Never Alone

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"I swear to God, it feels like just yesterday I was on the plane home from Missouri, how the fuck do we only have three weeks left before Wrap?"

"I couldn't tell you, this whole thing has just flown by," Claire mused, pausing for a moment to wave at someone across the lot.

Before I knew what was happening, a hand reached out and grabbed me, pulling me into one of the tents, and I was face-to-face with none other than Annabella Deacon.

"She'll be back in a sec!" Annabella called to Claire through the open door before returning her attention to me. I glanced over to Sadie, who was currently sprawled out across three collapsable chairs in a neon pink sports bra and patterned leggings, one arm draped over her face.

"Are you two working out in here?" I asked, my confusion evident in my expression.

Sadie looked up, her face flushed, "Oh my God, Rowan. Get out while you can."

"Shut up, Sadie." Annabella glared. "Have you seen Mamma Mia?" She asked abruptly, leaning on the table next to her.

"Who hasn't? Did you bring me in here to ask that?"

"Perfect," She grinned, ignoring my question. "So basically, I talked to Production this morning, and the wrap party is going to be held at a karaoke bar downtown. For the past ten years I've had this dream, call it an ambition, to have my own little Donna and the Dynamos moment, but none of the girls I've worked with have wanted anything to do with me outside of work, so you can see my dilemma."

"Oh, fuck no!" I yelped, realizing what she was suggesting and taking a step back. "Go find Claire, there's no way in hell I'm being your Tanya."

"Oh, Rowan, sweet, naive little Rowan," She monologued, "I'm not asking you to be my Tanya. You're the lead actress, it's only fair that you'd be Donna."

"Are you insane?" I gawked, "I don't sing. I don't dance. I hardly even act. You've got the wrong girl."

"Ah, but you do sing. Quite loudly, in fact. I'm sure everyone within fifty feet of your trailer, myself included, has developed a vast appreciation for your renditions of Post Malone's entire discography. Highlight of my mornings."

I blushed crimson, covering my face with my hands. "You're joking. Please tell me you're joking."

"Don't be bashful. You can carry a tune, and the routine isn't actually that difficult. Come on, sweetie, live a little."

"Have you ever considered that maybe the reason that after ten years you haven't been able to persuade anyone to do this with you is because it would involve humiliating ourselves in front of everyone we work with?"

"Worked with," She corrected, "You'll never have to see half of these people again. And that's kind of the whole point. It'll be hilarious. Plus, everyone will already be drunk by the time we get on stage, and, correct me if I'm wrong, but none of us are hoping for a career on Broadway, so the likelihood of anyone caring whether we can pull off a three part harmony is negligible."

"Why haven't you asked Claire?"

"i wouldn't ask Claire to administer CPR if I was dying," She replied dramatically, rolling her eyes. "She thinks I'm domineering and self-absorbed. I'm sure she's great once you get to know her, but two control freaks on one set is a recipe for disaster."

"You literally play her sister."

"The magic of Hollywood," She shrugged. "You play her girlfriend, but I think we all know that's not too far from the truth."

"I don't know what you're talking about." I feigned ignorance.

"Tell you what - you do this for me, and I'll pretend I haven't noticed your little hero-worship crush on Millennial Marilyn over there. For the record, the disingenuous act you've got going on isn't nearly as effective as you think."

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