The Hollywood HookUp

“What the hell?” Casey blinked, squinting. “Sandra is that you?”

“Of course it’s me. Who else would grab you?”

He looked embarrassed and almost guilty. “You'd be surprised.” Her jaw locked, an inexplicable anger rising at the words and not going down as he continued. “If you wanted to talk you could have just asked or called me.”

“I don't have your number,” she lied.

“You do, but that’s beside the point.”

He called on her birthday, holidays, and a couple other times throughout the year, but she never picked up.

“What is so important you needed to assault me here?”

She felt like that spoiled valley girl ready to stamp her foot again. Luckily she had a convenient target to aim her frustration at. “You can tell me you didn't sign on for the film, that we are not shooting together in two days.”

Casey bit his lip, an old habit though critics said it was a cheesy affectation. She’d read a few reviews of his work. So what? They were hard to miss when her mom emailed her every one ever written.

“I took the role. I start shooting Wednesday.”

“You can't do it.” Her voice was firm and calm with conviction. “You are too clumsy, uncoordinated and untrained.”

His voice was hard, a hammer aimed at her. “I think that is for the director to decide, not a cast member. Oh, and me. I get to decide if I should take the role or not.”

“You are totally incompetent,” she exploded. “You trip over your own feet on flat ground! I can't work with you. Someone is going to get hurt!”

Casey kept his voice low and calm. “I am not backing out of the project.”

“Is that right? I doubt you have ever been in a fight! I doubt you can block a punch. Every black eye you have ever had was makeup. I could strangle yo...”

“Zip!”

The noise had Casey looking around the small room. He turned back to Sandra ready to shoot down her accusations; instead, he caught her as she flew at him. She was right, however. He’d never blocked a punch and he really didn't want to start now.

“Not in the face!” Wow, he was a wimp. Not exactly the manly way to respond.

He saw the headline: “Actor gets beat-up on set. Will intimidation get him to back out of his next role?”

The ass-kicking he expected never came. Sandra knocked him flat on his back all right, but not to pummel him with her fists. “What are you do...” She crawled up him, lips locking, hands roaming, silencing anything he had intended to say.