Chapter 37

Arthur did not let up over the next couple days. In fact, any time we weren’t talking about his own styling, Arthur steered our conversation towards why I should take up Freyja on their offer. Finally, he wore me down.

I called the people at Freyja, they faxed me a contract, and we arranged to film the first commercial over the next week. Arthur was so excited that he offered to come with me to ensure that everything went down without a hitch.

I couldn’t really think of a reason to say no. It was his world; he would know how best to navigate. Besides, it would be nice to have a friend there with me, at least on the first day.

So, I let him come with me.

On the first day of the shoot, we took the gold Aston Martin from Arthur’s office to the studio. Gremlins started to tear at my stomach as we parked. I had been to studios before when a client needed me for their TV appearances, but this was different.

I had never been the one behind the makeup chair or in front of a TV camera before. At best, I had been in front of a tiny sports camera for my fitness vlog, but that was nothing compared to being the focus of a commercial.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that I feared I would never be able to let go. Then Arthur pried one of my hands off and cradled it gently in both of his.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a disarming smile. “I’ll be right there with you.”

I forced a smile and nodded.

“Now, take a deep breath.”

I did as he instructed, but the gremlins only calmed their onslaught slightly. Still, I knew that I couldn’t stay in that car forever.

“You’re right. Let’s go in.”

After showing our IDs to the guard, we were escorted to the correct set and met by the commercial’s director, Chrissy Floyd. She was shorter than me, but she boasted lean muscles and firm curves. Her auburn curls had been pulled back into a ponytail, and she wore a black tank top and yoga pants.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Leonard,” she said with a stern face but not unwelcoming face.

“You as well, Ms. Floyd. Call me Anna.”

“Call me Chrissy. I’m sure we’re going to have a lot of fun working together over the next week.”

Arthur cleared his throat.

“Oh, this is my friend Arthur,” I said quickly.

Chrissy glanced briefly at Arthur, then gave him a brief nod before giving her attention to me again.

“So, things are going to be pretty fast-paced here. We’ll start by getting you dressed in some Freya sports gear. Then we want to get some shots of you with all of that equipment over there.”

She motioned toward the stage, where they had set up a stationary bike, some weights, and an in-home gym just a bit too close together for my liking.

“Yeah, uh, should all that equipment be set up so close together?” I asked, pulling on a loose strand of hair.

“Don’t worry, they won’t interfere with any given shot,” Chrissy said nonchalantly.

Not exactly my point, but okay, I thought. If they didn’t have any safety concerns, I supposed that I shouldn’t, either.

“Anyway, you’ll just be doing your usual workout thing but double-timed—”

“Double-timed?”

“You know, faster. To really build up the hype for the gear you’ll be wearing. Don’t worry, it’ll only be for 30 seconds per exercise, tops.”

“Hmm.” I was really starting to distrust the phrase “don’t worry”. When I looked at Arthur, he smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.

“All right,” I said as I turned back to Chrissy. “Anything else?”

“For today, no. Hopefully, we can get this done in just a couple shots and spend the rest of the week on alternate shots. You know, for when there are longer or shorter versions aired, or to make sure that there haven’t been any mistakes we didn’t notice before.”

“What kind of mistake could there possibly be made with me just exercising?”

“Fly in the shot, bad lighting, something annoying like that.”

My stomach clenched. I wanted to throw up. Even without any speaking parts, this was so much more than what I was used to with my vlogs and styling clients.

I felt Arthur’s firm hand on my shoulder.

“Just breathe,” he said. “I’m right here.”

“Okay,” I said. “Let’s do this.”

•* *

Hair and makeup went pretty easily. It was weird being in the styling chair, but they kept the makeup natural, and my hair was only pulled back in a scalp-torturing ponytail. Nothing crazy.

They had asked ahead of time for my clothing sizes, so fitting me for Freyja sports gear was a breeze. In the end, I wore black gym shorts, black sneakers, a black sports bra, and black sweat bands, all decorated with neon green highlights. Each piece of clothing, down to the ankle socks, was branded with Freyja’s logo, a glowing neon green bow and arrow.

Then came time for me to step on to the stage.

Arthur could reassure me all he wanted, but I could barely hear him over the pounding of blood in my ears. I was lucky to hear—and comprehend—the stage directions that Chrissy shouted at me, frankly. Somehow, though, I ended up on the stationary bike, where she wanted me.

We spent several minutes trying to shoot 30 seconds’ worth of me cycling. My form was too perfect; my form wasn’t perfect enough; I shouldn’t look into the camera; I should a look a bit into the camera; I wasn’t going fast enough; I shouldn’t sweat so much. Soon, several minutes turned into two hours.

I was exhausted. Arthur could tell.

“Maybe you should give her a five-minute break? She’s been at this a while,” he quietly suggested to Chrissy.

Even though she looked at Arthur like a fly that wouldn’t leave her alone, Chrissy nodded.

“That’s five minutes, people!”

I sighed in relief and went to hop off the stationary bike. I didn’t notice that one of my shoelaces had gotten stuck in the pedal. All I knew was that I felt a tugging on my leg, and I moved forward as hard as I could.

“Anna!”

Of all the crashing and banging that came down around me, Arthur screaming my name came to me the loudest. I knew that something bad had to have happened—I had faceplanted on the floor, after all—but I didn’t know what. I was almost too scared to look.

But I finally did look. Almost on top of me was the stationary bike; it had just missed me. All around me, gym equipment had fallen like a failed game of Jenga.

Apparently, the stationary bike really had been too close to the rack of weights and had just managed to knock them over when it fell. The weights, in turn, went flying and rolling, hitting some essential components of the home gym and causing them to break. Even some of the cameras had been knocked over but, fortunately, had not been damaged.

Arthur offered to help me up, but I refused to stand. Instead, I buried my face in my hands.

“I am so ruined. I am so ruined.”