grabbed before I came here today. “I’m all set, actually.”
“Oh, okay. No problem.”
He starts to walk away, but stops, turns, and faces me again.
“What about a donut or a bagel from the craft services table? I’d be more than happy to get something for you.”
Jesus. This guy. I feel like if I don’t let him get me something, he’s going to follow me into the bathroom and try to hold my dick while I take a piss just to make himself feel useful.
“Sure. That’d be great.”
His smile beams. “What would you like?”
“Anything you think looks good.” Anything to get you to stop coming back over here.
“I’ll get you a few things, then,” he says and turns on his heel with a skip in his step.
Unfortunately for me, Mr. Helpful is back in two minutes flat with not one but two platefuls of breakfast foods in his hands. A bagel, a donut, a yogurt, banana, apple, granola bar, and several other odds and ends.
“Here you go, Luca,” he says and sets the craft services table smorgasbord in front of me. “I got you a little bit of everything.”
A little bit of everything? Ha. It looks like he hit up a complimentary Holiday Inn breakfast buffet. Any moment, I fear he’ll pull a waffle iron out of his back pocket and start pouring fucking batter into it.
“This is great. Thanks…uh…” I pause and stare down at the absurdity of this being delivered for a man who already said he ate breakfast. “What did you say your name was again?”
“I don’t think I did,” he says and chuckles. “I’m Charles, one of Serena’s production assistants.”
“Thank you, Charles. I think I’m all set for today.”
“It is my pleasure, and do not hesitate to let me know if there is anything else I can get for you.”
My brain catches up with his words—one of Serena’s production assistants.
“Actually, Charles, I do have one more request.”
“Of course.”
“Billie Harris’s phone number.”
He tilts his head to the side and narrows his eyes. “You don’t have Billie’s number? That’s strange.”
He’s skeptical.
And then it hits me.
This is the Charles. The one Billie calls the ass-kisser.
Her competition.
“I thought you and Billie were close friends,” he adds and searches my eyes for some kind of answer.
“We are,” I say sternly, leaving no room for argument or doubt. “But I had to change phones. Can you give me the number, or should I ask someone else who can actually be of help?”
“Oh.” His face falls, and I have to bite my lip. I haven’t gotten this big of a kick out of being an asshole since Billie first showed up on my deck. Now, I’m only enjoying it because it feels like I’m doing it on her behalf. “Yeah, I guess I can give her number to you.”
His earlier enthusiasm that spurred enough breakfast foods to feed the whole damn cast is long gone, but lucky for me, he slides his phone out of his pocket and proceeds to give me her number.
It’s ironic that I don’t have the phone number of the girl I’m trying to win back, but everything about Billie and me is irony at its finest.
The way we met.
The way I started out hating her, but now, not a day goes by where I don’t wake up with her on my mind.
Everything about us is a crazy contrast.
With Billie’s number programmed into my phone and Charles long gone, more of the cast and crew arrive.
Serena Koontz, our producer.
Mei Chen, our director.
Lucy Larson and the rest of my fellow actors.
And…Billie.
Beautiful, breathtaking, already glaring at me, Billie.
“Good morning,” Mei addresses everyone at the table. “I think it’s a wonderful day to finish our read-through of the script.”
Serena grins. “I second that sentiment.”
The two of them discuss a few changes in the opening scene, and I don’t hesitate to pull my phone back out of my pocket and type out a text message.
The instant I hit send, I smile to myself, already anticipating her response.
Me: Good morning, princess. I’m sure you won’t mind that I managed to get your number from your buddy Charles so that it will be easier to contact you. Only business stuff, obviously. And, I hope you slept well last night.
She stands beside a few of the camera guys, discussing something quietly, and I watch in fascination as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and reads my message.
Instantly, her face morphs into annoyance.
Billie: I do mind, actually. And I hope you didn’t get any sleep at all.
Goddamn.