Free Orlando (Blackmail #1) by Crystal Spears Page B

to let her know it’s time to work.
    “Quiet on the set,” she yells, and the actors bustle into their spots. I know this script by heart. It’s my job to memorize it and do the writers justice.
    When Friday is situated at the bar on set, she winks at me.
    “Scene nineteen, take one,” Tia barks while snapping the clapperboard.
    Scene 19
    Scene location: Hotel Beach Bar
    ANN (CONT’D)
    (Scene Description: The wind whips across the bar, knocking over her drink.)
    So while I was back home, you decided you didn’t want to be with me after all? That I moved here for no reason! I packed up my entire life to be with you!
    (The wind picks up, whipping the picnic table umbrellas out of their sockets and Jude scurries to close them and to put them away as he struggles to answer Ann)
    Jude
    I was all set on being with you. In fact, I didn’t change my mind until after I slept with someone else. (Use aggravated tone) It reminded me I had options and that I’m not the type to settle down.
    (Ann begins to cry and Jude softens)
    Jude (CONT’D)
    Come here, baby.
    (Ann gets up, strolls towards Jude. Jude strips her of her clothing)
    Ann
    But I thought you said—
    (Jude hushes her with a kiss, lays her down on one of the tables, grasps her thighs, his movements loving. The audience needs to be riveted, itching to be in the place of Ann. Jude enters her. His movements become rough. He treats her as if she is nothing but sex to him. His actions need to match his tone when the sex scene ends.)
    Mateo pushes Friday onto the table and grabs her thighs, forcing them apart. Ignoring the bottle of lube, a sneer covers his face as he forces his cock inside her dry pussy. Friday’s breath catches and her eyes water at the crude invasion. His groans fill the silence of the set as his hips piston in and out at a quick pace, and within moments, he pulls out, cums all over her stomach, and turns away from her.
    Jude
    (Said in a thick Spanish accent)
    That was great Ann, but I still can’t be tied down. Go back home to Texas. The first two trips were fantastic, yeah, but it is over. Go home, Ann. Just go home.
    (Ann begins to cry as she dresses. She sobs as she flees down the beach back. Slips and falls in the sand multiple times as sobs rack her body. Tears stream down her face blocking her vision)
    DISSOLVE TO:
    The waves crashing onto the shore after Ann enters bungalow.
    “Cut,” I yell as my stomach ties deep into knots and I fight to remain in control. I realize Friday’s name overshadowed the script and was the actual draw that got me here. This script sucks. The thought of her blinded me to the shit storm I’m directing. “Get me the damn writers!”
    I hate the way this script portrays the character Ann as a pathetic thirty-year-old woman hung up on a bartender at a beach resort. It’s typical, not original, at all. It took everything in me not to yell cut when Mateo slammed into her. I watched and waited for him to make a mistake, but it never happened. I heard rumors that Friday was skillful, but I never expected this. She executed her role to perfection. No cosmetic tears were needed. Hers were real.
    My eyes follow Friday as she takes her phone from her assistant and checks her messages. Fuck did it suck watching her fuck someone else. Jesus all mighty.
    “Kaciara,” I holler over the crew bustling around, moving the equipment to the next location. “Go take a shower.”
    I don’t mean to sound like a horrid asshole when I say it, but it comes out that way. Her eyes narrow at me before she turns and heads off the set. One great thing about working on the beach is our cottages are a mile away.
    “And someone get me Mateo’s fucking acting coach!”
    Yeah, so maybe my jealousy is showing, but I don’t give a fuck. No one here knows of Friday’s long history with me. When Mateo’s acting coach saunters up to me with a conceited look that pisses me off even more, I lay into him.
    “Give your actor some goddamn lessons