by Hayes Grier
“Mia,” she said, softly knocking at the door. “Can I come in?”
Mia didn’t answer.
Violet knocked again, louder, and opened the door slightly. Mia sat on her bed, sheets of paper spread around her, wearing headphones, nodding in time to the music.
She looked up, broke into a grin, and took off the headphones. “Hey, cuz! You look amazing. I heard you went to a premiere tonight.”
So Uncle Forrest had paid attention!
“I’ll tell you all about it later. But what’s going on with you?” All of a sudden, Violet wanted to put off telling Mia about the night, just the way she’d been putting off talking to Hayes.
“Are you kidding? You go to a big-time premiere and walk the red carpet and I get to go first? All right, I’m just listening to the Balloon Animals for some design inspo.”
“Well, you’ll never guess who was at the premiere tonight—Harry Lyons!”
“No way. Okay, I’m done with recapping my night. Tell me all about it. It must have been awesome.” Mia pushed aside the papers to make room. Violet kicked off her heels and flung herself on the bed. She gazed at the ceiling, not meeting Mia’s eyes.
“I give it mixed reviews,” Violet told her.
“You didn’t like the movie?”
“I couldn’t tell you one thing about the movie,” Violet answered, rolling over onto her stomach. “I was talking about the whole night.”
“Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound good.”
“I’ll break it down for you. The limo ride and the red carpet get four stars—absolutely amazing. Everything that came after: zero stars. So that averages out to two. Like I said, mixed.”
“What happened, exactly?”
Quickly, Violet explained how TJ came over and told them about the assistant director lying, and how Hayes went off on a rant, coming down hard on liars. “So I never got a chance to tell him about the fanfic. And now I’m not sure I ever can. He feels so strongly about lying, and I just waited too long. He’ll never understand. He’ll hate me.” She grabbed a pillow and burrowed into it, facedown. “I don’t want him to hate me.”
“What? I can’t hear you.” Mia grabbed the pillow and tossed it onto the floor.
Violet turned her head, sighing. “I don’t want him to hate me. I don’t want to be that person to Hayes.”
Mia leaned against the headboard, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell him.”
“I know!” Violet wailed. “I should have told him yesterday. Or this morning. Or this afternoon when we were shopping. I haven’t even told you about that, Mia! We had the best time.”
Mia let her talk about the day, about the vibe she was getting from Hayes, but how she still wasn’t sure how he really felt.
Finally, Mia cut in. “Okay, that’s enough. We need to get back to tonight. You should have told Hayes as soon as TJ complained about that AD. It would have been the perfect time. The subject of lying was on the table, right there in the open for you to pick up and run with. If you had only said something then, Hayes wouldn’t feel betrayed. But now…”
“But now what? What should I do?” Violet scooted next to Mia. Her cousin always had strong opinions, always voiced her thoughts. Why was she holding back now?
“I don’t know what to tell you,” Mia finally answered. “You’ll have to figure this one out on your own.”
Violet closed her eyes, suddenly weary beyond belief. How could she figure anything out when she was more confused than ever?
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
AT THE STUDIO THE NEXT MORNING, Violet walked Zan, ran errands, and printed call sheets. She did everything she needed to, but she worked on autopilot, with half a mind. The other half was trying to figure out if she should tell Hayes the truth. It was one thing for him to be cool about fan fiction written by a stranger. It was another to have it written by a friend who’d kept it secret.
Violet handed the last sheet to the head of wardrobe, then came to a decision: She wouldn’t decide. She’d wait to see Hayes and feel out the situation. If it seemed right, she’d explain everything. If it seemed wrong, she’d wait.
She glanced at her phone, noting the time. She should be meeting with Hayes in just a few minutes to go over his schedule for the afternoon. Right now he was on a soundstage, filming the laboratory scene where his dad held him prisoner.
The scene took place somewhere near the middle of the film: Hawk’s dad tries to explain why he wants to use Hawk as a guinea pig—for the good of the human race, he claims.
