“Can I help you?” a man with a posh British accent called out.

John didn’t find any empty bottles or suspicious white powder. He didn’t find any of the things he’d expected. Instead, John found a man with a neatly trimmed gray-and-white beard, clear blue eyes, and a face showing no signs of dissipation. The older actor sat on a yoga mat, wearing a T-shirt and sweats. Soft music was playing, and a single candle was burning. John’s shoulders relaxed.

“My reputation precedes me.” Reed frowned, standing up.

“This is not what I expected,” John admitted.

“Reed Rutherford.” He held out his hand for John to shake.

“John Mills.”

Reed ran a hand through his hair. “I’ve been working on a few things. Are you an actor?”

John counted to three. “I’m the new assistant director.”

Reed considered him. “How much experience do you have?”

John didn’t need to recite his resume to every person on set who made assumptions about him. “I’ll be fine.”

“We have four weeks to shoot an almost entirely new movie,” Reed said. “And a cast and crew who are completely demoralized by the two weeks they’ve already spent here.”

John was tired of people telling him how to do his job. “I’ve AD’d difficult shoots before.”

“The new director is having a read-through.” John studied the interior of the trailer. The coffee maker, a couple of self-help books, a collection of reusable water bottles, and exercise equipment surprised him—the environment was shockingly peaceful.

“Of course. She always does that.”

Coffee maker. Sweet Jesus. It was making pleasant gurgling sounds. “Is that actual coffee?”

“Help yourself,” the actor said.

John poured a cup. He leaned against the narrow counter of the kitchenette, enjoying a moment of silence.

The other man took a deep breath. “I guess we should go.”

“Do you want to change?” A sweaty T-shirt was probably not the best choice if Reed wanted to make a good impression.

“Oh my, of course. I shouldn’t wear yoga pants.” Reed looked down at his clothes. “You don’t need to babysit me.”

“No offense, but I do. There’s a knockout redhead who’s tasked me with getting you to the read-through. I don’t want to upset her.”

“Jenny’s here?” Reed glanced about the trailer as if Jenny Hayes might appear in front of them.

“She’s probably getting ready for the read-through, but she’s committed to getting you to the set.”

“That isn’t her job,” he muttered under his breath. The actor talked to himself as he changed one shirt for another behind the closed door of his room. Reed must have been on a million sets like this. Why his clothes required so much attention, John had no idea.

Reed walked into the small sitting area. After all the man’s waffling, John had expected something more than dark jeans and a Henley.