Page 25 of One Pucking Chance

ELEVEN

ANNALISE

Miranda finishes painting the white heart on my left cheek. “Done! You look perfect.”

I stare at our reflections in the mirror, each of us sporting a navy heart on one cheek and a white heart on the other. We’re decked out in our Crane hockey jerseys. Miranda picked one up for herself today, number sixteen. Apparently, it’s one of the new player’s numbers and had the most jerseys available. She felt bad that no one was buying his jersey, so she bought it. Plus, she states that sixteen is her favorite number, so it works out. In Miranda logic, that tracks.

The hat and sweatpants were a bit much, so I opted for jeans. The jerseys and painted faces will have to be festive enough.

“I’m worried,” I state.

Miranda, already knowing why, responds, “I’m sure he put you somewhere private. He wants you to enjoy the game, not be surrounded by people the entire time.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

It’s not often that I just go out without proper planning. I don’t even have security on set as I wasn’t planning on going anywhere besides here and the hotel. My least favorite part about being a celebrity is the complete lack of normalcy. I can’t just pop into a coffee shop without being surrounded and asked for photos and autographs. And not all fans are nice. I’ve been in some scary situations over the years. Just thinking about it has me questioning our evening plans.

Miranda takes my hand and squeezes it. “It will be fine, and if it’s not, we’ll leave immediately.”

“Okay.” I nod.

A knock on the door sounds. Before I can ask who it is, Simon barges into my trailer.

“Hey! You can’t just come in here uninvited,” I protest.

“Well, you ignored me all day unless we were in a scene, so what do you expect me to do? I have to talk to you.” He stands in front of the trailer door, blocking my exit.

“Too bad. I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Anna…” he pleads.

“What are you getting from this?” I snap, against my better judgment. “Surely not money. You have plenty. What is it?”

His stare flicks to the floor before returning to me. “Nothing.”

I shake my head. “I don’t buy it. Tell me. What is he giving you for making this happen?”

He swallows. “A leading role in the next Bobby Flair movie. Says he’s close with Bobby and can make it happen.”

“I knew it,” I say.

“Come on, Anna. Bobby is the best filmmaker in the business. He turns good actors into legends. This is my way in.”

“You’re going to have to find another way. I’m not doing this, Simon. There is nothing you can do or say to change my mind. Keep your shit together, and do the best job you can while finishing this movie, and I’ll put a word in with Bobby for you. It’s not a guarantee, but he might listen. He’s like an uncle to me. But I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend, and I’m not going to put up with any more of your crap on set. You have to do better.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“If it’s warranted. If you start to actually care about our work here, then yeah. I can’t recommend someone who gives ten percent, though. And believe me…Bobby Flair is as legit as they come. He loves his work. He’s not going to hire you regardless of anyone’s recommendation if he doesn’t think you’re worth it. He’ll take one look at your work on this film and move on. Trust me.”

“I can do better,” he says.

“Obviously,” I scoff. “You’re a good actor. I have no idea why you’re trying to ruin this project.”

He blows out a breath. “I’m sorry, Anna. You’ll see a whole new set of skills on set tomorrow.”

“Good. And block my father.”

“Done.”

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