An avalanche of ideas rushed to the forefront of my brain, funny ways Smash-Girl could lose her cool. “Maybe, before she is able to control her powers, she goes red at the OBGYN’s office when the speculum is cold, or if she’s out of red wine. Or when people keep cutting in front of her at the DMV.”
“Yes.” Marta cheered me on, her chair making a small squeaking noise, alerting me to the fact she was bouncing in it.
“This could be great.” This could be really, really great.
“Yes! This will be great. And not just for you but for all women. Think about how this could shift the industry, change people’s perceptions. For years women have been written off as not being superhero or action movie fans. Think about how this would open the door for other roles, parts for strong women. A generation of kids would look up to you. And with you writing, you can keep them from dumbing it down, pandering. Sienna, it’s going to be so, so great.”
I nodded, giving in to my excitement and not thinking about what this might mean for my work schedule.
Before I could venture too far down the path, Marta cut in, “Oh. Before I forget, are you going to Kate’s premiere in London? I think you have to and I think you have to bring a date.”
“I-uh-hadn’t given it much thought recently.” My mind was still going through Smash-Girl going red scenarios.
“Well, you have to go. But beware, because Tate will be there with his new girlfriend.”
“So?”
“So, you two dated. It will be awkward.”
“No, we didn’t.”
I heard my sister huff on the other end. “Yes. You did.”
“We did not. I never dated Tate. We went to a juice bar after yoga once. Once.”
“He still calls you the one that got away.”
“That’s ridiculous. He talked about his beet juice obsession the entire time. I barely said a word. I would never date someone who peed purple.”
“Sienna.”
“Marta.”
I could tell she was trying to be serious, but I was also serious. The man drank so much beet juice it wasn’t just his pee that was turning purple.
Spoiler alert: it was his face.
“Well, Kev will be there too, and the rumor is he’s bringing his sister. He’s telling people he’s not over you yet.”
“Oh my God. Are you serious?” I shook my head, disgusted. Our agents had set us up for a publicity dinner, and he’d been milking it for the last eighteen months, playing the jilted lover card. We’d never even kissed. “What a ballsack!”
“I’m just saying. Between Kev, Tate, and Tom, it’s going to be a full house of your previous boyfriends. So you have to show up with a date.”
I felt like screaming that none of them had been my boyfriend—except for maybe Tom, and then only for a month—but I thought better of it.
Instead I said, “Fine. Fine. I’ll go, and I’ll bring a date.” Worst-case scenario, I’d ask my bodyguard Dave to go with me.
“Good. I’ll book your travel. We’ll charter a plane out of Knoxville, otherwise you’ll have to make three connections.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, and Sienna?”
“Yes?”
“Congratulations.” Her voice held a genuine smile and pride. “You are going to write an epic script and be an amazing Smash-Girl.”
I was tired, but I could do this. I would do this. This was important.
Despite my lingering irritation about the London premiere, I allowed myself a small grin. “Thank you, Marta. Thank you for making this happen.”
And then maybe after I did this, if Smash-Girl was successful, if I accomplished what I hoped I would, I’d be able to take that break.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of activity. News of the Smash-Girl movie and my potential role in it must’ve been leaked, although I couldn’t imagine how it had managed to spread so quickly. By that afternoon everyone was smiling at me and offering their congratulations.
But I had other things on my mind, namely awesome Ranger Jethro things.
As sunset approached and my scenes wrapped for the day, I snuck back to my trailer. Dave, head of my security team, was standing outside the door. He gave me a chin lift and opened the door.
“Has Tom stopped by?” I asked, passing Dave the coffee and doughnut I’d grabbed for him on my way.
“Thanks.” He accepted my offering. “I haven’t seen him since lunch.”
“Good.”
“Sienna?”
“Yeah?”
“Are you sure you don’t want us to drive you in the mornings and take you home?” Dave frowned. I could see my reflection in his dark sunglasses. “We have the day split into three shifts, and you know I’m a morning person. I don’t mind taking you early. If Marta finds out about you driving yourself—”