Page 13 of Keep It

“Well, yes usually,” Devon says. “But the boss decided Danny would need a personal. They were going to hire someone from their side, but Gwen put her foot down and fought for you.”

I feel dizzy,Gwendoline Marcs fought for me? But I’m a nobody. I find myself nodding.

“Is this making sense?” Devon asks before clicking her fingers. “Oh, and you speak French, yeah?”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I meanoui.”

Devon laughs, “Great, I think that’s just a precaution but we don’t have that many French speakers on set so it’s always a good weapon in the arsenal. Right, I need to get back in there but we are going to need Danny in makeup in —” she checks her watch “—twenty five minutes. His trailer is the last one on the left, can’t miss it. Let me know if you need anything.” Devon calls over her shoulder.

I feel like I’ve been caught in a whirlwind. Gwendoline Marcs had fought for me? Or, at least, my job. And I haven’t even considered seeing Danny again after the debacle from yesterday.

Not wanting to wait around like a spare part, I wander towards what I presume is the catering truck. I grab a cup and pour myself a coffee, praying I’m actually allowed to make it myself.

“Hi,” a voice sounds at my side causing me to jump and nearly spill my drink. A girl, at least a few years younger than me with a long blonde braid resting over her shoulder, smiles at me shyly. “I’m Jess, the base runner. Devon sent me over to say hi. So hi.” She chuckles nervously.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Anya.” I hold my hand out for her to shake. “Have you been on this for long?”

“A few days, we’re still setting things up so I’ve just been running around doing this and that. Mostly making sure we’ve got enough water, I never considered how many gallons of water would be needed to keep a set going, we’ve already gone through five bottles and we’ve only been here a few days. ”

I smile at her, unable to get a word in if I tried. I try to subtly return to making my drink, hoping I’m not coming off as rude.

“Sorry I’m rambling, I do that when I’m nervous,” she blurts, barely stopping for breath. “It’s my first time on a big set.”

I grin at her and lean forwards conspiratorially. “Me too.”

Her eyes bug, “Really? But you’re working so close with Danny Covington.”

“Don’t remind me,” I mutter, pouring an extra sugar into my coffee.

The radio at Jess’s hip bleeps, and she presses her hand to her ear. “I need to go, but it was nice to meet you.” She runs away.

I linger by the table guzzling my drink like it’s water. The caffeine buzzes through my veins and gives me the boost I need. Checking my watch I decide it’s finally time to get this over with.

Deciding to just rip the band-aid off and go for it, I head over to Danny’s trailer. From the outside it looks exactly like the production truck. Clinically white with tiny windows and a rattling metal staircase.

He won’t bring up yesterday, surely. He will be professional about this, just like I am about to be.

Clambering up the steps, I raise my fist and knock softly on the door. No answer. I try again more forcefully. I know he’s in there, I can just tell. Finally, after knocking so hard my knuckles ache, the door swings open, nearly pushing me off the step.

Danny Covington leans on the door, his soft lips pulled into a grimace and his blue eyes glaring.

“The louder you knock, the longer you wait,” he says, like a dickhead.

He slams the door in my face.

My jaw drops.He did not just say that?

I wasn’t totally sure on the etiquette of actor wrangling, but whatever rule book I could have been given is thrown out of the proverbial window as I grab the handle and swing the door open.

Inside, the soft leather accents and black cabinets made it look more like a tour bus than a trailer. Danny Covington is lounging elegantly across one couch, holding a tablet in his hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks sharply, sitting up.

“Look,” I say, my anger controlling my voice box. “We got off on the wrong foot yesterday.” I thrust my hand in his face. “I’m Anya and I’m just here to do my job.”

He ignores my outstretched arm. “A job you are already pretty terrible at from my position.”

I see red. “You’re the one who apparently can’t be trusted on set without adult supervision.”

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