She walked past me with a sigh worthy of any stage. “Don’t take forever.”
“I won’t,” I called after her. “Thank you!”
I made the bus, had time to pick up coffees for Colin and Tommy on my way in, and didn’t even get knocked over by an egomaniac with a smile to die for in the process.
All in all, this was shaping up to be an awesome day.
I slid into my office seat just as my phone dinged. I snickered as I read my best friend’s latest text.
Fallon: More. I need more. You’re killin me, Smalls!
I caught my reflection in my laptop screen as it booted up and I could admit it—my grin was a little evil. I’d decided to tell Fallon that I’d run into her on-screen obsession and that I’d even talked to him.
But that was all I’d told her.
Fallon: If you don’t tell me every detail I will hunt you down and make you pay.
I laughed and tucked the phone back into my back pocket. Oh yeah, torturing Fallon was way too much fun. I’d tell her everything eventually, of course, but truth be told I was still debating whether or not to let her in on the fact that the love of her life was the entitled, stuck-up jerk everyone long suspected he was.
Well, everyone but his fans.
Fallon had a whole romantic sob story she liked to spin about how misunderstood Henry was, and how hard it must have been to grow up in the shadow of his father, and blah blah blah.
I opened my emails and held my breath, stupidly squinting one eye like I couldn’t quite decide if I wanted to see the verdict or not. Had he responded? Had he said yes?
Nerves made my belly flip and I was starting to regret eating that bagel this morning.
My foot tapped on the carpeted floor. What if he said no? What if someone else had already picked it up?
My breath froze in my lungs as I saw the new email. From Leo! I clicked on it quickly and the air in my lungs rushed out in a sharp exhale of relief.
Yes. He’d love to work with me on the manuscript. He was interested in hearing my thoughts and…
Oh holy freakin’ crap, this was happening. I had a project.
I had the project.
I jumped out of my chair with a squeal that made me so happy no one else was around. And then I danced. Yup. That’s right. I busted a move. I got down with my bad self. I—
“What are you doing?” Colin’s voice was filled with laughter behind me as I stopped mid-booty shake.
Crap.
With as much dignity as I could muster, I straightened and turned to face Colin. Sure, he wasn’t that much older than me, but he was my boss and my face could not get any hotter without me physically bursting into flames.
“Was that your morning workout or…” His voice trailed off in a laugh as I scurried over to grab his coffee and hand it over.
“That was my happy dance,” I admitted.
“I see.”
I arched my brows. “You do?”
He nodded. “Oh sure. I totally have a happy dance, too. Mine is just less....animated.”
I choked on a laugh as humiliation warred with the happiness that was still there.
Colin leaned against the desk next to mine as Tommy filed in behind him, muttering a good morning and then whispering an “I love you” when I gave him his caffeine.
“Want to tell me why you’re doing a happy dance?” Colin asked. His eyes were warm and his smile friendly. Colin might not have been the hottest guy on the planet, but he was cute in that wholesome, clean-cut Iowa kind of way that made me homesick.
He was just like the guys I hung out with in high school, and having him here at the office was weirdly comforting. He was just so...nice. So of course I ended up spilling every juicy detail about the script I’d picked by a new, up-and-coming screenwriter, ending with how I’d just gotten the reply that he was on board.
The only thing I didn’t tell him—because it wasn’t relevant and was more of a confession, really…
I didn’t tell him about the fact that I’d kind of told a little white lie in my email to Leo.
Guilt nagged at me every time I thought of the title I’d written beneath my name. I hadn’t been trying to be deceitful, I’d just wanted Leo to take me seriously. Was it true that I was a junior script developer?
No. Not entirely.
Okay fine, not at all. But I would be. If I got this script and made it perfect...I would totally have that title one day. And Hollywood was all about faking it until you made it, right? Everyone knew that.
Heck, people expected you to fudge some stuff here and there.
Right?
Right.
So, I left that little detail out, but I told Colin all the rest, careful not to let my competitors overhear the details. The last thing I needed was even more hate from Taylor and her cohorts.
Colin was so happy for me he tugged me into a hug, a gesture that got some weird looks from the other interns who were settling in for the day, and an outright glare from Taylor.
Whatever. Not even Taylor could bring me down today.
“Come into my office,” Colin said when the hug ended, already leading the way down the hall. “I want to hear more about this amazing script.”
That was really all the nudging I needed. I’d been waiting nearly two weeks to gush to someone about the awesomeness that was Beyond Sunset, a coming of age story that was quiet but had so many undertones that I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since the first time I’d read it. “The hero is just so flawed, but so likeable, you know?” I said to Colin as he sank into his leather seat behind his desk. “He’s relatable.”
“A relatable hero is everything,” Colin said.
I grinned. I knew he would get it.
“We should celebrate.”
I blinked, my mind still half on the email still open on my computer. “What?”
Colin shuffled some papers and grinned up at me. “We should celebrate your success, don’t you think?”
