Hate the Player: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romantic Comedy(52)
“I was waiting for Neil to break the news to you.”
“So, you knew about Maureen coming to do my damn hair and makeup?”
“Yep!” she answers without hesitation. “And I also know about a driver coming to pick you up at eight and a security detail sticking with you to and from the party.”
Oh, it just keeps getting better and better…
“Thanks a lot!”
“Sorry, Birdie.” Her responding laugh echoes down the hall and fills my ears. “I just didn’t want to be the one to pop your bliss bubble.”
All day, she’s heard me go on and on about how happy I was that I had absolutely nothing to do, and the entire time she knew it was all a lie.
Traitor.
Fingers to the screen of my phone, I type out a message to my team.
Me: I’d like to put in a request for a day off. Like, a real day off. If y’all can make that work sometime between now and the day I die, that’d be great.
Candy: LOL. Noted.
Neil: Birdie, I promise once filming is done, you will have over six weeks with nothing on the books until you need to get back in the studio and finish your album. You could literally spend weeks in some tropical location without doing anything but sleeping in the sun and drinking margaritas.
Okay, now that is something I can get behind…
Me: I’m holding you to that, buddy.
Neil: Please do. I knew you’d need a breather, and that’s why I made sure you weren’t diving straight into finishing up your album right after filming ended.
This is exactly why Neil is my manager. Sometimes he might feel like a schedule tyrant, but he always manages to soften it up by doing things like this.
Candy: Just try to have some fun tonight, okay? That is what this party is meant for.
Me: Let’s all just hope I don’t end up falling asleep somewhere in the corner of Howie King’s house.
“Hey, Birdie, I think I’m going to run out and grab a few things at the store,” Samantha calls out to me. “How about I pick you up a Red Bull while I’m out?”
I roll my eyes. “Let me guess, Neil texted you.”
Her response is a giggle as she strides past me and steps into the kitchen to grab her purse and keys. “Sugar-free or regular, honey?”
I roll my eyes again. Sometimes, my team is a little too on top of things.
“How about you just grab us some In-N-Out burgers and fries, and I’ll try my best not to give you the stink eye for the rest of the afternoon?”
She grins. “Deal.”
Once Sam heads out the front door, I decide to use my time wisely—by getting as cozy as possible on the large sectional sofa and alternately napping and watching a rerun of Gilmore Girls on Netflix. Sure, I have two hours max to achieve my lazy goals, but I’m no quitter.
Lorelai is on a ramble about something her mother did to tick her off, and my eyes are getting heavier by the minute. One slow blink, two even slower blinks, I’m so close to letting blessed sleep consume me.
Ah yes. Come to Momma.
The world around me goes dark and my breaths slow and I’m so damn close to achieving my nap goal when the abrupt sound of my phone chiming from the cushion beside me startles my eyes open again.
Ugh. Go away!
I shut my eyes and groan into the sofa pillows.
But when another chime and another chime and another freaking chime fill my ears, I’m forced to open my eyes all the way and check my damn phone.
I mean, what if it’s something important like Samantha asking me if I want a chocolate milkshake?
A few taps to the screen and I find out it’s the exact opposite of important.
Andrew: Looks like I’ll be seeing you tonight at How’s, sweetheart.
Andrew: Should be a good time.
Andrew: ;)
Did he really need three freaking messages to convey those words?
I blow a hard breath past my lips, and it tousles the strands of hair near my eyes. It was almost like I forgot his existence.
Instantly, though, uninvited memories of the infamous Scene 33 shoot fill my head, and I have to force the fuckers right back out. No way in hell am I going to sit here and think about how for the briefest of moments, I thought it felt good to be that close to Andrew Watson.
Briefest of moments? Girl, that scene took several hours to film, and you were dry-humping him like his big bulge was going—
Nope. Not happening. I refuse to go down that rabbit hole.
Ever since we filmed Scene 33 together, I’ve been delightfully unaware of his presence. That’s mostly due to the fact that over the past week and a half, every scene I shot didn’t include him.
And, thankfully, he’s only been compelled to text me a handful of times about utter randomness like pictures of trail mix that doesn’t have M&M’s and snarky commentary about Johnny Johnston’s beard.
And, truthfully, the beard Johnny has to sport for half of the movie is…not so great. Even slightly pube-esque, if I’m being honest. But Johnny has been nothing but sweet to me since I met him, so I refuse to play Gossip Girl with Andrew, even if it’s meant lighthearted.
But his text message is an annoying reminder that tonight and the next five days that we’ll be shooting in LA and the next four weeks that we’ll be shooting in Memphis will include me seeing him—a lot.