The first scene goes as well as can be expected. Everyone is prepared with their lines and the director, Martha, is prepared and organized. There’s nothing I hate more than a disorganized director without a game plan. They all pretty much have one, but some just have no idea what they want or what they’re looking for. So they waste a ton of time on trying to figure it out with all the actors standing around and waiting. Not Martha. Even though she’s still really young (she can’t be more than thirty), and this is her first real movie, she is more professional than some successful fifty-year-olds that I’ve worked with.

I’m not going to name any names, but I’ve worked with some big time directors, and I can’t tell you how many of them are totally full of shit. Come to think of it, Martha is the only female director I’ve ever worked with. Wow. But there are so few of them. I read an article that said that less than 4% of directors are women. Martha really has her work cut out for her in this business. Just from shooting one scene, I can already tell that she’s going to go far. She’s courteous, professional and goal-oriented. Despite all that, she’s open to listening to input from the actors. I can’t tell you how rare that is!

Once we break for lunch, I head out to craft services to find Chloe. There’s something about her that’s pulling me in. I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out. She has this casual, easy going demeanor. And, of course, she’s quite easy on the eyes. Not in my usual model-type of way, but that’s good too. If she were an actress, she’d be a shoo-in for the “girl next door” character. Stunning in this completely off-the-cuff way.

I can’t help but smile thinking back to how uncomfortable she looked when I walked out without my shirt on earlier. I did it on purpose. I work hard on this body. I’d be lying if I had said that it’s not nice to see someone admire it – someone I like. Wait. Is this what’s going on? I actually like Chloe? Like, like her?

No, I shake my head. That’s not a good idea. I’m still messed up over the whole thing with Ariel. What I need now is not someone I like, but someone to fuck. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, right?

My phone rings. When I see the name, I consider not picking it up.

“Yeah?” I answer.

“Finn! I’m glad I got you.” The cheery voice on the other end belongs to Stefania. I’m sure it was Stephanie at one point, but now that she’s a big-time Public Relations executive, it’s Stefania.

“I’m assuming that you’re no longer taking Ariel to the Governor’s Ball this weekend,” Stefania says.

Oh shit. I completely forgot about that.

“No.”

“Have you given any thought to someone else you might want to take?”

“No.”

“No problem. No problem at all.” Stefania always repeats phrases whenever something is clearly a problem.

“I was thinking that I would just go alone.”

There’s a pause on the other end.

“Um, I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“It’s a charity event.”

I don’t know what it is about black-tie charity events that require dates, but that seems to be a standard operating procedure.

“Okay, fine, I’ll find someone,” I say. I can probably go through my phone and scrounge up one late night booty call who will be willing to go on an actual date with me.

But the silence on the other end tells me that it’s not a good idea.

“Ummmm,” Stefania says elongating the second part of the one-syllable word.

“What?” I ask. Don’t beat around the bush. Just come out and say it. My lunch hour is expiring as we speak, and I want to spend as much of it with Chloe. Damn it. Did I really think that?

“Finn, the Governor’s Ball is not an awards party, and it’s not a typical Hollywood event. There will be a lot of politicians and their wives.”

“And girlfriends,” I joke. She ignores me.

“The Governor is introducing you and honoring you for raising so much money for leukemia. You will be sitting at the head table. It’s very important that you have an event-appropriate date.”

‘Event-appropriate date’ is a euphemism for ‘she can’t be a bimbo.’

“Okay, I’ll find someone,” I mumble. Though I have serious doubts over my ability to actually find someone for the event who will fit that criteria.

“Actually, I had an idea. What do you think of leaving it to a professional?”

“There’s a professional who specializes in finding dates to events? Like a pimp?” I ask.

“No. A matchmaker. She’s very good. A number of my clients have used her and found love.”

“No, no, no. I’m not looking for love.”

“I understand. And I will tell her that. So, in that case, it’s even easier. She’ll find someone who you will have a good time with and who will be an excellent date for this event.”

I think about this for a second. The last thing I want to do this week is worry about getting a Governor’s Ball approved date for Saturday night. And apparently, I can’t go alone. Eh, why not? I send out my laundry and my agent books me auditions and jobs. Stefania does my PR. A thousand other people do a number of other things for me. Why not outsource getting a boring date as well?

“Okay, fine,” I finally say. “Whatever will get me through that event with the least amount of trouble, the better.”

“Perfect. I’ll let Dolly know.”

“Dolly?” I ask.

“Dolly Monroe, the billionaire matchmaker,” Stefania says.

“That’s her name?” I ask.

“I know, it’s a little eccentric.”

“To say the least.”

I hang up the phone. Billionaire matchmaker. Seriously? That’s seriously how she makes money? This town is nuts. One thing’s for sure. She’s totally going to be slumming it with me. I only made $20 million dollars from my last big movie.

There are still close to forty-five minutes left of lunch, yet I can’t find Chloe anywhere. She must be back in her trailer. I make my way back there and see that she’s busy with a couple of actors. She has moved the mirror and one of the chairs outside, making a little outside dressing room. The actress is dressed in a long, blood red gown which moves in little waves as she spins in front of the mirror, but it’s Chloe I can’t keep my eyes off of. The way she puts one of her hands up over her mouth as she steps away from the actress and examines the look. The way her hair glistens in the sunlight and falls into her face. The way she pulls it up into a loose pony tail, but a few unruly strands refuse to be contained.