Page 33 of The Actor: Harrison

I hesitate for a second. I didn’t think about this possibility, but I’m not planning to kiss him, right?

“Can we stop talking about my non-existent romantic relationship with Sienna, please? Did you miss the part where I told you she’s my boss?” Harrison chuckles, a bit exasperated by the turn of this conversation.

“You never kissed your boss?” Diego asks raising an eyebrow at him.

Harrison thinks about it. “Honestly, no. They all had beards. It gives me a rash.” He chuckles and we all laugh.

Santiago hands us our food and the other guy whose name I don’t know gives us a bottle of water. Harrison pays and we sit at one of the tables.

“How do they know what you want?” I just notice he never ordered his tacos.

“I come here so often they know what I like. And removing the milk from the equation, I don’t have many alternatives.”

I bite into my quesadilla and moan. I turn around toward the food truck. “Hey, Santiago! You were right about the carne asada. This is the best I’ve ever had in Los Angeles.”

The man beams and slaps Diego on the shoulder. “I told you!”

Harrison chuckles and looks at me while he bites into his dinner.

“How do you know about this place?”

He sips the water, swallowing his bite. “Five years ago, I stumbled into this parking lot so drunk I couldn’t even walk straight.” He starts to explain and I put down my food, focusing my attention on him.

“Nobody knows how I arrived and who dropped me here. I was at a party and I got carried away with the open bar. I threw up on the back of the truck and after Santiago made me clean up my mess, he sat me down at one at the tables and fed me tacos until I sobered up. The only thing I could say was ‘Milk allergy. I die.’ So fortunately, they avoided putting any dairy in it, just to be safe.”

“Thank God you said that or you could have died!” I marvel at his presence of mind even under the influence.

He nods. “It’s something so ingrained in my head that no matter how much I drink, that’s the first thing I say when someone offers me something to eat.”

“So then someone came to pick you up?”

He shakes his head. “I hung out with them all night until I sobered up and had the strength to call a taxi. Santiago packed me something to eat at home and the day after I came back here to pay them. Since then, I come here any time I can.”

Even in this story about his life, there’s nothing about friends or family that helped him out in a difficult moment. The more time I spend with him, the more I realize we’re not so different after all. I only have Harper to count on, and sometimes she can’t be there for me.

“Thank you for bringing me here. I like this place way more than the Hollywood flashy restaurants,” I confess.

“To be honest, me too. I can sit here without the need to look perfect and in shape. I can eat whatever I want without someone counting the calories and putting them online. You know that there’s a website that records every public meal I eat and counts how many calories I have to burn to be in shape for the next movie? They call it the Bates Diet and I can’t do anything to take it down. It’s dangerous for people who feel insecure about their bodies and they try this ‘diet’ and exercise.”

“Are you serious?” My quesadilla hovers in front of my mouth as I try to figure out if he’s bullshitting me.

“I swear. I lost the case and had to pay their lawyer fees because the judge ruled that it clearly states on the website that it’s not medical advice and they should talk to a doctor before trying it. And it also states that the website isn’t in any way affiliated with me.” He finishes his last bite and cleans his hands on the paper towel.

“That is nuts!” I blurt out and understand even more the necessity he feels to do this movie. This is the first time in his career he won’t take off his shirt on set except in one scene, one we still have to shoot.

“All finished? Do you mind if I bring you home? I’m starting to get tired.” He smiles at me while I swallow the last bit.

“Yes, sure, but my car is back at the parking lot. I don’t know how I’ll get to work tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll pick you up,” he casually drops and I feel my cheeks go up in flames.

“Aren’t you worried about what people could think about it?” I wave at the guys in the truck while we walk toward his car.

“Why should I worry about it? There could be a million reasons we arrive together, after how we started our work relationship, nobody will think we’re sleeping together.” He winks at me when we sit in his car.

I hope he’s right because I don’t want to deal with the gossip that will stir if word gets out. But in all honesty, I’m tired too. It was a long day and I could use some hours of sleep before getting up at five tomorrow.

An hour later, Harrison parks in front of my house and I’m glad I didn’t pick up the car. I’m way too tired and I need to go to bed.

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