I turned to leave, figuring Cletus would be near a fit if I didn’t return by the time he was finished with his screwdriver, but Dave stopped me with a hand on my arm. “Here, wait. Just watch. They’re about to call action.”
Not intending to, I waited, I watched, entranced.
The wind tossed her hair to one side and she laughed again. Someone was called to bring it under control. And then action was called and everyone grew real still.
She spoke first. I couldn’t hear her and that was frustrating. I loved her voice. Unlike actors on a stage, these folks were speaking softly. Of course, a giant microphone hung over their heads to catch all their words. Regardless, I could see well enough and what I saw was mesmerizing. She’d transformed, was an entirely different person, like she’d slipped on the skin of someone else.
I didn’t know what the scene was about, but it looked like some ladies were trying to teach Sienna’s character how to churn butter. Her movements were all wrong, making the usually benign up-down movement appear extremely, albeit accidentally, sexual. In fact, her movements were so ridiculously wrong—graphic in an awkward, accidental, unattractive way—they were hilarious. She was hilarious.
She looked like a damn fool. A clown. A genius.
I glanced at two production staffers and saw they’d both turned away from the set, hands over their mouths, shoulders shaking. A quick scan revealed they weren’t the only ones struggling not to laugh.
Someone called cut and a chorus of laughter broke out, but Sienna didn’t stop. She danced around the butter churner like it was a pole and she was the world’s worst, and most oblivious, stripper. I couldn’t help but laugh, unable to tear my eyes away.
“See? She’s unreal,” Dave said with a smile in his voice. After a tick, I felt his eyes on me, but I wasn’t ready to look away. The show she was putting on held all my attention. Despite a lingering bitterness of what might have been between us, I truly did wish her well. She deserved every good thing.
Dave eventually cleared his throat, drawing my ears—if not my eyes—to him. “It’s really interesting to me, that someone who is so talented, so gifted at acting doesn’t really like it all that much.”
That got my attention.
I frowned at Dave and his comment. “Sienna doesn’t like acting?”
“Yes. Well, no. I think she likes acting. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like being a celebrity.”
I thought on that, then asked, “Why does she do it? If she doesn’t like it?”
“At first, from what I can gather, it was an accident. She thought she was selling a script. Her agent and her sister talked her into starring in the movie. It wasn’t supposed to blow up like it did. And then she kept making movies. No one expected her to be as successful as she is. But there’s just something about her, you know?”
“Yeah. I know.” My eyes sought her out again. She’d ceased her pole dancing and was now talking to Tabitha, the film’s director. Her expression was patient and interested. My attention dropped to her lips. She was biting the bottom one.
“Did you know she doesn’t live in her own house? When she’s in L.A., she stays with her parents.”
“Why’s that?” I asked distractedly, biting my lip as I recalled what kissing her was like. It had been just the once, but I remembered every detail. Sweetness and sunshine.
“Her house, the one she owns, has been broken into several times.”
A shock of concern traveled down my spine and I demanded, “What? Was she at home?”
“No. She wasn’t at home. Even though she hasn’t said anything, I can tell she doesn’t feel safe there. Even with a full security team living with her.”
“Y’all always live with her? Even when she’s at home?”
He nodded. “She was trying to use this time in Tennessee to get a break. I know she’d like some privacy—even from us, and I get that—but her sister talked her into having us stay at the cabin. We try to stay out of her way, but she never complains.” He scratched the back of his neck. “The truth is, I feel sorry for her.”
“You feel sorry for Sienna?” I eyed him warily, getting the sense he was leading me down a brick road of his own design. Obviously this guy had an agenda, why else would he be sharing details about her personal life so freely?
“I do. She’s a good person, and people are always trying to use her for their own ends. She doesn’t really have an advocate, anyone she can trust.”
“What about her sister?” I asked before I could catch the question. It wasn’t really any of my business.