The question caught Hailey off guard. "Yeah, why?"
"Can I tag along?"
Hailey paused, her hand on the doorknob. "You want to come to work with me?"
"If that's okay," Eric said. "I don't have anything else planned."
"Sure," she said, though something about his request felt odd. "But we need to leave right now, or I'm going to be in serious trouble."
"Give me two minutes," Eric said, jumping out of bed.
"You have one minute," Hailey called back.
---
Twenty minutes later, they were both in Hailey's car, stuck in morning traffic.
Eric had managed to make himself look somewhat presentable, though his clothes were wrinkled.
"I look like I slept in my car," Eric observed, checking himself in the passenger mirror.
"You look fine," Hailey said, though she was too busy panicking about being late to really look at him.
She glanced at the dashboard clock again.
"I'm thirty-seven minutes late," she announced, weaving between cars. "Thirty-seven!"
"It's not that bad," Eric said.
"Are you insane?" Hailey asked, switching lanes aggressively. "This is a disaster."
"It'll be fine," Eric said, though he sounded distracted.
"Easy for you to say," Hailey muttered. "You don't have to answer to Walter when you're late."
"Have you been late before?"
"Never," she said. "I'm always early. Always."
"So one time won't kill you," he replied.
"You don't understand," Hailey said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel. "Walter trusted me. He gave me more responsibility."
"And he's going to take it away because you're late once?"
"Maybe," she said miserably. "He might think I'm unreliable."
Eric was quiet for a moment, staring out the window.
"Have you worked there long?" he asked.
"A few months," Hailey said. "Walter gave me a chance when no one else would."
"What do you mean?"
Hailey hesitated. "I had some trouble with my last job. Walter didn't ask too many questions."
"What kind of trouble?"
"The kind that makes people not want to hire you," she said vaguely.
Eric looked like he wanted to ask more, but they had arrived at the studio.
The parking lot was already buzzing with activity.
"Okay," Hailey said, turning off the engine. "Here we go."
Her hands were shaking slightly as she reached for her seatbelt.
She could see crew members hurrying toward the building, looking purposeful and on time.
Unlike her.
"Ready?" she asked.
She was about to open her door when Eric's hand closed around her arm, stopping her.
"Wait," he said.
"What?" Hailey asked, looking at him.
"You can't tell anyone about last night," Eric said, his voice suddenly serious.
The playful man from her bedroom had vanished, replaced by someone who looked almost stern.
Hailey laughed, thinking he was joking. "I know that."
"Do you?"
"Of course," she said. "Even if I told anyone, they wouldn't believe me anyway."
Who would believe that she, Hailey, had spent the night with Eric Collins?
"I'm serious," Eric said, his grip on her arm tightening slightly.
The smile faded from Hailey's face as she realized he wasn't kidding.
His eyes had gone hard, almost cold.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked quietly.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm about to betray state secrets or something."
"Just promise me," Eric said. "No one can know."
"Okay," she said, her voice smaller than she intended. "I won't tell anyone."
Something about his intensity was making her stomach clench uncomfortably.
"Good," Eric said, releasing her arm.
He got out of the car like nothing had happened, leaving Hailey sitting there feeling confused and a little hurt.
Why was he so worried about people knowing?
Was he embarrassed about sleeping with her?
The thought made her feel sick.
"Get it together," she muttered to herself, getting out of the car.
She didn't have time to analyze his behavior right now. She was already in enough trouble for being late.
---
The studio lot was already alive with activity when Hailey hurried toward the set.
Her sneakers squeaked against the polished concrete floor.
"Great," she muttered. "Even my shoes are announcing how late I am."
The familiar sounds of equipment being moved and voices calling out instructions filled the air around her.
She could hear someone shouting, "Watch the cables!" followed by what sounded like a minor crash.
"Smooth," came another voice. "Real professional."
Her heart was still racing from the morning's events, and Eric's warning echoed in her mind.
The way he had looked at her in the car still made her stomach clench.
She pushed the thoughts aside as she approached the pool area where today's shoot was taking place.
"Wow," she breathed, taking in the transformed set.
The area had been turned into what looked like a luxurious resort pool.
Palm trees in large pots lined the edges, their fronds swaying gently from the air conditioning.
"Someone has been busy," Hailey observed to herself.
White lounge chairs were arranged at perfect angles, with colorful towels draped artfully over some of them.
The pool itself was rectangular and deep, with water so blue it looked artificial.
"That's definitely not natural," she said, studying the overly vibrant color.
Camera equipment surrounded the area like mechanical sentinels.
Cables wound across the floor, taped down with bright yellow tape.
"Looks like a construction zone," Hailey muttered, carefully stepping over the cables.
She spotted Victoria sitting in a director's chair near the edge of the set.
The actress was wearing a white bathrobe, her usually perfect hair pulled back messily.
Even from a distance, Hailey could tell something was off.
Victoria's posture was slumped, but there was something calculated about it.
"She looks about as sick as I feel rich," Hailey said under her breath.
The director, Miles, was in full frustrated mode.
His face was flushed red as he gestured wildly at Joy, Victoria's personal assistant, who clutched her tablet like a shield.
"What happened?" Miles was demanding. "What is wrong with Victoria now?"
"Victoria isn't being difficult," Joy replied, her voice defensive but shaky. "She's just feeling a bit unwell this morning."
Miles threw his hands up dramatically.
"Unwell? What does that even mean? She was strutting around here fine this morning!"
"That was just... just the spirit of the actress," Joy said, her voice getting smaller with each word.
"The spirit of the actress?" Miles repeated incredulously. "What is she, possessed?"
"She always wants to work quickly, but she's really not feeling well right now," Joy replied.
"Sick? What kind of sick?" Miles pressed, his patience clearly hanging by a thread. "I said I saw her moving around just fine earlier! She was practically dancing!"
A nearby crew member whispered to his colleague, "Twenty bucks says she's faking it."
"You're on," came the reply.
Hailey spotted Donald adjusting some makeup supplies near the pool area.
She hurried over to him, hoping to get a clearer picture of what was happening.
"Donald," she said, touching his arm gently. "What's the drama about? Did someone die?"
Donald looked up from his makeup kit, his expression sympathetic.
"It's the drowning rescue scene," he explained quietly. "The one where the male lead falls into the pool and Victoria is supposed to save him?"
"Oh, that scene," Hailey nodded. "Let me guess. Victoria doesn't want to get her hair wet?"
"Bingo," Donald said with a dry smile. "So she wants you to play the scene instead."