When I'm With You Read online

  Kat had a shot at being an extra in a movie with Izzy Engel. If Josh wouldn’t help her then she had to do it herself. It was too much to let pass by. Her tongue knotted as she looked desperately at Ben. She felt like the next words out of her mouth would determine her future, her entire life, whether she would realize her dreams.

  She just had to pretend she was onstage. She was in a scene, playing a bright young ingenue.

  “Ben. Nice to meet you!” Kat smiled brightly and stuck out her hand.

  Ben stared at the offering. Kat cleared her throat pointedly at Josh.

  Josh rolled his eyes but indulged her. “Kat, this is Ben, the best production assistant I’ve ever worked with. Ben, this is Kat, my personal assistant.”

  Kat reached out again to take his hand and repeated, “Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” Ben shook her hand.

  “I’m an actor, too.”

  “You all are.” Ben gave her an amused smile, which quirked up his moustache. “I don’t cast, sweetheart.” His walkie-talkie buzzed again, and he jerked it to his mouth. “Yeah, yeah, I’m on it.” He re-holstered it. “Josh, we have to go. Can Kat get your stuff into your trailer?”

  “She’s fine. Right?” Josh asked.

  The first rule of being an actress was not saying no if you could help it. She gave a thumbs-up. “I’m great.”

  As they walked away, she turned toward the maze of two dozen trailers. Now…which one belonged to Josh?

  * * *

  Kat stared helplessly at the pit of identical trailers. She attentively approached the closest one and studied the door. No signs. No names. Just a cursive number by the doorknob.

  A body brushed behind her. She whirled around as a couple of workers carrying steel beams briskly squeezed in front of her. They were mid-conversation about the crane and how they needed to position it for a western sunset shot.

  “Excuse me—” she began, but they were gone before she could finish her question. She wandered closer to the set, where a handful of carpenters hammered and sawed wood frames.

  “Do you think—”

  “I was wondering—”

  “Could you help—”

  No one paid her any attention. Everyone’s single-minded purpose was focused elsewhere. She felt meek and uncertain. A total impostor. She didn’t belong here, but everyone else did. She had to prove she deserved to be on set. On camera.

  Kat took a deep breath. She would not fail at her first task. There had to be a logical way to determine which trailer was Josh’s. A way that had something to do with the cursive numbers by the doorknobs, which must indicate some kind of hierarchy.

  That meant the first trailer went to the director. That was a no-brainer. The second would go to his assistant—the assistant director, or AD as Ben had called him. Ben was probably trailer three. Izzy, as the star of the movie, must be in trailer four. Which put Josh in trailer five?

  She felt a brief flurry of panic that she was grasping at air but decided she had nothing to lose and no better ideas. With a satisfied nod, Kat set out for trailer five. She found it at the outskirts of the trailers—which also made sense—they wouldn’t want the stars tripping through a trailer maze every morning.

  Kat tested the trailer door with a knock. When no one answered, she opened it and stuck in her head. The inside was like one long, skinny apartment.

  She stepped up the stairs right by a driver’s seat. A sign had been taped to the steering wheel: Do Not Attempt to Drive. With a wry smile, she walked into the kitchen and trailed her fingers on the counter. A large basket of fruit and fancy glass-bottled waters sat next to the sink. Its card read:

  To our leading man. Let’s kill it! Evil Eye Productions.

  Jackpot. This was definitely Josh’s trailer. She was a genius—or at least one in the making.

  Another five steps brought her into an adjoining living room with a sofa and flat-screen television. Ten more steps brought her to two doors.

  One was ajar and led to a tight bathroom with no imaginable counter space for her cosmetic bag. Which meant the other door led to Josh’s bedroom. Her hand hesitated over the doorknob. A bedroom was private, but still—she wanted to peek. Fanny had shared that the other girls at the Jane Austen Academy were forever sneaking into the boys’ dorms, and a teensy part of her was curious about what a boy’s room would be like. She’d never had a dad growing up, never seen the inside of a guy’s room. She should know, she should experience it, for herself.

