Off Screen Read online

  Off Screen

  Josephine Traynor

  Off Screen

  Copyright 2018 by Josephine Traynor

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This ebook may not be re-sold, ripped or give away to other people.

  Cover design by K Creative Design

  Edited by StudioENP

  Also by Josephine Traynor

  Rock Bottom

  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38615370-rock-bottom

  Sky High

  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38336667-sky-high

  Off Screen

  https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/38614853-off-screen

  Contents

  1. Riley

  2. Harrison

  3. Riley

  4. Harrison

  5. Riley

  6. Harrison

  7. Riley

  8. Harrison

  9. Riley

  10. Harrison

  11. Riley

  12. Harrison

  13. Riley

  14. Harrison

  15. Riley

  16. Harrison

  17. Riley

  18. Harrison

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  One

  Riley

  His weight has me deliciously sandwiched between him and the sheets. I revel in how his body melds against mine, and my skin flames. His warm, naked chest pins my torso in the most tantalizing way. My nipples strain to be touched. My hair’s flared out on the pillow while his hips grind firmly on mine. There’s only the barest of cotton and lace separating us. If he stays like this any longer, I think I might burst. I raise my legs to hook around his to keep him in place and let out a groan as pangs of electricity course through me. Lifting his chest up, he runs his fingers over my temples. The gesture is soft, caring, and intimate. Too intimate. The connection, this moment between us, is unnerving, and I force myself to look away. The gentle grip of his fingers tells me to look at him even though I know exactly what he’s going to say.

  I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and avoid his gaze, lying in wait for his affections. I lower my gaze to my chest, and the brassiere is doing a great job of pushing my cleavage up and out. I could serve drinks on those puppies. His strong arms feel so good, and his breath tickles my skin. I curl my fingers around the sheet to bring it higher over his body to hopefully trap some heat on my own skin. As much as I’m in the moment, it’s freezing in here.

  “Hey,” he coos, his fingers tickling along my cheek to dip under my chin to make me lift my eyes. “What are you thinking, beautiful?”

  Letting out a dramatic sigh, I raise my left hand to my forehead with a slight shake of my head. I let my arm drop to my side before I speak. “I’m sorry I’m so distracted. I’m just worried about Jill. Ever since she found out she was pregnant with Jack’s baby and he left her for Julie, who was still seeing Jason, all while not knowing he was seeing Jill behind Julie’s back … I just … I don’t know what I’d do if I ever found out you stopped loving me.”

  We lock eyes again, and I’m certain I felt a pulse between my thighs when he spoke softly. “I will never stop loving you.”

  He pauses for what feels like forever and eventually brings his soft lips to mine, his arms pulling me into his embrace. His weight shifts, and I know he’s going to flip me over so I can be on top.

  “CUT!”

  No sooner were the words called out halfway through our rollover, Harrison releases me like I’ve given him an electric shock. The abrupt movement makes me bounce, and I hit the mattress with an oomph. The soundstage bells ring to signal the cameras have stopped rolling, and the crew groans. I know we’ll have to do the scene over for reasons that will be made abundantly clear to be my fault. Harrison Harvey is like Teflon—nothing sticks to him. Perfect teeth, perfect nose, perfect body. Harrison can do no wrong. Harrison and I have worked together for two years now, but we’ve known each other for longer. We went to the same acting school, and even then he had an ego bigger than the room. We share the same competitive character defect—we both have to come out on top at all costs.

  “Forget to brush your teeth for the week?” I wipe his kiss with the back of my hand.

  Truth is, Harrison is an awesome kisser. I’ll never tell him that, though. Can barely stand saying the lines I’m paid to say to him. Harrison is a very sought-after actor who plays Declan Matthews on the long-time running, award-winning day-time soap, Restless Times. I play his girlfriend, turned fiancée, Jordan Adams.

  Running a hand through his hair allows the sheet to drop, and of course, the-smart arse bastard makes no effort to hide his gorgeous body. “I see you’ve incorporated some method acting. Really did feel like I was hugging a lump of clay. Good job.” He gestures between my thighs where he’s sitting. “You really didn’t need to go so far as to imitate a dead fish. That’s method acting too far.”

  Snapping my legs shut, I seethe, “You’re a bastard.”

  I’m itching to deliver another barb, and the only reason I hold my tongue is because our director, Allan, has made his way over to the bed with the script, and no good comes from picking on the golden child. Learned that the hard way.

  “It’s not Jill who’s having Jack’s baby. It’s Jason’s. And don’t pull the sheet up, you are covering the ratings winner.” Hearing Harrison’s body is the rating’s winner makes me see red.

  “Jesus. There’s another J name for you. Maybe if every character’s name started with a different letter, it wouldn’t be so confusing. The reason I was pulling on the sheet is that it’s like a fucking igloo in here,” I say.

  “It’s not cold,” Harrison says, despite the fact his nipples look painfully taut, his skin is goosebumped, and he closes his mouth to stop his teeth chattering.

