The Last Blues We're Ever Gonna Have

Chapter 3

"Penelope, you can't do this, we're a team! We work together!" Clint growled taking a step forward and purposely invading her space. It worked and he watched some of the determination on her face falter.
"I wasn't doing anything dangerous!" Penelope insisted, refusing to admit any wrongdoing. "I just figured if I peeked into Nikolaev's financial dealings-I mean, he's practically funding this Judge's retirement fund!"
"That's not the case we're working on," Clint deflected.
"No, it's not the case you're working on," she argued, beginning to pace back and forth in the small office, her long blond hair-free of its usual braid-swinging around her heart shaped face. Her tired verdant eyes were looking everywhere but at him. She hadn't been sleeping, he could tell, her movements slightly dragging. Her clothes were disheveled, signature button up blouse wrinkled and unbuttoned to reveal the black satin camisole she wore underneath, and the fingernails on the hand that raked the hair away from her face were chewed down nearly to the quick.
"The man murdered my father, Clint. Right in front of me! I saw his face! Every time I close my eyes," Penelope stilled, closing her eyes and shuddering. When she opened her eyes once more, tears fell onto her pale cheeks. She brushed her blonde hair back from her face again with shaky hands. "I see it every time I close my eyes, Clint. Every. Time. I see the blood. I hear the shot. I see my dad...die." She turned to look at him, desperate for him to understand. "I can't just let that go." Clint stared at her, frozen, watching her fall apart in front of him.
"Jem, that's your line!" Jem blinked in surprise.
"Huh?" He grunted, looking over at Vaughn, feeling like cold water had been splashed on him, waking him suddenly from a dream.
"Your line is 'You don't have to. But you need the team and the right timing to go after Nikolaev'," Vaughn reminded him, obviously trying to hide a smirk. Jem felt his cheek twinge and he ground his teeth and refused to look back at Luxe until he'd gotten his emotions in check. He drew in a deep breath to calm himself down.
Forgetting a line was one thing, but letting himself get so caught up in watching his cast mate, that cast mate in particular, was more than a little annoying. And it wasn't an uncommon occurrence, certainly not just for Jem, but for their co-stars as well. Luxe had a way of actually drawing those who watched her into the scene, sinking into her emotions and drawing them under her words...a little like drowning. He hated it. Hated her for doing it, for being so goddamn good.
"Go back a couple lines," he barked at Luxe, taking more deep breaths to get himself back into the right frame of mind. "I'm ready." She nodded and picked the scene back up where he'd requested.
                                       ***
"I'm just glad you fucked up first, because I totally forgot to listen for my cue for opening the door," Beck sighed, exhaling a plume of smoke in the heavy June heat of the evening. Jem said nothing, leaning over, elbows propped on the railing as he stared down at the busy lot below. He raised his left hand, bringing his cigarette to his mouth, taking a pull of breath. "Yo, Jem. James, helloooo!" Jem finally turned his attention to his best friend. "Stop over thinking it."
" 'm not," he muttered. "Just pisses me off that that bitch is so fucking good."
"She is pretty good, huh," Beck grunted. And she was good. Luxe was one of those actors who had a natural talent. No, she wasn't one of those cookie cutter actresses, with legs for miles and curves like mountain roads, who's looks alone made you stare, but when she was in a scene she had this presence that commanded that you watch her, that you absolutely believe every single word she was saying. She never once spoke a line like she was merely reciting memorized words; you watched her and you fucking believed that everything she was saying, every emotion she was portraying was absolute truth. Like it was fucking effortless for her. It pissed Jem off.
"Jealous that she's gonna steal your spotlight?" Jem said nothing to Beck's barb, refusing to acknowledge the truth in his words. This business was cut throat, all it took was enough viewers to start saying they preferred one role over another for the writers to start cutting screen time from other roles and give it to the 'fan favorite'. It could even spell the end of an actor's job. But that wasn't why he disliked Luxe. There was something about her, something in the way she held herself, something in the way she wouldn't hold eye contact, that grated against his nerves. For all her witty remarks and smart mouth, there was something in her that made Jem feel like she was never not putting on some kind of act. He turned his head to the side, glancing at Beck as he stood leaning back against the railing Jem's elbows were propped on. Experience had taught him well that people who gave him the same feeling that Luxe did were not to be trusted.
