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We don't look right together.
We don't get shit done.
I play my part for the hour that we have the light. I get into my poses. I act out my scenes. But this is all pretend. I don't feel it the way I did with Lacey.
It's hard to explain. Acting is just like singing. You can pretend or you can be there, in that moment, living every fucking word. If I was as good of an actor as I am a singer, I could be in this moment, living pinning this pretty redhead to the bed.
But I'm not.
It's fake.
It's bullshit.
I can feel it.
When Lacey and the makeup girl return from their powwow, the this isn't right looks are written all over their faces.
Fuck, Lacey looks cute with her hair in curls and her makeup dark. She looks like a good girl trying to play bad.
She looks like she belongs in my bed.
I play my part for the rest of the shoot, but it never gets quite right. When Danielle calls a break, I'm glad to climb out of bed.
She smiles. "I think we've got it, sweetheart. Unless you have something else in mind." She looks to the clock. "I have a little time before I absolutely have to leave for my meeting."
My eyes go to Lacey. She's behind the desk in the corner. And she's looking back at me. She motions no, you're done.
She's right. I am done.
But how does she know that?
"We're good." I nod a thanks to Danielle. "Nice working with you."
"You too, sweetheart." Immediately, she directs all her attention to her camera.
I say a goodbye to the video vixen, then I grab my clothes off the floor, and I clean up in the bathroom.
I entertain myself with my cell until I hear the model, the makeup girl, and Danielle leave. I want to talk to Lacey alone, but I'm not about to get her into trouble with her boss.
I don't pull that kind of celebrity shit.
The moment I step into the main area of the studio, my gaze goes to her.
She's still sitting behind that desk, her attention on the screen, her eyes lit up with enthusiasm.
She really is cute.
And not just in a fun pretend playmate kind of way.
She tugs at her light tank top like she wants it gone. Her cheeks flush as her eyes meet mine. "Did you want to see the footage… I guess I don't need to call you Mr. Strong after that."
"Mal is fine."
"How do you get Mal from Malcolm?"
I cock a brow. "You have a whiteboard? I can break it down letter by letter."
Her eyes go back to the footage. Surprise registers over her face for a moment but she swallows it. "A lot of people would eschew a nickname that means bad."
