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“Barely,” the director scoffed, sliding a pair of earphones back over his tied-back dreadlocks. “Go get ready.”
Pursing my lips, I glared directly into his scowling, deep brown eyes while marching away, forgetting my glasses were mirrored. I averted my gaze to Simone, who hurried to my side, keeping my pace.
“Remember me?” She tapped my arm.
“Shut up, Simone.”
Shaking her head, she giggled. “Just making sure after the whole club thing.”
“Right.” I walked up the steps of my personal trailer, yanked the door open, and twisted around. “That turned out well for me though, didn’t it?”
“You reek like alcohol.” She crossed her arms.
“And you smell like trouble.” I slammed the door.
* * *
I was through hair, makeup, and wardrobe in record time before standing on set in front of the cast and crew once again. Peering around the pool area, I tried to focus. The combination of sounds and light disoriented me. The smell of the chlorine from the seven different water fixtures was overpowering. Extras danced in the background, ready for the director’s command. Overstimulated, my insides churned. My stomach started to cramp, and a familiar lump swelled in my throat.
Dean stepped up next to me, leaning close to my ear. “Yo man, are you okay?”
Simone reached for my face, placing a palm on my forehead. “Oh God, Chance, you look terrible. You’re clammy.”
“He looks like shit.” Dean shook his head.
“Guys, stop.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m fine.”
“Is there a problem, Mr. Hardwin?”
Quickly shooting an annoyed glance at Tobyn, I shook my head, choking back vomit.
“Damnit!” He threw a stack of papers in the air and his assistant bent down instantly to gather them. “Someone, get Chance some water!” Sliding his headphones off his head, he tossed them into his chair. “Becky, get him some fucking water immediately before he delays us any longer!”
Though I was known for partying in the past, I was still highly respected in the industry. Well, until today. I was constantly turning down scripts and appearances because I simply didn’t have time, or they didn’t suit me as an actor.
Ever since my breakup, I knew I’d fallen off the stability wagon. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ready to admit it to anyone. I didn’t know how to stop myself from becoming an entirely different person any longer. It felt as if someone else had already taken over my body.
All attention was focused on me, and the set was silent. Becky, the production assistant, rushed over with a bottle of water, twisting the cap off, handing it to me in a panic.
I nodded, gulping down the entire bottle in one drink, which felt like a great idea at the time. As I handed it back to her, the makeup artist ran over to touch up the beading sweat on my brow. Inhaling deeply, I adjusted my posture, concentrating on Tobyn, awaiting his further instruction.
“Are you good now, superstar?” He grabbed his headphones, slipped them over his head, and threw himself down in the chair in one motion.
Nodding, I cleared my throat. “Yeah.”
Dean twisted his lips sideways, whispering, “You sure you’re okay, man?”
“Yes,” I hissed. “I’m fine.”
“Lock it up!” The assistant director shouted. “Roll sound!”
As orders were being called out by the crew, I tuned everything out. Guzzling the water too rapidly suddenly hit me.Oh, fuckkkk.
“Background!”
No, fuck shit fuck.
The background extras simulated a party scene, dancing to music that was playing over a sound system.
