When Denholm first revealed our assignment, I had convinced myself that Hailee Morgan wouldn't intimidate me. Now that I was actually in her presence, breathing the same air, my hammering heart and shortness of breath told me otherwise.
Feeling like a total creeper for gawking as she ate — she was unaware of my being there — I had to get over my funk and reveal myself.
Would it upset her? Would she fire me before my first day on the job?
Oh, god! I had faced down armed men in a fight to the death. Why should I be so nervous now?
I took a deep breath and stood. In a soft voice, I said, "Please, don't be scared."
Hailee stopped chewing and went still. She said nothing.
"I happened to be sitting here when you walked in, and it's so quiet that I didn't want to disturb you." I approached cautiously and stood on the other side of the table from her.
She raised an eyebrow.
"My name is Sing."
Hailee lowered her fork to the table and stood. Crap, she looked like she was getting ready to ream me out. Instead, she came around to my side of the table and clasped her hands together in front of her chest as if getting ready to pray. "Please, mister, please don't say anything to anyone that you saw me eating."
She was groveling to me. What was she afraid of?
I took a step back and raised my hands. "Okay, I'm not going to say anything to anyone."
Moist, golden eyes glistened. "Promise?"
I gulped. "Cross my heart."
One of the posters Trent had hung on his wall showed Hailee wearing a long, red gown at the premier of one of her movies. The caption beneath the picture read: Hailee Morgan, girl with the million-dollar smile. She looked mighty fine on that poster.
Now, right in front of me, and in the flesh, Hailee rewarded my promise to her with a smile more beautiful than the one from the poster. I grabbed the nearest chair and steadied myself. From the cosmos, I imagined hearing the collective sighs from a million fan boys.
She extended a hand. "I'm Hailee."
I took her small, soft hand and shook. She had long, spindly fingers with perfectly manicured nails painted bright red. "I'm Sing."
She giggled. "You already told me that."
I did? Being so entranced, I couldn't remember. I felt my face flush.
"Where's your food, Sing?"
I broke eye contact with her and glanced in the direction of my former table. "Over there."
"Bring it over. Join me."
She actually asked me to sit with her! I think I must have floated back to my old table to retrieve my ice cream. Next thing I remembered was sitting across the table from the actress, watching as she daintily cut a slice of meat from her chicken leg and forked it into her mouth.
She closed her eyes and moaned while chewing. "I am starving."
"Then you've come to the right place," I said. "There's plenty of food here. Want me to microwave you another chicken leg?"
Her eyes drifted to the door of the tent, then back to me. She looked nervous. "Would you?"
I got off the chair and set about filling the lady's request. When I returned to my seat, I slid the plate across the table to her.
YOU ARE READING
The Story of SingTeen Fiction
[2018 Wattys Short List] - Sixteen-year-old Sing strives to do well in school so that he can find a decent job and provide a better life for his crippled mother and younger brother, Jacko. That goal becomes derailed when Sing is falsely accused of a...