City Vamps

By Danny Fisher

Washed up reality star Maggie Shaw clings to Jack Daniel's for dear life until her agent lands Maggie the role of a lifetime in the cast of City Vamps, the popular sticom about five single immortals living in New York City. If Maggie survives her stint in rehab and stays sober, she will prove herself as a serious actress. But before she can be accepted as a full-fledged member of the cast, Maggie must decide how far she's willing to go to keep the limelight shining on her when she learns that not all of her co-stars are acting.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Sep 17, 2012
• ISBN: 9781483543130

Book preview

50

Chapter 1

That’s a wrap!

Mercy Emerson sighed in gratitude when she heard her favorite words spoken by the director. It took twelve long hours to shoot the kissing scene between her character and the male lead just right. She was tired, hungry and most of all sick of pretending to be in love with her best friend. Mercy strolled over to the food table where she slathered a bagel with gobs of cream cheese and peanut butter.

Holy crap, Mercy, how can you eat that garbage? Lucretius Darling, the sexy actor who played the goofy neighbor in their sitcom about five twenty-something friends with supernatural powers living in the city, asked repulsed.

Luc, not everyone enjoys Brussels sprout salads, Mercy quipped. She took a big bite of bagel to annoy him. Mmmm, lovely!

Luc rewarded her with an expression of disgust as he popped the top off his water bottle and flopped into a nearby chair.

Once on the lips, forever on the hips, he chided. He knew there would be no earthly way Mercy would ever gain a pound if she didn’t want to.

Ha, ha, Mercy rolled her eyes then headed for her dressing room. Before Mercy could get far, Jascha Blaze, her love interest in the show, stepped in front of her.

Have you seen this yet? He held up the latest copy of Star Power.

No, gimme that! Mercy snatched the tabloid rag out of his hand. Is that Maggie Shaw on the cover? Mercy flipped pages rapidly to read the article detailing the reality star’s most recent brush with the paparazzi.

None other, Jascha scoffed. It looks like Ms. Shaw is at it again, and this time without panties.

No panties? Luc jumped out of his chair to read over Mercy’s shoulder. Where’s the photo op?

Back off, you crazy critter! Mercy shooed him away. My turn first.

She began reading, "Maggie Shaw, reality star of Country Couture fame, was recently seen exiting the Lightning Club on Sunset Boulevard wearing a see-through dress while going commando. When asked if she realized she wasn’t wearing any underwear, Ms. Shaw reportedly told the paparazzi to ‘Go f-yourself’ then chugged from an open bottle of Jack Daniels whiskey before heading inside."

Classy broad, Jascha drawled, bored already with the news. He popped a strawberry into his mouth even though he hadn’t been hungry in ages.

Who’s classy? Reilly Mathers walked up to the group. As soon as the director yelled cut, he’d taken off for his dressing room to change out of the ridiculous costume he always had to wear.

Maggie Shaw, Luc drooled over Mercy’s shoulder as he stared at the fuzzy picture. Damn, she’s hot!

You can’t even tell if it’s really her! Mercy folded the paper in half. Besides, these magazines are nothing but lies.

Then why do you insist I buy them for you to read? Jascha smiled at his best friend. He knew she loved to read the gossip rags as much as anyone no matter how much she protested.

It’s good to keep up with what the treacherous liars are printing, that’s all.

Uh huh, Reilly chuckled. They say anything about us this time?

The usual stuff, Jascha grabbed the paper from Mercy then opened it up to a blurb on the last page about their show, City Vamps. A quick note about our season opener next week and a nod to Reed Baker for winning the People’s Choice Award for best new male lead on a sitcom.

Well, there’s a shocker, Reilly shrugged. I suppose there’s a great picture of him looking like a saint dressed in Ralph Lauren?

Jascha flipped the paper to Reilly to show off the photo of their cast mate Reed Baker.

Cocky bastard, Reilly shook his head. If they only knew him.

See? If they get it all wrong about Reed, maybe they’re spreading lies about Maggie, too! Mercy defended the girl, although she’d never met her. She just hated to see someone so young take such a long fall from grace.

Pictures don’t lie, Merc, Luc reminded her as he whistled. Damn, those legs of hers go on for miles!

Can we go to dinner before Casanova slips in a puddle of his own drool? Jascha led the way out as his three best friends and cast mates followed him.

During dinner at one of L.A.’s posh restaurants that catered to celebrity crowds, the group pondered what the next season of their show might bring. So far they scored high in the ratings as the best new sitcom for twenty-something viewers. The show’s take on single life in the city with a supernatural twist gained a quick following. As they began shooting their second season, most of the cast members were already enjoying the spoils of sudden stardom and overnight fame.

