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I took a deep breath and walked outside.
It was a bright day. Even though we were surrounded by Los Angeles skyscrapers, the sun was sitting between two of them and beating down on us.
Cooper put a hand on my back. “This way to the set, ma’am.”
I allowed myself to be escorted toward the filming area. At one cross street, a roadblock became visible two blocks away. The people must have recognized me from the distance because they let out a cheer. I gave a friendly wave back, which made them cheer even louder.
Hey, I couldn’t help it. If you were in my shoes, you would’ve done the same thing. It was nice to feel famous, even if there was a target on my back.
I tried not to look up at the skyscrapers. There were a million places someone could shoot from. I knew that the people in the buildings had been vetted, but it still wasn’t comforting.
Nobody wants to hurt Amirah, I thought stubbornly.They just want to scare her.
The set area was a one-block section filled with overturned cars and fake rubble. It looked convincing until a worker picked up a giant piece of rubble as if it weighed nothing, revealing them to be made of styrofoam. In addition to the six workers rearranging fake rubble, there were six police officers, the director and his crew, and a food truck handing out tacos to people.
I always wanted to be on a film set,I thought.This is a weird way to get my wish.
One of the cops looked at me for several seconds. Then a camera guy did the same thing. Even the guy in the food truck frowned across at me. Did they know I was fake, or were they just checking out a celebrity?
I felt myself beginning to panic. The disguise was too obvious. Everyone knew. If it wasn’t convincing any of them, then it wouldn’t convince Jimmy Cardannon’s goons. The plan was going to fail.
The director, J.J. Sherman, was a painfully thin man with bony cheekbones. He took a pork taco from the food truck, then did a double-take when he saw me. He came close and whispered, “Are you the real Amirah, or the fake one?”
I felt a surge of hope. “So it’s working? You can’t tell?”
“Fake, huh.” Sherman bit into his taco and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we agreed to this nonsense. I don’t care if Amirah isn’t filming today—it’s a distraction for the rest of us. Try to stay out of the way, okay?”
I nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I’m actually an aspiring actor myself, and am hoping that in the near future…”
He turned away from me and waved at the lead male actor. “PEDRO! What are you doing out here? The next scene takes place after the collapse, so you should be in makeup right now, getting covered in fake dust…”
Okay. So my disguise fooled the director, at least. That was a good start. But I still felt everyone staring at me, and it made me doubt everything I knew about my acting ability…
A hand touched my back. “Breathe,” Cooper whispered to me. “Be sure to smile at everyone you see. The real Amirah does that a lot.”
“Thanks,” I said, plastering a fake smile onto my face.
Cooper looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes around set, and then we’ll go do the autographs. You’re doing great.”
I didn’t know if he was just saying that, but I seized on the compliment and tried to relax.
For the next half hour, I’m Amirah Pratt.
46
Brady
This whole thing was fucking stupid, and I was the only one who seemed to realize it.
We were in the film trailer on set. Three video experts sat in front of eighteen computer screens along one wall, which showed the set from every available angle. That was for the purposes of filming some big pyrotechnics scene coming up, but it also made for a perfect setting for us to monitor everything going on around Heather.
“All available agents, announce your position,” I said over the open channel.
“Cooper, at the set with Happy Holiday.”
“Lopez, at the northwest intersection.”
“Crowe here, I’m outside the Starbucks behind the south roadblock.”
