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keep your clothes on.” I continue to
shake the towel at him, hoping he’ll take it so I can stop squeezing my eyes
shut.
    “I’m not making any promises.” He walks in front of me and
lifts my chin up. I blink my eyes open, elated to see that he has wrapped the
towel around himself.
     
    I walk through his evening schedule with him, as he stands
in front of me half-naked. I’m smart enough to know he’s doing it on purpose: he
likes to see me squirm. I’m keeping myself in check, and making sure I don’t
fall weak to his ways.
     
    After all, I have a job to do…and he’s still a dick.
     
    After the director yells, “cut” and checks the footage,
we’re told that the day is wrapped. I’m so happy about this, as my feet are
killing me, and the only thing I can think of is soaking in a hot bath full of
Epsom salt. I walk back to Johnny’s trailer and open the door for him, readying
his space for his evening ritual.
     
    He’s a little weird like that. All his personal belongings,
everything he brought from home that day, need to be laid out on the table
alongside his back pack so he can see exactly what he’s taking back home and
what he’s leaving in his trailer. I also prepare a protein shake for him with
one cup of fat-free milk, one scoop chocolate whey protein, one packet of hot
chocolate mix, and one-half cup of low-fat cottage cheese.
     
    I have no interest in protein shakes, but this one is
actually really good. I mean, come on, hot chocolate mix? Yes, please!
     
    And the last thing I have to make sure of is that his bike
is sitting by the entrance to the trailer. Let me clarify: it’s not a
motorcycle; it’s an actual bicycle. As I said: every minute that he’s not on
set, he’s working out.
     
    Again, woof.
     
    “What do you think, Caroline? A little heavy on the hot
chocolate mix?” I can’t do anything right by the man.
    “I don’t know why you think that question should be aimed at
me. I will always say it needs more hot chocolate mix.” I laugh it off, trying
desperately to not let him bother me, as my day is so close to being over.
    “Next time, let’s add a little less.”
    I should just agree and move on, but that’s not in my
nature. “Okay, that’s all well and good, but the recipe calls for one packet of
the mix. If I use less, then I’m wasting part of the packet, and then I’m not
sure I can keep the measurement the same every time, as I’m just attempting to
hold back part of the mix that’s in the little paper packet.”
    He nods to me, I’m sure having not at all listened to my
little rant, puts his things in his back pack, and turns to walk out of the
door. “You’ll figure it out.”
     
    Thenhe walks out. My blood
is boiling. I can feel my legs begin to shake from the absolute rage the man
brings out in me.
     
    I finally calm myself down and step out of his trailer.
     
    “Let’s grab a drink.”
     
    I scream, which is ridiculous, but I wasn’t expecting him to
be there, and he startled the crap out of me.
     
    “Not tonight, Johnny.” And by that, I mean: Not ever.
    “It wasn’t a question, Caroline.”
    Oh gosh, not this again. “No, I am off the clock. I am going
to go home, I’m going to soak in a bath for at least two hours, and I’m not
going to think of you at all.”
    “You’re going to think of me.” He winks.
    “That’s where you’re wrong, sir. I’m not going to think of
you for one single second.”
    “Well, you will, because we’re getting a drink.” He takes a
step closer to me, making sure I’m aware of his power.
     
    I fight. He fights. I’m snarky. He’s snarky. I laugh. He
laughs.
     
    I lose. He wins.
     
    I guess I’m saving the Epsom salt bath for another lifetime.

 
     
    CHAPTER EIGHT
     
    “She’ll have another Gin and Tonic and I’ll have my regular.”
Johnny lightly grabs the cocktail waitress’ wrist.
    “No, no, no!” I slur out, but it’s no use. She’s not looking
at me. I might as well not