“Uh.” Corbin cleared his throat. “No.”
“Doesn’t matter. Look at you. You’d be a perfect addition to Lake’s story.”
“My story?” I asked. “I don’t understand. I haven’t seen any of those shows.”
“You’ve watched Real World, haven’t you? MTV?”
“A little.”
“It’s just like that, except it would be a little more—how do I put this . . . contained. You aren’t running completely wild. We’d give you direction, even though the American people would see it as real life.” He opened his hands. “Now that I’m sitting here with you, I’m thinking America’s sweetheart. You have a real naïveté about you that would play well on camera.”
“But I’m not that—I’m an actress,” I said.
“You would still act. Loosely. That’s why they hired me, a casting director, to find the right people. I feel very good about this, Miss Kaplan, and I’m rarely wrong. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”
Corbin narrowed his eyes. “Would she have to move back?”
“Of course. We’d go through rounds of interviews, background checks, physical exams and whatnot, but if you’re hired, you’d be expected to move there. You’d live your life as you normally would—auditioning, going to school, dating, fighting with your family—whatever it is you’d do on a daily basis, just with some input from producers.”
“I don’t speak to my family,” I said.
“Even better. There’s opportunity for real, meaningful stuff there, and maybe even a reconciliation at some point. We can work out the specifics,” Mike said. “We’d set you up with a roommate, another member of the show, and you’d all be friendly. Filming starts this summer so there’s plenty of time to get situated.”
Going home? Reconciling? Those were reasons enough not to do it. To me, California wasn’t sunshine, palm trees, beaches and killer weather. It was the site of my first heartbreak. It represented the regret of losing what I’d never had, and the division of not just my family, but Manning’s, too. “I’m sorry, I really don’t want to return to California. I love New York.”
“It wouldn’t be forever. Plus, if the show gets picked up and it’s a hit, maybe they’d follow you wherever you go and set you up along the way. If you want to come back to New York, discuss that as a storyline with the producers.”
“What’s it pay?” Corbin asked.
“More than she’s making here,” Mike answered.
“And that would be?”
“For the purpose of the show, we’d want you living like a normal twenty-something. No flashy apartment or car, just business as usual. So, the pay is decent, but it’s not a movie star’s salary or anything. Let’s just say you could get yourself a few cell phones.” He winked. “One for each boyfriend.”
Hollywood was a far cry from Broadway, but it was hard not to get swept up in Mike’s excitement. “I have to think about it,” I said. “I went to Tisch to be a performer, and this doesn’t sound like what I had in mind.”
Mike stood. “Reality television is the wave of the future, Lake. Take my word for it. Not to mention, if this takes off, you’ll be famous. Once your contract is up, you can turn that fame into anything you want—movie roles, a clothing line, charity work, or, of course, you can come back to Broadway with an audience directors won’t be able to ignore.”
I shifted on the couch and felt Corbin’s eyes on me. The idea made more sense as a means to an end. It wasn’t the most honest way to make my career, but I couldn’t imagine any of my peers turning down an opportunity like this. I already knew Roger, who’d been chasing fame since he’d narrowly missed being cast for the Mickey Mouse Club, would scream for me to accept. I thought of the animal shelter where I’d worked up until last year when they’d had to shut down due to lack of funding. “Could I draw attention to issues I’m passionate about?” I asked.
Mike checked his watch. “That’s a question for the producers, but I think they’d welcome it within reason. Nothing too depressing. Listen, I have a dinner to get to.” He shook my hand. “I’ll be in touch, and your agent has more details. Plan on flying out soon after the show closes.”
He exited stage right, leaving Corbin and me as startled as he’d found us. I turned to Corbin, glad he’d been here for that tornado of information, but also fairly sure he’d say it was a bad idea. “You don’t think I should do it, right?” I asked.
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s a little insane. Acting for reality? And I’d have to leave you and Roger and New York and the career I’ve made here.”
“Lake, you’ll be twenty-six this year. Your life here is in limbo,” he said. “You’re single, and in a few days, you’ll be out of work. Val’s gone.”
“I’ve been trying to build a name for myself in theater, though.”
“Well, maybe this is just one way to go about it,” he pointed out. “Not all paths will be the same.”
I studied him a few moments, the way he fidgeted with his hands laced between his knees. “I’m surprised,” I said. “I would’ve thought you’d tell me to stay.”
“If I were being selfish, yeah, I would. But the truth is, Lake, sometimes I don’t know what keeps you here.”
I pulled back a little. I’d wondered the same, but I thought I’d done a pretty good job of being happy considering I was living with a permanent hole in my heart. “What do you mean? I know I haven’t found a lot of success like my friends, but that’s because I haven’t been working at this as long.”
“I see them killing themselves every day to get auditions and take dance classes and singing lessons. Roger’s on Broadway because he can’t not be. I know you do those things, too, but your friends have a fire inside them I sometimes think you’re . . . missing.”
I sat back, trying not to look as hurt as I felt. “Seriously?” I asked. “How can you say that to me, that I don’t have fire? You’ve brought me a pillow because I had to spend half a night on a concrete floor waiting for news about a show. I rehearsed for this play seven days a week, and now that we’re in season, I practically live in this theater.”
