Not Another Player

26.Bonehead

Late Night Talking // Harry Styles

We pull out of the parking garage early the next morning. My clunker of a car is the perfect decoy, spewing exhaust and smoking its way down the street. It's like hiding in plain sight with how obnoxiously heinous the motor sounds. The thing causes jump scares at every streetlight when I accelerate. The motor wheezes and pops as soon as I hit the gas.

"This is the dumbest thing we've ever done," Char says, shaking her head and holding onto the 'oh-shit' handle as I turn.

"So dumb it's smart."

"So dumb it's really dumb. How in the world are we going to slide into your hotel unnoticed?"

"I have my ways, my young paduwan." Fuck. Now I sound like Zack. The guy is rubbing off on me in all the wrong ways.

"Goober." She laughs.

I cover my heart in mock offense. "Shameful. I am not a goober. Chocolate covered raisins are why I have trust issues. I am more 'good n plenty' than 'goober' any day."

"The gross candy-covered black licorice? Ewwww. Just no. Besides, where I come from, goober means loser."

"I am neither goober, nor loser. Nor am I gross."

Char shakes her head, laughing some more. "Where has this guy been?"

"Which guy?" I side-eye her.

"The guy who jokes. You'd gone serious head case for a bit. It's nice to see you relax."

I mull over her words in my head for a while before I address them. She's right, though. Getting rejected from this roll initially threw me into a death spiral of self-doubt. Wooing Char was the only bright spot for a long time. Having Char was even better. Then, when I finally did get the call for this part, the pressure ramped up and I could barely hang on. I've been white knuckling it far too long.

Last night when Char insisted we take some time out of the limelight and just be, just hang out at my cheap Hollywood apartment, I finally felt like myself again. I could take a deep breath. I could revel in the way Char and I connect.

"I could say the same about you," I say. And it's true. Char showed up at my hotel room door looking like the girl I met, not the tight-ass exec. Not that I don't love her tight ass. I fucking do. But I missed the girl who bounced around with a giant smile on her face for absolutely no reason.

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Char lean back into her seat. She throws one arm up over her head and sighs.

"Yeah, I missed that girl. Being Brianna's assistant was breezy. I could get away with a sharp tongue and say it like it was. Once I became her manager...I don't know. Things changed. I like the break, though."

"Me, too."

We both fall silent, thinking the words but not saying them out loud. The break is nearly over. Char has to go back to the tour tonight. Late. She'd planned on requesting a car to take her to the airport because I'm supposed to be on set for a night shoot downtown. I'm seriously thinking about playing hooky. I haven't had a good reason to ditch since high school, but this is about the best reason there is. I make a mental note to call my assistant, David, and see if he can work his magic to score me a get-out-of-jail free card.

We drive the long way to the hotel, through the hills near Hollywood, past landmarks that every celebrity haunts, like the Chateau Marmont, the famous hotel in the hills, and Rodeo Drive. We sneak into a coffee place drive through for snacks without being recognized, which I'm guessing will end for me soon enough. Our dailies haven't been leaked, although I'm sure that's down the pike none too soon. I have a theory that execs leak the little sneak peaks of the stuff we shoot each day to build a buzz around a film. And with the money backing this one, there's no doubt in my mind that those leaks are coming.