After the waitress took their orders and departed, Jascha made his opening remarks, It looks like the producers have decided to bring in a love interest for Reed’s character. They think there’re not enough humans on the show to make it believable.

"They’re the ones that called it City Vamps. What do they expect? Reilly chugged his beer. Although, I don’t think it would’ve hurt them to mention the rest of us."

"You think it should be called, City Werewolves? Jascha laughed. That doesn’t exactly flow."

Says the vampire, Luc grinned. "Why not, City Daemons?"

Because no one knows what the hell a daemon is, dumbass. Mercy retrieved a potato skin from the appetizer plate. Besides, witches are the real draw. Everyone loves spells and potions.

"Oh, right, I forgot.Charmed paved the way for all you sexy witches in tank tops and mini-skirts," Luc teased her.

Hey, don’t hate the player, hate the game, Mercy replied.

What I hate is how Reed friggin’ Baker gets all our press, Reilly grumbled. The guy is a complete ass wipe and the press loves him. I don’t get it.

They don’t love him, Reilly. They love his character, Chance. He’s the all-American good guy hero. Everyone loves a hero, Jascha explained patiently for what felt like the hundredth time.

All-American prick is more like it, Luc chuckled as he fought Mercy for the last potato skin. She scowled at him as his fork beat hers to the punch.

I just think it’s odd that the one guy that plays a human in a show about supernatural beings gets all the credit for the success we’re having.

Reilly, you really need to let it go, Jascha warned. The producers are going to pick up on your bad attitude and replace you with Taylor Lautner, if you’re not careful.

Very funny, Reilly fumed. He hated it when Jascha threw the success of the Twilight werewolf in his face. I could kick that little punk’s ass.

He’s not a punk, Mercy stepped in. I met him at the Emmy’s last year. He’s really quite a sweet kid, and buff! He bulked up for those last movies of his.

Is that all women see? Tanned muscle-heads with no shirts? Reilly motioned the waitress for another beer. "Why not just go date some of those meatheads from Jersey Shore?"

Eww, don’t make me gag, Mercy frowned.

I’d like to stand next to Snookie and see how short she really is, Luc added his two cents.

His friends all moaned in unison, Oh please, you just want to look down her shirt.

Luc smiled, True. I want to deny it, but I can’t.

Mercy eyed Reilly as she pointed toward Luc. And you’re giving women a hard time?

"That ... creature ... does not represent the male species, Reilly defended, any species, human or otherwise."

You know, I am sitting right here, Luc whined.

You’re always there, Luc. Like a wart on my ass, Reilly laughed at his own joke.

Finally a light hearted moment from our lone wolf, Jascha chided. He was always telling Reilly to not take life too seriously. Jascha had been around long enough to know that being able to laugh was life’s best medicine.

After dinner, the group returned to the topic of Reed Baker’s new love interest. They brainstormed a list of popular female actresses.

Shanna Miller is between movies, Luc considered what it would be like to have her on board. He smiled at the thought of working with the sexy brunette every day.

I don’t think she wants to make the switch to television, Jascha commented. She’s making too much money on the big screen.

What about that girl that used to be on that Monday night show on ABC? You know, that one about the twin brothers that no one knows are twins?

I hope not, Mercy. I heard she’s a complete nightmare to work with, which is why she’s looking for work. Reilly rolled his eyes. One diva on set is enough.

Exactly, Jascha agreed, clinking beer bottles with Reilly.

Well, I just hope they get someone that we all like, Mercy paused, and who is willing to respect our privacy.

At the mention of their closely guarded private lives, the friends grew quiet. They knew how lucky they were to work with each other. Reed Baker was the only main cast member that they didn’t like. They avoided him like the plague, and he returned the favor. Thankfully, Reed considered himself above their pay grade in terms of friendships worth fostering. No love lost as far as the four friends were concerned. They just hoped that the person joining their show would understand the boundaries that were already in place.

Well, friends I’d love to sit and visit, but I’ve got a hot little number named Tatiana waiting on me. I’m afraid it’s time to bid adieu. Luc stood and stretched his lean frame. He kept his body in tip-top shape and never minded showing it off.

Luc, it’s almost ten o’clock and we’ve got a five a.m. make-up call. You’re not going home to get some sleep? Mercy asked. She’d been fighting off yawns for the past half hour.

I can sleep when I’m dead, he replied. As far as Lucretius Darling was concerned, sleep was a waste of time when there were so many hot single ladies on the prowl.