  “Not talking to you, oppositionally defiant.” I turn back to Allan and give him a glare. “I’m not being prissy.” Harrison scoffs instead of having another dig. “Maybe if we spoke to the writers, gave them some direction on how we think the characters would behave. These storylines are bordering on ludicrous. I’m meant to have this sex god guy—” I have to stop myself when Harrison puffs out his chest. “The character, not you, lying on me, and my brain is on the complicated family tree with names all starting with J. No way. My mind would be on the man between my thighs.”

  “But where’s the drama in that?” Allan asks, giving Harrison a smirk.

  If I wasn’t lying on my back, I think I would have vomited. Harrison’s the pet. His body is what makes Restless Times. He’s also a colossal arsehole. He’s been nothing but a prick to me since I won the audition. I thought the audition went well, but as soon as he found out I got the role, it’s like I became his instant nemesis. He’s never had a kind word to say about me. He demands retakes of scenes even though Allan is happy with them. He’s a control freak. Some days people call him the director due to his bossiness. I got jack of his comments, sneers, and redoes so that I made myself a bigger enemy when I started calling him on his shit. We are meant to be lovers, hot and heavy. Our off-screen relationship couldn’t be further from what we are paid to play. The best way to describe our relationship is that he hates me. Hates me with a fiery passion. He will go out of his way to try to embarrass me, and I know he’s the one who calls the paparazzi on me. Bastard.

  Restless Times was meant to be a stepping stone. Hard to walk away when it’s the number one show. God knows how with these storylines. Basically, the show is soft porn. The plan w
as to come in for a few months, build a name for myself, and move on. The theatre is my ultimate. My agent said spending time on a soapy was going to be great for my name, and now it’s suffocating me. Restless Times is changing me. My dark hair has been dyed blonde. I used to work out to be fit, now I work out to fit the requirements of a character. I get fan mail from girls who tell me they want to be me, and I desperately want to write back to them saying: Why would you want to be an insecure, co-dependent and meek woman who keeps being written for me? I’ve pleaded and begged the writers to make her a stronger character.

  “We have an obligation for the viewers of the show. Their minds are being shaped by this. Why on earth would Jordan give up her dreams of being a doctor to just sit at home and wait for Declan to come home from the surf every day?” My pleas fell on deaf ears. From that week on, my wardrobe was reduced to lingerie. Just about every scene was now with me in his bed or me preparing to take him to bed. Internally I was screaming. Externally I was telling my agent to find a loophole to get me out of my contract. The contract is binding unless the network wants to make changes—until then, this is my shitty life.

  Rumours and truths about working on this set with a difficult lead have put nails in my career coffin. Standing up for myself has given me a reputation for being difficult to work with. No one will sign me. Now I’m not even getting callbacks. I don’t know what Harrison has said about me, but now, at clubs and parties, I’m the social pariah. So not only has he ruined my career here, he’s tainted my social life. I know for a fact that he messed with my career plans because the network came at me with my non-compete agreement. I’m not allowed to work concurrently while on the show. No theatre. No small roles on a film, let alone a lead. The whole thing reeked of Harrison.

  That’s when the gloves came off. Pretend I’m useless at this role, but do not, and I repeat, do not fuck with my career. I worked doubly hard to prove him wrong. That’s when the barbs came back in return. The staff around were shocked by Harrison’s demands for another run-through on the scene because he knew I had to be somewhere. Allan had called good on the shot three takes ago. This was Harrison’s way of stuffing up my plans. According to people on set, he’d stood there with his mouth open, getting redder with each step I’d taken away from him. The next day, he didn’t bother turning up to the set at all. He’s a true professional, that one. He will milk this role while his buff chest stays buff, so he knows his employment is set for as long as he wants. The usual dig is that he can always find another girlfriend for Declan Matthews, but after two years, I don’t see the end coming anytime soon.

  “And then we can kiss Jordan Adams goodbye and send her to soapy Heaven along with all the other drama queens of television.”

  Allan slides off the bed while the makeup artists step forward to touch up our faces. “Assume the position,” he calls.

  Harrison moves back between my legs. Letting out a huff, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been told it must be heaven to have him between my legs. I’ve never felt so demeaned in my life.

  “It’s a Friday night. Not like you have anywhere to go,” he says. He adjusts the sheet to show the permissible amount of buttock for daytime viewing.

  “Clearly you don’t, either.”

  The flash of a flinch on his face tells me I’m going to pay for that one. I once told my agent over coffee that for the number of times she says I’m in Heaven when he’s between my thighs shooting a scene, I say Hell. Until she works her magic with my contract, I’m stuck with two arseholes between my legs.

  It’s another three takes before Harrison is happy with the scene. Allan calls cut, and Harrison burps in my face, even if he did try to turn at the last minute.

  “You’re a fucking animal, you disgusting beast,” I seethe through my gritted teeth and use my foot to gain some distance between us. I’d love nothing more than to use my fist to smack that smirk off his face. His vileness makes my skin crawl.

  “Nothing but the best for you, Riley.”

