Page 116 of The Golden Scoop

Matt’s not like the other guys. They left because they didn’t really know me. He knows me. The sharp edges. All my quirky little details. Even the parts I don’t explain. And he stayed… until last night.

Shit. Was that where he draws the line? Did I become too much for him too?

I pull out my phone and resort to my last, and least favorite option: social media.

Most of the time it’s so overly saturated with fake news that I avoid it like the plague when I’m writing, but it’s a great way to find people.

Matt’s profile is as active as it gets, and yet I don’t think he even has the app on his phone. Whoever takes care of it does a terrifyingly good job.

He’s been tagged in a picture posted earlier this morning on set.

‘Last day of filming with this crew.’

He’s in the middle of the photo, standing behind a huge sheet cake. Hat and sunglasses hiding whatever mood he’s actually in.

This means it’s going to be extra hectic there today. Everyone that’s worked remotely on this movie is currently fighting for a piece of Matt’s attention.

Well… that means I have to fight for my five minutes too.

I put the car in reverse and head straight to the studio. All possible conversation outcomes play out in my head. None of them end well, but at least they’re something.

Security stops me before I even get to the gate. I’m about to pull out my pass from the glovebox when I remember the three weeks are up. Expired. Useless.

“Hi,” I say, popping my head out. “I forgot my pass. I’ve been coming here for the past three weeks. Shadowing Matt Hunt?”

“I’m sorry, miss. We don’t have anyone authorized to enter today,” the man says.

I groan under my breath.

Why is this so hard?

Think, think, thin—Frank.

He’s on his way back with two cups of coffee. Relief hits instantly, because if anyone will let me in, it’s him. Frank’s seen me with Matt plenty of times. He knows me, he trusts me…

I hop out of the car, with it still running, gunning straight for the barrier.

“Frank!”

The old man turns to the sound of his name, but when his eyes land on mine, he hesitates. I know then there’s no way they’re letting me through.

“Emma…” he says. There’s something pained in his tone. He wants to help, he’s just not allowed. “I can’t.”

The words don’t make sense at first. I haven’t even asked.

“You can’t what?” I ask, my voice rising with anxiety more than I’d like. “Maybe you radio him here? It’ll be five minut⁠—”

Frank must see something in my eyes because he heads into the small guard house and grabs his walkie-talkie. I can’t hear anything, but by the looks of it, it’s not good.

I could make a run for it. Those golf carts are not that fast. I’ve seen enough of Matt’s action movies that I could sneak my way through.

“Emma,” Franks says gently, snapping me out of my thoughts. “He can’t right now.”

Right now, or never? Matt knows I’m here. He’s never busy for me. Not enough to spare a couple of minutes. He wasn’t.

The fight drains out of me all at once. I give Frank a small nod and get back into my car. It’s almost like the thread I was holding onto has snapped, and there’s nothing else to reach for.

I don’t make it a mile before I have to pull over to the side of the road. My vision blurs. I can feel my pulse everywhere. I’m unraveling faster than I can control.