Jascha watched his friend saunter off into the night. He’s one of a kind.

Thankfully, Reilly agreed. How many of him could we take? He stood up to put his coat on. I’m outta here, too.

Hot date? Mercy teased knowing there wasn’t a likely chance of it.

Not hardly, Reilly took one last swig of his beer. Unless you count MASH reruns as hot. Later, peeps.

After they were alone, Mercy sighed. Jascha noted the sound of discontentment from his long time friend. You want to talk about it?

I worry about him, she said.

He’s a big boy, Jascha shook his head. Besides, he can most certainly take care of himself as he’s proven time and again.

That’s just it, Jascha! He won’t let anyone else take care of him!

By anyone, you mean you? Mercy never could hide anything from Jascha.

Maybe, she admitted. But so what? He needs to let people in.

Not in his nature, and you know it.

I’m sick of hearing about his nature! It’s been too long for him to be so alone. Ever since—

Mercy, stop it. Don’t rehash all that.

Fine, she stood. I’m headed home. I do need some sleep, even if you don’t.

Good night, Jascha stood to hug her good-bye. He gave her a small peck on the cheek. Cheer up, sweet girl. He’ll come around. You know how he is.

Yeah I do, that’s what I’m afraid of. Mercy let go then walked toward the door. She was dog tired from the long day at work. She feared correctly that sleep would evade her for most of the night as her mind wandered between worrying about her friend, and her career. Who would be joining their little group?

Jascha nursed his beer for another half hour after his friends left. He was worried about the show as much as they were. Even though they all played it off like it wouldn’t be too big of a deal to have a new person on set, he knew better. It would be a huge deal.

If they weren’t careful, it would be absolutely life changing.

Chapter 2

The morning after her meltdown in the press, Maggie Shaw wanted nothing more than to sleep for a week. Unfortunately, for the reality star turned public embarrassment, real life had other plans.

Hold On! She yelped as the phone trilled in her ear non-stop. Maggie flipped the pillow that she’d been using to hide from the evil sunlight pouring in her window off her face. What made her think that floor to ceiling windows were a great idea anyways? She grabbed the cordless off her nightstand.

What?

Maggie? Is that you, dear?

Oh, Lord. Of all the times she failed to let the machine screen her calls.

Hi, Mom, what’s up? Maggie tried to sound cheery, regardless of the cotton mouth threatening to keep her voice stuck in her throat.

I read the paper today, her mom tsk-tsked into the phone as only a mother can. It’s not a very flattering picture of you, to say the least.

Mom, look—

Maggie, I thought we’d gone over this. You cannot be going around town flipping off photographers if you expect anyone to take you seriously as an actress. And what is that you were drinking?

Maggie sat up in bed. Mom, it was one night, okay? I was just having fun!

One night that will haunt your career for years, her mother warned.

What career? Maggie mumbled into the phone as she trudged out of bed into her large master suite bathroom. She wasn’t sure if she needed to pee, vomit or both.

Your father—

Mom, I gotta go! Maggie clicked the receiver off then tossed the phone backward onto her bed as she stepped into the bathroom. At the mere mention of her dad, her urge to vomit outweighed her urge to pee by leaps and bounds.

After she finished retching her previous night’s beverages into the toilet, Maggie brushed her teeth then sauntered out into her sparse kitchen/living room combo. Her condo wasn’t huge, but it was luxurious, and she loved having just enough space for one.

She popped some bread into the toaster then settled onto her bar stool for a look at the morning paper via the internet. Her fingers flew over the keys as she directed her laptop to the site for Star Power. Seconds later, her face and her infamous quote stared back at her, a blunt reminder of the behavior her mother had warned her against.

Jesus!

Maggie slammed the computer shut. She wasn’t sure why she bothered to even look, except that she wasn’t positive she remembered the evening clearly. She surveyed her living room immediately spotting the offending dress draped innocently over the back of her couch. She could see the red fabric of the couch right through the sheer film of the metallic silver dress.

Her mind wandered back to last night when she was getting ready. She’d been tossing whiskey down her throat since just after lunch because she’d gotten refused on yet another audition that she thought was in the bag. She recalled how she’d put on the dress and danced around her condo, laughing at the thought of running around feeling almost naked. When she caught her reflection in the mirror, she felt wicked and decided that yes, prancing about without her panties was in fact a great idea. That ought to show them!

