I hang up the phone. I didn’t really call her about the dry cleaning. I just couldn’t think of a better reason to call. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t come up with some smart thing to say to sweep her off her feet. The thing that sticks out in my mind now is her date Saturday night. Who is this guy? What if she really likes him?

Two days later, Chloe returns my clothes. Dry cleaned and in perfect condition. We hardly speak at all. Every time I stop by her trailer to talk about my costumes, there’s someone there.

“There’s no one else working in the costume department besides Chloe,” I casually mention to Martha one afternoon. “Maybe she needs some help.”

“Oh, do you not think she’s coping well with the stresses of the job?” Martha looks at me with a concerned look on her face. That is not what I mean. Shit.

“No, not at all. Chloe’s great. I just see how busy she is with everyone.”

“Oh, I see,” she nods. “Unfortunately, we just don’t have any money to spare in the budget for an assistant.”

That is pretty much the end of the conversation. I want to offer them some money, but I don’t really have a good excuse. I can’t very well come out and tell the director that I want her to hire Chloe an assistant because she doesn’t have enough time to flirt and bullshit around with me. Agh! I wasn’t always such a spaz. There was a time, not long ago, when I was really good with girls. Really good at making up stories to get them to do what I want. But something is different about Chloe.

For the rest of the week, Chloe and my interactions are perfunctory. There’s no better way of putting it. She does her job, I listen. I make a few jokes, she laughs, but it never goes further than that, until Friday afternoon. Things are a little looser on set, and I feel that the moment is right to ask her about her date. Poke fun a little, even.

“So, you have hot date tomorrow, eh?” I ask.

“Yeah, something like that,” she says looking up from adjusting a tie around my neck. I’m wearing a well-fitted suit in the next scene. I pretend that I don’t know how to tie a tie to have her hands around my neck. The warmth that she puts out is intoxicating.

“So…who is he? C’mon, tell me the details,” I say with a smile. Our eyes meet for a second, but then she pulls away.

“I don’t know very much about him,” she says. She’s about to explain a little bit more, but then Martha bursts into the trailer.

“I’m sorry to cut this short, but we’re having a little bit of an emergency,” she says calling us both to set.

There isn’t really an emergency. Leslie is having a fit about her marriage. She had a little bit too much to drink. I calm her down as best I can and, after a few cups of coffee, we actually shoot the scene. Unfortunately, with all the commotion, the conversation between Chloe and me is interrupted and irrecoverable. I guess I’ll have to wait until Monday to get the details about her date.

* * *

I have my own date to worry about. Saturday night sneaks up on me before I know it. Luckily, my suit gets dropped off earlier in the day and is all ready for me, hanging in the closet. My housekeeper is the best. I start to get ready around five, and I’m ready by 5:30 or so. The hotel isn’t that long of a drive from my place. I arrive just on time. After valeting my car, I walk through the lobby, toward the bar at the far end of the entrance. The place is filled with anxious guests and gorgeously-dressed women. I won’t lie. Despite the various beautiful girls who smile and wave at me, I feel a little bored. I’m not really in the mood to make conversation with some girl who I’m sure I won’t have any interest in. My mind remains transfixed on Chloe. I wonder what she’s wearing. I wonder who she’s going out with. I wonder where they’re going. And I want more than anything to be that guy. Unfortunately, I’m not. I’m this guy – someone who can’t hide anywhere from anyone. Someone who is recognized almost everywhere he goes. Someone who has to be polite at all times, otherwise he gets a reputation as being unkind to fans. A stuck up. An arrogant celebrity.

I put on my best fake smile and order a drink.

“Scotch on the rocks,” I tell the bartender. When he sees me, I can tell right away that he recognizes me, but his manners are too good to say a word. I appreciate people like this the most. I take a sip of my scotch, and enjoy its delightful warmth as it runs down my throat.

I look around the room, in search for the girl who Dolly described in last night’s text. She has long light brown hair, and she’ll be wearing a blue gown. She’ll wait for me at the bar. I hate the fact that I don’t know this girl’s name. Why didn’t Dolly tell me? Apparently, because she couldn’t tell the girl mine. The bar sits in the middle of the room, and wraps around. I can’t see about half of the people who are on the other side. I take another sip before getting up and making my way to the other side.

As I come around the corner, I see someone who fits the description. She’s facing away from me. She isn’t as tall as a model, but she has a nice figure. Her hair is swept to one side, exposing a delicate and elegant neck.

“Excuse me, miss,” I say coming close to her. “I believe I’m here to meet you.”

The girl turns around, and my mouth drops open.

“Finn?” she asks. It’s Chloe. I’m stunned.

“What are you doing here, Finn?” she asks. By the expression on her face, she is clearly not understanding the extent of what’s going on.

“I think I’m your date,” I say slowly. Each word has to be pushed out with force.

“What?”

“Unless this is some sort of huge coincidence.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks.

“You look beautiful,” I say quietly. More like mesmerizing. I can’t take my eyes away from her. Her skin has a gorgeous glow. Her large eyes glisten in the darkened room. And those lips. Small, not too plump, but nevertheless breathtaking.