He rubbed his jaw. “Maybe I’m wrong then. It seemed like some of your passion flamed out after graduation.”
That hollowed out my chest a bit—which was a normal reaction to thinking about that time in my life. My five days with Manning, and how he’d left New York and taken a very crucial part of my heart with him. Not to mention my ability to trust and love. It was no surprise to me or Val I hadn’t had a healthy relationship since.
Since December that year, I’d been in motion. I ran every day, usually between auditions. I worked for a temp agency, picking up administrative work all over the city when I wasn’t performing. I put my heart and soul into my nights at the theater. In the beginning, I hadn’t been able to stop and think or my mind would spiral back to what my life would’ve been if I hadn’t left after the wedding. What would’ve happened if I’d graduated USC and gone to grad school.
I’d been on the go so long, chasing an exciting and exhilarating career—those things had been further from my mind than normal lately. I wished the same was true about Manning. I thought of him constantly—what I’d lost that day he’d left New York.
What he’d lost several months later.
All the pain between us seemed too great to overcome. “I don’t want to leave New York,” I said quietly. “I think I’ll say no to the audition.”
“Lake.” Corbin sat forward and paused, as if he were considering how to phrase what he had to say. “Don’t say no out of fear.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“I don’t believe that. You’re an adult now, and that puts you just as much in the wrong as them. You have to face your family. It’s time.”
“I’m not having this conversation again,” I said and went to stand.
“Listen to me,” he snapped.
Surprised, I sat back down. It was rare for Corbin to raise his voi
ce at me. “Your family misses you. You miss them. I know you do, so don’t try to deny it. You’ve let pride get in the way too long, and that makes you no better than your dad.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked. “I’m his daughter, and he’s pretended I don’t exist for the better half of a decade.”
“He’s a jerk, but he’s your father, and I know in his own twisted way, he’s never wanted anything but the best for you. That’s why you leaving has been so hard on him.”
I shook my head. There were things Corbin didn’t know. If it weren’t for my dad’s meddling, Manning and I might’ve had a chance. “You don’t understand.”
“Whatever beef you have with him, with Tiffany, it’s time to put it aside. You’re not sixteen anymore, but you’re still acting like a child. You never even went to see her in the hospital, your own sister.”
I looked at my hands. It wasn’t that I didn’t care that Tiffany had miscarried—it was the opposite. When I’d found out she was pregnant, I’d wished the baby away. I’d hated Tiffany for how she’d treated Manning and me. But I’d never expected my wish to come true. Despite what we’d all been through, no matter how I felt about any of it, Tiffany hadn’t deserved to lose it all. And not just the baby.
Months after the miscarriage, almost a year since New York—she and Manning had divorced.
“Give me one honest answer,” Corbin said, “and then we can drop it for good.”
I crossed my arms into myself. “Fine.”
“Are you staying in New York because you love it, and it runs in your veins, and you can’t imagine being anywhere else? Or is it because you don’t want to go home?”
I didn’t have an immediate answer. I rarely stopped to wonder whether New York was where I wanted to be, because deep down I knew the truth—my roots, my one love, my youth, would always be in California. But going home meant reopening wounds, admitting mistakes, looking my family in the face after all the pain I’d caused them. Because it was true—they might’ve hurt me over the years, but I’d hurt them, too, in ways I could never take back.
“You haven’t talked to your dad in eight years,” Corbin said.
And I hadn’t talked to Manning in over three. Hadn’t kissed or made love to or even laid eyes on him in three years, and my dad had played a part in that. I’d been proud, but so had he. If Dad still couldn’t pick up the phone, then it was better this way, because I had nothing to say to him. “If I go to California, it’s not to see them,” I said. “It’s because I want a change.”
Corbin sighed, standing up and holding out his hand for me. “I think that’s a mistake—but I think it’s also a start.”
21
Lake
I took the job in California. The network had made it hard to say no. I’d been flown out to L.A., put up in a costly hotel, and encouraged by Val, Corbin, and Roger to say yes. When I’d said I’d need time to think about the offer, the producers had sweetened the deal. Of the five principals hired, only two were making more than me, and they were both minor local celebrities.
The world would fall in love with me—according to the producers and crew. Of course, I’d never had it in me to play the villain. They’d set me up with a roommate, a struggling set designer named Bree, who was also on the show. Corbin and Val had been around for some of the filming, but I’d refused to bring my family into it, even though the producers sometimes made me talk about my dad and Tiffany while filming. Cameras followed us around, intrusive and cumbersome, all to marry the slice-of-life reality Mike had promised with plots the writing team molded into stories.
Late summer, a couple months into shooting, Val invited just about everyone I knew in L.A. over to her house for the pilot. When Bree and I showed up, sans cameras but with party platters, the applause began.
Bree bowed, but I only hid my reddening face. I hadn’t gotten into acting to be famous. I loved that I could access a different part of my brain and heart and use those to create a world for others. An escape. But I’d gotten more attention over the past few months than I’d ever wanted, and we hadn’t even aired yet. With a look, I implored Val to make it stop.
She picked up a bottle of champagne and got on the coffee table. “Who wants alcohol?”
