like this..." Tom muttered under his breath.
Jake looked pained for a moment before smoothing out h is features and smiling again. “ Can we go through?"
Tom returned to his little guardhouse and the gate slid open. Jake pulled through.
"Oh god," I said, reality finally sinking in. "We're not at...we can't be at..."
Jake looked over at me. "Well, I've seen you at action at Luke's, I thought you should see me in action."
"Jake, the entire world sees you in action every Thursday night."
"This is completely different." He reached for his door handle. "Come on."
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door handle of my passenger door. It was so small that it just blended in with the rest of the door. This entire car baffled me. "Jake, what kind of car is this?"
"Its a DBS Volante." I stared at him blankly. "An Aston-Martin?" I continued my blank stare. "It’s an extremely expensive car and you should be stoked that you got to ride in it. Just come on, okay?" I continued to hesitate. "What else are you going to do? Sit in my car until I am done." I glared at him. "Yeah, that's what I thought." This time he got out of the car and started walking away, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. I sighed before getting out, shutting the passenger door extremely carefully and jogging slightly to catch up with him.
He led me to a huge building marked with an insignificant number four painted on the side. We walked past the building and up to a white and blue trailer. We climbed up the steps to a d oor that had Jake’s name written on it.
"Come on in," Jake said, pushing the door open. "Um, McKinley?"
I was stuck in place, staring at the door that was attached to the even larger trailer that was across from Jake's.
Jake looked back and laughed at me, taking me by the elbow. "You'll meet Cam later, I promise. Come on." He pulled me into his dressing room. There was a huge couch in the corner, an even bigger flat screen TV with what looked like a Wii and a PlayStation 3. There was also a round dining room table, a bookshelf crammed with books, Blu-rays and video games, a salon chair in front of a mirror and a table in front of that. There was also a woman there, probably in her mid-thirties, sitting in the salon chair, reading Entertainment Weekly .
"You are so late," she remarked, dryly, not looking up from her magazine.
"Yeah, I know," Jake answered, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside. "Go ahead and sit where ever you'd like."
The woman looked up from her magazine. "Who's the girl?"
"Is anyone here capable of addressing me directly?" I asked to no one in particular.
The woman stared at me and then smirked. "Andrea is not going to be happy."
Jake sighed before he answered. "McKinley, this is my insufferable stylist-slash-cousin, Wendy Martin. Wendy, this is McKinley Evans."
"Hi," I said.
"Hello," Wendy said, a smile still on her face. "Come on, let’s get your uniform on, and get you on set. Please tell me you read the script."
"Of course I did," Jake said, sounding insulted. "I'm interrogating someone over the disappearance of someone else. Its in the bag."
I rolled my eyes. "Is he always so damn cocky?"
Wendy laughed, applying powder to Jake's face. "Yes." Jake opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off. "You are. It must be all those girls following him like lost puppies." She looked at me, pointedly.
"Hey, don't look at me," I said, probably sounding grumpy. "He is the one who kidnapped me from work and brought me here."
Wendy raised her eyebrows but didn't comment. "Okay, Jake, you're done. Get out of here; they're filming scene six in ten minutes."
Jake hopped off the stool. "Come on, McKinley." I got off the couch and followed him out the door, down a couple hallways and onto the set.
"Whoa,” I said, stopping short. I had seen the set on TV a million times but to see it in person
Jake looked pained for a moment before smoothing out h is features and smiling again. “ Can we go through?"
Tom returned to his little guardhouse and the gate slid open. Jake pulled through.
"Oh god," I said, reality finally sinking in. "We're not at...we can't be at..."
Jake looked over at me. "Well, I've seen you at action at Luke's, I thought you should see me in action."
"Jake, the entire world sees you in action every Thursday night."
"This is completely different." He reached for his door handle. "Come on."
I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door handle of my passenger door. It was so small that it just blended in with the rest of the door. This entire car baffled me. "Jake, what kind of car is this?"
"Its a DBS Volante." I stared at him blankly. "An Aston-Martin?" I continued my blank stare. "It’s an extremely expensive car and you should be stoked that you got to ride in it. Just come on, okay?" I continued to hesitate. "What else are you going to do? Sit in my car until I am done." I glared at him. "Yeah, that's what I thought." This time he got out of the car and started walking away, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. I sighed before getting out, shutting the passenger door extremely carefully and jogging slightly to catch up with him.
He led me to a huge building marked with an insignificant number four painted on the side. We walked past the building and up to a white and blue trailer. We climbed up the steps to a d oor that had Jake’s name written on it.
"Come on in," Jake said, pushing the door open. "Um, McKinley?"
I was stuck in place, staring at the door that was attached to the even larger trailer that was across from Jake's.
Jake looked back and laughed at me, taking me by the elbow. "You'll meet Cam later, I promise. Come on." He pulled me into his dressing room. There was a huge couch in the corner, an even bigger flat screen TV with what looked like a Wii and a PlayStation 3. There was also a round dining room table, a bookshelf crammed with books, Blu-rays and video games, a salon chair in front of a mirror and a table in front of that. There was also a woman there, probably in her mid-thirties, sitting in the salon chair, reading Entertainment Weekly .
"You are so late," she remarked, dryly, not looking up from her magazine.
"Yeah, I know," Jake answered, taking off his jacket and tossing it aside. "Go ahead and sit where ever you'd like."
The woman looked up from her magazine. "Who's the girl?"
"Is anyone here capable of addressing me directly?" I asked to no one in particular.
The woman stared at me and then smirked. "Andrea is not going to be happy."
Jake sighed before he answered. "McKinley, this is my insufferable stylist-slash-cousin, Wendy Martin. Wendy, this is McKinley Evans."
"Hi," I said.
"Hello," Wendy said, a smile still on her face. "Come on, let’s get your uniform on, and get you on set. Please tell me you read the script."
"Of course I did," Jake said, sounding insulted. "I'm interrogating someone over the disappearance of someone else. Its in the bag."
I rolled my eyes. "Is he always so damn cocky?"
Wendy laughed, applying powder to Jake's face. "Yes." Jake opened his mouth to protest and she cut him off. "You are. It must be all those girls following him like lost puppies." She looked at me, pointedly.
"Hey, don't look at me," I said, probably sounding grumpy. "He is the one who kidnapped me from work and brought me here."
Wendy raised her eyebrows but didn't comment. "Okay, Jake, you're done. Get out of here; they're filming scene six in ten minutes."
Jake hopped off the stool. "Come on, McKinley." I got off the couch and followed him out the door, down a couple hallways and onto the set.
"Whoa,” I said, stopping short. I had seen the set on TV a million times but to see it in person
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