Heaven
The following day I walked into my trailer and found a massive bouquet of flowers. Lea peeked her head around it, a wide smile on her face and the purple streaks in her hair matching some of the blooms.
“There’s a note!” was all she said, grabbing it from the stems. “Who’s it from?”
I had a feeling I knew who and grimaced as I took the small envelope. Obviously, they were from the guys. Who else would send me flowers? But flowers? That was a bold, too-fast move, and it knocked me off kilter.
Lea watched me closely as I tugged the card out of the envelope, my cheeks reddening at the idea of her seeing me—this—private moment.
Heaven
Sorry for the mix up the other night. Only I could pick the two guys off limits in this city!
Forgive me,
RJ
“So?” she asked, a bubble of energy.
I passed her the card. “From RJ. Apologizing.”
Her jaw dropped. Look, we may work with famous people but we’re in the peripheral—not in the circle but holding the circle together with paint brushes and film and everything else that creates a TV show or movie.
“RJ Malone sent you flowers.”
“Apology flowers. He’s probably hoping to smooth things over since he’ll be back in my chair today.”
“I guess, but come on, you know it’s weird when the actors even notice.”
I shrugged and took the card and put it away—also moving the bouquet out of the way so I could get to my chair. “He’s young and he’s probably terrified the guys are going to kick his ass in a training session.”
“Guess that’s why you don’t set up people on a blind date without knowing all the details first.”
I started setting up my workspace. “Honestly, I should be thanking him. That mix-up got us talking for the first time in years.” I gave her a quick look. “I went to see their gym yesterday. It’s really impressive.”
“I snooped online and saw their client list. They’re doing something right,” she agreed. “How did it go? Talking to them again?”
I got out my palette and started mixing zombie paint. “It was weird. Stressful, but also kind of nice.”
“You plan on seeing them again?”
“We left it in the air.”
A bang on the door thankfully brought in our first zombies of the day, and there wasn’t time to talk about my love life or anything else on the set. Another reason why this was a good job. It kept me busy.
When I finally took a break and checked my phone I saw the text from Jackson.
J: Saturday 6:00 PM Parkside Tavern for H’s game?
I didn’t reply right away, diving back into my work. Eating lunch. Laughing with Lea. RJ came at the end of the day; I assured him I wasn’t mad. Something told me he didn’t come by to check on me, but on my assistant instead.
If Lea noticed, she wasn’t giving anything away.
When I got in my car and pulled out my phone again, that message waited for me, and also another one.
J: No pressure
It was a soccer game—for once not being played at the crack of dawn since it was in the States and not overseas. I stared at the phone, thinking about what going would do to our fragile co-existence. What saying no would mean. What doors and wounds and history this would rip open.