Page 4 of One Pucking Chance

“It wasn’t supposed to be that type of movie,” I protest through a smile. “It was supposed to be a serious, award-worthy film, and it turned into light porn.”

I’ll never forget the way I felt when those words came out of my father’s mouth. The disgust in his voice as he compared me to an adult film star hurt at a deep, soul-crushing level. I hadn’t protested when my director at the time came to me with adaptations to the original script I’d signed on for. He felt that the intimate relationship between the main characters had to be seen on film. Who was I to argue with a director’s vision? Plus, my father is Hollywood elite. He’s been an actor his whole life. He knows how these scenes work. Nothing about them is sexy or enjoyable. It’s a well-choreographed dance. An intimacy coordinator comes in and teaches us the moves, the body placements, and the angles. It’s all very clinical. In that way, it’s the furthest thing from porn. From what I can tell, at least some of those women actually enjoy themselves.

She throws her head back and laughs. “It was not light porn!”

“Well, it definitely didn’t rack up any awards.”

“So what?” she quips. “You are more than the awards you are or are not nominated for. Plus, that movie had a lot of reasons it wasn’t nominated for an Oscar, the least of which had to do with your flawlessly executed scene on the motorcycle.”

I hold her gaze in mine, willing her to understand. “But this one has to be good. It has to. You know how my parents are.”

Frowning, she rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I know how your parents are.”

“I just want to make them proud. This film has potential. It’s a great story based on a real woman. It’s the kind of movie that gets nominated for the Oscars—but not if that dumbass Simon doesn’t fall in line.” Sighing, I let my head fall back against the chair. “I just don’t want to be one of those nepo baby actors who never lives up to their parents’ legacy. I want to have earned my privilege in life. I want my films to mean something.”

“You have, and they do! You’re a great actress, Annalise. You’ve put in the work. You are beautiful, smart, and incredible at your craft.”

My eyes fill with unshed tears, and I hate that they do. It angers me that I’m not stronger. I loathe that I allow my father’s opinions to affect me the way they do. “I just want him to be proud.”

“He is proud… I’m sure, in his own way,” Miranda mutters, the last part said in a low whisper.

“No, he’s not,” I say on an exhale.

“Annalise, can I talk to you as a friend and not just your publicist?”

“Sure,” I say with a scoff, knowing this is going somewhere I’m not going to like.

“You’re a grown-ass adult who cares too much about what your parents think. You’re so preoccupied with it that it’s become an obsession for you. You’re not present in the moment, in your own life, and you have an incredible life. You get to travel all over the world and film amazing movies. Plus, you’re every guy’s wet dream.”

“Ew!” I grab a stack of Post-it Notes from the table and throw them at her. “That is not my biggest ambition in life!”

“You’re not going to be able to stick your daily affirmations to your mirror if you mess these up.” She holds up the stack of Post-it Notes, laughing. “And I know…it’s gross, but it’s true.” Her smile fades as her tone becomes serious. “Not only are you gorgeous but you’re kind, funny…cool even.”

I raise a brow because I’m far from cool. I’m uptight and pessimistic—hence my obsession with daily Post-it Note affirmations. I have to rewire my brain to think more positively.

Miranda continues, “You are. People love you. Life is good. Just be happy. Do your best because that’s all you can do. Then just be okay with it. When all is said and done, these will be some of the best years of your life, and you’re missing them, drowning under a cloud of worry.”

“If you were my father’s daughter, you would understand.” My lip trembles, and I pull in a deep breath through my nose, willing my tears to stay at bay. This whole downward spiral started with Simon, but I’ll be damned if I let him affect me so.

She shrugs. “Yeah, I know. I don’t get it, but I still think you have a pretty incredible life and are a remarkable person despite your parents. As someone who loves you, it makes me sad that it’s all passing you by, and you’re not enjoying it. You deserve to be happy.”

“I am happy,” I respond.

“I don’t think you are.”

I blow out a breath and clap my hands. “Well, I’m happy about the charity event today.” Standing, I tug at the hot suede skirt, pulling it down. “Raising funds and awareness for breast cancer brings me joy.”

“Yeah, I know,” she deadpans, “because it’s important to your mother.”

“And to me, Miranda. My mother beat cancer. That’s a big deal. Anyway…” I move the conversation away from my parents. “I feel like I really should complain about Simon. He crosses the line every day. He doesn’t follow the intimacy coordinator’s directions. He’s always adding things to the scenes, and they’re always inappropriate. I get that he’s just some drunk jackass. But unlike him, I take this job seriously.”

“No.” She shakes her head. Standing from the couch, she starts picking up my discarded clothes.

“Stop.” I chuckle. “That is not your job.”

“Taking care of you is my job.”

I stand before Miranda in my bra and underwear. At this point in our relationship, modesty has left the building. “Simon had his sweaty hands all over that skirt,” I tease.

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