Violet walked over to the set. “Are you here to see Hayes?” Derek the intern asked.
Violet nodded.
“Well, if I were you, I’d run the other way. He is not having a good day.”
Suddenly, the set quieted. Filming had begun.
Violet edged closer to the action, peering around groups of people. Hayes and Byron James, the actor playing his father, stood between lab tables. Hayes was crying out, struggling to free himself from a force field his “dad” had rigged.
She heard Hayes say, “But you’re my father. You took care of me. You went to all my soccer games. You bought me a puppy for my eighth birthday. How can you do this?”
“Cut!” TJ snapped. “Hayes, what are you doing? Your lines read, ‘You took me to baseball games. You bought me my first baseball glove.’ What gives?”
“I’m just trying to own the lines,” Hayes said. “You know, make them more personal. I had to stick the puppy in.”
Violet grinned. Of course he had to mention a dog!
“That is not acceptable!” TJ shouted. “Right now, you are not Hayes Grier. You are Hawk. And you need to say your lines exactly as they are written. It’s really not that hard.” He glared at Hayes. “Or is it?”
“No,” Hayes mumbled, looking down at the floor.
“Good.” TJ tugged at his spiky hair. “Everyone take a break to cool down. Let’s call it lunch.”
Really, Violet thought, TJ was the one who needed to cool down. He’d really gone ballistic.
“And you, the guy who’s giving us some ‘personal’ spin on your character. Don’t come back until you know your lines verbatim.” TJ’s eyes swept the cast and crew, daring them to challenge him. “And for those of you who don’t know the definition of verbatim”—he settled on Hayes—“it means ‘word for word.’”
TJ marched away, and an eerie quiet settled over the set. For a moment, everyone seemed frozen in place. Then, as if they’d all received a signal, they moved at the same time, hurrying in different directions.
Everyone except for Hayes.
He was still slumped between the lab tables, a crushed look on his face.
“Hayes?” Violet walked over, taking tentative steps. “You okay?” Her problems suddenly seemed insignificant. Hayes took precedence.
Hayes gazed at her and shook his head slightly. “So you saw that, too?”
“Yes, but it’s not a big deal. TJ blows up at everybody, you know that. Once, I saw him shouting at a poor defenseless kitten who’d wandered onto the soundstage.”
Hayes gave her a crooked grin. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Maybe,” Violet conceded, “but can’t you see it happening? Really, Hayes, nobody thinks less of you for it.”
Hayes shrugged. “I’m not sure about that.” His grin faded, and his mouth turned down in disappointment. “I’m really mad at myself. I should have checked with TJ before I changed any lines. He likes to control every little thing during filming, and I know that.”
“Do you need anything during the break?” Violet asked. “Iced coffee? A sandwich? A new director?”
Hayes laughed. “You always make me feel better, V. Can you come to my trailer and help with these lines so I can get them down”—he stressed the next word—“verbatim?”
* * *
Violet may have made Hayes feel better on set. But it seemed when they got to the trailer, Hayes was in an even deeper funk, patting Zan absentmindedly
, moving listlessly, and refusing to eat anything.
“Let’s take those lines from the top.” Violet settled on the couch. She patted the cushion. “Come, sit down.”
Obediently, Hayes sat.
“Do you want to read from the script?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I did memorize the lines earlier. You just check and see that I have every little word right.”
Violet flipped through the pages until she got to the lab scene. “Hawk,” she read as the father, “you have to understand this is for the greater good. These experiments will determine why you’ve survived on our planet. They could hold the key for extending human life.”
“They could also kill me,” Hayes said.
“True,” Violet went on. “It is a bit of a sacrifice.”
“Not on your part,” Hayes said. “The only sacrifice is mine.”
“Ahem.” Violet coughed. “I’m the only sacrifice,” she corrected gently.
“I’m the only sacrifice,” Hayes repeated, his voice trembling a bit.
“I cared for you the best I could,” Violet said, turning the page.
Hayes gave a strangled laugh. “You really had me fooled, Dad.”
