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I bat his hands away from me and take a step back. “Jay, too. Put your shoes on, grab your keys, and come on.”
His handsome smile falls a little. He doesn’t turn around to grab his shoes, his keys, or his sister. He studies me, staring straight into my green eyes. After a long moment, he takes another step toward me. This time, when he reaches for my waist, I don’t resist.
“There’s a storm in your eyes, songbird.”
His term of endearment steals my breath, and I close my eyes as I let my forehead fall against his chin. He moves his head, resting it against the side of mine, and tightens his hold around me. My mother’s words reverberate in my head once more—only, I no longer hear them as loudly, Lawson the barrier between the truth and the lie.
I am his songbird, no matter what my mother says. He loves me, and I love him more than anything or anyone.
“Nora-Jean,” he mumbles into my hair.
“I want to be free,” I whisper, pressing into him further. “I want to be stupid and young and get away from it all. Will you come with me? Please?”
“Baby, I’d go anywhere with you.”
At his words, I pull away from him enough to see his face. Then I press up onto my tiptoes in order to touch my lips to his. That’s when Mitzi honks, making me giggle.
Pushing my way out of his arms completely, I start to back away from him. “Better get a move on.” I wink at him and, stealing his oft used phrase, say, “This train’s leavin’ the station in two minutes.”
Four in the morning felt like the middle of the night, but Lawson was up and ready to go when Moretti sent a text letting him know he was idling in his truck outside. Seeing as Shelbyville was on the way to their gig, they’d arranged the pick-up the previous evening. So far as Lawson understood, the movie crew would be shooting on-site at the Tennessee Miller Coliseum for the next four days, which was another forty-five minutes up the road. The following week, they’d be in historic downtown Murfreesboro, which would shave a good twenty minutes off their commute—something for which Lawson was already looking forward.
On a good day, Lawson wasn’t particularly chatty. It’s why he was so well suited for security. He was friendly, and his mama raised him to have good manners, but he was an observer and not so much a talker. Moretti was usually more of a conversationalist—but even he was short of words before the rising of the sun.
They rode together in a comfortable silence for most of the journey, until Moretti remembered, “Your brother. Shit, I forgot to ask. How’s he doing?”
Lawson shifted his attention away from the road ahead of them in order to glance at his boss. “Better. They let him go home yesterday.”
“Glad to hear it,” he replied with a nod. Having broken the silence, he continued speaking, changing the subject. “This week should be pretty low key, given the location. I’ve never been tothe coliseum, but I imagine there won’t be a lot of pedestrian traffic for us to worry about. We’ll get our full marching orders when we get there.”
“The last time you did a movie set, it was a two-man job?”
“No. It was actually just me, but the cast and crew were smaller.”
When they arrived at their destination, it was obvious they were among the first to arrive. They were parked before someone with a headset resting around his neck and a clipboard in his hand started jogging their way. He must have spotted the logo on Moretti’s polo as he stepped down out of his truck, because he sighed in relief and offered a wave as Moretti and Lawson met him in front of the vehicle.
“Thanks for being early. I’m Hank, one of the producers on staff,” he said, extending his hand.
Moretti and Lawson introduced themselves in kind, the men shaking hands, and then Hank got straight to business. While Moretti was to be with the crew inside the coliseum, Lawson was assigned to stick with Hank at the front, as the remainder of the cast and crew showed up for their respective call times.
Given Lawson’s lifestyle, he didn’t have much time for television. What time he did spend in front of the screen, it was usually football and not fiction which captured his attention. This meant everyone who came on set, from the lead actress to the extras, were all the same to him—names on a call sheet and faces on a driver’s license. At least, for all except one. There was a single face he thought might be familiar, with a name he might have recognized, though he couldn’t connect the two with a vivid memory.
Creed.Creed Nash.
He showed up on set with a confidence boarding on smug arrogance. He spoke with a twang akin to the same one that rolled off Lawson’s tongue, but he knew the name didn’t strike abell because they’d come from the same place. Shelbyville wasn’t the smallest town in Tennessee, but it sure wasn’t big enough for him to misplace a face and a name like his.
Creed. Creed Nash.
They’d reached the end of the call sheet around the same time the sun had made its entrance. As Lawson followed Hank inside the coliseum, where he was stationed nearer to the shooting crew, Nash and the vague familiarity which accompanied the name had become little more than a dull memory.
The filming process was long, repetitive, and yet surprisingly fascinating to Lawson. While he wasn’t particularly interested in the story itself, he was impressed by the structure of it all. Sooner than he anticipated, it was time for lunch. For the first time since they’d arrived that morning, Lawson spotted Moretti. They met up, joining the cast and crew in the catered food line for a quick bite to eat.
With plates full of impressively healthy food options—somewhat of a rarity whilst in the field—the two men sat at a table close to the outskirts for an optimal vantage point. Lawson was mid-chew of his first bite when Nash strutted toward the line, cutting in front of a few crew members to stand beside the lead actress of the film.
The vague familiarity Lawson felt toward the actor early that morning returned. Nevertheless, the hours which had passed did little to shake free any memory of him. After swallowing his food, he jerked his chin in Nash’s direction and asked Moretti, “Do you recognize that guy?”
“Who?” he muttered, looking toward the line.
“The lead actor. I swear, I know him from somewhere.”
