Page 4 of Acting For Daddy
“Well, not quite.” My lips stretch into a smile I haven’t felt in ages. “It’s a role in a music video for a famous singer.”
“Who is it?”
“I don’t know yet,” I whisper, realizing that I was too excited to ask for more details. “My agent said he’s popular, so I’ll let you know how it goes. I need to go ask for the afternoon off.”
Sheila grabs my arm before I can leave, her perfectly trimmed brow arching. “Do you really think that geezer is going to give you an afternoon off? You know he hates you, right?”
My mouth falls open. “H-he hates me?” I mean, I know he has a scowl every time he sees me, but I thought that was just his face.
Sheila rolls her eyes at my words. “Yes, you naïve little girl. He hates you because you outright reject him when he tries to get into your skirt. Remember how you threatened to report him when he tried to touch you. He has been looking for an excuse to fire you.”
I blink at my best friend. “But you don’t sleep with him either.”
“I don’t need to. All I have to do is flutter my baby blues eyes at him, show him a little cleavage and he leaves me alone. You on the other hand…” her voice trails over and she shakes her head at me in amusement. “Anyway, don’t talk to him. Just sneak out the back and I’ll cover your shift. If he asks about you, I’ll just flutter my eyes at him and pop a button or two and he’ll lose his train of thought.”
“That’s all it takes?” I ask, a little apprehensive.
She smiles, “Men are simple creatures, Mina. Just a smile to soothe their egos will have them eating out of your hand.” She smiles at me, her beautiful blue eyes bright with mirth. “You owe me for this, when you become famous, you better invest in the cocktail bar I am planning to open when I’ve saved enough. Now leave before the old geezer comes over here and makes it hard for you to do so.”
“Are you sure?”
“Do you want me to change my mind?”
I smile, blowing my best friend a kiss before sneaking out to the backroom. I strip off my apron and grab my coat before rushing out through the back entrance that opens up to an alley. I consider making a quick trip to my apartment for a change of clothes when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s a text from my agent with the address which just happens to be on the opposite side of the city from where I live. Shit, it’s already a quarter to one which leaves me a little over one hour to make it to the studio but with the LA traffic, I would be cutting it too close.
I take in my short-pleated skirt that brushes the spot above my knees and my light lace trim Cami top that is definitely not appropriate attire when you’re trying to make a strong first impression, but I don’t exactly have a choice. Dressing in sexy attire and feeding into the creeps’ fantasies earns you all the wrong attention but great tips. I slide on my coat and tug it over my front, mourning the fact that it doesn’t have buttons.
I don’t have time to go home and change. This will have to do. With that thought, I speed walk away from the bar, hailing a taxi the second I spot one. I read out the address my agent sent me to the driver and then we’re off.
The drive to the studio takes as long as I imagined it would and by the time I make it to the gates, it’s almost two. My fingers are trembling as I take out my driver’s license and they check the approved guest list for my name.
What if Belinda got it wrong?
Maybe the studio didn’t actually mean me. Surely a famous singer wouldn’t seek out some unknown actress, right? This has got to be a dream.
And yet, the dream continues when the security guard hands me a guest pass before letting me in. The studio complex sprawls out in front of me, a maze of buildings and signs. I stand rooted to the ground, awed by the magnificence of this place, and for a moment, I forget that I need to move.
I have seen this very studio a hundred times from a distance but never imagined I would be allowed in.
I’m here.
Deep breaths, Mina. Take slow, deep breaths.
Once my heart stops pounding in my ears; I ask someone wearing a production assistant badge for directions. I tell him where I need to go, and the man studies me for a second before he chuckles.
“So, you are the chick they picked for Alex’s music video, huh?” he says, but his tone is not the reason I freeze. I barely pay attention to the way his eyes run over my outfit.
“Alex?” My head spins at the name but I shake my head, a little unsettled by the coincidence. This is Hollywood with a million celebrities with that very name, but it always takes me a minute to come to terms with that fact whenever someone says his name.
Shit, I need to get over myself. Not every Alex is… him.
“They didn’t tell you, did they?” the man says, his eyes bright with a mischievous glint as if withholding a secret he can’t wait to spill. “You are going to lose your mind when you meet Alex Adams.”
I gasp, slapping my hand on my mouth and the man laughs at my reaction except well… I am shocked for an entirely different reason.
Oh, I’m surprised all right.
Not every Alex is my Alex, but this one just happens to be.