Nanny for the SEALs by Cassie Cole

45

Heather

“I can’t thank you enough for the help,” I told Maurice the next day. “Patty couldn’t watch the kids, and you did such a good job last time…”

“Anything for you,” he replied, strangely selfless. Maybe he understood the gravity of the situation.

But then he ruined it by adding, “Of course, the paycheck your SEAL boy-toys are giving me is why I’m really here.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that Brady wants to set you up with his SEAL friend?” I shot back.

Maurice strategically looked away. “Of course not.”

My three SEALs and I piled into two SUVs to head over to downtown LA, where the movie was being filmed. Traffic was a bitch, and it took us almost two hours to drive ten miles. Apparently the road closures for the film were causing a lot of traffic to be rerouted.

We reached one of the blockades and flashed our credentials to the police officer, who removed the barrier and waved us through.

“Look at all those fans,” Brady said as we drove on. “They’re packed four and five deep.”

They were indeed crammed around the blockade, waving signs and cheering like Beatles fans who were anxious to get a glimpse of Paul. I saw one woman holding a headshot of Amirah Pratt and waving a pen. The windows of the vehicle were tinted, so they couldn’t see me. I wondered what they would do if I rolled down the window and waved.

Brady followed Rogan’s vehicle, which wound through the film set until we reached the trailers belonging to the actors. Brady got out of the SUV, went around the side, and then opened the door for me.

“Looks clear. But keep your head down.”

The illusion of pretending to be Amirah would be ruined if Cardannon’s goons saw two Amirahs enter her trailer, of course. I held my wide-brimmed hat on my head and hurried up the steps into the trailer.

I was immediately face-to-face with the real Amirah Pratt.

“Oh, hi!” she said with a bashful smile. “Wow. You really do look like me, huh?”

Next to her was Cooper, her HLS Security bodyguard, along with another familiar face: Jonah Weiman, the head of The Weiman Agency. In contrast to Amirah’s friendliness, he squinted at me suspiciously.

“I know you. You’re the hooligan who broke into the Lakers suite.”

“Mr. Weiman,” Rogan said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“My star client is in danger, and I intend to watch this spectacle in person.” He pointed at me. “Why did you choose her?”

“Who better to pose as Miss Pratt than the woman who has done it before?” Rogan told him. “Trust me, Heather Hart is an expert. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this task.”

Johan Weiman pursed his lips unhappily, but I smiled inwardly at Rogan’s praise.

Amirah took my hands in hers. “I’m really grateful for what you’re doing. Risking yourself to find the people responsible for all these awful threats… I can’t imagine doing it. You’re so brave.”

I was totally taken aback by how nice she was. “Yeah, uh, sure. Happy to help.”

“It’s almost noon,” Asher said. “Are you ready for your part? You know what to do?”

She nodded. “I’m signing autographs by the barricade. Smiling for the camera, so everyone knows I’m here on set. Then, when my bodyguard tells me we have to leave, I tell the crowd I will be giving more autographs at two.” ”

“No more than thirty seconds,” Asher said while looking at his phone. “It needs to be quick.”

Cooper put a reassuring hand on her back. “Ma’am? Let’s go.”

The trailer was nice: there was a leather sofa and flat-screen television in one area, a little kitchenette, and a table with a mirror where hair and makeup could be done. There was even what looked like a small bedroom through a door at the other end. Jonah Weiman turned on the TV, which was already playing a YouTube stream of a fan by the barricade.

“We are just four blocks from the set!” the streamer announced. The camera must have been mounted on his head, because it kept swiveling left and right. It was the barricade we drove through to get inside, with fans packed three and four deep. “Who knows what Pedro is doing at this very moment? But we are so close to him! I’m fanboying so hard right now…”

“Crazies,” Weiman muttered.

Suddenly the crowd noise began to rise. The streamer pushed between two people until he was at the barricade itself, with a clear view of the set beyond.

“OHMYGOSH, you are not going to believe this! I think that’s Amirah Freaking Pratt!”

“She wasn’t supposed to be filming today!” another fan squealed. “Amirah! AMIRAH!”

