Crossed paths

Chapter 5 What To Do?

Allena

The heavy studio doors slammed shut behind me as I ran out of the set, the cool air outside instantly hitting my face, though I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. The walls felt like they were closing in on me. Jack was here. He was the lead actor of this entire show. A suffocating wave of panic washed over me as the reality of the situation settled in. How would I ever be able to do my daily job now, knowing that he was just a few rooms away, surrounded by beautiful actresses and models?

If I wanted to survive the next month on this production, I had to avoid him at all costs.

Yet even as the thought crossed my mind, my treacherous heart ached with a familiar longing. He looked so incredibly handsome and commanding in that tailored grey suit. The memory of being pressed so close to him made my skin flush. His large, strong hands had held me tightly against his hard chest, and I could still feel the rigid flex of his muscles beneath my fingers. Worst of all, I could not shake the way his piercing brown eyes had looked right through me. It felt exactly like the past, as if he could see straight into my soul.

The sharp vibration of my phone broke the silence, cutting through my chaotic thoughts. I pulled it from my pocket with a shaking hand, my voice tight as I answered.

"Hello? Who is it?"

"Hello, this is Cristen Ramson," a formal woman's voice replied on the other end. "Am I speaking to Allena Ramor?"

"Yes, Allena here," I stammered, trying to steady my breathing. "How can I help you?"

"Allena, I am calling from the network, and I regret to inform you that your services are no longer required for the production. You will be compensated for today's hours, and the payment will be transferred directly to your bank account."

The words felt like a physical blow. "But why? What happened?" Even as the desperate question left my lips, a bitter realization settled in my chest.

It was Jack's doing.

He had used his power to throw me out. How could he be so cruel to me when he knew nothing about why I had to leave back then?

"Ma'am, there was an official report of dissatisfaction regarding your service," Cristen replied, her tone completely detached. "I cannot provide any more details than that."

"I understand. Thank you," I whispered, the strength draining from my body.

The line went dead with a quiet click.

Looking at the dark screen of my mobile, my last of my restraint crumbled, and I could not hold back my tears anymore. The heavy weight of financial ruin pressed down on me, making my pulse beat. I kept walking blindly toward the small park just outside the studio lot, sobbing uncontrollably. The tears blurred my vision, but I did not even care about the crew members or strangers staring at me as I passed.

Finally, I found a secluded wooden bench tucked under a tree and sank onto it, burying my face in my hands, feeling utterly defeated.

A shadow fell over the gravel path in front of me. I rubbed my eyes quickly, looking up to see Sam standing there. He was holding a grease-stained brown paper bag that smelled strongly of toasted bread and melted cheese. Without saying a word, he tore the bag down the middle, split a massive club sandwich in half, and extended one portion toward me.

I stared at it, my stomach completely tied in knots. "I'm really not hungry, Sam."

"Eat half," he said quietly, taking a seat on the opposite end of the bench and taking a bite of his own share. "Chewing gives you something else to focus on. Trust me."

I hesitated, but the warm aroma was hard to ignore, and honestly, I hadn't eaten anything all morning. I took the sandwich from him, the foil warm against my cold fingers, and took a small bite. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes, just listening to the distant rustle of the trees and the faint noise of the studio lot behind us. The simple act of eating actually did help ground me, slowly taking the edge off the panic.

Sam finished his half first, dusting a few crumbs off his jeans. "So," he said casually, not pushing too hard. "You looked like you were running for your life back there. First day nerves?"

"Worse," I admitted, staring down at the remaining crust of my sandwich. "I got fired."

Sam raised his eyebrows, letting out a low whistle. "Fired? On day one? That's impressive, even for show business. What happened?"

"I ran straight into the lead actor in the hallway," I murmured, keeping my eyes fixed on the grass. "I got completely flustered and yelled at Mr. Paul to get out of my way."

Sam couldn't help the amused smirk that tugged at his lips. "You shouted at Jackson Paul? Bold strategy for your first hour on set."

His expression softened when he noticed how tightly my shoulders were still tensed. "Look, the guy is a massive name, and the energy in there is intense. Everyone snaps sooner or later. Don't let it get to you."

"I just panicked," I said softly, shielding the truth. I could not bring myself to tell him that I already knew Jack, or about the complicated history that tied us together.

"Hey, it's fine," Sam said gently, leaning back against the bench. "But if this job is really that critical for you, you shouldn't just walk away. Go back in there, find his room, and apologize. Tell him you were stressed out and lost your cool. Behind all the star power, he's a professional. If you're straight with him, he'll probably respect it."

The idea felt completely ridiculous, almost insulting. Go back and beg for my job from the man who had just used his power to throw me out? The very thought made my stomach twist into painful knots.

“Maybe” I said unsure, but as I sat there staring at the gravel path and thought more about it, the anger began to drain, replaced by cold, hard reality. I didn't have the luxury of pride anymore.

Well, I had absolutely nothing left to lose other than my self-respect. And when debt is the size of a mountain, it doesn’t matter, the bank will not accept self-respect as a monthly payment. The collection notices were piling up on my kitchen counter, and the harsh reality of my financial situation meant I couldn't afford to let my ego stand in the way of my survival.

I am already jobless. The absolute worst he could do was say no and send me packing again, but I desperately needed this income to stay afloat.

I swallowed my pride and nodded. "Thank you, Sam. I think I will go and try to talk to him right now."

"Definitely. I hope to see you around soon then."

"I wish so too," I said, offering him a grateful smile before standing up.