LOL: Laugh Out Loud (After Oscar, #2)(5)
“I know. I need you to run point for me with the producer and director. They’re probably freaking out right now. And with how many freaking photographers are here, there’s no chance this isn’t already hitting the internet big-time.”
Finally Oscar seemed to pull his shit together and take me seriously. “I already texted the director. The producer is probably too busy crying to be much help. Every minute you’re not on set is costing them thousands.”
“Don’t do that, dammit,” I hissed. “That doesn’t help my anxiety.”
“What happened on set?” Oscar asked gently, sounding genuinely concerned. “Did something trigger the panic attack?”
Thankfully, I was saved from having to answer by the return of the cop. My panic attack and what caused it wasn’t something I particularly wanted to dive into right now.
“Just smooth things over with the director and producer, okay?” I told him. “I gotta go.”
“But wait—”
I hung up on him again and let out a breath. I was an actor for god’s sake. One of the best, if past awards and box office numbers were any indication. I should at least be able to act like a man who wasn’t on the verge of a panic attack. I closed my eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to be calm. Not on edge. No pressure, no stress. Usually I could pull on another character like a change of clothes. Right now, however, I was finding it difficult.
The cop opened the door and leaned in. I gave him my best Hollywood smile. “This has all simply been a misunderstanding… you see, I’m playing a cop in the new Deep Cut film. We were shooting over by the Park when… ah… something happened.”
“Wait… wait…” He peered closer at me. I waited, knowing exactly what came next. I’d experienced it a thousand times. Recognition hit and his face went slack. “You’re that Roman Burke? Like from the movies Death Pawn and Back Passage?”
I would have paid back years of lucrative royalties to get them to have changed the title of that movie. But you didn’t always choose which ones hit it big, and that movie had helped launch my career.
I amped up the wattage of my smile. “Yes, that was me. And I really need to get back to the set as soon as I can. I’m sure you understand.”
He frowned. “Is that why you jumped into Mr. Pinker’s carriage? To hitch a ride to the set?”
I wondered if I would be in less trouble if that was the case. But I wasn’t really comfortable with lying to a cop, so I hewed as close to the truth as I could. “That’s the direction we were headed in when we were pulled over.”
He tapped a pen against the citation booklet he’d been scribbling in. I tried to get a glance at what he’d written to see what kind of trouble I was in.
“There’s still the issue of impersonating an officer,” he pointed out.
I held up my hands, giving him my most earnestly innocent expression. “I didn’t impersonate an officer. I never said I was a cop. How can that be impersonating an officer?”
The officer opened his mouth, paused, and closed it again. Then he blew out a breath. “Well, I guess it was really Mr. Pinker who broke the law here with his unlawful drive through the city during these hours.” He brought up his citation pad again and glared over at the carriage driver. “We can’t let these people jam up city streets and scare the tourists.”
I stared at him. I didn’t really appreciate the tone of voice he’d used or the implication behind the words. It made me want to jump to Scotty’s defense. “I’m not sure these people scared much of anyone,” I snapped.
The officer frowned and I realized my tone probably hadn’t helped either of our cases. Belatedly, I realized what Oscar always called my “Hollywood Charm” might come in handy in this situation. The paparazzi were going to get their shots regardless, so I might as well stage a few that would be flattering.
I stepped out of the vehicle and reached out my hand to shake his. My height immediately dwarfed the officer, and the breadth of my shoulders cast a shadow across the side of his face. He peered up at me, and I grinned, removing my hat and raking a hand through my hair. I tipped my mouth into a lopsided grin.
Oscar called it my “aw shucks, I’m just the awkward boy from next door who grew up to be hot” move. It had graced the cover of dozens of magazines and sold millions of movie tickets. It was my signature look and made me instantly recognizable to anyone who hadn’t been living under a rock for the last ten years..
Two or three women squealed from the nearby crowd while the paparazzi scrambled to snap photos. Several people screamed my name trying to get my attention, but I tried to block them out of my mind. Instead, I glanced at the carriage driver, wondering how he would react to the news of who I was.
For a moment he didn’t react at all and I felt an odd twist of disappointment. Then he seemed to recognize me and his eyes widened. My grin grew. I wondered if he’d want an autograph. At least that would give me the opportunity to talk to him again. Now that my panic attack had eased and I wasn’t so emotionally raw and ragged around the edges, maybe I could even charm him into agreeing to grab coffee.
He was cute as hell, after all. And pretty funny as well, now that I thought about it.
The moment the thought went through my head, Scotty’s face snapped back into a scowl. It was obvious he was pissed as hell at me. Which was a shame because I really liked the idea of spending more time with him.