  Even though Josh hadn’t moved into this bedroom yet, it was going to be his. Where he would sleep—shirtless, if the rumors were true. Sweat dampened her palms as she squeezed the doorknob. Before she could talk herself out of it, she turned the knob and opened the door.

  Henry Trenton stood at the foot of the bed facing a full-length closet mirror, shirtless, with his cargos slung low at his hips.

  Kat froze as her stare traced the lines of his sinewy muscles down the cords of his neck to the taut lines that disappeared beneath his waistline.

  What was she doing? With a gulp, she forced her concentration back to his face and took a quiet step back.

  Henry studied his reflection—most specifically, the tartan cap on his closely shorn dark head—but his gaze shifted in the mirror to meet hers.

  “Ohmigod, I’m so sorry!” Kat clapped her hands over her mouth. She backed out of the bedroom and banged into the bathroom door she’d left open. “Ow!” She rubbed her hip with one hand and the back of her head with the other, as both had come in hard contact with the doorknob and door.

  She glanced up to find Henry staring at her speculatively, hands crossed over his bare chest and cap pulled low on his forehead. “Sorry—sorry. I thought this was Josh’s trailer.”

  She whirled around, fisted her hands, and squeezed her eyes shut. Every muscle strained with the wish that she could still be in bed at the Jane Austen Academy, that she hadn’t left yet and was dreaming this entire horrifying moment.

  “Well—as long as you’re here, what do you think?” he asked.

  Kat cracked one eye open and glanced over her shoulder. “Excuse me?”

  “What do you think?” Henry turned back to his mirror.

  Kat slowly turned around. Henry looked at her expectantly and pointed to his red tartan cap, which seemed like something a Scottish detective would wear. She stared at his head so she wouldn’t stare at the smooth muscles of his chest.

  She swallowed. Who would have guessed that lanky hipster Henry Trenton was hiding a swimmer’s body beneath his loose tees? She cocked her head, not sure what he wanted.

  “It’s a cap,” Kat said a moment before wanting to bash her head into the trailer wall. He hadn’t asked her what it was. He’d asked her what she thought. She wanted to foam into bubbles and disappear.

  “That it is,” Henry agreed. He caught her eye in the reflection and grinned. “Anything else?”

  “You’re not wearing a shirt,” Kat said. She promptly bit down on her tongue, mortified. She had opened her mouth meaning to say the cap was cute, but her gaze had slipped from his face farther down, and her brain had short-circuited.

  “Can’t wear a shirt until I pick my hat.” He settled the cap tightly over his eyebrows.

  “I think it’s a nice cap,” she finally said so she could leave with a shred of dignity. “And I’m so sorry I ended up in here. Ben had to take Josh away before they could tell me which trailer was his.” She lifted her hands helplessly.

  The room seemed to shrink—a feat, given how it barely fit the king-size bed and the mirrored closets lining the wall. It somehow seemed smaller still with just her and Henry. Shirtless Henry.

  Her neck grew hot.

  “What exactly are you sorry about?” he asked as he opened the closet door.

  Everything. Since walking into this scene, she had done everything wrong. Every move, every word. If it had been staged, if it had been scripted for her, then meeting Henry Trenton for the first time by accid
entally walking into his trailer while he dressed would have been cute instead of mortifyingly awkward. “I’m just so sorry.”

  Henry picked a collared shirt, slipped it on, and buttoned it. Kat felt something loosen and ease inside her so she could breathe again.

  “Third trailer on the left,” he said.

  Her mind finally seemed able to kick into gear. “Josh’s trailer—third on the left. Got it. Thank you. You wouldn’t happen to know his assistant’s trailer, would you?”

  Henry fixed her with a funny look. “Same one.”

  Kat’s mouth dropped open. “But…but—” She turned in a tight circle, eyeing the bed in front of her and the tiny sofa in the living room behind.

  “The couch pulls out into a bed,” he said, as if it would make her feel better.