Then everyone was screaming as Amirah approached in her moss-green dress, wide sunglasses, and floppy hat. Cooper walked next to her, his gaze swinging left and right to look for threats.

“Hi everyone!” Amirah said to the crowd as she began signing autographs. “It’s so nice to see you today.”

The streamer waved at her. “Amirah! This is Brent Francis, from Celebrity Streaming Online! We didn’t know you would be on set today!”

She smiled directly into the camera, her face perfectly framed. “I don’t have any scenes today, but I like to arrive early so I can meet everyone and practice my lines. And to see the wonderful fans, of course!”

“Twenty seconds,” Asher said in the trailer.

Amirah turned to the next fan, and then her face twisted in shock. Her leg slipped out from under her, and she began to fall sideways. Her green dress and blonde hair swirled as she fell into the crowd.

“What happened?” Rogan demanded. “Did anyone hear a gunshot?”

“Everything seems normal…” Brady said, peering out the trailer door.

“I knew this was a mistake!” Weiman roared. “Get her out of there!”

The streamer’s camera panned downward. Amirah had fallen over the barrier into his arms. He pushed her back up over the barrier. Amirah tossed her hair back and smiled nervously at the crowd.

“I’m so clumsy!” she said. “It’s these darn stilettos, I swear. Thank you for catching me… Brent?”

“Brent! Brent Francis!” the streamer replied.

“Thank you, Brent Francis.” She gave a little wink at the camera, and then Cooper was whispering into her ear. “I’m being told I need to return to the set, but I will be back to sign autographs at two o’clock! Hopefully I’ll see all of you then!”

The screams and cheers from the crowd rose as she turned and walked away. The streamer turned the camera around to his face. He was absolutely beaming.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I just touched the one and only Amirah Pratt!”

“You saved her life!” another fan said. “She would have, like, broken her neck if not for you!”

The streamer seized on that line of thinking. “I saved Amirah Pratt’s life! And seven thousand fans watched it live!”

“He’s more of a drama queen than the actors themselves,” Brady said.

The moment Amirah walked back into the trailer, she was bombarded with questions. She held up her hands until everyone settled down.

“Was that too much?” she asked. “I thought that if I tripped and let the streamer catch me, it might generate more attention for the stalker…”

Brady barked a laugh. “That’s actually real smart!”

“Social media traffic is rising,” Asher confirmed while scrolling on his phone. “It’s going viral. Only the twelfth-highest trend right now, but that should be enough to lure them out for the two o’clock signing.”

“You can’t do something like that without warning us first,” Weiman scolded her.

She shrugged. “I didn’t think of it until I was there. But it worked, right?”

Rogan patted her on the back. “You did great. Now we’ll take it from here.”

“Oh!” Amirah said. “I almost forgot.” She disappeared into her bedroom, then returned a moment later wearing sweatpants and a University of Iowa sweatshirt. “Here. You need this.”

She handed me a floppy hat with a green bundle inside. The dress she had been wearing, and the sunglasses.

“Take these, too.” Asher tossed me a pair of black heels.

I went into the trailer bathroom and changed clothes. It was strange doing that while I knew five men were right outside the door, waiting. When I came out, everyone was ogling me.

“I really like this dress,” I said.

Amirah grinned. “It has pockets!”

I shoved my hands in the pockets and gave a little swirl.

“You look perfect,” Asher said.

“She will be after hair and makeup,” Weiman muttered.

I sat in the chair and let the hair stylist tease my hair for half an hour. I’ll admit: I was feeling really jealous by the end. I would’ve loved to have this woman do my hair every single morning. She trimmed an inch off in order to make it look identical to Amirah’s, but I didn’t mind. I was due for a cut anyway, and this saved me two hundred bucks.

This will be my life when I’m a big-shot actress, I thought as I got out of the chair. Once I help the guys prove that Heimdall is behind the attacks.

“Goddamn, Heather,” Brady said while looking me up-and-down. “You look fucken hot.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Now that I look like Amirah Pratt, you mean?”

“Aw, shit, I didn’t mean…” He shook his head. “You know what? I’m not apologizing. You look gorgeous, and I won’t let you twist it into some sort of insult.”

