Page 14 of Her Dark Angel

“Good job, Kin,” Wesley compliments, his plain brown hair styled back neatly behind his ears. He shoves his hands into the pockets of the blue denim jacket hugging his thin shoulders. “I think that was our best scene yet.”

“Yeah, sure,” I murmur.

While I like Wesley and think he’s a nice guy and one of the better co-workers I’ve had in my time in the industry, I don’t see myself being friends with him once this movie wraps up. Yes, our chemistry on set while filming It’s Always Been You is exactly what’s needed for our characters, I simply don’t think we mesh well as people outside of our work environment. We don’t have much in common since he enjoys talking about politics and jazz music. I don’t share that enjoyment because I couldn’t care less about politics and jazz music is my least favorite genre. Overall, he’s just not my type.

Keeping my distance is easier than wasting my time getting to know Wesley, only for me to not speak to him once filming wraps up.

We have only been on set for one week, and it didn’t take long for me to realize he has a crush on me. I can tell by the way his face lights up when he sees me or how his cheeks flush whenever I compliment him. There is nothing wrong with him feeling that way, even if he hasn’t outwardly expressed those feelings to me, but I don’t plan to reciprocate those feelings because I’m not looking to date anyone right now.

Well… Nash Beck doesn’t count. But that’s beside the point.

I just don’t trust men. I learned from an early age that most men only want one thing and once they have it, they will toss you away like a piece of trash. Sadly, I learned it the hard way.

Besides the one boyfriend I had when I was seventeen, I barely dated throughout high school, but it wasn’t for lack of trying. I wanted to put myself out there and meet men because I refused to allow what happened to me to affect my future, but I was too busy working like a dog—courtesy of my parents. It was strange, really, but I didn’t mind. It meant I could keep my peace for a little while longer. I figured the man for me would appear in my life when I least expected it.

At least, that’s what I’m hoping for.

I see my stylist, Cindy, approaching to touch up my makeup and find myself relaxing. She’s an older woman in her late fifties, with graying hair and a kind smile. She has a motherly vibe about her that always makes me feel comfortable and taken care of when I’m with her. Something I’m not used to experiencing in my life. I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have the love and support she offers me. She truly is a gift, and one I will always cherish.

“You have a missed call from Sadie,” Cindy says as she fluffs my blowout and swipes a brush over my cheeks. She likes to make the blush on my cheeks brighter than usual to draw out the brightness of my eyes. “She wants you to call her back when you get off work.”

I smile at the mention of my best friend and clear my throat. “Of course. I shouldn’t be too much longer. We only have one more scene to shoot.”

I’ve been so busy with work the past few weeks that I’ve neglected spending time with her. But after what happened with Nash two days ago, I need to fill her in on the new details of my life.

Adam and Nash’s agent met up yesterday to discuss the terms of the contract. I was on set filming when the meeting took place and Nash was doing whatever it was he does during the day, so neither of us were present. But Adam said it went well. The contract states we are to be seen in public for the first time together next Friday night at an award show, so it’ll be lights, camera, and action from then on for the next six months. Well, once we sign the contract, that is.

I would love to back out of this deal and say fuck it, but I know Adam is right. If I want It Girl to do well, I need my face to be in the media as much as possible. I don’t like the idea of being associated with Nash Beck, but there is no such thing as bad press… right?

“One minute until scene eighteen!” Jason calls out from his director's chair behind the large cameras pointed directly at Wesley and me. “Places!”

“Good luck,” Cindy whispers and squeezes my hand before rushing to stand beside the cameras and crew members.

“All right, so we’re doing the date scene, yes?” Wesley confirms with a sharp nod, although he doesn’t need me to answer when it’s clear he’s sure of himself. I think he likes to speak for the fun of it sometimes.

I blow out a long breath and run my hand over the cream fuzzy sweater tucked into a denim mini skirt hugging my curves as the set crew transforms the backdrop to look like we’re at a park. A wooden park bench is rolled onto the set, and multiple bunches of fake bushes are set up behind us to add to the backdrop.

Two small children stand off to the side beside the film crew in similar uniforms to the ones Travis and I wore during the filming of Schoolyard Quest, making them appear much smaller than they are. I was about their age back then, with the same youthful gaze of excitement. If only I had known what would be thrown at me just two years later.

I just hope those kids never have to face what I endured.

You’re so young and beautiful, Kinnie. And you’re all mine.

Wesley grabs my hand and turns us to face the large camera pointed directly at us. His hand is cold in mine and slightly rough around the palm. I want to recoil from his touch out of instinct, but Jason calls out, “Action!” before I can.

Instead of calling Sadie after I finished work for the day as I promised, I had Cindy ask her to meet me at our favorite bar—Limelight—downtown for a drink. We have so much to talk about that a drink or two will be necessary. Besides, I’m not in the mood to see my parents. I don’t know for sure that they’re at my house, but the possibility is enough for me to not want to risk it.

I have tried to tell them that they don’t need to stop by my house every single day after work to check in on me, but my words seem to go in one ear and out the other. It’s clear they are invested in my career—more so than me as their daughter—so there is no reasoning with them.

It drives me up the wall that they still treat me like I’m the little eight-year-old girl who got her first cereal commercial. But I’m a grown woman who doesn’t need her parents micromanaging her life.

I walk into Limelight a little after 5 pm and spot Sadie sitting in the back of the dimly lit room with two cocktail glasses on the high-top table in front of her. She’s wearing a white long-sleeved blouse tucked into beige chinos. The tight chocolate brown ringlets sprouting out of the top of her head fall around her shoulders. Even in this light, she looks beautiful.

I can’t believe she’s my best friend. It astounds me every day.

“Kin!” Sadie calls across the quiet bar upon seeing me.

I maneuver my way past patrons sitting at tables with their friends having an afternoon beer. The floor is sticky under the soles of my white sneakers and the air is stale with beer and cheap cigarettes. I fight the urge to gag at the atrocious smell and continue toward Sadie.