What she was trying to prove, and to whom she was trying to prove it, seemed silly in the harsh light of morning, although it had surely been an epiphany in the moment. The toaster spit her breakfast out with a loud noise that made her jump bringing her thoughts back to the present. At least, if there was a sheer silver lining, she didn’t have a headache. Jack was always nice to her in that regard making it her drink of choice for her self-pitying binges.

After nibbling on the dry toast, Maggie ambled back to her bedroom for a quick shower and to throw on a tank top and jeans. She chose to wear a bra, panties and a cardigan over her flimsy top. The last thing she wanted was to give the paparazzi another fabulous photo op for their sleazy rag. With huge, dark sunglasses covering half her face, and her trusty ball cap pulled low on her head, Maggie grabbed her carryall and faced the out of doors. She would’ve preferred hiding in her condo, but her agent wasn’t one to let her avoid the consequences of her actions.

Twenty minutes later, Maggie sauntered into the office of her agent, Max. She waved to the receptionist who barely registered her appearance before turning her attention back to her computer.

Maggie knocked on Max’s door. Are you decent?

Never! Her agent hollered back in her loud, obnoxious style. And it seems you are not decent either, darling! Max came around the desk to greet her biggest client. How’s your head?

My head? Maggie didn’t make the connection.

Yes, dear ... your head ... your hangover ... please tell me that you have a hangover? I’d hate to think you pulled that shit sober! Max pulled Maggie to the couch in her office for a sit down chat.

No, I wasn’t sober, but I don’t get headaches from Jack. He likes me, Maggie smiled as she took her seat. She slipped the glasses and hat off thankful she could finally disperse with the costume.

Were you followed?

Nah, I think a couple paps snapped me getting into my car, but I lost them on the freeway.

Bastards. You know they’re going to hound the hell out of you. I’ve already spoken to your publicist. We’re meeting at noon.

Why? Maggie whined dreading the thought of listening to a lecture about her behavior, again.

He’s getting a little pissed off, Mags. Max held her hand. Darling, you know I love you, but you’re making it hard to represent you with all this ... nonsense. No one wants to work with you.

A few drinks, and a girl gets labeled difficult to work with. If I were a guy—

Yes, if you were a guy you’d be a playboy heartthrob that every woman wanted. But you’re a girl, and that makes you a sleazy bitch that can’t hold her liquor.

Wow, way to be direct, Max.

Call ‘em like I see ‘em, doll face. Max jumped up. She walked to her desk and grabbed an old copy of Star Power. She tossed it to Maggie. "If you flip to page five in that issue, you see that sexy stud from City Vamps was at it again. Look, there he is leaving a club at two a.m. with some unknown blond on his arm barely able to stand upright."

Was she wearing panties? Maggie joked.

They both were, but Luc Darling didn’t flip off his media. Instead, he embraces them. He could teach you a few things, you know.

He could teach me how to drink from a beer bong and date girls barely old enough to vote, Maggie quipped her jealousy obvious.

Be that as it may, the public thinks he’s a hoot, and you’re a lost soul, Max interjected. She sat back down. You need to lay off the hard stuff, doll.

Max, give me a break! The blond frat boy is the toast of the town because he sticks to beer? Bullshit!

Did I mention he was wearing his underwear?

Jesus, I gotta go! Maggie headed for the door. Are there any more auditions lined up for me, or what?

Tomorrow at nine a.m. sharp you’re trying out for the role of that detective on that new Fox show slated for next year.

Seriously, Max? You got me an audition for that? I love you! Maggie crossed the room to hug her agent. You are the best!

Just don’t be late for our meeting today at noon, Max warned. And for all things Holy, do not be late for that audition! You have no idea who I had to sleep with to get you that!

I won’t, I promise! I’ll be back here at noon, Maggie chirped her pity party for one suddenly on hiatus. I’m headed to Rodeo for a new outfit for my audition!

Good! I wear a size seven in Jimmy Choo’s, just so you know. Max shut the door behind her client. Maxine Clairmont had represented starlets her whole career. She’d seen some succeed beyond their wildest dreams (usually replacing her in the process), and others crash and burn overnight. She prayed Maggie wouldn’t be her next wannabe A-Lister to go up in flames.

At ten minutes before noon, Maggie flitted back into Max’s office with packages in hand. She experienced a glorious day shopping at some of her favorite places, maxing out at least one credit card in celebration of the impending audition. Her luck was about to change, she could feel it. The electricity in the air bubbled around her all day. She took Max’s advice and let a couple paparazzi shoot photos of her leaving her favorite shop. She even smiled at them. Max would be proud.

Hellooo, Maggie called as she pushed her way into Max’s office. You said size seven, right Max?

