Every movie set was the same.

Same set of self absorbed people, it didn’t matter the role that they were playing, they all had this air of entitlement. Curling their nose up at everyone else…. Although not all were like that, some had manners and lots of them didn’t.

Who am I to complain about that, afterall I’m just here to provide them with the food they need and I do that excellently well. At least good enough to get more contracts from other film sets.

Wiping my hands at the back of my jean, I look at my watch which I had worn over the back of my wrists to avoid scratches on the face; 09:15 pm it reads.

“Time to pack up people!” I yell at my crew and there’s an exaggerated sigh of relief which I can relate to, because who wouldn’t be relieved to leave a place where because you’re not wearing a diamond bracelet; even if it’s a fake one, you’re treated like trash?

“Alright, that’s the last of it?” Cam my best friend asks walking up to me and I nod taking off my apron, “So whatcha waiting for? C’mon let’s go.” He says almost bouncing on his feet.

“You’re acting like a child who’s been stuck in the most boring place ever and it’s finally time to go home.” I say and he snorts “This may not have been the most boring place ever but how we’re treated here sucks. This is actually worse than the set of Ámore. And I thought there couldn’tbe anyone worse than that.” He says referring to the last movie set we catered to.

“God, I can’t wait to get home, I need a hot soak in the shower, a bottle of wine and..” I begin but get cut off “A man? In fact that wasn’t a question, you need a man.” He says and I roll my eyes “Like you’ve got any yourself.” I counter and he scoffs “Babes if I wanted a man, I’d have gotten one, afterall I’ve got options. You could too if you weren’t still mourning the loss of that scum who I’m glad is totally out of your life.”

“I’m not mourning my breakup with Stephen, I’m just ..you know doubting myself..” I say trailing off as we get to the parked bus “If you ever say that crap again I’m going to smack you. Nothing and I mean absolutely nothing is wrong with you, Stephen’s just a cheat who can’t keep his pants on and Brittany is a fricking traitor. The end.” He says in a matter of fact tone and I grin “Thanks I really needed to hear that.” I say and he nods.

“Yah yah, now that you’ve heard it can we go home?” he asks and I nod “Yup, we are going home.” I reply as I open the front passenger side of the bus. As I’m about to climb in my phone rings and I pick it.

“Hey babes, you guys will have to go on without me.” I tell Cam and he arches an immaculate shaped brow “And why would we have to do that?” he asks and I shrug, “The director and producer want to do few more takes, which means that they’ll be here for sometime which eventually means that people will get hungry and will need to be fed.” I say and he immediately curses under his breath.

“We could wait if you need us, right guys?” he asks and there’s a murmur of agreement from inside the bus. “No you can’t, Aileen is seven months gone, TJ has a test tomorrow that he needs to go prep for, Moira’s babysitter leaves by eight, Helen can’t stay up so late.” I say folding my arms a stance I tend to take when trying to be authoritative and Cam chews on his lower lip, a definite sign that he was thinking of a counter argument.

“Alright then, I’ll stay.” He says and I shake my head, “Who’s going to drop everyone off if you do?” I ask and he swears “So I can’t help you with anything?” he asks.

“Just help me with assembling the cart and bringing out the unused supplies.” I say and he nods before doing so. “You sure that you’ve got everything you need?” he asks and I nod dipping my hand into my pouch to check.

“Yep, charger, phone, book, powerbank, earphones and my wallet.” I say and he nods pressing a kiss on my forehead “Don’t forget to call when you get home. And I’ll see you tomorrow.” He says getting into the bus and driving off.

Pushing the cart to the catering corner, I immediately get to work making finger foods and lots of sandwiches. I wasn’t going to stress myself out by doing anything fancy this night.

Plugging in my earphones, I pick up my novel to continue reading, occasionally glancing up so I’d know when they’d be going on a break, I slowly loose myself in the fantasy world till I eventually hear the director yell “Fifteen minutes!”

Dropping my book and phone, I stand up straight and place on one of my brightest smiles, no one wanted a mean face feeding them, and mentally prepare myself as they cast and crew head towards me. The crew I could bear, but the cast? They brought out the violent part of me that I had to push back every time it came out.

When everyone’s gotten their meal, I sit down back and as I’m about to pick up my book, a sharp knocking catches my attention and looking up I see the shadow of a man before I take off my earphones.

“Can I help you with anything?” I ask and he grins “Depends on what you mean by anything.” He answers in a deep husky voice that makes me immediately think of cigarettes and whiskey.

Tilting my head to try and see him clearly the only thing I can make out are high cheekbones and locks of wispy hair that i can only make out as dark.

“Isn’t it too late for those kind of lines?” I ask and there’sa shrug “No, the time is just perfect.” He says grabbing a chair and placing it in front of me before sitting and supporting his head with his hands which shows off his lean muscles and through the dim light something that looks like tattoos… his face however is still angled in a way that makes it hidden from the light.

“Are you the caterer or just the sacrificial lamb, because I heard Tommy asking for someone to stay behind to feed the masses?” he asks and I shrug.

“Both I believe, but I shall courageously bear the snarky attitudes and snotty looks because I love the lifestyle I’m living.” I answer and he laughs.

“You call buying designer bags, sitting on a floatie and saying you’re swimming, changing hairstyles and getting manicures and pedicures, talking about who wore last season clothes while sipping wine a lifestyle?” he asks sarcastically and I shake my head.

“You forgot to mention being a mean bitch to the waitress who gives you inferiority complex.” I add and he laughs, a deep throaty one that seems to stem all the way from his belly.

“Sadly you’ve described the wrong person,maybe a lot of women you meet in your line of work call that a lifestyle but I prefer buying old culinary books, diving into the pool, going through the ease of knowing that if I wanted to change my hair I could simply straighten it out, what lady doesn’t like a manicure and pedicure? Talking about which cafe has the best pastries and sipping coffee…wine is for clubbing or breakups.” I retort and he laughs.

“What about you? What do you call a lifestyle?” I ask and he leans back in his chair “Can’t you guess?” he teases and I stare at him not saying anything for sometime.

“Partying, Clubbing, Girls, Cars, Fistfights that ends up in the tabloids, an ever changing relationship status then boom we find out that in reality you’re a softie who takes in stray dogs.” I say and he claps.

“You’ve unmasked me. Except from the fact that you left out going to see the family.” He adds and I raise a brow “Do you or its something your manager tells you to say so you’llhave more high ratings?” I ask and he chuckles.

“I don’t think among all the girls I’ve ever met, I’ve met anyone quite like you. You’re different.” He says and I nod before asking “Good different or bleh different?” I ask and he shakes his head.

“Definitely good different.” He says and I grin “Happy that I managed to be rated higher than the bimbos.” I say and he laughs again this time showing his pearly whites.

“Do you have a lighter?” he finally asks and I rummage through my purse before I eventually find one and I hand it to him. “Thank you.” He says as he takes out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and places a stick into his mouth before cupping his hands around it and lighting it.

The light from the flame although brief gives me a chance to look at his face clearly. Those perfectly shaped brows, the tiny stud on one ear, the mass of wispy curls framing his face, the long lashes, high cheekbones, straight nose, chiseled jaw and perfect lips all look familiar and it immediately clicks when I stare into his emerald green eyes and his lips curl up in a small smile and I sit up with a start.

“You”re Aiden Wilde.” I say and he bursts out laughing.