  How was she supposed to live in this tiny cramped space with Josh Wickham? How was she supposed to tell her mom? No, no, she couldn’t. Her mom was cool but not that cool. She’d have Kat on a flight back home before you could say movie extra.

  In her panic, she’d failed to notice Henry had come closer. He stood directly in front of her with his hands behind his back. Her lips parted as he smiled, eyes twinkling with amusement. His arms moved slowly, certainly. He set something heavy on her head, and she felt its pressure against her crown.

  When he backed away, she sought her reflection.

  He’d set a white hard hat on her head. She rapped her knuckles against it. Even the best screenwriter in the world wouldn’t have a line to get her through this.

  “You’re not a believer yet,” Henry said at her befuddled expression. “Give it time.”

  “Time for what?”

  He captured her wrists as she tried to take off the hard hat. She gulped as he released her.

  “Give the hat time,” he said. “Keep it.”

  Her neck flush, her cheeks warm, she mumbled a hurried thank you. Kat’s knees shook as she ran out of the trailer. She’d run a circle around the trailers before realizing she hadn’t been paying attention to which was third from the left. She leaned her back against one of the white metal frames and closed her eyes. Kat banged her head back three times. At least she was still wearing the stupid hard hat.

  Kat had thought she was immune to star charisma. After all, as much as she looked up to Josh, she wasn’t into him like that. Never had been. Even when the other girls at the Academy fawned over him, she remained aloof.

  She’d assumed it was because she knew she was destined for stardom herself; therefore, having another star around was no big deal.

  She was not here to crush on an actor—not Josh, not Henry, not anyone.

  She was not here to be some crazy groupie.

  She was not even here to be a really great assistant.

  She was here for her big break.

  She could not, would not, let herself be distracted by the likes of Henry Trenton.

  * * *

  By the time Kat had loaded their bags into the correct trailer, pulled out the couch, made her bed, curled her hair—without the hard hat, which she stored on the floor beneath her end table—and reapplied her makeup in the cramped bathroom, she was starving. She’d seen no sign of Josh, but it had to be well past the standard dinner hour as the sky had darkened through the meager kitchen window.

  The kitchen didn’t have plates and forks, and she didn’t think Josh would take too kindly to her eating the food in his gift basket, identical to the one in Henry’s trailer. She remembered a food trailer at the outskirts of the large, central tent but dreaded going back outside.

  She imagined Henry pointing at her accusingly and security dragging her away. Even though he was the weird one who went around putting hard hats on strange girls. Who did that? Who even owned a hard hat?

  Unfortunately, she had reached a point where anything was better than starving. Her stomach groaned again.

  She stepped outside and was surprised by a cool breeze that sent goose bumps prickling up her bare arms and swirled the bottom of her maxi dress. She walked toward the din of conversation and the pulsing beat of Broken Bells—and ran into a party.

  The entire cast and crew of a hundred mingled under the main tent. Floodlights hooked up to generators shed bright light that bounced off the champagne glasses being carried about. Kat’s steps slowed, and she searched the crowd for Josh. A dreadful sense of déjà vu swept over her. She’d been in this place before. An outsider looking in. A fake smile plastered on her face. At the Jane Austen Academy, she’d compensated by grabbing the spotlight whenever possible, but what was she supposed to do here?

  She shook herself. Get a grip. Just act like you belong.

  Kat made a beeline for the refreshments table and piled cheese and crackers onto a tiny paper plate. She ate gingerly, holding her breath for everyone who passed. She made eye contact when she could and smiled welcomingly, but while the few who caught her eye smiled back, they always moved past her. She pretended not to care, to spot someone else in the crowd that she knew so she would be the one doing the ignoring. Sometimes she’d catch one of the crew looking at her curiously, and she wondered if Henry had told them about their uncomfortable encounter.

  She felt awful and alone and out of sorts. She set her plate down, grabbed a champagne flute of apple cider, and pushed through the crowd.

  Then she saw them.

  Josh, Izzy, and Henry emerged from one of the trailers down the way.