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, Maggie turned around shocked to see a group of people staring back at her.

Oh, she looked at her watch. Max, I thought you said noon? Before Max could affirm, Maggie spotted her frail, tiny mother seated just to the left of her publicist/worst nightmare, Toby Cox.

Mom? What are you doing here? Maggie’s packages dropped to the ground as the wave of electricity that had followed her around all day fizzled out.

Maggie, Toby Cox crossed the room to lead her to the chair sitting in the middle of what resembled an interrogation scene. Please sit down. We’ve tons to discuss.

"Toby, get off me! What the hell is this? Is this ... an intervention?"

Oh, dear, honey, please sit down! Maggie’s mother fretted nervously. She knew ambushing her daughter was not the best laid plan, but that pushy publicist insisted that drastic times called for drastic measures.

Maggie dropped into the chair because it was better than falling to the floor. Words escaped her, although her insides were screaming bloody murder. She realized, as she surveyed the very small group of people surrounding her, that if this was an intervention ... if this was her intervention ... not too many loved ones had turned out. Oh my God, her dad wasn’t even here! Maggie closed her eyes and prayed that a bottle of Jack would materialize in her grip.

Maggie, we brought you here today to discuss your future. You have a problem, Maggie. You’re an alcoholic. It has to stop. Toby Cox brushed imaginary lint off his tie as he addressed her. He’d been representing the young starlet ever since her days as a wayward teenager on Country Couture. Back then she’d merely been a mouthy brat intent on escaping farm life through reality television. She swore she’d be the next Vera Wang. So far the only thing she was close to becoming was the next LiLo.

Honey, what are you doing? Her mother stared as Maggie’s hand tried to grip the neck of her missing bottle of Jack.

Maggie opened her eyes and watched her hand as it clenched and released the absent bottle. Um, hand kiegels?

Max suppressed a small laugh. "I want it noted for the record that this, her gaze passed over the group, was not my idea."

Thank you, Maggie murmured.

Yes, thank you Max, thank you for allowing Maggie to live in denial of her problem for so long, Toby countered.

Finally, the one person that Maggie didn’t recognize spoke up, Maggie, I’m Dr. Carrie. I run a spa that specializes in helping people who require a certain amount of discretion to get better. We would love to have you as a guest.

I know you! Maggie pointed at the woman, You’re that celebrity rehab doctor! You have that T.V. show where all the washed up celebrities go to get off crack! Holy Shit!

Honey, I think you’re confusing her with Dr. Drew.

Maggie shot up out of the chair. Mom, please! I don’t care if she’s Dr. fucking Seuss! I don’t need her! Are you people insane? I just drink a little, that’s it! I like a few shots of Jack once in awhile, for Chrissakes!

Toby stood. A few shots, huh? Then explain why we found no less than nine bottles of Jack Daniels stashed in your condo, each of them at least half empty?

Nine? Maggie mentally counted her hiding spots: below the sink in the kitchen and the bathroom, her nightstand on both sides of the bed so she wouldn’t have to roll too far either way, behind the stack of wood for the fireplace, possibly the oven, but maybe she drank that one ... hmmm ... that’s what, five? Six? Where the hell had they found the other three? She wished she knew because in truth she’d been looking for them.

Maggie! Toby shook her shoulders. Did you hear me? Nine bottles! That’s not normal!

Defeated, Maggie slouched into the chair sobbing, I know ... I’m sorry ... I’m so sorry ... I just can’t take it anymore—

Toby knelt by her side. As hard as he was on her, it was only because he actually cared. Back when she was a fifteen year old nobody, whose storyline got picked to be the next reality television show, Toby knew Hollywood would eat her alive. So far she’d been tougher than he ever gave her credit for, but it couldn’t last. She was close to breaking down completely, he knew.

Five years after its debut, her show got cancelled rather unceremoniously. It had been replaced by a remake of America’s Funniest Home Videos. Maggie had taken it harder than the rest of the family, well, what was left of her family. Her parents, both small town country folk, divorced after the show ended. Her dad farmed proud and true. Her mother, a small town girl wanting out, settled with her husband after finding out she’d gotten pregnant young. When the show started, her mother took to it like a moth to a flame while her dad became angry and withdrawn. Toby knew the old man didn’t like knowing the life he provided didn’t satisfy his family.

