Page 98 of Scotlander

When she finished, Dwayne propped his epic chin on one of his fists and fixed her in a studied gaze. ‘Are you alright?’

He was genuinely asking. So she gave him a real answer.

‘No.’

‘Anything I can do to help?’

Short of driving her to the airport, no, not really.

The room timer gave her an exaggerated reminder that she had two minutes.

‘What’s the scariest thing you’ve ever done?’ Willa asked Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson.

He hooted and ran a massive hand over his shiny bald head. He wove his fingers together and jabbed his index fingers under his chin. ‘Everything I do is scary, Willa Jenkins. Life is scary.’

‘Even yours?’ She found that hard to believe.

‘Yeah. Even mine.’ He held out his arm. ‘Pinch it.’

She did.

‘Human. Just like you. When I get cut? I bleed. When I get dumped? My heart aches. When I let myself down by not being the man I know I could be, I drag around a boulder of shame until I fix it. When you’re sitting in the glare of all this’ – he spread his arms to indicate the multiple cameras and lighting fixtures – ‘it’s not always easy. But sometimes, even though it scares the hell out of me, I have to step outside the person I think I am to become the one I want to be.’

He smiled. His teeth were immaculate.

Holy shit.

She knew there were a lot of really good teeth on display here in Hollywood, but . . .

‘What?’ Dwayne asked, his hand quickly covering his mouth. ‘Have I got spinach stuck in there?’

She shook her head. ‘Did you ever go to a dental hygienist called Valentina Ortiz?’

He flinched as if the words had physically hurt him.

The timer flicked her the wrap-it-up signal. Willa didn’t have a solitary quote they could use in tonight’s programme. For the first time ever, she didn’t care.

‘Yes, I did.’ The Rock swept his hand across his mouth, then pressed it to his heart. ‘Val was an amazing woman. Wise. We used to brainstorm some of my sayings. When she found out she was sick? She gave me permission to use her lines for interviews just like this one.’

‘That one you just said. That was one of hers.’

‘Yes, it was.’ He frowned. ‘Wait a minute. You’re Willaford Jenkins, aren’t you?’

She nodded, that too familiar prick of tears stinging at the back of her throat.

‘Dude,’ said Dwayne. ‘She loved you like blood.’

She nodded again, swiping at tears that refused to go unspilt.

Then she hiccough-laughed through some more.

‘How do you do it?’ she asked after she’d blown her nose into a tissue he made the make-up guy give her. ‘The scary stuff?’

The timer drew her finger across her neck. Willa gave her a little out-of-my-control shrug. She wasn’t about to stop The Rock in the middle of a life-coaching session.

‘Tear open your chest, allow yourself to be vulnerable. Know you’ll probably get hurt, but also know you’ll never once have to ask yourself, I wonder what would’ve happened if . . .’

‘That question never has a good answer, does it?’