By the way she was looking at me, it was obvious she didn’t know who I was, and more than anything else, I was relieved. The anonymity I’d found since coming here was the best thing about doing this movie.
Besides the money, I thought.
And your hot Australian surf coach, the voice in the back of my head added.
The girl’s eyebrow cocked even higher, and she twisted her head forward, as if she was waiting for an answer.
“Sure,” I said. “Why not.”
She raked her bottom teeth over the corner of her lower lip and tilted her head to the side, the motion sending her dyed red hair flying backward and with it the odor of sweat and stale cigarettes. “There’s no point lying to me. I mean, we’re both here, right?”
Yes, and probably for the same reason, I wanted to say. Instead, I shrugged and said, “You called it. Just giving you what you want to hear.”
Her lips curled into a sneer and I saw her dig her shimmery-painted fingernails into the armrests. She glared at me for another few seconds, then turned her head and slammed back in her seat.
A moment later, my name was called. As I walked to meet the man waiting for me in the open doorway, I felt the redhead girl’s dark eyes following me. I caught her confused expression just before I disappeared behind the door. She was mouthing my name slowly, squinting and wrinkling her nose.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t make the connection until much later, if she ever did.
“This is Officer Stewart’s desk,” the man said, tapping the top of the fifth cubicle we came to. “You can go ahead in.”
I was surprised to find that Officer Stewart was years younger than my probie in California and model pretty, with light brown hair styled in a knot on top of her head, a starched white shirt and high-waisted pants and pumps that made me feel like I was going to fall flat on my face just looking at them. She gave me a bored onceover as I took a seat on the other side of the desk, and a few minutes later, stared at me entirely too long when she escorted me to pee in a cup.
After I passed the drug test—to her surprise I was sure, because she glanced between me and the cup several times before tossing it in a huge trash bin—we returned to her desk. She opened her laptop and began asking me a series of questions.
“Your full name is Brittany Willow Avery?” she asked, lifting her eyebrow slightly as she read my first name.
“Yes.”
“And your birthday is July 15, 1993?”
“Uh huh,” I said.
“Are you still living at the same address as the other day?” I shook my head, only murmuring a “yes” after she glanced up at me impatiently.
“Are you actively employed?” she questioned. I knew these were standard questions—I mean, I’d heard them dozens of times—but that didn’t stop me from gritting my teeth. Officer Stewart lifted her gaze up as I was rolling my eyes. “Is there a problem with your employment, Miss Avery?” she asked, emphasizing each and every word.
“No, I’m . . . working,” I said, but I couldn’t hold back the exasperation in my voice. Suddenly, I felt defensive—like I had to prove myself to this woman I didn’t even know because of the way she was staring at me.
Officer Stewart tilted backward in her rolling chair, so far that it touched the two filing cabinets behind her. She linked her fingertips together, rubbing them back and forth and picking me apart with her blue-green eyes. I just knew that a question that would make me feel like shit was coming, and I braced myself for it.
Sure enough, a moment later, she said, “My case notes say that you’re not scheduled to begin shooting your film until”—She took her eyes off mine long enough to squint at the laptop screen—“July first.”
“That’s right.”
“So why are you here so early?”
Glancing at the clock as if it would help this meeting go by faster, I clenched my hands together between my knees. “Because I’m training with a surf instructor for my role.” I flicked the tip of my tongue nervously across my top lip and dropped my gaze to my lap. “I play, ah, a surfer.”
Saying it aloud sounded like such a f**king joke.
“Original,” Stewart murmured. Bringing her chair back to the ground, she typed something into her computer, her fingers making a rapid click, click, click noise that annoyed me. I imagined what she was typing, but then I stopped myself. I shouldn’t care. I’d be done with probation soon enough and I’d never have to see Officer Stewart again. “Who are you training with? Lots of good ones in Honolulu.” She never looked up or stopped jabbing at the keys.
“Cooper Taylor at Blue Flame Academy,” I said. Stewart’s shoulders stiffened and her fingers clenched. A second later, she regained her composure. What the hell was that about?
“You’re filming the remake of the”—She coughed—“Hilary Norton movie, right?”
I was pretty sure she already knew that, but I nodded anyway. “Yes, I’m her—I mean, I’m playing the character she played.”
“Ironic,” she said, and tilted her head to the side. I flushed. It didn’t take a genius to figure out she was comparing me to Hilary Norton. The woman who’d originally played my part had been a class-A junkie. I was almost certain that eventually, the gossip columns would point out that similarity, and I was already dreading the day. “And you’re working with Cooper. He’s a good one, that’s for sure,” she added, a tight smile clawing at the corners of her mouth.