For Maggie’s part, she saw the show as her ticket out of Iowa. She wanted to set the fashion world on fire. Maggie Shaw saw herself as the next Vera Wang, Heidi Klum and Julia Roberts all rolled into one. There was no doubt she had the talent, which was why the show’s producers picked her homemade audition tape out of thousands. The girl had the legendary It factor that so many actors tried to fake. Unfortunately, when her daddy started drinking, she followed suit. Her dreams were falling apart. She didn’t even have a family to lean back on during her most crushing experience to date. Instead, Maggie found her father’s stash of Jack and began the love affair that brought her to this moment: the moment her life faced a crossroads of stellar proportions.

Toby rubbed her shoulders. Maggie, you need help. Please let Dr. Carrie help you.

Maggie looked up. But ... but ... what about my audition tomorrow? she choked out the question between sobs of panic. It was going to be her big break!

I don’t think so, dear. Max shook her head the pity obvious on her face. When they heard you were admitting yourself into Dr. Carrie’s spa, they cancelled.

Admitting myself? Who told them that? Maggie’s accusing gaze landed squarely on Toby.

It’s the best way, Magpie, Toby used the nickname that only he was allowed to call her. If you admit yourself, the press will paint you as an underdog instead of a lush. It shows you taking responsibility for your actions.

For the next two hours, Maggie’s small group of loved ones did everything they could to convince her to admit herself. By the time she left, eyes swollen from crying and nose red, Maggie had confessed her multitude of sins and promised to repent.

Chapter 3

It’s about time, Reed, Jascha scolded his cast mate for being late to production the second time this week.

Back off, Reed snarled. He’d had a late night, a long morning and a throbbing headache. The last thing he needed was some sanctimonious know-it-all addressing him like a ten year old who missed detention.

You know, Reed, Jascha spoke his name with venom, If this show is too much for you, we can always replace you.

At this Reed bristled. He knew two things about his cast mates: they’d love nothing more than to see him gone, and he hated them enough to stay. Reed scoffed loud enough for Jascha to hear him then walked on set. He didn’t take Jascha’s threat seriously because Reed knew that his character was the main draw, regardless of the show’s title or premise. He’d made sure of that by being the most affable, kind-hearted, boy-next-door with just a hint of ornery he could be when the cameras were rolling. America loved him.

Jascha watched as Reed sauntered onto set without a care in the world. How he wished he could reach out and snap the little bastard’s neck. Jascha wasn’t prone to fits of anger, but Reed brought out the worst in him. It was bad enough that the guy was incessantly late, which wasted their time and energy as well, but he was consistently rude, inconsiderate and an all-around pain in the ass. Reluctantly, Jascha admitted to himself that it was Reed’s talent that won him the People’s Choice Award and would win him countless others before it was all said and done. Still, how long could it take to snap his neck? Jascha pondered that thought as he strode onto the set behind Reed.

Luc followed suit behind him all smiles. Although he’d been hanging around set bored to tears waiting for King Reed to make an appearance, Luc wasn’t one to let it agitate him. He’d smile while he was getting a root canal, if possible. Mercy and Reilly were lucky enough to have the morning off. Their scenes weren’t being taped until after lunch, or, at this rate, after dinner. Luc couldn’t wait to see Reilly’s reaction to that.

Once Reed, Jascha and Luc were in place in their fictitious New York apartment, the director yelled, Action!

Chance, all I’m saying is you need to put yourself out there if you expect to meet Ms. Right, Axel urged his best friend and roommate.

Aloysius agreed, Absolutely bro, don’t be afraid to take a chance, Chance.

Cue laugh track.

I don’t know guys, Chance runs his fingers through his hair, his expression bearing just the right amount of insecurity and likeability. What if she says no? His eyes grow as big as saucers displaying the bright blue irises for the camera. The girls in the audience swoon.

Axel pats his best friend on the shoulder. You want me to compel her to say yes?

You would do that?

Aw, not fair! Axel, he can get this girl on his own! He doesn’t need your supernatural vampire tricks to do the job! Aloysius sits down on the couch beside Chance. You humans have it so much easier than we do, you know that?

How’s that? Chance looks at him in disbelief.

Yeah, how’s that exactly? Axel strikes a confident pose and more girls in the live audience swoon.

Aloysius ponders it, Well, for starters there’re no awkward moments when you have to explain why you’ve been alive for five hundred years! He slouches down further in his seat and aims his eyes at Axel. And no one blames you when their pet rabbit goes missing!

That was one time! Axel protests in mock horror.

Laugh Track. Applause.

Besides, that bunny had it coming! Axel exits into his pretend bedroom out of sight of the camera. Jascha relaxes for a moment off set until he hears his cue.

Thanks, Aloysius, I know you mean well, but I’m still not sure.

