Bound for Glory - Year 1

Week 28 - Sooner or Later It's Gonna Cut Like a Knife

Song of the chapter on side :) >>>>>>>>

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                                                   September 17th, 2011

                                                   “Attempted Sabotage”

(A/N: Anther fair warning, this chapter will involve a lot of details such as outfits, settings, etc. So, if you like a lot of details, awesome. Enjoy! :D)

                           Paramount Pictures Film Set (Los Angeles, California), end of day, around . . . 5pm

*Kathryn's POV*

“Okay, guys, that's a wrap!” David Reece, our director, said, standing up from his director chair. “We start filming scenes for Traffic on Tuesday.”

“Nice work, 'Phelps,'” Dunn complimented me as I took off my prop police tool belt thing. I smiled his way and nodded

“Thanks, Dunn,” I said with a slight laugh.

“I like your hair,” he said, taking a stand of my newly dyed hair in his hand. “Oddly enough, it fits the character more.”

“Really? You think so? I only got it dyed because my boss thought it would work for me more so than dark hair would,” I said.

Okay, maybe I should clarify. Since I'm heel now, Hunter thought I should change my hair color. So AJ took me to her hair person Jeanie and I got it colored like hers. I actually like it a lot more than I thought I would. The slight blondness kinda works I think. However, it's not as popular with some as it is with others.

“Hey, nice hair, Cook!” Roy yelled from across the lot as I walked towards my trailer. “You look like real porn star now!”

“Yay! Maybe now we have something in common!” I yelled back dryly. I heard Bekowsky laugh from his trailer and I walked into mine with a satisfied smile on my face.

Upon closing and locking the door behind me, I took off my cop gear and changed back into my street clothes and what I plan to wear to the Natalia Kills concert Alex bought me tickets for tonight—black skinny jeans, a black spaghetti trap tank top, a sheer, cropped black short sleeve top thing with white polka dots on it, shiny black belt, and shiny black calf-height buckled boots—all purchased at either Dolce & Gabbana or some other store in LA. I decided to do my hair and makeup and stuff at home, so I grabbed my messenger bag and walked out of my trailer.

As I walked across the lot to where my car was, I thought about the recent few days and how close I've been to coming clean about 1,433,222 times. My conscience is telling me to stop being such a little b**** and tell him, but the ignorant, devil-like portion of my mind is telling me to just keep my mouth shut. That part of my mind usually takes over in these situations. After a quick goodbye to everyone, I got in my car and turned the AC on quickly after realizing how bloody hot it was. I started driving home when my phone rang. I rolled my eyes and pawed around in my bag, which was on the passenger seat, while keeping my eyes dead on the road. Once I found it, I pressed the “ACCEPT” button and held it up to my ear with my left hand.

“This better be like, life or death or something,” I said. “I'm driving.”

“It kinda is sort of,” Kat responded. I chuckled slightly whilst I made a right turn.

“How so?”

“I don't know what to wear to the concert tonight!” she whined. I could tell she was looking through her closet as she spoke because of the sound of metal hangers scraping against the metal pole in her closet. “You know my entire wardrobe, tell me what to wear.”