Accidental Action Star (7 page)

My guy. That was a nice thought. “I don’t have a guy.”

“Please. You’re gorgeous. Which one do you want? I’ll tell you how to get him.”

Heat filled my face, and I didn’t answer her.

A tap sounded on the door, all the warning we got before Max returned. His eyes lit on my face, and his shoulders eased.

I put my fingers in the sides of my hair and twirled.

“Never mind.” Powder shouldered her bag. “Next time we work together, I’ll give you some other tips.”

Max narrowed his eyes. “Tips on what?”

“How to catch a guy without her princess hair. New hair means new guy. That’s the rule. And all women know it.”

The door closed behind her on my thanks. Thanks for the haircut and the advice.

Max turned to me. “What guy?”

“I don’t know.” Some of my inner strength returned with my new style. “A straight guy who wants to date a girl with a boy’s haircut.”

“You don’t have boy hair.”

I touched the length. “No?”

Max strode forward. He gently withdrew my hands and twined both his into my hair. “No.”

His body was close. Warm. Tall. I tilted my head back, ignoring the pull of the bandage for the pleasure of looking at him.

He stared into my eyes. His golden gaze flickered with an unreadable expression. “Monday, you start martial arts training with me.”

“I do?”

“Yeah.”

“For the film?”

Max shook his head. “No.”

I knew I should be thinking how martial arts would empower me, but all I could think was—maybe Max cared about me. At least a little. Yes. “Okay.”

***

The next morning, I wanted to wear anything but jeans and a
Scoop Out
T-shirt. However, those were still my reality. Just like black pants and a white shirt were my roommate Eva’s reality.

Eva paused in clipping her name tag on for work. “You cut off all your hair.” Surprise touched her usually calm voice.

I ran my hand through the wet ends. The lightness felt so foreign. “You won’t believe how it happened.”

Eva grabbed her purse. “I know how it happened. You said two inches. The hairdresser took off twelve. Been there. It’ll grow.” She smiled a kind smile and opened the door to leave for her shift. “You’d better hurry or you’ll be late. Bye.” The door clicked closed.

My new hair dried fast but it took longer to style. I sped up and got to the Art Department about five minutes late.

Archie looked up.

I headed off commentary on my hair by pointing a finger straight at him. “Don’t. Just don’t.”

“Okay. Whatev.” Archie turned back to his pile of work.

I walked over to Justin’s drafting table. “I finished the
Dragon Night
script and have some ideas.”

Justin nudged a pile by his keyboard. “Leave them there.”

While his reaction wasn’t immediate agreement and awe, it was better than outright rejection. Speaking of rejection, Justin had Lorene’s social media profile pulled up on his computer monitor. She wore a tight, yellow T-shirt with a cat on front, a cat drawing a bird.

He sighed. “If Lorene were mine, I’d take her to Cabo next weekend.”

I took control of the mouse and clicked on Lorene’s name. Her profile emerged. “Single.” I arched an eyebrow. “Make your move.”

Justin crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. One day.” He smiled at the picture. “I’d get her two new bikinis to wear just for me.”

“She can buy her own swimsuits.”

Archie came over to see what we were looking at. He sipped his coffee. The slurp made it clear he’d reached the bottom of his cup. He peered into the depths, and then at me, and then at the coffee pot. I didn’t bite. Give in once and you’re toting coffee all summer. “Guys always pay for it, one way or the other.”

Eh. I glared at him.

Archie shrugged. “Just saying.”

Justin flushed.

“Look,” Archie said. “Stars can’t dance with mortals anyway. One or the other would burn out.” That was cynical and poetic all at once.

Justin clicked on a lingerie website. “Not my Lorene.” He pulled up a screen featuring fancy black lace nighties. “Which do you think she’ll like best?”

“Jewelry, dude,” Archie said. “She’s an actress. She’ll want to shine like a spotlight.”

“Flowers, dude,” I said. “Look at your pixie cartoon project. We like flowers.” I forced his hand off the mouse and clicked on his minimized window, bringing up an image of pixies dancing with roses between their teeth. I highlighted the character’s smiling face. Cute. While I had it open, I clicked on a whimsical star and marked her eyes with it.

“You know the software?” Archie said.

“I took a few courses.”