“Um...yeah. I guess.” Excitement rippled through me all over again. Success. My first taste of success since coming to this town. I waited for him to suggest we go out for lunch or something—he and I had done that a few times already.
“I’ve got an extra ticket to the premiere of Gold City tonight.” He arched his brows. “You want to come with me?”
My mouth fell open. This could not be happening. He could not be serious. Gold City was the new Lars Landon-backed historical saga mega-hit that critics were raving about. The word Oscar was tossed around every time it was mentioned.
“Yes!” I said. “Are you kidding? I would love to.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven,” he said, already turning to his computer.
I paused in the doorway. He’d pick me up… As if he could sense my hesitation, he grinned at me over his screen. “You still don’t have a car, right?”
I shook my head, hoping he couldn’t see my embarrassment. I was the only intern who relied on LA’s horrible public transit system because renting a car, or buying one? So not part of my strict budget.
“Then I’ll give you a lift,” he said.
A lift. That sounded...better. I still hesitated, though. Colin was nice. He was great, but I wasn’t about to mix business and romance. Not when I’d come this far and worked so hard for this opportunity. “Um, Colin, this thing tonight, it’s not—”
His easy laugh cut me off. “Relax, Izzy. This is just a perk of being an intern.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell the others because we don’t have enough tickets for everyone, but we try to make sure every intern gets an opportunity to network and enjoy the benefits of working for a production studio.”
The tension in me eased and was replaced with embarrassment at the amusement in Colin’s eyes. Of course this wasn’t a date. It was a perk. A bonus for being the first to pick a script and have a game plan.
I was fighting a crazy grin as I entered the shark tank—er, I mean the intern’s office space.
“What are you so happy about?” Taylor snapped as soon as I walked in.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
Everything.
But I resisted the urge to gloat and instead focused on the big dilemma ahead of me. What on earth was I supposed to wear to a major Hollywood premiere? I opened my texts, ignored Fallon who was definitely going to ream me out for being radio silent on the Henry-Giant Ego-Landon front. But whatever...these were officially desperate times and they called for extreme measures.
I opened the group text between me and my roommates. Usually this was reserved for sorting out who owed what in household expenses, or occasionally one of the girls—namely Carolina—giving everyone a lecture on how we weren’t allowed to touch her special cricket flour.
As if anyone could ever pay me enough to eat cricket flour.
Me: Hey guys, would one of you be able to loan me a dress? I got invited to go to a movie premiere tonight.
The response was...overwhelming.
Kendal replied with SOS! And from there the tone took on a sort of military command vibe as the team assembled.
It appeared I was in need of much more than just a borrowed dress.
Apparently, a full makeover was in order.
I turned off the sound on my phone as the texts came in rapid fire. I set it to the side because...well, it was out of my hands now.
And besides…
I clicked on the script I’d been keeping on my desktop since I’d first read it.
I had a lot of work to do.
Chapter Three
Henry
Stretching, I rolled over as the late morning sunshine streamed in through the blinds. I reached for my phone on the nightstand and grinned as I reread the email from Isabelle Ellis again.
So, this was what it felt like to have a complete stranger make my dreams come true?
I’m not gonna lie, the feeling was pretty exhilarating.
Maybe I’d been thinking about this whole celebrity thing all wrong. Because this mystery woman, whoever she was, was totally my new idol.
It was a role I was used to filling—hero, heartthrob, idol. But when it came to my script, I certainly didn’t mind relinquishing the title to let someone else champion it for a while.
I was still on top of the world after receiving Isabelle’s email yesterday. I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d literally been saved in the nick of time.
Telling my parents about my script would have completely discredited any success I might’ve achieved. But now, I’d know that whatever happened from here on out was mine and mine alone.
Well…kinda.
I wasn’t naïve enough to think making movies was a one-man show. I’d been in the biz long enough to know just how many people it took to bring a film to life. It took a village. More than a village, actually.
It took thousands of hours to produce a box office ready film. Heck, even on cheesy Hermosa Beach, we had a team of hundreds. Somehow the scripts were still awful, but that was beside the point.
The point was, I knew I had a long road ahead of me, but at least the journey had officially started. And honestly, the timing couldn’t have been better.
My father’s big movie premiere was tonight, and I was finally in the mood to celebrate.
Gold City was getting a lot of Oscar buzz and I knew attending the premiere and afterparty my parents were throwing was mandatory.
Normally, it would be the last place I’d want to be.
Hobnobbing with a bunch of fake people who only wanted to talk to me because of my last name wasn’t really my scene. And the fact that Elena was going to be there was another factor that would typically keep me away, but it was time I stopped hiding.
I’d let my ex-girlfriend keep me out of the Hollywood social scene for long enough and I no longer had the excuse of working on my script to fall back on. The work was done, and I deserved to celebrate that.
Plus, now came the fun part—casting!
The Gold City afterparty might be the perfect place to feel out some potential actors for Beyond Sunset. A-list parties like these were the real casting calls. It was where actors, producers, directors and writers schmoozed and laughed it up with each other, the whole time sizing one another up to see if they’d be ‘right’ for whatever new project they were working on.