Some of our friends held out their glasses, and others took their places around the TV, which was currently muted on Charmed. Not everyone was so easily sidetracked, though.
“They put up a billboard on Sunset Boulevard,” Roger said, holding out his glass for champagne. “You’re like goddesses gazing upon us mere mortals.”
Bree handled the attention better than I did, so I slipped into the crowd as she whipped a disposable camera out of her purse. “I already took a whole roll of photos this afternoon.”
I disappeared into the kitchen to prepare the appetizers I’d brought. I was setting the oven as Val floated in. Tonight, she was Bohemian Val, Sienna Miller-meets-Stevie Nicks with heavy bangs and straightened blonde hair. She’d paired an off-the-shoulder floral dress with a wide leather belt and fashion cowboy boots.
“What’re those?” she asked over my shoulder as I stood at the island.
“Homemade bagel bites. Just like the frozen kind, except I made these.”
“You are such a good mom.”
I smiled a little, tossing the foil wrapping into the trash. “I’m doing whatever I can to keep the nerves at bay.”
“Well, then I should probably keep what I know to myself,” she said, leaning her upper half on the island, “but you know I won’t.”
I glanced up at her, arranging the food. “Okay . . .? What?”
“Listen.” She checked over her shoulder. “Corbin and I fought for an hour about this, but in the end, I couldn’t talk him out of it—and I couldn’t explain to him the depth of why this was a bad idea without revealing the truth about your history with your sister.” She made a face. “Corbin flew in today.”
“Wait—really?” I grinned. “All the way from New York? What’s that got to do with Tiffany?”
“She called him and asked if she could come tonight.”
I stopped fussing with the platter and stared at her. “What?”
“I guess she wanted to surprise you, because—duh—if she’d asked you, you’d have told her to take a hike.”
Would I have? Tiffany and I hadn’t spoken since last Christmas, and even then it’d been a cursory, five-minute conversation. She didn’t even live in the area. She’d have to drive in from Orange County. “Did she say why?” I asked.
“I think it’s just because she wants to grab onto your coattails, I mean, could she be more obvious with her timing? You’re going to be on TV tonight.” Val picked a diced tomato off one of the bagel bites and popped it in her mouth. “But Corbin seems to think Tiffany’s making an effort and deserves a chance you’d never give her otherwise. He felt bad that Tiffany couldn’t even bring herself to call you.”
“Well,” I said, my posture sagging. “Shit.”
“Yeah.” Val lifted a shoulder. “I couldn’t exactly tell Corbin that there might be a catfight over he-whose-name-makes-me-gag.”
I looked out the kitchen window, where palm tree silhouettes painted the dusky, indigo sky. Did I want to see my sister after all these years? No. She wasn’t just the cruelest reminder possible of Manning, but she’d intentionally hurt me. I’d done the same to her, though. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to face her, but she was making an effort. After going years without hearing from my dad, that spoke volumes. Tiffany and I had kept in touch, but I hadn’t seen her since she’d left for her honeymoon. “Thanks for warning me,” I said. “Even though I’m twice as nervous now.”
“Don’t be. You’re older and smarter. She can’t get to you anymore.” Val turned to get a bottle of Veuve Clicquot from the fridge before I could protest. “And the show will be fan-fucking-tastic. You’re the sweetheart, so you have nothing to worry about. Bree on the other hand . . .” She grimaced before taking a champagne glass
from a cupboard. “I’m worried she’s the village idiot and doesn’t know it.”
I laughed. “Or she knows it, and she’ll get more screen time because of it—which would make her the shrewdest of all.”
“Touché. So how come instead of being excited, you’ve been moping around all week like you just found out you have chlamydia?”
I shrugged. According to my agent, castmates, and the media, I was the industry’s next “sweetheart.” I had “something,” the “it factor” and “the right look.” I was going to be someone. But aside from the few low-budget, hardly attended plays I’d been a part of in New York, nobody had seen me act yet. The cameras didn’t even follow me into the auditions I attended during filming, just the preparation before, and getting rejected or called back after.
“Val?” I said, sliding the tray into the oven. “You’re around actresses all day on set. Do you think I’m any good?”
“You have a certain quality,” she said.
“What quality?” I asked.
“The one you have. It’s indescribable.” She waved me off. “Anyone can learn to act, but not anyone can be a star.”
I crossed my oven mitt-clad hands under my arms. “So you’re saying I suck.”
She laughed. “Suck? No. You’re just honing your craft. I’d cast you, and I’m not just saying that. You really do steal the show when you’re on stage, and I think it’ll be the same on screen.”
“I honestly don’t know why they bother with me,” I said. “I didn’t get into that much drama. I mostly met people for lunch like the producers wanted, went to auditions, cried about missing my family, or stood around the bar.”
“Did you ever think you’d have to get a job to support your current job? It’s like they made you work at that place so the group would have a nighttime meeting spot. It’s the after-hours Peach Pit of reality TV.”
I snickered. “That’s exactly why they set me up there. That, and I swear they knew Sean and I would start dating before either of us did.”
Something in the Way: A Forbidden Love Saga: The Complete Collection Page 76