Justin made a happy sound and shoved a pink binder at me. “You can make the adjustments outlined in here. They’re trying to add more drama to the pixie art. I’ll email you the files.”

Pleasure hit me. A real project. “Okay.”

“Hey,” Justin said. “You cut your hair.”

“Yeah.”

“Looks good.”

“Thanks.”

***

“Hannah! Hey.” Kursten caught me before I reached the Warehouse 47 guard post. She wore a wrap dress that looked like a karate Gi and black platform shoes. Candace stood beside her, holding a hatbox. Candace wore an emerald and green tartan mini dress with matching shoes.

“Cute shoes.” The compliment went for both of them.

“Thanks.” Candace giggled and pressed the box into my hands. “Here. It’s for Garrett.”

I tried to give it back. “I don’t work with Garrett.”

Candace retreated with her hands behind her back. “You have to give it to him.”

“He’s in there.” Kursten pitched her voice high and her braces flashed. “With Max.”

“Probably.” I looked to the guard for a save. I didn’t want to run fan girl errands. I wanted my co-workers to see me as a professional, an artist, not an assistant. I arched my eyebrows at him. “No unauthorized deliveries, right?”

The guard’s expression soured. “Did you bring me anything from
Scoop Out
?”

That took us to a standoff. We both knew I hadn’t brought him anything from
Scoop Out.
“Not today, no.”

The guard lifted a crumpled brown paper bag and withdrew a plastic-wrapped gas station sandwich. “No matter. I brought my lunch.” He smiled slowly and looked at the hatbox. “I already cleared that delivery. Take it on in.”

“Yes!” Candace squealed and high-fived Kursten.

“Thanks, Hannah,” Kursten said. “Love your haircut.”

“Me too,” Candace said. “Thanks, Hannah. See you later.”

I breathed out and elbowed through the door. “Later.”  I hoped they hadn’t sent over anything embarrassing—like unmentionables or love letters or unmentionable love letters. The box was light, but awkwardly shaped. I used two hands and took it over to Garrett.

Garrett lay sprawled across one of the set couches with Max in the nearby armchair. The furniture was ornate and fragile, the complete opposite of the two buff, modern guys. I wanted to paint them. Especially Max. His dark hair, against the armchair’s red velvet fabric. Stunning.

I placed the box on the coffee table. “Special delivery for Mr. Campbell.”

Garrett sat up, his eyes bright, his smile wide. “Is it from Marissa? Is it lunch?”

“Nope. Courtesy of two rabid fans outside.”

Garrett took the lid off. “Jesus.” He blinked.

Max rubbed his earlobe. “What is it?”

It had fluffy, tiger-striped fur, huge round eyes, a round face, and ears that folded over. And, it was alive.

My insides melted. “I think it’s a kitten.” My voice squeaked.

“It’s weird.” Max reached in and lifted it onto his palm. I hurried to his side so I could pet it.

“It’s not weird, it’s a Scottish Fold.” Garrett lifted a card from the box. “Dearest Garrett. Kickers is a Scottish Fold kitten.” Garrett nodded to acknowledge his own accuracy. “He’s six weeks old, and he’s for you. We named him Kickers after your new movie.” Garrett frowned and shook his head. “Marissa won’t let me bring that home.” He arched his eyebrows at me.

The kitty was soft under my fingertips, and I pursed my lips. “I live in a dorm.”

“I’ll take it,” Max said.

We stared at him.

A flush of color darkened his high cheekbones. “Not for me. Dad’s been talking about getting Aidan a pet.”

“Who’s Aidan?”

“My younger brother.”

This was a whole lot of personal for Max. I had it in my mind that he was an only child like me.

Max got out his phone and called his dad. His dad and his brother arrived not two hours later.

Max went straight over to them. He greeted his dad, who looked like an older version of him. His brother was the surprise. Aidan was about six years old, and he smiled at Max like Max was his hero.

Max lifted Aidan into his arms, and they walked toward me with their dad. Aidan held a small dinosaur in his hand, and Max admired it as they reached me.

I sat on the mat with the kitten. When Aidan caught sight of Kickers, his eyes lit. They were green-gold and large. He shoved his toy in his pocket and patted Max’s arm to get down. It was the softest I’d ever seen Max’s face.

“Oh,” Aidan said.

His dad grinned.

