The Fontaines of Hollywood series: The Thrill of Temptation

I hate summer.Don't get me wrong - I love sunshine. I love fireflies and clear, starry nights and drinking iced tea in the shade. I'm not usually a grouch, I swear. But people who believe that's what summer is - the iced tea and fireflies and all that - haven't experienced a real Atlanta summer. Or at least they haven't inherited the overactive sweat glands that I did. Thank you, Blankenship genes.You see, I'm what they call a "hot mess." And sadly, I don't mean that in the romanticized, glamorous way. I mean that in the haven't-had-a-real-job-or-real-boyfriend-in-more-than-a-year way. I literally spent most of yesterday lounging on my brother's couch in yoga pants and an old T-shirt with a popcorn butter stain on the chest, binge-watching a reality cooking competition while trying not to think about how important today's interview is.I adjust my blazer as I step out of the car, trying to ignore the suffocating humidity. Some days, it feels like someone has wrapped a warm, damp t

It's obvious, now. Anyone who's subject to the endless stream of celebrity news on social media or in line at the grocery store knows about the Fontaines. They're probably the most famous family in Hollywood, and every single one of them is involved in the movie industry somehow. Luca Fontaine is arguably the biggest star - and the only one who pursues acting full time - but all of his brothers are famous in their own ways. Dante, the oldest, is renowned as a screenwriter. Rafe has done everything from modeling to voiceover work to motocross racing. Orlando is the youngest - and arguably the one who's spent the least amount of time in the spotlight, which is why I didn't recognize him on sight - but most people still know his name. He's been focusing on directing, much like his father, the legendary Charles Fontaine.I blush as the hair and makeup team begins their work. When you've been unemployed for as long as I have, you somehow end up reading a lot of clickbait articles about fam

There's no time for any of this to sink in. One minute I'm buttoning up my shirt while Penny slaps some cranberry-red lipstick on me, and the next I'm being ushered unceremoniously back inside by Karen, my granny panties abandoned in the tent. I'm still sweating profusely, but the minute we step into the lobby, a cold blast of air conditioning slaps me in the face. Hopefully that will nip the problem in the bud for now.I glance around. Orlando is standing near the windows, talking to Omar Walson and a second man who's too handsome to be anything but another actor. Both Omar and his costar are wearing pristine, well-tailored suits, and both appear to be listening intently to their director. Orlando emanates a powerful energy that I can feel even from here, and even some members of the crew seem to be under his spell, trying to watch and listen to him instead of going about their work. I've only been here a moment and I can already see that Orlando has this entire production tied up in

I bite my lip, bracing myself for the worst. This might be even more embarrassing than the panty thing. Someone as intense and serious as Orlando probably doesn't take well to people drawing caricatures of him on his own set. I'm probably about to get fired in front of the entire crew. Over stupid doodles!Instead, he tilts his head back and laughs.I glance toward Ford. He looks just as startled and confused as I feel."You have some talent, Maggie," Orlando says finally, still smiling. "You're an artist, then?""I...just doodle," I tell him. "For fun. I know it's inappropriate, but - ""Inappropriate? A few sketches?" His eyes gleam as he studies my work. "I'd have probably made Omar twice as tall, though. And Ford's teeth twice as big."Ford visibly bristles, but he says nothing.Orlando finally shifts his gaze away from the screen and back to me. "And is that really what you think of me?"Honestly, I'm not sure what part of the drawing he's talking about. The hair? The lase

Karen steps in front of me, effectively blocking Orlando from my view. Within seconds, the medics descend on me, and I find myself poked and prodded all over. They don't seem to believe me at first that I didn't hit my head, but at least they don't insist on sending me to the hospital. Eventually, they admit that I've suffered nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.The moment they're done, Karen grabs me by the arm and guides me around the side of the building to the makeup tent. I twist around, trying to catch another glimpse of Orlando - that woodsy, manly scent of his still lingers in my nostrils - but I don't see him.Why did I call myself Panty Girl? I lament as I'm dragged along. God, I hope that doesn't stick. If I was going to give myself a nickname, why didn't I pick something sexy? Or at least something that didn't sound like a kindergarten insult?But he laughed, another part of my mind points out. And Ford says he never laughs. Surely that's a good thing?Karen gi