  I stomp through the set, and my assistant trails with my robe. I take it from her hands. I am super mindful not to act like a brat to the other staff. All my hate is firmly directed at him. Stalking the corridor to my dressing room, I stop with my fingers on the handle and read what’s left on the door. My original name of Riley is still there, it’s the new carving of ‘B-grade’ written into the door that riles me.

  The door slams against the wall when I open it. “Get me a pen.”

  My assistant rushes to do my bidding. Harrison walks past and stops to read the message.

  “Surprised you can spell,” I say, and the comment fails to make any dent.

  “Oh, I didn’t write that. That person gives you too much credit. I would have written D-grade.”

  And that. That’s the moment I lose it. Lose my absolute shit. I’m standing there in lingerie with my robe gaping open, the hissy of all fits being held in. I shut my mouth the second he reaches behind to get his phone out. I might be at my wits end but I’m not stupid. Shit like that gets on the net, and I can definitely kiss the last bits of my career goodbye.

  My assistant returns with the pen when both our agents step in to be bodyguards.

  “Riley! That’s enough,” Lydia shouts and steps in front of me.

  Harrison’s assistant, Dominic, moves to block him. Dominic’s a little bitch of a man; I could take him out myself. He’s a good head shorter than me and he’s always trying to boss me around.

  “Need a tighter leash, Lydia. If this is your best client, I’d hate to see your worst,” he says, making a tutting sound.

  “Fuck you, Dominic,” she simply says without taking her gaze off me. “Riley. Riley! You’re not being paid. You don’t have to talk to him now.”

  I hear the word whore, and the fury is unleashed. As I push Lydia out of the way, my assistant lunges for my other arm and stops it from connecting with Dominic’s face. “Come here, little man. You want your arse beat? Your client there is the whore.”

  The girls manage to contain me in my dressing room, slamming the door in Dominic’s and Harrison’s faces.

  Turning to Lydia, I raise my finger and say, “I cannot live like this anymore. Whore! He called me a whore. I haven’t slept with anyone in months. Hardly makes me a whore. He lines women up for Harrison, but that’s okay.”

  “We know you’re not a whore,” Lydia says, motioning for me to go to the bathroom.

  I hate Harrison so much that I have a shower when the day is over. I don’t want him to infect or seep his way into my personal life. The second the bathroom door shuts behind me, the tears start like they always do. This is textbook workplace harassment. Look up bullying, and this could be used in case law. Squirting the shower gel onto the loofah, I tell myself again not to shed any tears over Harrison. My skin has a rosy glow to it by the time I’m towelling off.

  Truth be told, I really wish Harrison and I could be friends. No. I take that back. I’d settle for civil. It would make work a lot easier. I wouldn’t be a nasty piece trying to hurt him as much as he hurts me. If I’m really honest—and I’ve never admitted this to anyone—Harrison is exactly the type of guy I would go for. He’s fit, he’s healthy. I’ve overheard his conversations, and he’s smart and funny. When I’m not in the picture, he’s a genuinely nice, down-to-earth guy. I’ve heard he donates a lot of money and time to sick children. I didn’t believe it when I was first told about that.

  By the time I’ve stopped crying and leave the bathroom, Lydia’s left my dressing room, so I pick up my phone and wait for her to answer my call.

  “Tell me again why I signed an open-ended contract at the mercy of the network?” I ask, coming out in leggings, simple top, and my boots. The towel is still wrapped around my hair.

  Lydia assures me again that she’s working on it and if I leave the contract early, I’ll be penalised severely. We have this conversation just about daily, and I tell her to find better lawyers.

  “All right,
” I say. “I’m off to the gym and then I’m going to head home.”

  “No date tonight?” Lydia asks.

  I shake my head. I’ve been seeing this guy, Kit, just for casual drinks for the past few weeks and I’ve been keeping it on the down low. I haven’t even told Lydia his name because I wanted to see how it was going to pan out and I am confident that it’s purely friend zone. Although he’s been a welcome distraction from my normal life of work, home, and the gym, it’s been about as fun as it’s going to get. He’s been a complete gentleman not pressuring me. He’s not bothered when people come up for an autograph and a photo. In fact, he’s super accommodating, I just don’t have that spark there for him. He’s smart. He’s sexy. He’s just what I need to get Harrison out of my head. He hasn’t put the hard word on me, and it’s refreshing to go out with someone who wants to get to know me rather than just bed me. He’s been a great friend. Saying the word in my head again only cements it. I’ve been putting off having the talk to him and I think he knows it’s coming because he’s been avoiding my calls and texts.

  “Hopefully he’s free tomorrow night,” I say and put her on speakerphone before setting the phone down next to my boot.

  “You’ve been seeing him for a while now.”

  “Almost a month.” I pull my laces. “And I’m confident there’s nothing there.”

  “And he still hasn’t tried anything on you?” When I stay silent, she continues. “So. Oh. Never mind.”

  I pull the knot tighter in anticipation of what she’s going to say. “Never mind what?”