“Be gentle.” I lifted up the kitten I’d started to covet and placed it in his hands. At his expression, I was okay with letting my cat go. This pet would be loved.

The next day, my call sheet set me up to train with an acting coach, which was a bit of a relief because I’d winged the scene last time. Afterwards, I stopped by the makeup area to check in with Powder. “Thanks again for helping me with my hair.”

Powder, who’d been sorting brushes by size, checked out my hair and nodded, her mouth pulled in with satisfaction. “Looks good.”

“Thanks to you.” Over in the workout area, Max was going through a Tai Chi routine. I didn’t let him distract me. “So, you said you could tell me how to work it?”

Powder glanced from me to Max. Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to her makeup kit. She searched through the lipsticks and emerged with a lip stain and an applicator. She motioned toward the makeup chair. “Take a seat.”

“I thought red was for nighttime.” I waved my hand, careful not to knock into her as she came at me with the lip stain. “And, not really for someone with my coloring.”

“Anyone can wear red. It has to be the right shade.” She dabbed the stain on my lips and made me blot with a tissue. Then she followed with lip liner and a coat of deep matte red lipstick. I blotted again. Next came the gloss, a blue shimmery color. “Good.”

“Now what?”  I smiled in the mirror, and she dusted my cheeks with powder. “Do I ask him out? Make my move?”

“Nope.” Powder re-sorted her supplies. “But bring up dating. Plant the thought in his head.”

I liked the idea of that.

“Remember. You are woman. You have the power.”

I popped out of the makeup chair. “Thanks.”

“Sure. Let me know how it goes.”

“I will.”

I went straight to the workout mat. “Hey, Max. How’s Kickers?”

“Good.”

I got into place and stretched. “I finished the
Dragon Night
script.”

“Yeah?”

I bounced over to where he stood. “Yeah. The half animé, half real-life shots will be amazing. I gave notes to Justin. He’s going to go over them with me later.” I braced my feet apart and held my arms akimbo, imitating Max.

Max led me in a flowing arm motion to warm-up. Midway through the Bow and Arrow move, he arched a dark eyebrow. “Who’s Justin?”

I bent at the hips to scoop air from the ground, enjoying gravity’s pull on my muscles. “One of the artists.”

“Hmm.”

“I think Justin can take the notes and come up with something amazing.”

“We’ll see.”

“Exactly.”

Max went to work on the punching bag after that and chatting ended. Well, his chatting ended. Mine ramped up. Max was a good listener that way. He got to hear about the acting coach and everything I’d learned. I also told him about my art class and
Scoop Out
. “I want you to show me what to do when someone sneaks up on me.”

“Be aware of your surroundings. Anticipate their attack.”

“I’m okay with half that.”

Max showed me how to scan the area. To check a man’s eyes and face for rage, to watch his hands more than anything.

My workout finished, and Max continued his moves while he waited for his own trainer. I’d watched him before. The rough, violent intense routines had me hooked. But if I wanted any shot at getting information out of Max, it had to be before his sparring partner arrived and stole his focus. Maybe if I brought in another kitten that might soften him up. I chuckled to myself and then put Powder’s suggestion into play by asking the question I wanted answered. “Max, why do you only date a girl twice?”

He shrugged.

“Really? A shrug? That’s your answer? Is it trust issues? A deep passion you can barely keep in check and you don’t want to fall into obsession? Is it—”

He drew me to my feet and over to the punching bag. “Enough. Pummel this and tell me you know your lines.”

“My lines? It’s an action movie. My lines are ‘Rogue, Rogue, it’s you forever’.” I drew out the
forever
in a way that would strike terror in the sneakers of a commitment-phobe like him.

Max grinned. “Tell me your blocking.”

He was all about practice, mental as well as physical. If we weren’t physically performing a move, he had us run through it out loud. He gestured with his elbow, showing me how to shift my weight and keep my balance during a thrust to the bridge of his nose.

“Well, except the last scene, which we already shot, I lean into the mist veil and I walk in a tar pit. The end. Now that we’re done rehearsing, tell me about you.”

“I usually can’t get girls to stop talking and all you want to do is make me talk.”

I kicked at his ankle, trying to surprise him with a takedown. He sidestepped and countered by making me kick the bag twenty times while he pointed to vulnerable spots on the bag. Eyes. Groin. Adam’s apple. Knees. Temple.