Violet nodded encouragingly.
“We really had some good times together,” Hayes continued.
“Great,” Violet interrupted. “Great times.”
“Great times together.” Hayes’s voice grew weaker. “You took me to baseball games. You bought me my first glove.”
“Baseball glove.”
“Baseball glove! You’re my dad. How can you ignore that?”
“How can you ignore all that.”
“I give up!” Hayes stood and looked around wildly, as if searching for an escape route. “I’m flubbing all the lines, changing words, and it’s not even on purpose!”
“Oh, Hayes.” Violet gently pulled him back down to the couch. She didn’t want him running off—or having any kind of breakdown on set. That would only make things worse with TJ.
“You’re stressed, that’s all.” She held out his copy of the script. “Let’s just read the dialogue out loud a few times before you try again. It’s hard, I know. But you can do it. You’ve nailed other scenes before—longer, more complicated ones.”
Hayes nodded, looking a little calmer. He took the pages. “I’ll read them to myself a couple of times first, just to get them down.”
While Hayes scanned the pages, Violet let her mind wander back to her own dilemma: when to tell Hayes that she wrote the fanfic. It was no longer a question of “if.” She was wrong to keep it from him, wrong to have done it in the first place, to create secret “Hayes Grier” stories about him when they had a relationship. It turned the fiction into lies, giving him a personal life he might not like at all.
Violet could see that now. When she was writing, she was too caught up in the emotion and the story, but taking a step back, she wished she’d never started.
Now, more than ever, Violet wanted to tell him. She could feel the words on the tip of her tongue, trying to escape, to clear her conscience and set the record straight.
She looked at Hayes, so vulnerable, his head bent over the script.
But she couldn’t tell him now, not when he was already so distraught. Not when he had to get those lines down in—she glanced at the clock—thirty minutes. It wouldn’t be fair.
Of course, the longer she waited the more it would hurt their relationship. But that wasn’t important now. Hayes needed to concentrate on his role. He needed her support.
“Ready?” she asked.
Hayes nodded.
“Hawk,” she began, “you have to understand…”
Ten minutes later, she put down the script. “Perfect!” she told Hayes. “Now let’s show TJ!”
* * *
Hayes was going to makeup for a touch-up before the shoot. So Violet took her time in the trailer, straightening up and playing with Zan. She was heading toward the laboratory set to watch the filming when she heard her name.
“Hey, wait up!” Coco caught up to Violet. “I heard TJ really chewed out Hayes.” She shook her head sympathetically. “I really feel for the guy.”
Violet felt so drained, she couldn’t quite focus on Coco. She blinked and looked away.
“Violet?” Coco reached for her arm. “Are you okay? You seem upset. Is it TJ? Did something happen with you, too?”
Violet shook her head, tears unexpectedly springing to her eyes.
“Well, then what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Violet tried to smile. Violet liked Coco. She believed Coco really wanted to help. But she couldn’t tell her about the stories, about Hayes hating liars, or her feelings for Hayes. Except for Mia, no one knew her secret. And no one could know, until she told Hayes.
“Allergies. I forgot to take my allergy pill this morning, so everything is really getting to me.”
Coco looked at her skeptically. “Well, for what it’s worth, TJ has been on a rampage all day. It’s not you, Violet. It’s him.”
Violet almost laughed. It’s what she’d been trying to tell Hayes.
“Don’t take it personally,” Coco continued, linking her arm through Violet’s.
“Thanks, Coco,” Violet said. The girl really was trying to make her feel better. She couldn’t know that her problems had nothing to do with TJ. “I feel better now.”
Coco tilted her head, peering closely at Violet. “I don’t believe you,” she declared. “But whatever’s wrong, I have the cure. A girls’ night out on the town. And I won’t take no for an answer.”
Violet just wanted to go home and crawl into bed after work. But she could tell Coco meant what she said, and it would take as much energy to resist as it would to go out.
She nodded.
“Good!” said Coco. “What time should I pick you up?”
