Page 64 of Forced Proximity

Doc: True. That cast. *swoon*. Best Matt Damon movie. Go!

Justin: Ugh, that’s tough. I mean, there’s Good Will Hunting.

Doc: And The Departed.

Justin: So good. But really, the Bourne movies. You can’t beat them.

Doc: Maybe you’ll step into that franchise someday.

Justin: Ha. Maybe. But I doubt it.

Doc: You’d be great at it. Your range of emotion on screen is incredible, and your fight scenes are badass.

Justin: Holy shit. Did you watch another one of my films?

Doc: It came up as a suggestion on Netflix. It’s not like I put your name in there.

Doc: I’m never going to live this down, am I?

Justin: I seriously want to give you so much shit for this, but I won’t.

Justin: What are you doing now that you’re no longer babysitting me?

Doc: I’m actually in Minnesota visiting my parents. Coming home tomorrow. They just went to bed and I’m lying in my old room that’s now filled with some weird dolls my mom decided to collect. I’m for sure going to have nightmares.

Justin: Ha. Are your parents happy to have you home?

Doc: They are. But Christ, all I’ve done is eat rhubarb pie, hotdish and baked bread since being here. Oh, and played my dad in basketball. The old guy still has it. Kicked my ass at HORSE this morning.

The next afternoon, I ignore the new bodyguard in the den – I know, I’m an asshole – and move to the kitchen. Zane’s already there, grabbing peanut butter from a cabinet.

‘Seriously, dude. It’s been over a week.’ They twist open the jar and stick in a butter knife. ‘We need to talk about locking in Doc’s replacement.’

‘Good morning to you too,’ I say and start slicing a cucumber. ‘I hate them all.’

‘Stop. You don’t hate them all.’

None of them are Doc. No one else can compare, so what’s the point? I whisk soy and chili flakes into a bowl and dip in a cucumber slice. ‘I thought the whole point was to have a daytime female guard. You’re showing me all men.’

‘I know, but the other women are still on assignments.’ Zane spreads a dollop of peanut butter on a banana slice. ‘He said it’ll take some time.’

Maybe I’m being unreasonable, maybe, but I don’t give a shit. The studio’s being ridiculous about these threats. It might even just be one of their stupid PR stunts. Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past the director that this is some sort of misguided method acting exercise for my new thriller.

‘Please, please, please, take a look at the resumes,’ Zane says. ‘Don’t force me to pick one. You’re gonna hate them, and I’m going to have to hear every day until I die that I chose the wrong one.’

I pop another cucumber in my mouth. ‘You’re going to hear about it regardless, so does it really matter?’ Zane is not amused. ‘Give me a few more days to think of something, okay? After that, I promise I’ll give you the satisfaction of showing you that your nagging skills worked, and you’ve thoroughly destroyed my will to make independent decisions.’

‘Awww … a dream come true.’ Zane glances at their watch. ‘We have to head out. Don’t forget tomorrow you’re going directly to the studio post trainer workout, but I have a dentist appointment and will be late. I already packed for you this morning.’

‘I didn’t forget.’ I one hundred percent forgot. I stuff my phone into my pocket and follow Zane to the car.

On the way to the studio, I pull out my phone and glance at today’s itinerary. One of the secondary character actors had to drop out, and the producer needs a few reads with me to gauge chemistry. But as I sift through the agenda, my brain itches to do something else. I swipe open the text app and hover my thumbs.

Justin: I gotta be honest. I’m not feeling the new guy at all.

Doc: you’ll get used to him.

Justin: He wears sunglasses. Indoors. Indoors, Doc! I can’t handle it.