Everything About You Page 3

  Who would break the silence first? Danny kept his mouth shut, annoyed and worried about the contract he’d finally read carefully before going to bed. The part about the fine for refusing to comply with signed obligations squealed at him, and he hadn’t yet gotten the first paycheck. But God put him in this situation for a reason. Danny needed to be patient.

  Ms. Colter stopped vibrating with anger and unclasped her hands. She reached into that fancy black leather bag on her lap and pulled out a paper. Oh-oh.

  The big photo of him in that fancy monkey suit was not what he expected.

  “This!” Shelly waved the picture. “This is what America needs to see and love. Not…not…that!”

  “That don’t even look like me,” Danny told her. “What’s those fancy duds got to do with being a rancher, anyhow? Not that I’m doing that now. I’m a farmer.”

  “That’s the point!” Shelly shrieked.

  The baby wailed and Jen leaned over the car seat to try to calm her. Danny would have put his hands over his ears, but he didn’t want to give the irate woman the satisfaction. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at. How’m I s’posed to know what I’m to do every minute of the day?”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Acting is telling a story, not just in words, but in looks and action. You are putting on a different persona to present to your fans. You are not a farmer who wears…” She shuddered. “You are not ready to face the public. If this doesn’t work out, no one was supposed to know.”

  “You were the one who said we should meet at Edna’s.”

  “We. We should meet there so I could get some atmosphere of the place. Figure out how to use it to shape the campaign. We weren’t planning to meet the whole town. Now the planet is going to be told privileged information about this picture. I could lose my job. In fact, I probably will. And you’ll…you’ll…”

  Shelly clamped her lips and stared out the window.

  Jen nudged Danny. “Hey, you and Harlan know each other. Tell him not to run with the story. It doesn’t have to get out in the papers yet.”

  Danny twisted his lips, touched that Jen wanted to help. “It’s not only him. He’s the newspaper editor, ma’am. Everyone will be talking. I didn’t think about that.” Maybe God wanted him to quit. Louder, he called, “Stop the car! I want out.”

  The driver looked in the rearview mirror. Shelly took a call on her big old fancy cell phone. “Too late,” she said. “Yes, Mr. Pettibone?” She eyed Danny. “I’ll tell him.”

  *

  Two - Early Evening Day - Exterior

  Danny stood at the McCormack’s fresh-painted white fence, facing west. The slick cowboy boots he’d been told to put on pinched his toes. The big fans they kept blowing on him pushed the hat off his head more than once. At least the sunset was spectacular, all reds and purple, fading pink like cotton candy. Still, he heard some of the picture-takers talking about green screens and paint. Whatever that meant.

  “Turn your head this way.” Fred the camera guy was still following him around. Three other people with big cameras on tripods were shooting away. Danny felt like a target. Hunting deer would never be the same after this.

  “Okay, people, sun’s fading. Wrap it up,” Shelly said.

  “Best news I’ve heard all day,” Danny murmured out the side of his mouth. He smiled as directed by the wispy lady photographer with two other cameras around her neck besides the one she held to her face.

  “You can do your vlog, then go study act two, scene eight, for blocking and coaching tomorrow,” Shelly told him.

  Danny mellowed at the exhaustion under the steel of her voice. He’d changed his mind fifty times at least since hearing the producer had offered him the choice of quitting since another fella agreed to step in. Brad something or other. Danny hadn’t paid all that much attention to movie stars. Fortunately, neither of them let anything slip about the casting problems or the café meeting this morning. Jen would be out, too, if he quit. He couldn’t do that to Jen of course, and told them all he’d work harder to meet expectations. The least he could do as a Christian man.

  And he had done everything they asked. All day. His voice was raw and he was pretty sure his feet were bleeding. That costume guy said he’d try to find different boots. The shirt felt nice, though. Makeup he could do without, but told himself he’d better get used to it.

  “All right, Winston? Do the vlog, then you’re free to go to your room.”

  The other thing he’d been forced to agree to was staying here at the McCormack house for the rest of the week. And to Ms. Colter ordering him around pretty much every minute.