Well, if you’re not gonna go for it, do you mind if I do? She’s hot! Aloysius displays a mischievous grin to the delight of the live audience.

Upon hearing the word hot Axel the vampire returns. Nice, Alo, leave it to a daemon to try to move in on your territory, Chance.

Hey, I can only advise him so much. Is it my fault if the humans don’t like to take chances?

Man, Axel, I still can’t get used to your supersonic hearing. Hey! I’ve got an idea! Chance springs off the couch. How about you go with me to the coffee house, and you can listen in on her conversation? That way I can tell if she likes me before I ask her out!

I don’t know, Axel is reluctant. That doesn’t seem fair.

Five minutes ago you were willing to compel the poor girl to marry him, and now you don’t want to eavesdrop on one conversation? That’s awful fickle of you, vampire, Aloysius says.

Chance gives Axel a puppy dog look and he gives in. Alright, just this once! What could possibly go wrong?

Cut! The director looks to Luc. When you accuse Jascha’s character of being fickle, I need you to sit up more on the couch to challenge him more, okay?

No problem, Luc replies nonchalant. Start at the top?

Yup, the director looks back at his notes, and Reed, nice job. Love the facial expressions.

Reed eyes Jascha with contempt. Are you sure? I sure wouldn’t want to get replaced.

What? Replace you? Please, the director chuckles. Let’s take it from the top, people.

Jascha lets a low growl escape his throat before the director yells action. As soon as they’re back in character his expression changes to one of admiration for Axel’s best friend, Chance. He hopes when they hand out Emmys they might consider giving one to him for being able to even remotely pretend to like Reed Baker, or his character. Thankfully, the rest of the shoot flies by and they break for lunch. As usual, Reed escapes first without even a slight interest in what his fellow cast members might be doing for lunch.

As they walk toward their dressing rooms, Jascha grumbles out loud, I can see why Reilly struggles with all the attention that prick gets. He’s such an ass!

Aw, Jascha, don’t let his comments bug you. Luc tosses a sunflower seed into his mouth as he offers Jascha the pack. He’s just trying to make up for having a small penis.

Jascha takes the seeds and laughs in spite of his anger. You think so?

No, but it keeps me from obsessing about what a jerk the guy is, Luc rationalizes.

Good point, Jascha agrees. Where you headed for lunch?

Luc’s eyebrows flex upward. A little afternoon delight with Miss Tatiana!

Oh? Seeing the same girl twice? What’s the occasion?

Have you seen her? Luc asks in all seriousness as he continues down the hallway toward his dressing room.

Jascha chuckles to himself as he enters his room and waits patiently for his make-up lady to clean him up. She will no doubt fawn over his hard, chiseled features and porcelain skin. She’ll ask for the hundredth time how he manages to keep it so soft, with not so much as a single bad pore on his face. Jascha will offer her a shy smile and shrug.

While Reed Baker serves as the main draw for the show, the other male actors are no slouches. Jascha’s frame stands at least six feet tall with long, sinewy legs, muscular arms and taut abs. He keeps his dark hair cropped close to his head. His constant five o’clock shadow outlines his square jaw line perfectly while his full, round lips always bring the ladies to their knees. Of course, if a girl could get past Jascha’s smile, she would surely melt into his eyes. The dark irises defy logic as they change from shades of indigo, violet and charcoal depending on his mood.

Luc Darling, the self proclaimed womanizer of the cast, is in every physical way the exact opposite of his cast mate and best friend, Jascha. Standing barely five feet seven inches tall, Luc is the poster child for big things coming in small packages. He is a spritely, optimistic ball of energy whose personality lights up any room he enters. Whenever he leaves somewhere, people are rumored as saying it seems the lights actually dim. His soft yellow locks hang low toward his eyes and around the nape of his neck. His skin, tanned golden brown, shimmers in the sun. His perfect white teeth shine brightly whenever his infectious smile plays at his lips, which is often. His deep brown eyes are warm and inviting. If a woman doesn’t find Luc Darling attractive, she is either gay or dead.

Reilly Mathers, the Irish import that plays the werewolf Patrick in the cast, gives new meaning to the phrase strong silent type. Reilly’s vivid eyes border on Kelly green in their intensity. They peer out between long, thick black lashes that frame them end to end. His tan face bears strong features, although not as perfectly symmetrical as Jascha’s. Reilly’s nose curves to one side from repeated fractures. His crooked smile gives his face a slightly skewed look the other way. Reilly’s body is a tightly packed entity that could strike at any minute. His fluid movements convince opponents in his many bar fights that he is simply one long flexible muscle.