And there was always a new project.
That was the only sure bet in this town. Everyone had an angle and they were always working on making it bigger and better.
Tonight, I would finally be one of them.
I got out of bed and strolled to the kitchen of my studio bungalow hoping my forgetful assistant, Shari, had remembered to let housekeeping know I was here this week. I had a place in the Hills and my beach house in the Palisades, but I pretty much spent most of my time on the lot.
I’d moved into one of the bungalows when Hermosa Beach started filming… Geez, four years ago now. I couldn’t believe I’d been playing Max Harding since I was sixteen. I was only twenty now, but I’d outgrown the role years ago. I was ready to try something new, something challenging where I could really test myself. Beyond Sunset would do that.
I was born to play Heath O’Brien, the quiet unsung hero. I just needed to convince Isabelle Ellis of that. Speaking of, it probably wasn’t too soon to let her know how involved I wanted to be in the film’s development. I wasn’t going to be one of those writers who just signed away their baby for a paycheck. No way. I’d put way too much of myself into this story to let some studio run away with my vision.
But that could wait until after breakfast.
I pulled open the refrigerator and stared into its pristine emptiness.
Shari strikes again.
I knew my schedule was hard to keep up with, but as my personal assistant that was pretty much her only job. I sighed and spoke into my phone. “Siri, remind Shari to stock the bungalow. I’m on set for the next two weeks.”
Sheesh! Was it really so much to ask for basic necessities like food?
My stomach growled. It looked like I was grabbing breakfast in a rush again.
Perhaps I should’ve just stayed at my parents’ last night. My mother always begged me to stay over after our mandatory family dinners on Thursdays, but I rarely did.
Sometimes I didn’t know why I resisted. Of all the places I owned, none of them really felt like home. My parents’ house may have resembled a museum rather than a cozy family home, but it’s where I’d grown up. It was home to me.
And at least it was always stocked with food.
I stomped to the bathroom, ready to shower and get my day started. My tux was hanging in a garment bag on the back of the door, a note attached from Shari: The premiere is tonight. Don’t be late.
I rolled my eyes. So she did know I was here, she’d just conveniently forgot I needed food to survive.
Sometimes I wondered if people didn’t think of me as human, but more of a pretty dress-up doll that could recite lines and pose for photos.
Celebrities still need to eat, people!
Okay, I knew I was being crabby, but that always happened when I was hungry. Which was often thanks to Shari.
I showered and dressed quickly, deciding to fire off a quick email to Isabelle before I headed out in search of food. But low and behold she’d beaten me to it!
A slow smile stretched across my face as I saw her name in my inbox. “Isabelle, you’re a mind reader,” I murmured. “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” I mused in my best Bogart impression as I opened the email. But by the time I’d finished skimming it, I’d changed my mind completely.
Besides a few opening pleasantries, Isabelle spent the rest of the email tearing my script a new one!
Who the heck was she to tell me I needed rewrites?
A junior developer…Yeah, okay, so what?
That didn’t mean she knew what was best for my script. This was my baby! How dare she rip it apart. Did she not get Heath’s quiet heroism?
Or the metaphors in Amanda’s failures?
I glared at the email, my anxiety fueling my temper even as a voice of reason told me to calm down. My ego was wrapped up in this script and I knew it. I mean, this was seriously the closest thing I had to a baby. But I’d known from the moment I started submitting it that there would be notes. And then there would be more notes from a director, and from the studio heads and from the producers…
The list went on and on. Everyone had opinions on the script in this business, from the key grip to the executive producer. It was all part of the game.
I knew that.
I cocked my head to the side to stretch out some of the tension in my neck and shoulders. I took a deep breath. I’d read through her notes again when I wasn’t so freakin’ tense. After the party, maybe. There was a possibility some of her notes had merit.
Maybe.
Or maybe this wasn’t the match made in heaven I’d thought it was. If Isabelle didn’t understand the fundamentals of my script, we had a problem. But a more immediate problem presented itself as I reread the last line of her email again.
‘I’d love to meet you to discuss these changes at your earliest convenience. I’m available any day this week, except tonight. I’m attending the Gold City premiere. Maybe I’ll see you there?’
I huffed a laugh. She certainly would. But that was the problem. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting Henry Landon, she wanted Leo Lang, who didn’t exist.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and walked across the lot toward one of the cafes on site, hoping the trek would give me time to calm down and collect my thoughts. But by the time I had coffee and croissant in hand I was no better off.
Why the heck had I come up with a fake name?
I should’ve just sent the script in anonymously. Now I’d dug myself a hole I wasn’t sure how to get out of.
The one thing I had going for me was that Isabelle Ellis didn’t know Henry Landon and Leo Lang were one and the same. Maybe I’d be able to find her at the premiere and feel her out. I mean, why bother admitting I’d lied if I didn’t think she was the right person to help me develop my script, right?
Young Adulting Page 3