Page 42 of Run to Me

“Asshole.” Grumbling, I throw back a second tequila shot.

The crew invited me to join them at a sports bar two blocks from our hotel. Philadelphia Eagles paraphernalia covers the space from floor to ceiling, and I’m thankful the professional football season ended already. I can’t imagine how rowdy this bar becomes on game nights. For a Wednesday in the off-season, the place is packed.

“Cheers to that.” Tasha, a wardrobe assistant, lifts her mojito in the air. “Lady, you don’t mess around. The new asshole you ripped into Marzan will be gaping for months. Months! I think I fell in love with you a little bit.”

Her wide mouth stretches into a grin, and I smile in return. It feels good to put men like Marzan in their place. But having another woman—or an entire crew—witness my lambasting and cheer me on feels great. Like my reaction to being groped is validated and supported. I may never see these people again, but I’m confident they’ll have my back if the incident becomes a scandal or impacts my career.

“Thanks,” I say. “I have a pretty firm no-touching policy.”

A burly guy on the lighting crew leans across the table and speaks above the noise. “I’ll be telling my daughter what happened today and how you gave that skinny prick four feet of fuck you.”

“Five feet,” I correct, flashing him five splayed fingers.

“Whatever. You have a big bark and big-ass bite.”

Everyone at the table laughs, including me, but I’m playing off the incident with manufactured nonchalance. On the inside, I’m drowning in disappointment. My high hopes for this project were dashed the second Marzan put his grubby hand on me. Sure, I could’ve held my tongue or let his behavior slide, but that’s not who I am.

I care a lot about the price I might pay for speaking up: my job and my reputation. But I care more about being treated with dignity and respect.

Do I want to be that woman who’s labeled as high maintenance, known for complaining or making a fuss over “nothing?” No. But I won’t stand by and allow men to get away with inappropriate behavior. If they want to turn the tables and make me out to be the bad apple rather than take responsibility for their actions, fine. I’ll be the martyr so the next woman or the one after her doesn’t suffer at the hands of entitled men. I’ll proudly wear the scarlet letter A for agitator all damn day if even one man gets the message I’m trying to send. Hands. Off. Asshole.

Right when I’m getting fired up again, my cell phone buzzes.

Tate

How was the first day? Did you kick ass?

Yes I did, Tate.

Yes. I. Did.

Me

It was fine.

Tate

Don’t downplay it. Call me and tell me everything!

And you can tell me about that kiss again.

I made the mistake of telling Tatum about the kiss that happened with Jensen in the alley. Now she sends love-related emojis at every opportunity, much to my displeasure. My strategy for extinguishing her interest in the matter includes blatant disregard and outright denial. She’ll get the message and drop it eventually.

Noting the late hour on my phone’s clock, I wrap up my night. My friends on the West Coast don’t always respect time zones, so I need to make a slew of phone calls if I want to get into bed early and enjoy uninterrupted sleep. Otherwise, my phone will buzz nonstop throughout the night.

Me

Heading to the hotel now. Will call soon.

I shrug on my coat and sling my favorite rose-pattern tote bag over my shoulder. In honor of the short walk to the hotel, I toss back one last tequila shot for the road. “I’ll see y’all in the morning if I don’t get escorted off the property.”

The group at the table laughs, though their amusement sounds strained, like me being denied access to the set could be a real possibility. We say our goodbyes, and I exit the rowdy bar to the sights and sounds of a bustling urban night.

My hotel sits two blocks away. I spot it ahead and make quick strides among the lights and honks and noxious city fumes. In less than one block, I’m dragged into a dark alley for the second time in my life. But this time, the man isn’t Jensen. This time, I fight back.

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