bedroom. “Let’s take a tour of the house so we know what we have.” We explore the house and are shocked to see it has a movie room with six huge leather couches that recline. We even have a wine cellar, a wooden dining room table with ten chairs is also in the middle of the cellar, and a game room with a pool table.
“This house is insane,” I tell him as we walk back up another set of stairs that lead to the backyard and outside. When we walk outside along the slate tiles, we see a huge fire pit and two steps up to an outdoor living space. “It’s so pretty,” I tell him, turning to him, and he just looks out at the mountains. “This is going to be my coffee spot in the morning.”
He shakes his head. “You know that it gets cold, right?” He points at the mountains with the snow. “I’m going to go in and run through the script.”
I turn to him. “If you want to get it, I can help you.” The breeze comes through, and I grab the sides of my sweater and wrap them around me. He smiles and shakes his head. “What?”
“You’re cold,” he says, shrugging his blue jacket off and putting it around my shoulders, just leaving him in a short-sleeved shirt. His musky smell now surrounds me.
“I’m not cold,” I tell him, and he rolls his eyes. “Rolling your eyes is rude. Don’t let them get stuck in your sockets,” I say, shoving him with my hand.
“I’m going to grab a sweater because I’m freezing.” He laughs when I gasp. “Kidding, but I am going to grab one and the script.”
“I’ll be right here,” I tell him, going to the huge couch.
“We should go and sit over there,” he says, pointing at a huge rock fireplace on the right side. I look over and see that two round couches are positioned in front of the fireplace.
“Okay,” I tell him, walking away. “I’ll be over there.” I walk toward the fireplace where a stack of wood is on the side. Upon closer inspection, I find a couple of pieces already piled inside the fireplace, so I look around until I spot a box of matches beside the wood. Lighting one, I toss it inside. I grab a cast-iron pick, squat down in front, and make sure the fire continues to burn.
“You started the fire.” I hear from behind me, turning and looking over my shoulder at him as he walks back down to me. He’s removed his baseball hat, but his glasses are on now.
“I did,” I tell him, getting up and putting back the pick and walking over to the couch with his jacket.
“I brought you some water,” he says, holding out a water bottle. I sit on the couch, crossing my legs under me, and grab it.
“Thank you.” I smile up at him and see he has the script folded under his arm. “So tell me, how is tomorrow going to work?”
“We have a call at six a.m., which means I usually have to be on set two hours earlier.” I open my eyes wide. “Good times, right?”
“Until what time?”
“Until the director thinks it’s all good. I haven’t worked with Ivan before, but from what I heard, he doesn’t like to dillydally. He wants shit done,” Carter says, sitting on the couch next to me. “Besides, I have a trailer you can hang out in and get some work done in private.” Great, I think to myself, that sounds like a great plan. He grabs his phone. “The car is picking us up tomorrow at four a.m.”
I nod my head, and for the next three hours, we run through his lines. He gets into his head, and his whole demeanor changes. He paces in front of me, back and forth, saying his lines over and over again. When he finally collapses on the couch next to me on his back, looking up at the sky, I laugh. “Did you always want to be an actor?” I ask him, and he looks over at me. He took off his glasses when we started running lines.
“No,” he says. “I wanted to be a cop or a fireman.” I laugh, and he chuckles. “But then Mickey Mouse had other plans for me.” His tone changes.
“Were your parents supportive?” I know right away it’s the wrong question when he sits up. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer that,” I