* * *
“Here we are!” Coco parked her car by the VALET sign, tossed the keys to an attendant, and led Violet to the door of Sing It, Sister!
“What kind of place is this?”
“It’s a karaoke bar. We get to sing along with our favorite tunes, and the audience gets to go crazy for us.”
Singing in public? That would certainly be different, Violet thought. “Well, I like the name.”
Coco patted her shoulder as they walked inside. “I wasn’t kidding about girls’ night out, Violet. Tonight is all about sisterhood. We’re going to have a blast!”
People streamed in behind them, and Violet saw the place was already packed. Sing It, Sister! was definitely the place to be. Bright lights lit a large stage; neon-shaped guitars, microphones, and musical notes hung on every wall. Music blared, and Violet nodded her head to the beat.
This spot could be the Times Square of LA, Violet thought. You hang around long enough, you’ll see everyone you know. She grinned at Coco.
Coco grinned back. “I told you. It’s the ultimate cure for the blues.”
Coco found an empty spot by a wall, and the girls squeezed in. They gazed at the stage. Two guys in their twenties bounced around to an old Beatles song, reading the lyrics from a screen. The audience clapped along.
The guys wore hip-looking suits, and probably came straight from work to blow off steam. That’s what she wanted to do, Violet thought. Blow off steam.
Coco nudged her. “So,” she said, waving at the stage. “Shall we?”
Violet was definitely ready. “What are we waiting for?” She grabbed Coco’s hand and pulled her into the crowd.
“Whoa!” Coco laughed. “We have to sign up first and wait our turn. Just give me a sec.” She reached for her phone, buzzing with messages. “Ugh! So many. Listen, you go choose a song, put us on the list, and I’ll read through some of these texts.”
Violet threaded through the crowd, found the songbook on the corner of the bar, and flipped through the pages. There were hundreds of songs, maybe thousands. She paused at a section marked “Girl Groups.” She could find something her
e, something empowering, Violet thought. Something for sisterhood! But even under that one listing, the song titles went on and on …
“Hey, can somebody else get a look at that?” a woman said behind her.
“Sorry!” Violet quickly decided on a song called “Standing Together, Never Alone.” She scribbled her and Coco’s names on a sheet and made her way back.
Coco was still holding her phone, scrolling through the screen. “Oh my God,” she said. “I’ve never gotten so many texts at one time. I’m sorry, Violet, but I’ve got to go. TJ needs to meet with Hayes and me. He’s called an emergency dinner meeting. We have to go over that last scene. He says it’s mandatory.”
“It’s okay. Go, go!” Violet pushed her toward the door. The last thing she wanted to do was make TJ mad. “I know things have been crazy on set. And that scene is so important!”
“Thanks for understanding!” Coco gave her a quick hug. “And I promise. We’re going to do this again. And next time”—she pointed to the stage—“we’ll be stars!”
Coco turned away, shouting, “Excuse me, pardon me,” over the music, shouldering through the next wave of partiers coming in.
Suddenly, in a room full of people, Violet felt alone. She put in an Uber request on her phone. Ten minutes. She’d wait and watch the singers, then leave.
She gazed at the stage. A woman with wavy dark hair was just stepping off the stage. The emcee leaped up, grabbing the mic. “I’m back,” he told the audience. “And it looks like our next singers are a duo—who will be singing ‘Standing Together, Never Alone.’” He paused, looking at the list. “Violet and Coco, come on up!”
Violet groaned. She’d chosen a long slow song, a soulful ballad, thinking she and Coco could pull it off together. Now what?
The crowd quieted as everyone looked for the singers. “Coco?” people whispered. “Is she really here?”
Another mistake! Why did Violet use Coco’s real name? She should have made something up!
“Hey,” shouted the woman who had been behind her at the bar. Heads turned as she pointed to Violet. “You’re not Coco, but aren’t you … Violet?”
Before Violet could answer, the emcee shouted, “Here she is! One part of the duo! Violet!”