The Siren, KATHERINE JOHN [positive books to read .txt] 📗

She grabbed my nose, and I laughed.

“Baby fever out here,” Cole goaded as he entered the room. “Didn’t know you had it in ya, Wasserman.” He clapped me on the back.

I hurriedly handed the little girl back to her mother. “We should keep rolling,” I declared. “It may rain this afternoon, and we need to be wrapped before it does.”

Price announced the change of plans and gave everyone their marching orders as I took out my phone and checked my weather app, which claimed it was raining right now and predicted clear skies for the afternoon. Awesome.

Stella

I’ve brought you six qualified candidates and you’ve turned them all down,” Tawny said as Cherry, bouncing the baby on her hip. “I’ve run out of options.”

I was curled in bed as Marguerite in the depths of depression, my hair a mess, my complexion paled by makeup. “They’re not you,” I mumbled.

“I’m due next week. I’m gonna have my own baby to take care of. I can’t give you the help you need anymore.” She said it with compassion, but it was clear Cherry’s patience was wearing thin.

“Peyton’s coming home this afternoon,” she went on. “And he’s bringing a girl from New York with him.”

I sat up, my eyes wild. It wasn’t a stretch to put myself in Marguerite’s shoes. “A girl?”

“A nanny. Someone recommended by a friend. Her US visa is about to expire, but it won’t be a problem for her to work here.”

“And I’m supposed to trust a stranger with my child?” I demanded.

Cherry sat on the edge of the bed. “She’s trained as a nurse, so she can help you as well.”

“I don’t need help!”

Lightning flashed out over the windswept sea, followed closely by a tremendous clap of thunder, which shook the walls of the house. The heavens opened, and the rain poured onto the roof like deafening applause. Dramatic timing, but the lighting and audio levels would never match with the angles of the scene we’d shot before the bottom fell out.

“And that’s a wrap on today,” Price called over the din.

It was just as well we were wrapping early. My horoscope this morning had been spot-on: undue stress and roadblocks in both career and love all day long.

Tawny was a fantastic actress, and working with her was a pleasure, but I was so frustrated by my earlier scene with Madison and Cole that I was off my game. I didn’t feel guilty I hadn’t been prepared—it wasn’t my fault no one confirmed with me about what we were shooting—but attempting to emote while endeavoring to remember lines made for a taxing day. Cole and I improvised most of the scene, which should have been fine had Madison been able to keep up. But every time I went off-book, she looked lost and stopped, announcing that wasn’t the line. Total nightmare.

It didn’t help that I was already beyond annoyed with her for that damn picture she posted of me sleeping on the boat. She’d taken it down after my outburst this morning, but not before 107,498 people had liked it. I had to keep reminding myself she’d nearly died of cancer to avoid scratching her eyes out. I wished it were Felicity in her role. When she ran lines with me, she was so much better than Madison. A natural.

Cole, however, was unusually patient with Madison, gently encouraging her and guiding her back every time she got lost, and she ate it up with a spoon, gazing at him all googly-eyed even when she wasn’t in character. I could practically see her salivating over what a fling with him would do for her celebrity status. I knew he’d blame their obvious flirtation on method acting if I confronted him about it, and that it was in fact probably good for my character work for me to feel what Marguerite was feeling; still, it was upsetting after what had happened between us last night.

Upstairs in the cheery yellow bedroom designated as my dressing room, I found Felicity sprawled across the flowery comforter on the brass bed, reading over the script changes we’d been handed this morning. “It would be so much more interesting,” she said over the drum of rain on the roof, “if instead of fighting over the husband, the women bonded together against him.”

“You’re saying you want to give Madison a larger, more complicated role?” I scoffed, turning my back so she could unzip my dress. Out the rain-lashed window, palm trees bowed to the wind; the sea beyond was heaving and gray. “She can hardly handle one note. You want to hand her a symphony?”

She snickered as she unzipped me. “Too true. But think about it. What if…? What if it was the women who fell for each other?” She hopped off the bed, excited, and began pacing while I wiped off my sick makeup with a towelette and quickly applied a layer of tinted moisturizer and bronzer. “Your character’s a former model. She could become a photographer—it’s not uncommon—and Madison’s character could become her muse. Perhaps she’s the siren, not the younger woman. She’d shoot her with the female gaze instead of the male gaze; it would be a celebration of femininity!”

“Ha!” I threw my costume on the bed and pulled my favorite yellow and white sundress over my head. “Sounds dreamy. But it’s not a story anyone wants to see.”

“Are you kidding? Of course it is! It’s modern,” she insisted. I hid a smirk as I spritzed myself with perfume, amused by her enthusiasm. “I’ll tell you what no one wants to see anymore is two women fighting over a man. Boring!”

I ran a brush through my tangled locks. “Well, if Jackson will listen to anyone, he’ll listen to you.” A little mascara and eye shadow, and I was beginning to look alive again. “Maybe you can get him to recast Madison’s role while you’re at it.”

I heard heavy footsteps in the hallway coming from the direction of Cole’s