As the only female in the cast, Mercy has her work cut out for her. Three of them flirt with her, although she takes none of it seriously. She knows Luc can’t help it, and Jascha is her friend and nothing more. Reed merely entertains himself when he gets bored on set. It’s the one that doesn’t flirt with her that bothers Mercy the most. She knows she’s attractive in her own right, but she turns into a blithering idiot in his company. Reilly Mathers gives Mercy Emerson fits.

It pisses her off and turns her on simultaneously.

What Mercy can never figure out is why he won’t hit on her. She knows Reilly likes her as a person. She’s attractive, or at least as attractive as any of the women he has dated since she met him. With her long, dark hair that hangs down her back in soft waves she knows she is his type. She has supple olive skin with the full perky lips of a cupid doll. Mercy’s eyes serve as her best feature, with one a rich chocolate brown and the other as clear as a blue sky in spring time. According to Luc, whom she’s questioned time and again, her body is delicious; his words, not hers. At five feet four inches, she stands a good foot shorter than Reilly. Her body is lean and taut without resembling a ten year old boy. She has full breasts and a firm, round butt. What more did that stubborn Irish lug want in a woman?

These were the thoughts that rumbled around her pretty head as Mercy made her way on set that afternoon. They were, in truth, the thoughts that often plagued her head when she was faced with the opportunity of spending an afternoon opposite Reilly. The storylines that were written had her character, Annia the witch, living across the hall from three of the male leads: Axel, the vampire and her love interest, Chance the lone human, and Patrick, the werewolf. Aloysius, the friendly neighborhood daemon, was her step brother and roommate.

In today’s scene, Patrick would confess his feelings for Annia. Mercy winced as she read the script in her dressing room. In less than a half hour, Mercy would be standing opposite Reilly listening to him say the words to her character that she had longed to hear him say to her. It was enough to break her heart. She decided to stop by Jascha’s dressing room for a quick pep talk to get her through it. He was her rock; her rational thought brought to life that kept her emotions in check.

Knock, knock, Mercy pushed the door open to pop her head inside. Can I come in?

Jascha stood in front of the mirror putting the last touches on his outfit for his next scene. He would be filming in the coffee shop dressed in his usual style of black jeans, black t-shirt and black boots. The writers were painfully obvious in some of their references to the stereotypes of the supernatural beings they wrote for. Jascha smiled as Mercy stepped inside, Hey, good looking. What’s up?

Mercy smiled, Um, just needed some company.

Oh, Jascha replied knowing what was on Mercy’s mind. It’s that day, huh?

Mercy slumped into his chair. Yes! What am I going to do?

You know, I may be overstepping my boundaries here, but have you ever thought, just once, that maybe you should tell Reilly how you feel?

What? Mercy flew out of the chair to face off with Jascha. You’re not serious?

Mercy, you don’t know how he’ll react. He might be waiting for you to make the first move. Jascha held up his hands in surrender anticipating her reaction.

Mercy steamed her fists balled at her sides in frustration. Oh! You always put it on me!

And you always act like he should be able to read your mind. You’re the one that wants to take your relationship to the next level. You need to make the first move. Unless, of course, you’re chicken—

Mercy poked Jascha’s chest as she stood toe to toe with him. Jascha Blaze, you know that’s not it! I just don’t want to push him!

It’s been three years since he lost her, Mercy. He’s dated other women since that time, Jascha paused long enough for him to hold a finger to her lips when Mercy opened her mouth, and yes, I know they weren’t serious girlfriends, but still. He’s been through his rebounds. It’s your time.

With those words, Mercy’s eyes filled up with tears. She knew Jascha was right on both counts. Reilly was ready, and she was chicken. Damn.

Now can we please go film our scenes so we can get to dinner?

Okay, Mercy gave in. Jascha wiped a tear from her face then kissed her head. He loved her like a little sister, but she was an emotional roller coaster on her best day. Jascha led her back to the set where Reilly was sitting lazily on the couch in their fake living room. He looked up when they entered, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

Reilly, Jascha greeted him as Mercy lingered behind him still a ball of nerves.

Hey Jascha, how’s tricks? Reilly’s smile grew wider.

You’re chipper today, Jascha noted the odd mood for his typically sullen friend. What gives?

I met someone, Reilly confided, blushing like a school boy. He was a brute, but he was shy around women. Hey, Mercy.

Hi, she murmured. Upon hearing Reilly’s news, Mercy scooted away to lick her wounds privately until the director called action. Now she had to hear Reilly’s character confess his love to