  “Look at the light and start spilling,” Fred called.

  White glaring light made Danny blink. Another thing he needed to get used to. “Almost got fired this morning, before I’d even been on the job twenty-four hours. Never had that happen before.” He raised his face to the dying embers of the sky. “I just couldn’t stand the thought of other people losing their jobs because of me. So I’m going to attempt do what the boss lady says. She went to a lot of trouble to teach me. Least I can do is try. She says it’s like pretending to be someone else for a while. Don’t know how people can do that, but I guess, now that I think about it, people do it all the time, and not just in the movies.”

  He lowered his head, and then lifted it again. “Life isn’t always about me and my goals. I know I can be as stubborn as the next fella. I got my own opinion about the environment and I’m not afraid to share it. I told these movie people they got to recycle while they’re here. Wisconsin is a recycling state. And the folks are doing it. Putting their cans in one bin, and so forth. Making a difference can happen one step at a time.

  “If pretending to be somebody else for a few months gets me the opportunity to take a couple of big steps toward making a bigger difference for the planet with a fish farm, then I can be big enough to do it.

  “I wish Shelly could simmer down, relax about it some.” He reached behind his head and squeezed the back of his neck. “I never knew how hard it could be just to walk.”

  Fred chuckled. Something else moved out in the dark yard. Danny knew better than to stop and ask who was there while film was rolling. He’d only have to do the whole thing again. It didn’t matter. Right now, he was busy pretending to be Lane Thompson pretending to be Winston Daniels pretending to be Danny Winston. Hopefully, he wouldn’t forget how to be himself by the time this was over. What else would Winston Daniels say?

  “So, I got the lingo down, sort of, and how to move for the cameras. Blocking, they call it. I’m working on my accent. Which I never knew I had. I guess they’ll give me a tape recording I have to play tonight while I sleep. S’posed to get in my head somehow. Anyway.” Danny looked right into the lens and practiced the “dreamy” smile the expressions coach, Julie, had made him do a thousand times after lunch. “Tomorrow, we practice social situations before I get to meet the lady of Lane Thompson’s dreams.” He stopped and let the muscles around his mouth relax like Julie had taught him. “Lydia Danes,” he said with a slight dip of his chin and eyebrow raise. He breathed out through his nose so his lips turned up. “She’s the woman of my heart. My Nadine.”

  *

  Day Two - Evening - Exterior

  Shelly gulped at the way Winston looked at the camera. Julie was a genius. She’d spent three hours with him that afternoon while Shelly checked the results on the monitor. Shelly could have crowed with triumph, but she couldn’t interrupt. The poor guy had been working so hard. He’d fallen for that little bluff this morning Pettibone wanted her to pull—that he’d fire Jen if anything happened to take Winston off the set. A twinge poked Shelly’s conscience, but she knocked it flat. Winston’s request to offer a prayer of thanks at the supper buffet resulted in some smirks from the crew, but they’d listened and many followed suit. He hadn’t rambled and Shelly’s respect for him went up another notch.

  “Your turn, sweetheart.”

  Shelly inhaled de
eply when Fred turned the camera on her.

  “Before you get started, Miz Colter,” Winston called. He stood nearby, on the fringes of the pool of light, twisting the straw cowboy hat in his large hands. A moth fluttered, creating a shadow against the gold weave of plaid. Metal buttons reflected bright flashes, competing with lightning bugs rising from the bushes and lawn.

  “Yes?” Shelly waited for the expected complaints about this work wasting his time and her tyrannical ways. She was used to it, but the thought of her work being thought of as useless by others made her sad.

  “I just want to thank you, ma’am, for your efforts. I know it can’t be easy, but I wanted you to know that I’m going to try my hardest so you and Jen can keep your jobs. Lord willing, I’ll get something out of it too. ’Sides the money, I mean.”

  The red light on Fred’s camera came to life. Nuts. Shelly blinked hard and fast to send the extra moisture to the back of her eyes. “I appreciate that, Winston. That’s all we expect. You’re free to go.”