  Time slowed as they stepped down the stairs and walked toward tent city. In the center, Izzy shone. Her blond hair danced in the wind. Her blue eyes sparkled. Kat felt star power pulsating from her—someone who was a star on camera, on stage, and everywhere else she went.

  Kat got what people meant when they said someone had that it factor. Even Josh, who was hot, and Henry, who was Hollywood royalty, paled next to Izzy Engel.

  The crowd swallowed them amidst praise and cheers, and Kat desperately lunged toward Josh while avoiding a certain someone and his red tartan cap.

  “How were rehearsals?” she asked as she reached Josh’s side.

  “It was a read-through.” He ran both hands in succession over his blond streak. “But it was good—good. I’m getting a sense of my character—his essential truth, you know.” He wound his hands as he spoke, as though he were trying to harness the air. “The more I think about it, my character is the entry point for the viewer. The everyman. Knowing that has got me even more focused. Izzy and Henry have top billing, but the audience is rooting for my character to live.”

  Kat didn’t feel it was worth pointing out that, in the script, his character didn’t live. “The studio sent you a gift basket,” she said instead. “It’s in the trailer.”

  “They always do,” he said a little dismissively. “Even the small studios.”

  “What’s this all about?” She tilted her champagne flute at the festivities. “Is this normal?”

  “The cast party? Yeah, they always have one to open a film, and we’ll have another one to close it. Is that champagne?”

  “Cider,” she said as she followed him to the refreshments table. She was certain he selected a flute with champagne and not cider. He tipped it back in one swallow. “So, Josh, do you know when they’ll be casting to replace the extras?”

  Josh set the flute down and rested his hands on her shoulders. “I’m the only one who brought my own assistant on-site. That was kind of already my favor to you, so if you wouldn’t mind…”

  Kat’s smidgen of self-confidence shriveled as he gave her a dismissive pat on both shoulders and went back to tilting champagne down his gullet.

  Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

  “Don’t look at me like that, Kat. I know what it’s like to want a role. I remember what it’s like to want it so bad. It hasn’t gone away for me, either. I know what you feel. But this is a shot for me, too. And it has to be my shot.”

  “I’m not trying to hurt your shot,” she said. “They’re already looking for extras, so
what does it matter if your assistant is one of them?”

  “Don’t, okay?” Josh exploded.

  She jumped back, startled, as his fists slowly unclenched. “But Josh—”

  “Don’t. I can’t handle it right now. I’m sorry.”

  Kat swallowed, her heart sinking. If there was a chance to be in this film, to be in a real-life film, she wanted it. She didn’t see how it would hurt Josh. She glanced around the crowd. Everyone else was smiling and chatting. Everyone else had a reason, a purpose. “Why did you bring me here?”

  “Don’t you want to be here?”

  “Of course I do. But why do you want me here? We’re not friends—not really. You don’t want to help my career. Did you really just need someone to carry your bags? To make you feel important?” To use me? Kat remembered Fanny’s words.

  Josh glanced down at his champagne flute.

  “Well?”

  “I don’t know. It was the moment. It just slipped out.”

  Kat folded her arms across her chest and looked away. He didn’t know? It was the moment? It just slipped out? “Why didn’t you take it back, then?”

  Josh answered with another swallow of champagne. “An invitation is a promise. I try to keep mine if I can.”

  Kat looked away and pressed her knuckles to her mouth. Was having her around a power play for him? Just to see if he could get her to jump when he asked?

  “Stop being so obvious,” Josh sneered.

  Kat turned back to him. “What do you mean?”

  “Your head is craning around looking for the director. He doesn’t bother with casting extras, either.”

  Kat’s cheeks flushed hot. “That’s not what I was doing. What has gotten into you, Josh?”

  “Nothing. Forget it.”

  Kat hugged herself tighter. Was her entire Christmas break going to be like this? A series of awkward and awful moments, of opportunities dangling before her but always out of reach? She should just go home. But even as she had the thought, she pushed it away.