Just One Wish by Janette Rallison

miniature thatched village.
    The director yelled things at the top of his lungs, most of which weren’t actually directions. However, in between a lot of cursing, he did tell us to “Clear the set!” and I intended to.
    I turned to follow my fellow nuns. I’d even taken several steps in that direction when Steve grabbed my arm and spun me around.
    “You’re that girl from the basketball game, aren’t you?” He gripped my arm harder, and his eyes grew cold. I couldn’t breathe. I stared back at him with my mouth forming a response that didn’t come.
    Two security guards appeared behind him, peering down at me. They didn’t say anything, just watched Steve speak with me.
    “You’re some sort of stalker, aren’t you?” he said.
    “No.” I tried to take a step away from him but couldn’t budge out of his grip. “See, a stalker would have known you had brown hair. I only wanted to talk to you.”
    “How did you get past security? How did you get a costume and a part on this series?”
    I glanced at the security guards, who looked more menacing by the moment. “Is that a rhetorical question or do you actually want to know?”
    “How about this—you can tell it to the police.” Steve let go of my arm, which was apparently the signal for the security guards to flank me on both sides.
    “You don’t need to do that,” I said.
    One of the security guards took hold of my elbow. “We’ll go ahead and contact the police for you, Mr. Raleigh.”
    I kept my eyes on Steve. “No. Please.”
    He stared at me, his expression unmoved, and didn’t reply.
    The other security guard nodded in Steve’s direction. “We’ll take her to the guard station until the police get here. You’ll need to come by and make a statement for them then.”
    I shook my head, looking for something besides anger in Steve’s face. I could barely speak. “Don’t make them take me to the guard station.”
    The guard’s grip tightened around my arm. For a second, Steve’s gaze traveled from my face to the guard’s hand. I could tell he’d decided something. “Take her to my trailer,” Steve told the men. “I’ll deal with her after I’m done here.”
    “To your trailer?” the first guard asked.
    “Yeah. And make sure she doesn’t leave.”
    The security guards looked at one another, and perhaps they would have said something else, but when they turned back, Steve had already left.
    The security guards looked at each other again, and the first—a Pacific Islander who probably ripped trucks apart in his spare time—grunted in disbelief. The second shrugged and said, “So we take her to his trailer.”
    The first guard pulled me by the arm, and we walked off the set. I tried to decide if it was a good thing that I was going to Steve’s trailer instead of the guard station. Probably not. Steve hadn’t looked like he wanted to sit down and have a friendly chat. He most likely just wanted to find out how I’d managed to find him twice so he could avoid future stalkers, and then he’d turn me over to the police.
    We went out of the building at a fast pace. I had no choice but to keep up. The guard never loosened his grip on my arm. The second security guard had gray streaks in his crew cut. He was probably at least forty, but his biceps were as big as my head, so he was still quite imposing. He didn’t say anything at all, just kept nodding and grunting in approval as the first guard lectured me about trespassing, privacy, and how celebrities had the right to live normal lives without worrying about fans who didn’t have the sense to know when not to cross the line.
    “I’ve learned my lesson,” I told them. “Really, you can let me leave now—”
    But they didn’t. Crew-cut guy led me to a large green trailer.
    So Steve’s was the green one. It figured. Robin Hood wore all green, and it hadn’t even occurred to me his trailer might be the green one.
    The Polynesian guard released his grip on my arm. “How many