❝ If he does it again, you tell me — ❞
Nick’s seemingly total lack of awe at the machinations of Hollywood occasionally amused Faye, but mostly just annoyed her.
He was the first boyfriend – a term she’d recently decided to start using when thinking of him, even if he was still someone else’s husband, and even if she refused to acknowledge the term mistress for herself – she’d had in years who wasn’t already in the business, and so she’d been excited by the prospect of having somebody to impress. Unfortunately for her, his business had the tendency to lurk close to – and sometimes fully enmesh itself within – her line of work, which meant that it wasn’t the big world of mystery she’d been hoping it would be. His interest seemed mild at best; she suspected any interest he did show was just for the sake of flattering her. She doubted he’d see a single movie, regardless of whether or not she was in it, if she didn’t first insist that they went.
Once she’d figured all of that out, having Nick on set while she was shooting lost most of its allure. Faye either watched him look bored, which annoyed her – or he watched her film her typically romantic scenes, which annoyed him. Though they’d never come to any explicit agreement over it, when he came to set it was now for a practical reason, like if they were meeting for a meal, or going home together, or if she wanted to show him the inside of her dressing room.
In this case, they’d had dinner plans to follow Faye wrapping up for the day. They were nearly done shooting by the time Faye had spotted Nick arrive, though unluckily for them both, it was while she was in the midst of filming a scene with her co-star. Leon Davis was more famous than she was, and his career was certainly on better footing than her own. He was a well-regarded actor, with a couple of awards tied to him. His name on the marquee was a big deal for the producers of the film – and her name put up next to him was a big deal for Faye.
Unfortunately for her, aside from being God’s gift to the studio, Leon was also a handsy asshole. He demanded the director let them reshoot their scenes together multiple times, and tended to let his hands linger on her after they’d called cut. He was also insistent that he and Faye spend more time together to rehearse their lines – though Faye had managed to excuse herself out of his invitations for working dinners. For as much as Faye thrived on attention and adoration, she didn’t like the entitlement his hands assumed. If she wanted to fuck him, she’d do it on her own terms.
Faye had tried to keep the kissing and caressing to a minimum once Nick had arrived, and feigned a headache in an effort to wrap early. For the most part, things had seemed to go off without a hitch – though Leon draped a too-friendly arm around Faye’s waist, his hand a constant presence as he cajoled the director to call it a day, his words sickly-sweet as he said Miss Fairaway’s got to go home and lie down. We’ll do it in the morning.
Given his limited interest in Hollywood movie magic, Faye was unsure of how much attention Nick had paid to the dynamic between the costars in the first place. If he’d not noticed it at all, she wouldn’t bring it up -- and if he had noticed it, she still wouldn’t be the one to bring it up. When nothing was said about it during the time it’d taken for them to get into the car, she’d assumed it was the former situation, rather than the latter.
When it was brought up, there was no threat of a fight lingering, or even a hint that he was angry. His tone was mild, matter-of-fact, simple.
If he does it again, you tell me.
Faye looked at him for a moment, waiting for something more to follow. When nothing else came, she smiled and looked back towards the road ahead. “Okay, Nicky,” Faye agreed. “But you’ve got to promise to leave his face alone.”
