While he didn’t think his costar liked him much, Susan seemed to put it aside for the sake of the film. Ted liked him, and the director ran his set well. But Paul, the producer, hated him. Training went longer each day and stunts got tougher and more intricate. Sore and exhausted every morning, Ben got to the studio early, smiled at Grace, and ignored the disappointment when she stared at her shoes and scarpered. She sat as far from him as possible during read-throughs, focusing on her script and scribbling notes. At least he’d mended his relationship with the crew by hosting them at his condo once a week. Sitting on the beach with their toes in the sand, they drank beer, talked about their families, and swapped stories. One night, Gino and Max stayed until it was only the three of them. “Paul’s giving you a hard time, isn’t he?” Gino asked. Ben shifted in his chair and winced as pain shot from his knee to his hip.