  She hardened her feelings at the sight of his stiffened expression. He put the hat on his head and stalked off. She imaged the sound of spurs jingling and sighed. Two days down, three to go. She could not afford to let go any of her tight rein on the situation—including her emotions. Winston may be quick on the mark, but there was a lot of work to do. A lot.

  “I have never had to work so hard,” she said at the angry little red flash. “We spent the morning in damage control after it slipped out that there was a potential new lead for the film. I’ve put a lid on Daniels by keeping him here on the ranch—set—for the next few days. That way I can stop him from shooting off his mouth in public. Or running around looking like he stayed in high school an extra two years. He’ll be a tough sell after Seth Taylor. Winston will never be a Seth Taylor, but if anyone can pull it off, I can.”

  That sounded a little too arrogant. “Can we try it again, Fred?” Shelly wiggled her neck from side to side.

  “You’re on.”

  “I’ve got Daniels here on set, staying at the house with me. Cut.”

  “What’s the matter now?”

  “Never mind. Go again. I’m going to train Winston Daniels not to be a Seth Taylor, but a better version of the All-American movie star. He’s got the heart for it. Cut.”

  “Just keep talking. We’ll splice it later.”

  “He’s got the right build and a heart of gold. I hope he doesn’t get too caught up in all the glitz. Look what happened to Seth Taylor. I wouldn’t want that to happen to Danny. I mean, Winston. Cut.”

  DAY THREE

  Day Three - Morning - Interior

  Danny glowed at Shelly’s genuine smile as they practiced a big party scene. He didn’t think this kind of tuxedo and ballroom dancing would really do much to raise money for preserving a prairie in real life, but the movie wasn’t exactly a documentary. He was learning how to fake conversation that would never be heard, how to fake dance, how to fake drink, how to fake smile. The thing was, though, he really liked to dance and didn’t have much opportunity outside of weddings.

  The director wanted to give him experience on the set, camera angles and so forth, but Shelly insisted that it was all necessary for them to convince Pettibone he was the right man for the job. Publicity was going to be a lot like this, once the film released, she told him. “You must learn to be comfortable in all kinds of settings, talking to strangers, being affable.”

  Right. Affable.

  “Keep your head up,” Shelly said as their feet wove steps together. Her eyes were pretty this morning, and it was too easy to smile back.

  “Winston…hmm…”

  He turned her and reeled her back in, a little closer than before.

  “Winston…that’s such a mouthful of a name.”

  She wasn’t even winded after forty minutes. Danny was impressed.

  “We should come up with a nickname.”

  Danny chuckled and tucked their lead hands against his heart. “Why can’t we just use my given name?”

  Shelly didn’t answer.

  He could tell he’d done one thing to surprise her with this waltz by the way she ignored the director’s call of cut. He kept her swirling after the people on the sidelines started clapping and even after the music was silenced. At least Mr. Eastman hadn’t called the dreaded “again.”

  Dancing was fun. And they said he could talk about anything while they were filming the party background. A couple of party extras who were helping out seemed interested in the fish farm. Then he realized they were probably pretending as much as Shelly was now. He stopped moving abruptly, letting her stumble over his big foot.

  “Ow!” She hopped and bent over to rub her toe, eyeing him like he’d cut out her best lines in the movie.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I lost track of what I was doing.”

  “About time,” Eastman called. “Shell, go back to the opening. Have him walk in, shoulders back, and work on expressions.”

  Danny tried not to bristle as Eastman and Shelly continued to talk around him as if he were a cardboard cutout. He took a breath and reminded himself that basically, that’s what he was, a character with a stranger’s name. This whole thing would be over in a matter of months, and he’d go back to normal. The less emotionally involved he got, the better.

  “Shoulders back, Winston.” Shelly, smile gone, poked him.

  “Okay.” He clamped his lips before saying anything else. He’d been the one to trip her, after all. But he had to do something to stop himself from enjoying it too much, from thinking about Ms. Colter in a way that was becoming unhealthy. She was way out of his league. She disliked him, and was too overpowering, too Hollywoodish, for his taste. But—

  “Show me those just-bleached pearly-whites,” Eastman shouted.