    "Well, the good news is, it looks like they're steering her part into a romantic role. That shit always leads to being written off. We've already seen three roles go that way." Jem grunted in response to Beck's words. It was true. The fans always seemed to turn on any character to ended up being some kind of romantic foil. If it was true that the writers were wanting to spin the season that way-and it had begun to feel that way with more scenes just between Jem's character and Luxe, small touches, lingering stares, close proximity between them-Luxe would be gone soon.  The door behind Beck opened, a rush of cool air ruffling his hair.
"Guys, breaks over," Steve informed them. Beck nodded, flicking his cigarette over the railing to drop to the lot below. Jem took one last puff before dropping his to the ground and stepping on it. Together they walked back into the building, heading down the stairs back to the set.
"Gigi, you really didn't have to." Jem turned his head towards the grating sound of her voice. Off to the side of the set for Clint's office, Luxe stood with her tall PA. Luxe's back was to him, but he could hear her clear soprano just fine. The other woman was holding a cupcake with a lit candle stuck into the white frosting in her hand, smiling down at Luxe. Fucking sycophant, Jem thought with distain. That woman tailed Luxe around everywhere she went like some kind of pet. Jem couldn't understand exactly why, but it gave him the creeps.
"It's your birthday, Luxe," he heard her say gently and he rolled his eyes, forcing himself to redirect his attention.
"Think she's 18 yet?" Beck chuckled next to him. Jem looked at him, cocking an eyebrow. "What? She annoys the fuck out of me, but I've seen her ass in a pair of skinny jeans. I mean, damn. And I bet those little tits look pretty when they bounce."
"I bet she's the kind of girl who asks what you're thinking about right after fucking," Jem snickered, shoving the wondering thoughts of what Luxe's tits would look like out of his mind. He heard a chuckle and looked up to see Steve had been in ear shot. Steve played Roger, the 'demolitions specialist', in Clandestine, another guest star that had won viewers over and earned a permanent role. Bringing him on full-time, back at the end of the first season had nearly cost Beck his role.
It hadn't been entirely Steve's fault. Beck had been fucking around with one of the writers and when he ended things it hadn't been pretty, especially when she had started a nasty rumor that Beck was a sexual deviant who forced her to have sex with Jem while Beck watched. It had been a tense fucking season while Mark and the writers had argued back and forth about whether or not to write him off the show. But Beck hadn't forced her to do anything, she'd been a goddamn willing participant, and when Jem had gone to Mark-and then the producers-with text messages between himself and the writer in question talking about their sexual escapades and how much she had enjoyed it and wanted to do it again....well, she'd left at the end of the season and Beck stayed. And so did Steve.
"I think we know how badly shit can go when you fuck someone you work with," Jem muttered loudly enough for only Beck to hear. Beck's mouth twisted in annoyance.
"She's probably a virgin, anyway," he added. "Virgins ain't any fun." Jem rolled his eyes.
"Alright, we're starting at the top of this scene, I need the whole team for this one. Get to your places," Vaughn barked out. Steve meandered over to his mark near Wendy. Jem caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned his head to see Luxe walk onto the set, a small smile on her face. She tucked some hair behind her ear and she walked over to where he stood. Jem's eyes were drawn to her mouth.
"You...," Jem's voice caught in his throat as his eyes were transfixed at the white frosting smeared on her bottom lip. Goddamn, if the sight of it didn't shoot a bolt of heat straight to his dick and fill his mind with unbidden flashes of Luxe on her knees before him, those pink lips wrapped around his dick and groaning wantonly while his hands fisted her hair and his hips snapped forward to drive himself further down her throat...
"Yo, Barbie's little sister!" Beck snickered over Jem's shoulder. "Does your mom know you walk around with jizz on your mouth?" Jem watched as Luxe's face scrunched up in confusion. She raised her fingers to her mouth, making contact with the smear of frosting there. She drew her fingers away,  some of the sweet cream coming with them and when she saw it Jem watched her cheeks flame with embarrassment. Beck howled with laughter.
"Is it gone?" She asked quietly, staring hard at the floor. Jem grabbed her chin to lift her face and inspect her. Her green eyes never rose to meet his. Using his thumb he wiped the rest of the frosting off of her lip. She glanced up at him then, her cheeks blushing even harder, the redness spreading to the rest of her face and even her neck. He released her chin and stepped back from her. "Thanks," she mumbled, her hand coming up to wipe at her mouth.
"Try not to eat like a moron any more," Jem told her, turning and walking over to his first mark for the scene.