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1
Blurred Lines
I’m not a stripper, but I play one on TV. At least, today I do.
Even after a shot of cinnamon vodka, I’m nervous as hell walking on set, a darkened private lap dance room which is actually not-so-private with the droves of lighting engineers, costume designers, makeup artists, writers, and cinematographers swarming around. Our director, Smith Cameron, looms everywhere like an omnipresent puppet master.
“C’mon, people—let’s get it right.” Smith is irked—this is take six. He flashes me his resting prick face. “Work that pole, Riley.Bethe pole.”
“Be the pole,” I echo. My character, Lexi Bryce, is an FBI agent who’s undercover, acting as a stripper.
When Smith calls, “Action,” colored lights flash and swanky music plays. I approach the pole in front of a red velvet-tufted sofa where three men sit. A trench coat covers my black suede bra, thong, and shiny knee-high leather boots.
This would be a hard scene for an experienced actor. So, yeah—it’s downright terrifying for a debut like me, taping episode seven, season one, of my first acting gig.
But I’m getting this right if it kills me.
Forcing my lips into a sultry smile, I greet my pretend clients—gazing a beat longer when I pass my hotshot co-star, Maddox Winter, who’s my partner on the show. His character, Agent Knox Sullivan, is also undercover, wearing a tight blue dress shirt that shows off his rock-hard chest and brings his crystalline eyes to life.
Sure, I’m attracted to him—who isn’t? An ex-producer, he’s now TV’s golden boy after his breakout role in this summer’s Bingeflix blockbuster,Bladelands. But off-set, Maddox Winter’s got all the warmth of liquid nitrogen. Plus, I’m a professional.Right?
Not really. An accountant by trade, I got beyond lucky landing this trial role because I look frighteningly similar to Zibby Lennon, the original star who’s currently in rehab. Acting has always been my passion, though, so during every minute of my free time in college, I took classes, read countless books, and hired a coach. But after auditioning for fifty-two acting gigs and getting no callbacks, I’d given it up in my early twenties.
Taking a deep breath, I throw off my trench coat and wrap myself around the pole like a pretzel. My third-grade ballet-tap-jazz classes at the Y didn’t exactly set the foundation for these moves, and I had no audience during my private stripping lessons. I’m praying I hit the mark.
I flip my long auburn hair while spinning before I slowly, tantalizingly, slide down. When I glance at Maddox, his mouth hangs open, which is part of the act. But something else has replaced the usual challenge flickering in his eyes. It almost looks like desire, but I know that can’t be. Agents Knox Sullivanand Lexi Bryce might have major chemistry, but Maddox Winter and Riley Glenn can’t stand each other.
I should clarify. IassumeMaddox “Madman” Winter can’t stand me, but I wouldn’t know for sure because he’s never spoken to me off-set. In fact, he’s never so much as looked in my direction. I’m the fill-in nobody actress who was plucked from obscurity, and he’s got an ego bigger than his A-lister salary.
I do knowIcan’t standhim…and his parade of gold-digging D-lister flings who’re all trying to make it in Y’allywood, Atlanta’s hot film-making scene. Fortunately for me, I’ll never be one of them. Maddox drips charisma on-screen, but off, he’s an igloo. That said, I’m grateful for the sliver of warmth wafting through his frigid shell right now because I’m drowning in nerves.
Finished at the pole, I feign a raspy voice when I say, “I think it’s time I get closer.”
God help me.A tremor kicks up in my legs as I dance over Damion, the main villain, who’ll soon draw a gun and start shooting. At that point, Agent Knox Sullivan will return fire and throw himself on top of me, or Lexi Bryce, to save her life.
When I nail the routine—thank you, Jesus—Damion slides bills into the side of my thong. I can’t help but wonder what my high school classmates will think if they see me—the awkward, lanky girl with red hair, freckles, glasses, and braces—doingthis.
I perform my choreographed sexy walk over to Maddox, almost breaking into a nervous giggle as I approach him.
Donotlaugh, Riley.
When I lean into my co-star and put my baby-oiled cleavage in his face, my legs shake more. I fight not to let the scripted background conversation between Damion and his right-hand man distract me. Maddox puts his palm on my lower back, and I lean into his ear and whisper my line, “Touching costs extra.”
His character and mine have this fire and ice thing going on. It’s mid-season, so we’re at each other’s throats. However, a fiery kiss is scripted in the season finale.
Maddox takes his hand away and grabs his glass of amber liquid. “Sorry. Won’t happen again.” The slight slur of his words makes it sound like he’s drunk. It pains me to admit it, but he’s a good actor.
“Cut!” Smith yells, and I freeze.
Great.I was too nervous, and I screwed up…again!
“Riley, your pasty popped loose,” Smith grits out.
I look down to see that I’ve had a nip slip—right under Maddox’s nose.Oh, God.“Whoops.” I jam it back on.
“Five-minute break,” Smith calls out over his clipboard. “Vera, can you fix Riley? And someone needs to tease Madman’s hair.”
Once again, I become invisible to Maddox as his entourage of people ushers him off-set with selections of waters, robes, towels, and god knows what else. Actually, I’m ninety-nine percent sure he’s screwing Jemma, his latest D-lister turned assistant, so he’s probably getting massages and happy endings during scene breaks too.