  Danny bared his teeth in a fake snarl.

  “Ooh. How un-Lane-like, Winston,” Shelly called from several yards away. “Lane is a genuine nice guy, remember?”

  Did she realize how hypocritical she was? Danny laughed.

  “Nice. Concerned. Not jocular. He’s not a hyena.”

  “How’m I s’posed—”

  “That’s what I’m trying to get across to you,” Shelly said. “Stop. Everyone, take a break. Five minutes.” She moved closer to him. “You must accept criticism for what it is. You cannot react negatively. You have no bones to pick, and you can never, ever let anyone get to you. And they will try.”

  Danny let the wind out of his sails.

  “How would Lane handle this?”

  “This?” Danny squinted at Shelly.

  “You know. Getting bullied for his ideals. Getting hassled for his beliefs.”

  “Oh. Right.” Danny stared at the floor. “Guess I don’t have to pretend too hard to get there.” He risked a sideways glance at her and a wink, and chuckled at her pink cheeks.

  “Yeah, well, me as Winston Daniels, faking a Lane Thompson hero in a movie, would say—”

  “Is that what this is? It’s not good enough! You must be Lane Thompson for the camera, or we’ll never pull this off.”

  “I’m no method actor,” Danny said, staring her down. “Yeah, I’m familiar with the term. You’re supposed to be grooming me for publicity, not acting. I know that too.”

  She quivered, a little blonde Alice trying to get him to drink the magic potion that would shrink him. If she wasn’t so cute and vulnerable when she got all huffy, he would turn and walk away from her.

  On this, the third day of all the nonsense, Danny believed he could act. People trickled back in, the few minutes’ break over. Danny took Shelly’s hands in his. He would play the part of a guy pretending to not be very attracted to her now. “I’m starting to understand how much this means to you. I’ve been talking to folks, researching and stuff. It might be a little time outta my life, but it’s basically all of yours.”

  Good. The fight was back in her expression, the bow back in her lips, determination in her grip. “Shelly, I promise I wi
ll do the best I can, but you all have to stop treating me like I’m not really here. I’m not stupid. I can learn. But I deserve some respect. I’ve got my pride as much as the next fella.”

  She dropped his hands, stepped back, and turned her head. “I’m used to working with difficult people, constantly on the lookout for potential bad press, always worried what’s going to come out of their mouths or what I’m going to read in the morning news and have to clean up.”

  “That’s a terrible way to live.”

  “I’m good at what I do.”

  When she turned to him, he saw vulnerability creep into the worry lines on her forehead. He’d worked hard his whole life to never let anyone down. No matter how he felt about the other person. He had to do this right to save her job. Danny could pretend he was Lane Thompson, hero, saving a good woman in distress, besides the endangered prairie critters.

  He pulled his shoulders back and pasted on the smile that showed his newly bleached teeth. He fake laughed and twirled Ms. Colter under the fake lights and pretended to have a good time.

  *

  Day Three - Midmorning - Interior

  Shelly escaped to her room after Jordan stopped the party practice. She paced to get that trembly feeling of a good workout, she tried to convince herself, out of her legs. Maybe she could get Winston a gig on that TV dancing show. He was that good. And the publicity! Miles of it. Who would he draw as a partner? That sparkly, dark-haired girl… A ping of jealousy caused Shelly to rub her arms hard.

  “Snap out of it!”

  Her door swung open to Fred and his ever-loving camera. “Talking to yourself?” He raised a brow. “Is this a good time, sweetheart?”

  She could handle him any number of ways. Shrieking like a princess that her bedroom was her sanctuary, hallowed ground, and to “get out!” would not win her points with him, dear man that he was. She took the high road. She marched toward the door, forcing him back into the hallway. “Pretend the door has a lock, Fred. My bedroom is off limits to any filming. Seriously.” Putting her pleasant—affable­—smile on, Shelly closed the door behind them both and led the way down the wooden steps to the kitchen. “Who do you know on that celebrity dancing show?”