“Thank you,” she blushes. “Finn, I’m actually here to meet my date.”

“Oh,” I say.

“I don’t really know who he is, so when he sees me, I don’t want him to think that we’re together.”

“Okay,” I say. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’ll just take this seat next to you and finish my drink.”

The crinkle on her face tells me that she’s not very happy about that. I take a seat and look at her again. Did Dolly really do this? How the hell did this happen?

“You’re staring at me,” Chloe says.

“I know. I can’t help it.”

She rolls her eyes.

“Where’s your date?” she asks.

This is my moment. To tell her that it’s actually her. But for some reason, I don’t want to. I should do it. Of course, I should. But something is holding me back. What if I don’t? What if she doesn’t know that this is a date? It’s a terrible idea. Horrible. You have to tell her the truth.

“I’m actually here alone,” I say after a moment.

“Oh yes, of course, Ariel. I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.”

“So, what about you? You out on a blind date?”

“Yes, I guess. It’s so silly, actually. I ran my car into this woman who ended up being a matchmaker.”

“What?”

“Yeah, who would’ve thought that these people still existed? But she was actually really nice. We got to talking, and then she insisted that she has just the right guy for me.”

“So, this is your first date?” I ask.

“Yep. Kind of odd, I know. A black tie event was not my idea, let me tell you. But somehow I got roped into doing this,” Chloe says and finishes her martini.

“Funny, you don’t seem like the kind of girl who can be roped into things easily,” I say. I wink at her. Put on the charm. From years of experience, I’ve learned that girls like nothing better than to be told that “you don’t seem like the kind of girl who does…blank,” but Chloe doesn’t buy it. She simply rolls her eyes at me in exasperation.

“Does that work on other girls?” she asks.

“Does what work?”

“You putting on your charms like that?”

“Well, yes, most of the time,” I admit begrudgingly. “But I can see that it doesn’t work on you. How about this? Why don’t you let me buy you a drink to apologize?”

She smiles, shaking her head no.

“No? And why not?”

“Because, my date is coming. He’s going to be here at any moment.”

“And so what? You’re not allowed to have a drink with a…colleague?” It took me a moment to find just the right word for our relationship.

“Oh, is that what you and I are?” she asks. “Colleagues?”

“Yes, of course!”

“No, I don’t think so,” she says dismissively.

“And why is that?”

“Because, because…you’re Finn Dalton. You made, what $20 million dollars on your last movie? I live in a two bedroom apartment with my sister, and I can barely come up with my share of the rent every month. And it’s a grand.”

“Well, technically, I made zero dollars on my last movie. Because I’m not getting paid anything for the one we’re working on now.”

“Eh, doesn’t matter,” she waves her hand at me.

“So, you’re not going to let me buy you a drink because we’re not equally paid colleagues? That seems very unfair. To me.”

“Well, life’s not fair. You better get used to it.”

“But you see, life has been more than a little fair to me. And I just don’t have experience with it being unfair.”

“So, I should just cave to your every whim and desire, then?” she asks. Wow, this conversation is headed somewhere sexy. Didn’t expect it to go there quite yet, but I kind of like it.

“That would be a nice start,” I say, locking my eyes onto hers. She looks away first.

“Bartender, can you get me another scotch on the rocks please. And another one of these,” I say pointing to Chloe’s empty glass.

“Another pomegranate martini?” the bartender asks Chloe. She nods, admitting defeat.

When our drinks arrive, I look down at my watch. It’s almost time for the event to start.

“So, how late is your date?” I ask. She takes my hand and looks at the watch. Then she shakes her head, crinkling her nose. I get goose bumps up my arm when she touches my wrist. Her fingers are ice cold, but the shivers have nothing to do with the lack of heat. It’s the exhilaration of actually touching her.

“Shit,” she whispers.

“Late, huh?”

“Very late.”

Chloe drops her head a little and turns away from me. For a second, I think she’s going to cry. I want to take it all back. This stupid joke. I don’t even know why I did this. I could’ve just told her the truth. I should’ve. I should do it now.

“Maybe he came in, took one look at me and left?” she asks, turning her head up toward mine.

“Impossible.”

“Listen, I have to go on now. I’m getting an award from the Governor.”

“Oh you are? Really? Congratulations?”

“And I don’t have a date. Why don’t you come with me?”

“What? Me? No, I can’t.”

“You can’t just keep sitting here waiting for him. Come inside with me. Listen to my boring speech. We’ll have some food. A few more drinks. C’mon, you’ll do me a favor. And if this asshole does ever show up, he’ll be the one who’ll have to wait for you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just doing this because I’m this pathetic person who got stood up at a black-tie event, are you?”

“Of course! Why else?” I joke. She cracks a smile.

“But I’m also doing this because I’d like to have the most stunning woman in the room be my date.”

She looks at me. For a moment, she believes me. I’m telling the truth, pouring my heart out, and she actually believes me. But then her face breaks into a wide smile.

“Yeah right. You know, I bet you got lots of girls to sleep with you with a line like that.”

I nod. “You got me.”

I’m a coward for hiding behind humor.

“Okay,” she says after a moment. “But only if I’m not intruding.”