Someone I Used to Know - By Blakney Francis Page 0,12
opportunities the writer graced us with his presence.
“That’s really none of your business,” I replied curtly. Giving him the satisfaction of seeing me struggle to get out of his hold just wasn’t an option, but my body wiggled reflexively despite my resolve, as if testing the boundaries.
“Business?” he breathed low in my ear. His voice didn’t carry, and we were isolated while the rest of the people at hand watched the painful exchange between the actress and director. “Funny you should mention that. Business is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. Isn’t it your job to help her? I was under the impression that was the whole point of your being here.”
Not even pride could stop me from jerking free, and I clumsily wheeled around to glare at him with fire burning its way up my chest.
Declan didn’t verbally strike again though. His hands were raised to me, signaling surrender, but one eyebrow was arched with pointed speculation. I was only thrown off by the gesture for a moment, but by the time I’d regained myself, he’d strode away as calmly and silently as he’d approached.
I turned and stormed away.
Ass.
Declan made it sound like I was the bad guy. He acted like I was hoarding all of my secret character knowledge away from Madeline’s grasp and laughing with glee as she failed. I repeat – ass. He was wrong though.
It wasn’t my job to explain to Madeline the ins and outs of what made me, me. I was there for Cam. The studio had asked me to come to California to meet everyone, and keep an eye on things for Cam when he was busy with other projects.
It most certainly wasn’t my job to do Madeline’s work for her. Wasn’t she the actress? Wasn’t she the one who was making a living portraying characters? Adley Adair in The Girl in the Yellow Dress should’ve been like any other acting job for her.
Fuck him. No, seriously, he could go to hell. Declan Davies was an ass.
Why did he even care so much?
My feet, which had been hurrying through random corridors, began to slow, and I considered Declan’s actions.
He couldn’t actually care for Madeline, could he? It was hard to imagine cold, scowling, unapproachable Declan Davies caring for anyone. I suppose they could’ve been involved romantically, but he didn’t seem like the type to get so worked up over girl, even if she was his girlfriend.
Madeline was beautiful though, maybe the only person attractive enough to match Declan, but his protectiveness didn’t seem like the kind evoked by a lover. If anything, it reminded me of the way Thomas used to act about my boyfriends in high school. Well, before I’d started a secret relationship with his best friend.
Declan was protective of Madeline in a brotherly way. My mind flashed to the glimpse of vulnerability I’d seen in Madeline when she’d been talking to Georgia, and my feet stopped moving completely.
Without my consent, my body began backtracking. As much I didn’t want to see it, that small connection between Madeline and Declan gave her a humanity that I hadn’t had to consider before. Behind the seemingly endless layers of managers, publicists, assistants, and hangers-on, there was someone real, someone that needed protection, and someone who needed my help.
When I arrived at my destination, I took a deep breath, and knocked on Madeline’s trailer door. I barely had time to wipe my clammy hands on my jeans before it was yanked open, and I was presented with the heavily painted face of Marissa Little-Ashford. She was Madeline’s manager, and from what I’d seen, her duties as mother played second fiddle to what she considered her more important title.
“Yes?” One word, sharp and demanding, was my warm greeting. There was something about the harsh, forward angles of her face combined with the crafted volume of her bleached hair that immediately reminded me of a shark.
It was a fitting look for someone whose daughter deserved her own week on the Discovery Channel to catalogue each kill she relentlessly stalked.
“Uh, hi.” I had to fight to stand still. Running away had been my first instinct for so long, my feet needed to be trained how not to retreat. “I heard Madeline wanted to speak with me.”
“Well that’s just unacceptable!” the woman suddenly screeched.
This time there was no stopping my five steps backwards away from Madeline’s Mom. It took me that long to realize she hadn’t been directing the exclamation at me at all.