Page 7 of Forced Proximity

And now, Doc. The studio wants her around me all the time? I can’t. I pace my living room like a caged cheetah.

Zane. I need Zane. I swap the football for my phone to call my assistant. ‘This female bodyguard situation. It’s crap. I’m not doing it.’ Jesus, it’s so hot in here. What’s the temp, anyway? I move to the kitchen for a water bottle and hold it against my neck.

‘Hey there, Justin. I’m great, thank you so much for asking,’ Zane says on the other side of the line. ‘Got a pedi this morning and feel like a whole new human. You should join next time.’

‘Sorry.’ I slam down the half-empty water bottle. ‘Do I sound like a dick?’ I absolutely sound like a dick. My therapist would be so proud of my self-reflection.

‘Just a touch. And a little sexist if you’re curious.’ The sound of Zane finishing what is probably their fifth iced mocha of the day echoes through the phone. ‘For the record, I one hundred percent support the bodyguard. I helped vet her, at least on paper.’

‘Cool, so I know who I’m firing after this.’

‘Oh, thank God. Finally, I can take that vacation to Portugal and cross that baby off my mood board,’ Zane says. ‘For real though, I don’t understand the issue here. Doc is a total badass: third-degree black belt in jiu-jitsu, advanced firearm training, been in personal security for over twelve years. She’s protected people from all walks of life. Executives, politicians, even that one certain rock star who hit on you at the coke-infused holiday party a few years ago.’

My eyebrows raise. ‘Even him?’

‘Yep,’ Zane says, slurping. ‘It’ll be fine. Honestly, after a while, you probably won’t notice she’s there.’

I will definitely notice when Doc’s here. Anyone in a room with a woman like that would know she’s there. She carries herself differently than others. There’s confidence and then there’s confidence. Sure, I might work in Hollywood, which is not exactly filled with drooping wallflowers, but Doc did not give a shit. We’re talking no makeup, slick ponytail, a firmer handshake than most men I meet, didn’t give a shit. Not that I expect people to fawn over me – the undue attention is so uncomfortable that sometimes it forces me to stay home. But it happens almost every time I meet someone new. And here, not only was there no flicker of excitement when we met, the entire meeting she looked like she wanted to bolt.

I slide open the patio door and step onto the deck. ‘I don’t want her here. We only talked for maybe five, ten minutes and I already saw some red flags.’ I lower myself onto a chair in the shade. ‘Right away she said I needed to trust her. I mean, seriously. Who says that? Doc’s not even her real name, and I’m supposed to just tell her everything?’

A moment passes and Zane takes a deep breath. ‘I know “trust” is a bit of a … trigger word for you. But she said this in the context of her job. And it makes sense. If you don’t tru—er, ah, follow her lead, then she’d be ineffective.’

I refuse to let Zane know they have a point, because they’ll probably hold it over my head for the rest of my life. ‘Well, Anthony told me the studio is mandating it, so it looks like I don’t have a choice.’ I untwist the water bottle cap and take another sip. ‘She left saying no, though, so I’m not sure what’s going to happen. No matter what, I need everyone to know that I refuse to play any sort of fake relationship thing with her. This is not a damn rom-com for Christ’s sake.’

‘Recorded and filed into Exhibit A,’ Zane says. ‘But if it were a rom-com … who’s the grumpy and who’s the sunshine? I mean, she seemed pretty serious in her photos, but they were agency headshots so that makes sense. And you are like Mr Dark and Broody. Can you have two grumpies and no sunshine? Or maybe … maybe, she’s a closeted sunshine.’

I hate that I’m close to cracking a smile. ‘I’ll settle this right now. There’s zero sunshine to that woman. None. She’s like the Alaskan wintertime during peak winter solstice.’

‘Whoa … those are some serious fighting words.’ Zane chuckles, and the sound of shuffling bags comes through the phone. ‘LA is a big town, so scratch that whole return to the small-town trope, and your house is too big for one bed. But you two are not feeling each other at all so this might be the perfect enemies-to-lover situ—’

‘I’m stopping you right there,’ I say, flicking the edge of the armrest. ‘You’re spiraling. And usually, it’s my favorite version of you, but today I have shit to do.’

‘See my original script note on Mr Dark and Broody,’ Zane says, then takes a breath. ‘Look, I know it’s awkward to entertain a fake relationship, but I saw her agent portfolio picture and she’s pretty cute. It’s not like you’re actively searching for a soul mate, so who cares?’

My chest softens, more than I want. ‘She was really cute. Beautiful, actually.’

It’s different out here than in the rest of the country, different from my hometown of Nashville. It’s like a concentrated dish of disproportionally gorgeous people, most with fillers and such smooth skin that I’m not sure if they’ll crack when they smile. But it had been a long time since I stood face-to-face with a gorgeous Hollywood outsider in my own home, with soft lines around her huge, soulful brown eyes and slight creases in her forehead. ‘Doesn’t matter though that she’s good-looking. I don’t like doing phony crap. And before you say anything, yes, I understand the irony since I act for a living. But pretending this? It’s gratuitous. Besides, she wasn’t feeling me at all.’

Maybe this is what’s stabbing me the hardest, which flipped a friendly, simple meet and greet in a snap. Not to give myself too much credit, but I’m king of the five-minute conversation. Seriously. This is my Olympic sport. I smile, take pics with fans, meet producers or fellow actors and move on. And today, I totally blew it.

After so many years in the business, I’m used to people gravitating towards me, hanging on my every word, laughing at my jokes. Even though most people are blowing smoke up my ass, it’s easier to accept than the alternative – that they may not genuinely like me, the person. And Doc was just so … dismissive, seeing right through me and not liking the insides.

‘No one’s saying you need to have a fake relationship. We’re saying we tried to think of all scenarios and this popped up as something that we might, potentially, need to consider.’ Zane pauses for a long moment. ‘Just give her a month, okay? Don’t be an asshole and put in a little effort. If it still sucks after a month, I’ll talk to Anthony and we can help find you someone else.’

I roll the water bottle with my palm against the table. One month sounds as fun as when I filmed a waterboarding scene and convinced the director I didn’t need a stunt double. ‘Fine. I’ll do it. One month.’

‘Perfect,’ Zane says with a way too peppy zing in their voice. Zane knows they won, knows I hate losing, and I’m in no doubt they’re clicking their damn overly blinged heels. ‘By the way, you bought me a great pair of Christian Louboutin shoes this morning. You really outdid yourself, and I can’t thank you enough for your continued generosity.’

‘One of these days, I’m having the finance people audit your expenses,’ I say with a grin. ‘Don’t worry though. I’ll come visit you in prison.’

‘Justin, noooo. You know orange is absolutely not my color,’ Zane says. ‘Okay, I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

I toss my phone on the patio table and polish off the rest of my water when my phone rings. I go to swipe, and freeze.

Mom.

The familiar deep-seated guilt collides with my practical adult self. My fingers hover over the answer button. How can it be that I know logically my mom holds no control over me, yet somehow still holds all control. Every conversation is the same.