again, but this time wrapping myself in a coat that still bears his scent.

Chapter 9

Two Months Later

We’re inside of a warehouse big enough to house several airplanes, with a fake city erected inside of it. “Let me go over a few things, since this is your first time on a film set.” Nax tells Will and I. His son has been to many of these, and he’s enjoying us being introduced to their world. I brought Joe with us since I’m watching him during Nax’s long shooting hours. “The lighting crew is hanging what are called ‘gels’ over those lights there, because this is an action-thriller movie. The dark blues and greens give it the eerie vibe we’re going for. Most of the buildings are hollowed out facades. The interior shoots are done in other locations in actual buildings, offices spaces, apartments, etc.” Nax motions to a couple of actors standing in front of a camera as big as my couch. “Those guys are ‘stand-ins.’” We won’t actually see them in the movie. They're standing in for our stars.”

“We won’t see them?” my son frowns, “I don’t get it.”

Joe tells him, “They’re just helping get the lights right.”

Nax guides us over a spider web of cables, “Watch your step,” and out of the warehouse toward a large, plastic table overflowing with snacks. We had these on photoshoots back when I was modeling so I know they’re for cast and crew, but Will is eyeing it like he wants some.

Nax explains stand-in actors, “We need to light the scene with an actual person standing in front of the camera. Stand-ins are the same height and coloring as the stars so they can be lit right. It’s a long, technical process. The stars spend that time in makeup and hair, especially if they need prosthetics, applied. Scars. Bruises. All of that takes time. Afterward they wait in their trailers, prepare for their scene, until we call them to set.” Seeing Will has lost interest, Nax points to the snacks. “This is Craft Services. Or Crafty. It’s for everyone working on the film. Gotta keep your blood sugar level up between meals. Lunch isn’t for another hour. You guys hungry? Dig in.”

Will looks like it’s Christmas morning at the three types of cookies, multiple varieties of chips, whole fruit by the dozen, breakfast bars for every taste, chocolate cupcakes I’ve got my eye on since they’re my favorite, and random things you might need like aspirin, gum, hand wipes. “I can have anything?”

Joe proudly swings his arm over the display. “All of it! We can have as much as we want, and they just keep bringing more.”

Nax laughs. “They keep bringing more because your Dad is paying for it.” Locking eyes with me, he winks, “Well, the studio is. But I have to keep tabs.”

My son digs in without reservation, even going so far as to stuff gum in his pockets, freezing as I laugh, “Enough. Put those back. You’re not supposed to store it. Eat what you want now, and nothing else.” He looks at me, and I cock my head. “You can come back for more if you’re still hungry.”

“Oh yeah!”

Looking at the warehouse, standing next to Nax, I watch his film crew moving like experts always do, confidently. “How many people are working on this movie?”

“Over two hundred.”

“Pretty cool, Nax.”

He watches them with me, crossing his arms over a wrinkled T-shirt, torn blue-jeans spread, boots I made him buy now scuffed from months of exclusive use. “If you’d have visited me in California, ever, this wouldn’t be your first set.”

“I should’ve. I mean…we should’ve.”

My gaze drifts over as a trailer door opens above metal stairs. Leaning forward to see inside, I spot part of a mirrored wall over a counter of products. “On my photo shoots, they were set up in a room or one nearby. Never a trailer. Then again, I didn’t do any outdoors shoots. Probably would have them there.”

Nax jogs his chin toward the woman who poked her head out of the trailer to check around and gauge the state of things. “That’s the head makeup artist, Stephanie. She’s been on four of my last five films. Brings great people with her. The one time she was busy and I had to use someone else, it was an uphill battle.”

Glancing to him I ask, “How so?”

“Kept us waiting too long. Perfectionists,” he shrugs. “Happens when someone’s not used to you. They try too hard to get it right when what I really needed was no overtime and a crew who wasn’t impatiently waiting to get the shot because they knew how long it would take to set up the next one.”

Will runs up and hands me a cupcake.

“Thanks,” I grin, happy he remembered.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks Joe.

They dash off, “This way!” as I peel paper back from sticky chocolate and look over to see Zia approaching in the distance, black eyes on Nax, fashionable as ever.

My gaze lands on Tempest.

And some guy.

Dark hair and eyes, huh?

She has a type?

I’m looking at my replacement.

A fist takes hold of my stomach and I lower the cupcake.

Her new guy knows how

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