I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him lightly, so as not to smudge my newly-applied lipstick. “I know what you mean. And thank you.”

“It’s one-thirty,” Asher said. “We should all get into position.”

“We want you to make a sweep around the set,” Rogan explained. “We’re hoping the movement might flush the attackers out before you give your autographs at two. Less risk that way.”

“Makes sense. I’m ready.”

Rogan bent down and pointed at the shoes I was wearing. Amirah’s pair of Stuart Weitzman stilettos. “We placed a GPS chip in the heel. As long as you keep your shoes on, we can track you.”

“I never thought I’d be so happy to know that Big Brother was watching me,” I said.

I hugged each of them one final time. “Be careful,” Brady whispered to me. “We’ll be in the security office the entire time. If you feel uncomfortable at any point, there’s nothing wrong with coming back to the trailer.”

I nodded, but I knew that wouldn’t happen. I wasn’t going to allow myself to get spooked, especially with so many people watching. Including Jonah Weiman.

My three SEALs left the trailer first. About a minute later, Cooper handed me Amirah’s floppy hat and wide sunglasses. I glanced at myself in the mirror. The likeness was so good that I almost believed I was the real Amirah Pratt.

Which means the attackers will be fooled, too, whispered the voice in the back of my head. The moment I stepped out of the trailer, I would be in danger.

I took a deep breath and walked outside.

It was a bright day. Even though we were surrounded by Los Angeles skyscrapers, the sun was sitting between two of them and beating down on us.

Cooper put a hand on my back. “This way to the set, ma’am.”

I allowed myself to be escorted toward the filming area. At one cross street, a roadblock became visible two blocks away. The people must have recognized me from the distance because they let out a cheer. I gave a friendly wave back, which made them cheer even louder.

Hey, I couldn’t help it. If you were in my shoes, you would’ve done the same thing. It was nice to feel famous, even if there was a target on my back.

I tried not to look up at the skyscrapers. There were a million places someone could shoot from. I knew that the people in the buildings had been vetted, but it still wasn’t comforting.

Nobody wants to hurt Amirah, I thought stubbornly. They just want to scare her.

The set area was a one-block section filled with overturned cars and fake rubble. It looked convincing until a worker picked up a giant piece of rubble as if it weighed nothing, revealing them to be made of styrofoam. In addition to the six workers rearranging fake rubble, there were six police officers, the director and his crew, and a food truck handing out tacos to people.

I always wanted to be on a film set, I thought. This is a weird way to get my wish.

One of the cops looked at me for several seconds. Then a camera guy did the same thing. Even the guy in the food truck frowned across at me. Did they know I was fake, or were they just checking out a celebrity?

I felt myself beginning to panic. The disguise was too obvious. Everyone knew. If it wasn’t convincing any of them, then it wouldn’t convince Jimmy Cardannon’s goons. The plan was going to fail.

The director, J.J. Sherman, was a painfully thin man with bony cheekbones. He took a pork taco from the food truck, then did a double-take when he saw me. He came close and whispered, “Are you the real Amirah, or the fake one?”

I felt a surge of hope. “So it’s working? You can’t tell?”

“Fake, huh.” Sherman bit into his taco and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe we agreed to this nonsense. I don’t care if Amirah isn’t filming today—it’s a distraction for the rest of us. Try to stay out of the way, okay?”

I nodded. “Don’t worry about me. I’m actually an aspiring actor myself, and am hoping that in the near future…”

He turned away from me and waved at the lead male actor. “PEDRO! What are you doing out here? The next scene takes place after the collapse, so you should be in makeup right now, getting covered in fake dust…”

Okay. So my disguise fooled the director, at least. That was a good start. But I still felt everyone staring at me, and it made me doubt everything I knew about my acting ability…

A hand touched my back. “Breathe,” Cooper whispered to me. “Be sure to smile at everyone you see. The real Amirah does that a lot.”

“Thanks,” I said, plastering a fake smile onto my face.

Cooper looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes around set, and then we’ll go do the autographs. You’re doing great.”

I didn’t know if he was just saying that, but I seized on the compliment and tried to relax.

For the next half hour, I’m Amirah Pratt.