Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

Rocky going out on her balcony to get a little air and leaning over a little too far…

Obviously, my mind has absolutely no practical limitations when it comes to vivid, death-causing scenarios.

But I know better. I know that not only would none of those things be likely to happen at all, but when it comes to Rocky, the possibility is just about zero. She’s always surrounded by a group of people—fucking micromanaging, invasive people—who would never give her the space or time to let any of those visions even remotely take shape.

I’m just about to pull out my phone to get to the bottom of it when footsteps behind me grab my attention, and I glance over my shoulder to find Wilson walking down the hall, his head turned downward to focus on his tablet.

He notices me just after I notice him, and he frowns. “You forget something in there?”

That’s the weirdest fucking question. “No. I was supposed to meet up with Rocky here before they left for the set.”

Wilson scrolls around on his tablet frantically and then looks back up at me. “You must have gotten your wires crossed because they’re already there. Filming started an hour ago.”

“Really? She told me to meet her here now. Said filming wasn’t starting until later this morning.”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Maybe she didn’t want you around, you know? Extra nerves or something.”

Extra nerves? Because of me? What the hell?

“Maybe I’ll just call her and see if she wants me to come down there now.”

Wilson frowns. “Sorry, man, but I don’t think she’ll have her phone if she’s on set.”

Frustrated with his meddling, I take out my phone and start dialing anyway. “I’ll just check.”

It only takes two rings for her to answer, but when the voice comes on the line, unfortunately, it’s not her at all.

“Raquel Weaver’s phone,” Heidi answers. She doesn’t say it’s her, but I’d recognize her voice anywhere. She certainly uses it enough. Not to mention, it’s not like she doesn’t know I’m the one calling.

“Heidi, I need to talk to Rocky.”

“Sorry, but she’s on set right now. She can’t come to the phone.”

I groan, but I bite my tongue against a smart response. Like it or not, she is the only messenger available to the woman I care about more than anyone else in the world.

Love, my mind taunts. Love is the word you’re looking for.

Shh, I say back. Now is not the time for those kinds of revelations.

“All right, I understand. But can you just tell her to call me when she gets a minute?”

“Of course.”

“Thank you,” I say earnestly. For the first time in my life, I’m thankful for this woman. It’s for thin reasoning, but it’s true, nonetheless.

“Listen…I know you and I don’t see eye to eye. But I feel like you deserve to know this, so when you get your chance to put in the effort, you’ll know how hard to try.”

“Okay,” I say. “What is it?”

“Raquel is really upset. Honestly, I’ve never seen her like this. She told me that she’s not ready to talk to you yet. That’s why she didn’t call you to tell you about the change to the shoot schedule this morning. Just…make sure you keep that in mind. I don’t think it’s going to be as easy to win her over as a quick apology.”

I swallow hard, and she sighs heavily to fill the space so I don’t have to say anything back.

“I’ll give her the message and tell her to call.”

“Thanks.”

“Goodbye, Harrison.”

When I pull the phone away from my ear, Wilson takes one look at me, pats me on the shoulder, and says, “Nice knowing ya, man,” before heading back off down the hall and toward the elevators.

And I’m just left standing there, outside of Rocky’s apartment.

What the fuck just happened?

My stomach churns, completely unsettled and unsure of how quickly it all turned so fucking sour.

I guess I’m going to have to try to busy myself with work for the next several hours until she’s done on set and I can actually get the opportunity to talk through this mess with her, in person.

Yeah. Fuck. Unfortunately for me and my wounded heart, all I can do now is wait.

Raquel

I should be cool, calm, and collected, but instead, I have the hot-as-the-sun body temperature of a very pregnant woman, and I’m worried, frustrated, and concerned.

“Have you heard from Harrison yet?” I ask for what has to be the fiftieth time since we started shooting a few hours ago, and Heidi shakes her head.

“Sorry, sweetie. Nothing.”

My frustration comes out in a low growl as the director calls us back to our places. I settle into my spot on the bed, a huge fur comforter covering any and all evidence of my pregnancy other than my puffy face, and shiver as my costar, Colin Maclin, takes his spot behind me.