And Playing the Role of Herself K.E. Lane Contents Chapter One  Chapter Two  Chapter ree  Chapter Four  Chapter Five  Chapter Six  Chapter Seven  Chapter Eight  Chapter Nine   A P    H  Chapter Ten  Chapter Eleven  Chapter Twelve  Chapter irteen  Chapter Fourteen  Chapter Fieen  Chapter Sixteen  Chapter Seventeen  Chapter Eighteen  Chapter Nineteen  Chapter Twenty  Chapter TwentyOne  Chapter TwentyTwo  Chapter Twentyree  Chapter TwentyFour   .E. L Chapter TwentyFive  Chapter TwentySix  Chapter One e boy cowered, shrinking back as I crouched down and reached out a hand towards his face. “It’s ok,” I said quietly, stilling my hand, waiting. Huge, brown eyes looked up at me hesitantly through long, dark lashes. “It’s ok, Samuel.” I smiled reassuringly. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I reached out again and his eyes widened in fear, but he let me touch his chin and gently turn his head to the side. I froze for a moment, staring at the swollen bruise that ran along the le side of his face, and then gripped him by the shoulders, harder than I intended, allowing the anger I was feeling to show in my face. “Who did this to you, Samuel?” I hissed. “Who did this?” “Cut!”   .E. L e voice sliced across the silent set like a pistol shot, and I could feel the small shoulders under my hands jump in reaion. I sighed and dropped my hands to my thighs as noise and chaer erupted on the set around me. e camera looming to my right moved back and I pushed myself to my feet. “Crap.” e boy giggled and wiped at his runny nose, leaving a shiny trail of mucus across his upper lip. Lovely. “Becca?” I called over to one of the hovering assistants. “Can we get a kleenex or something over here?” I was all for realism in television, but there was no way I was going to hug this kid with all that snot on him, regard less of what the script called for. While Becca, a tiny redhead in a tight, limegreen top, hurried over and began fussing over the boy, I turned to wards the sound of approaching footsteps, schooling my face into polite deference that I did not feel. “What’s wrong, Adam? I thought that was going well.” I didn’t, really – I had been too aggressive, stemming from not enough sleep, a very long week and a vicious headache – but I sure as hell wasn’t going to admit that to this asshole. Adam reizeck was short, obnoxious and sweaty; I had disliked him on sight, and it had become quite obvious over the last week of shooting that the feeling was definitely mu tual. A P    H  “at’s why I’m the direor, Miss Harris, and you are not.” You’re the direor because you’re married to the pro ducer’s niece, jackass. I forced a noncommial smile, and kept my thoughts to myself. I hated guest direors. ey threw off everyone’s game, screwed around with the normal pace of shooting, and were generally a pain in the ass. reizeck’s stint as direor had resulted in hour days, multiple scenes having to be reshot, and the killer headache that I’d had for what seemed like the last  hours. “Let’s try this again,” sweatyman continued, “with a lit tle more compassion and a lile less ambo. You’re trying to help the boy, Miss Harris, not assault him.” e fa that he was corre in this particular case an noyed me even more than his arrogant smile. I nodded curtly, resisting the urge to slap him. He snapped his fingers impatiently, bringing produion assistants scurrying to his side. “And someone please tell Miss Stokley we’ll be ready for her soon.” “Miss Stokley,” a rich, very feminine voice drawled, “is already here.” e effe of the voice on reizeck was instantaneous. He spun towards the sound with more athleticism than I’d given him credit for and praically sprinted to the front of the set where Elizabeth Ann Stokley was regally seling herself into her chair.  .E. L “Miss Stokley!” “Hello Adam,” she murmured. “Sorry if I’m a lile late. I got held up in wardrobe.” I looked at her outfit – the same one she had worn for walkthrus  hours before – and thought her tardiness was more likely due to a certain musclebound intern named Chad, Liz’s flavor of the week, than any type of wardrobe problem. Not that it would have maered what her excuse was. Hell, she could have told him she was blowing the head of the network in the men’s room, and I doubt he would have baed an eye or changed his panting eagerness one bit. “Oh, not a problem, not a problem. Wonderful. You look great, just great.” I rolled my eyes, torn between annoyance and amuse ment as Liz worked her magic and reizeck was reduced to a pool of drooling, fawning jello. And who could blame him? Elizabeth Ann Stokley was certainly easy on the eye. Blonde hair, blue eyes, a dazzling smile, a body that curved in all the right places and a southern belle charm that could wrap even the biggest of assholes, male or female, around her perfe lile finger. An araive package, no doubt. She was also a temperamental, moody perfeionist, one hell of an aor, and since the very first day I started work on the set of ʰ Precin, a good friend. A P    H  It still amazed me, when I thought about it. An unknown from nowhere – me – aing opposite an established televi sion personality like Liz Stokley. From beer commercials to the big time in the blink of an eye. ʰ Precin, or P as the cast and crew called it, was a po lice drama showcasing the lives of six deteives in a Homi cide unit in Los Angeles. Liz played the series’ main charac ter, en Hastings; a young, optimistic deteive with a five year old daughter, a mortgage, and extremely bad taste in husbands, while I played ita Stone, her rather caustic, in tense, and cynical partner. When they were casting for the part of ita, they were looking for a woman who was ba sically the polar opposite of Liz. My dark hair, square jaw and rangy ′″ frame was lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time; I got the part, and my life since then had been quite the rollercoaster ride. reizeck’s snapping fingers brought me out of my thoughts; I guess he’d finished his fawning and wanted to get back to work. “Miss Harris, can we try this again?” I met Liz’s amused gaze above the direor’s head – that’s how short the lile prick was – and smiled slightly. “Sure, Adam. I’m ready when you are.” “Okay people!” More snapping. “Places!” I rolled my shoulders, blew out a long breath, and looked down at my snoy costar. Despite the kleenex, he was still oozing mucus. “Aion!” It was going to be a long, long day.  .E. L * * * Some lastminute rearranging of the day’s shooting sched ule had turned my long day into a relatively short one, and by two that aernoon I was done with my scenes for the day and not due back on the set until an : call time the fol lowing morning. Pleasant thoughts of comfortable clothes, spring sunshine, and a good book in the hammock in my backyard were dancing in my head as I opened the door to my trailer, and I didn’t realize I had company until I kicked the door shut behind me and the tall, lean woman on my couch jerked awake, blinked in confusion for a moment, and smiled at me sleepily. “Caidence… hey.” e voice was low, rough and husky – whiskeysoaked, I’d heard someone in the media call it – and I felt it, and that smile, all the way down to my toes. She stretched luxuriously, like a big, satisfied cat, mak ing a lile mewling sound that turned into a long, satisfied groan. With effort, I tore my eyes away from the flash of skin above the waist of her jeans, and the way her breasts – Jesus, is she even wearing a bra? Christ, Caid, stop looking at her breasts! – strained against the fabric of her shirt. “obyn. Shit, you scared me.” I sat down heavily in the chair in front of the mirror, glad to have an excuse for sud denly weak legs. You’d think I would be used to it by now. We’d worked together several times, and I saw her if not daily, at least one or two times a week for the last eighteen months, whether on the set of ʰ Precin or In eir Defense, [...]... here.” She stepped into the trailer and handed a stapled set of papers to me, then shuffled through a stack of papers she was carrying and pulled out another set, handing them to obyn “osiah’s dad was hospitalized this aernoon with chest pains, and he le as soon as he heard… Adam doesn’t want to wait for him to get back, so he had the writers rework some of the remaining scenes, using the people we had ese... unsure of my self with the press e majority of questions, though, were aimed at Liz, and soon I relaxed, enjoying the show that was Elizabeth Ann Stokley e woman was truly a master at handling the press; defleing questions with a charm that le the reporters smiling, serious one moment and flirting the next, controlling the room without leing them know they were being controlled Finally, aer and hour and. .. trailer with the toe of my boot the next morning at :, sipping from a large paper coffee cup in one hand and dangling a cardboard carrier containing two more steaming cups from the other e door opened and Liz’s assistant, Paula, motioned me in I grunted in greeting and entered the trailer, holding up the carrier and gesturing with my chin at the one closest to Paula “White mocha somethingorother With... group of people wait ing in the lobby and then climbed back into the limo, the two men from P wisely eleing to take a cab As soon as the car door had closed, Liz turned to me and gripped my arm “What the fuck was all of that about? People think I’m a lesbian, and they’re writing about it on the internet? at’s illegal! Can I sue them or something? Shit, I need to call Woody and see if I can sue Paula,... man eating out of her hand Her only complaint should be that he drools a lile too much I, on the other hand, would have to agree with Danny e guy’s a prick.” is was probably the longest statement I had ever man aged to string together in front of her, and I was quite proud of myself e nervousness I’d felt minutes before had faded into a kind of heady euphoria to just be in her presence and have her... took the indicated cup out of the carrier, murmur ing, “You’re a doll ank you.” As I moved past her, she touched my arm And I don’t believe a word of it.” I frowned “A word of what?” “What they’re saying About you and that extra and the goat.”   .E L Goat, monkey… not much difference when you’re sup posedly fucking them I smiled politely “ank you Paula, I’m flaered you think so highly of me.”... on the couch, still glaring And for god sakes, Paula, I told you that thing about the goat was just a stupid rumor Honestly, I don’t know how that crap gets started.” “Amazing, isn’t it?” I commented dryly, and held the car rier up as a peace offering “e most caffeinated, sugary thing they had.” Her eyes soened a lile and she reached out her hands “Ohhhh Gimme.” I set the carrier down and handed her the. .. pounded on the trailer door “Car here for Stokley and Harris!” I reached out a hand and hauled Liz to her feet “Let’s get this over with,” I said, with obvious trepidation “It’s not that bad, Caid,” Liz cooed, and paed my cheek “You need to work on your people skills, anyway.” I scowled and she laughed, leading us out of the trailer and stopping on the top step with a lile squeak of dismay when the bright... the back of the couch and was regarding me with a look she’d begun to favor me with recently – a secretive lile smile that was a mixture of amusement, curiosity, and taunting I was starting to think that perhaps Ms Ward was quite aware of the effe she had on me, and enjoyed watching me make an idiot of myself “Uh, sorry Spaced out there for a second.” I smiled weakly, took a last swipe at my face, and. .. and a half, the moderator called for last questions “is question is for both Ms Stokley and Ms Harris,” A short, stocky woman in the back said “Are you aware that over the past two years there has been an explosion of online stories depiing the two of you in homosexual re lationships, with each other and various other ʰ Precin cast members? Has this affeed your working relationship at all, and what do . across the silent set like a pistol shot, and I could feel the small shoulders under my hands jump in reaion. I sighed and dropped my hands to my thighs as noise and chaer erupted on the set. caustic, in tense, and cynical partner. When they were casting for the part of ita, they were looking for a woman who was ba sically the polar opposite of Liz. My dark hair, square jaw and rangy ′″. away from the flash of skin above the waist of her jeans, and the way her breasts – Jesus, is she even wearing a bra? Christ, Caid, stop looking at her breasts! – strained against the fabric of her shirt. “obyn.