Page 4 of Keep It

“You didn’t tell me it was for Gwendoline Marcs, I didn’t even double check it!”

“I looked at it before I sent it. Relax.”

I place my hands over my pounding heart. “You did not do this for me.”

“Of course I did this for you, have you met me? I’m amazing.”

I laugh, “You are. If you get this for me I will marry you so you can have your EU passport.”

“You were already going to do that, I was just waiting for the ring.”

I laugh but say quietly. “This is—this is a lot right now.”

I can feel Rosie smirking but don’t look at her, instead I put my wine glass down and cover my face with my hands.

“I don’t know if I can do it.”

Thwack.

“What was that for?” I raise my hands against another pillow onslaught.

“Of course you can do it, you muppet! You’re on the ball, you’re great with castandcrew andyou speak French. If you waste this opportunity because you’re scared I will never speak to you again.”

I groan. “But what about my job with Ste—”

Thwack.

“If you dare consider turning this down for that goddamn takeaway shop downstairs I will murder you in your sleep,” Rosie hisses between hits.

“Fine! Would you—ow—would you stop that? It’s just—whew, you know?” I breathe.

Rose exhales and loops her arm around my shoulders. “Okay, take a deep breath. I think this is your shot. You’ve got this Annie, I can feel it. This is gonna be it for you.”

I close my eyes and breathe in deeply. I can imagine myself on set with a headset and clipboard, shouting at people to get to where Gwendoline Marcs needs them to be. I’ll bring her coffee and she’ll say, ‘thanks Anya, good job’and then she’ll take me under her wing, mentor me until she eventually says in her Oscar’s acceptance speech “I wouldn’t be here today without the support of Anya Bonnet”.

“Yes. Okay, yes, you’re right. This is my shot.”

Chapter 2

DANNY

I knew it was going to be an interesting day when I was pulled into a glass conference room for a meeting with my father. I could hardly remember the last time I have spent time with my family without the polished glare of a conference table between us. Even meetings with my sister happen across a table, albeit at a restaurant over a bottle of wine.

Swinging in my office chair to look out the tall glass window, I watch the workers outside with my chin in my hand. The professionals heading out on their lunch breaks with their blue suits and lanyards swinging from their necks. I’ve never had a lanyard and wonder idly if I could use one, even if just for my house keys.

The door opens and my father walks in. Charles Covington is an imposing man, his deep set frown lines marring the face so similar to mine. Charles raises his eyebrows and drops a script on the table with a thud, the paper sliding across the glossy surface.

I cough a laugh, my hand covering my burgeoning grin. I learned a long time ago to find humor in everything my father did. Not only does it infuriate Charles Covington but it makes the tension that fills my body fizzle away a little. I reach forward and grab the script.

Resting my ankle on my knee and flicking through the pages, I wait for my father to break the silence. I will read this script cover to cover just to avoid speaking to the man.

“You leave for Paris next week.” The deep American voice drawls from the other side of the table. Charles has never lost his American twinge, even after all the years spent in London with my English-rose mother. I tried hard to cling to the home counties accent I developed at school, refusing to be associated any more with the man who raised me than I have to.

“No audition?” I ask mildly.

“Don’t be smart, Daniel,” Charles clutches the chair in front of him. I haven’t auditioned sinceBetter You Know.“It’s with Gwendoline Marcs and it’s a summer shoot. On location in Paris. You can’t fuck it up.”

I run my fingers through my hair, “Do I even get a say?”

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