Free Accidental Action Star by Emily Evans Page A

he stepped down into the goo. The crew removed the plank from view.
    Half the cameras pointed at Max, the other half split between me and the surface of the pool. The tar, which was actually diluted molasses, covered the vat, six inches deep. Movie goers owed more thanks to the special effects teams than they realized.
    I got into place and breathed out, shaking my hands like the acting coach had taught me. It took me out of my head and into the scene.
    The AD clapped his hands. “Places.” He motioned to the crew. “Picture is up. Roll camera. Speed.”
    “Marker.” The clapper man clicked the clapperboard shut.
    “Action.”
    I knelt. Given the sticky nature of the scene, Wardrobe had simply clipped on a fake overlong ponytail high on my head. I tried not to think about how much I missed my own hair and concentrated on the positive. After it got dipped in tar, I could simply unclip it. Okay, scene. I stared at Max. He had his head thrown back in a convincing portrayal of agony.
    Rogue had been tossed into a burning tar pit. Save him. Cool the tar. I stuck my hand into the goo. The mixture was a sensory shock from the tips of my fingers to my wrists, gummy, sticky, sucking. I hoped my look of shock worked for the camera so we wouldn’t have to re-shoot. I frowned and bit my lip, trying to concentrate on conveying the awesome power it would take to cool a boiling tar pit to room temperature. My hands being trapped gave me an almost claustrophobic feeling. I rose and used that in my expression.
    And here we go.
    I stepped into the molasses. The gummy substance pulled against my steps, forcing me to work my muscles hard. I wanted a shower. I reached Max and grabbed onto his sleeves with my sticky hands, imagining Cutter’s wince as I did so. “Rogue.”
    “You’re here.”
    “I’ll always be here for you.” That was my new line and I nailed it.
    Max pulled me to him. In character, we stared into each other’s eyes and waited for the AD to yell cut.
    “Hannah, slump and sink to your knees as if weakening. Max, lower with her as you try to keep her in your realm. Protest her being taken from you.”
    I bent my knees. Max grabbed me tighter to him. “No. Don’t leave me.” I sank into the goo. Max pretended to pull me while I sank further down, first to my knees, then seated, and then back on my elbows. The molasses seeped through the dress, syrupy from my shoes to the back of my hair.
    “And cut!” the AD said. “Good take, guys. I think we got it.”
    I used my new martial arts skills and kicked my leg over the back of Max’s knees, pressing with my upper body at the same time, propelling him back into the molasses. I crawled onto his defeated lap. “Got you.”
    His eyes sparked up at me, and I suspected he’d let me capture him. Whatever, even fake victory was a thrill. I scooped up a handful of the syrupy substance and rubbed it on his chest. The slick stuff made clicking sounds.
    Max braced his hands in the goo behind him and didn’t stop me or retaliate. “Go out with me. Saturday.”
    My heart stopped and then sped up. Eagerness raced through me and I grinned. “Okay.”
    The AD moved over to the side of the pool. “Max, get cleaned up for the next shoot.  Good job, Hannah. You’re done for today.”
    Max lifted me out of the vat. “I’ll text you.”
    Awesome. I texted my roommate who called me a liar and Powder who said she knew I could do it.
     

 

Chapter Eight
     
    Saturday night. I’d parked on the right, closest to a Tudor-style building with nice landscaping. I bet Max and I were going there. And I bet it was a steak place. Fun. Starving.
    I got out of my car and my lilac dress swished around my knees. Max was so used to seeing me in costumes and in sweats that I was thrilled to look like a normal girl with normal makeup and heels. He was where he said he’d be, sitting on a bench in the pedestrianized median of the small plaza.
    I’d had my doubts about tonight when he’d