by Hayes Grier
“You don’t know that.”
“Of course I can’t see the future. No one can. Although my dad insists his Ouija board can predict anything!” She shook her head to get back on topic. “The point is, you have to give yourself options … opportunities … not limits! You have to open the door to this. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance and you don’t want to regret turning it down before you even know what it is.”
She squeezed Violet’s hand. “Get in touch with Lydia. Set up a meeting. It’s just two people talking, not a big deal at all. And once you get all the information, then you can make a decision.”
Of course Mia was right. In her heart of hearts, Violet knew her cousin was just saying what Violet herself already thought. The only thing holding her back was the thought of hurting Hayes.
Mia turned the laptop toward Violet. “There. I’ve said my piece. Now get back to Lydia right now.”
Quickly, Violet typed in that she could meet with Lydia first thing the next morning, if Lydia was free.
Almost immediately Lydia responded: I can do eight.
That would work, Violet typed. Their meeting was set. She grinned happily at Mia.
“Proud of you, cuz,” Mia said. “Now just remember you have to tell Lydia your identity has to be kept secret. You have to be anonymous, until you talk to Hayes.”
Violet didn’t need any reminders about that. First Lydia, then Hayes. What could possibly go wrong?
* * *
The Imaginative International Talent Agency was in a modern office building on a wide, tree-lined block in Beverly Hills. Violet looked over a board in the lobby, listing companies and suites. She quickly found the agency; it took up four floors. Then she pressed the elevator button for the penthouse level, Lydia’s office, and zipped up to the fortieth floor.
The door opened right into a lobby filled with tasteful artwork, a few plush chairs, and a wide glass desk. The receptionist sitting behind it was as pretty as any model in a fashion magazine.
“May I help you?” the woman asked as Violet stepped into the room, her voice neutral.
“I’m Violet Reeves. I’m here to meet with Lydia Jacobs?” Violet’s voice had risen in a question at the end of the sentence. She blushed, knowing she sounded like she was asking if she had an appointment, not stating a fact.
The woman looked at her blankly, and Violet realized Lydia didn’t know her name. “I write the Hayes Grier fan fiction,” she explained.
“Of course,” the receptionist said smoothly. “She’s expecting you. I’ll take you to her office.”
The woman rose from her chair with ballerina-like gracefulness. Violet followed her through a set of doors into an office that took up the rest of the floor. Windows reached from the rich white carpeting to the ceiling, revealing the LA skyline. It seemed more like a luxury apartment than an office, with living and dining areas, and not a file cabinet in sight.
“This is Violet Reeves,” the receptionist announced, gliding smoothly out the door.
A small woman with straight dark hair, curved to her chin, walked around a mahogany table to greet her. Her first words: “How old are you?”
“I’m sixteen.” Was there some kind of age requirement for writing fanfic?
“Aha!” Lydia said, delighted. “This gets better and better.” She examined Violet closely. “Are you sure you’re sixteen? Not seventeen, or eighteen?”
“Of course I’m sure.”
“Well.” Lydia waved at Violet to sit on a deep sectional couch in the corner. She paced in front of the couch in an exact square, shooting glances at Violet at every turn.
“This is impressive, then. You have such an authentic voice, my dear. Especially for one so young. Now tell me everything.”
Violet explained about her World Famous Studios internship and her dream to get into the Hollywood Screenwriting Academy. She even mentioned the potential recommendation letter from director T. J. Meyers.
Lydia laughed merrily. “Recommendation letter? My dear, when I get through with you, you won’t need any recommendation letter. The Academy will be begging you to attend!”
Violet’s jaw dropped in surprise. She saw herself in the window’s reflection and quickly closed her mouth. “What do you mean?”
“I’m ready to make you Hollywood’s next big writer. Anyone who’s anyone already wants to work with you. Everybody’s been asking around, wanting to know who you are. And when they hear that you’re only sixteen? They’ll be beating down my door. If we play up the age angle, you’ll be a huge unstoppable media sensation to boot.”
Violet straightened her shoulders, holding herself back from jumping up and down like a six-year-old who just got a pony for her birthday. She was loving every word that came out of Lydia Jacobs’s mouth.
Imagine! Little Violet Reeves from upstate New York, a nobody who thought she was incredibly lucky just to have a studio internship, could be making the rounds of talk shows. She’d be photographed because she was Violet, not someone’s date. And she’d get to do what she always loved—write!
Violet pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming—something she thought writers just made up. But no, she was doing it, and she wasn’t dreaming. It was real.
“So what do you think, my dear?”
Violet came down to earth. She had to tell Lydia about her stipulation: She would only sign with the agency if Lydia agreed to keep her identity confidential.
“I have some personal business to take care of,” Violet told her, “before I feel comfortable coming forward.”
Finally, Lydia sat down. She thought for a moment, her chin in hand, her carefully made-up face tilted to the side.
“Agreed.” She nodded twice. “But we can’t wait too long. The reveal has to be soon. We have to strike while the iron is red-hot. You need to take care of this business quickly. And when I say quickly, I mean today.”
They made an appointment to meet again, and Lydia walked Violet to the door. “My dear, I can’t stress enough the importance of acting fast. An opportunity like this only comes around once. You need to jump on it.”
“I understand, Lydia. I truly do.”
“Good. And in the meantime, you should be asking yourself two questions.” Lydia paused dramatically, making sure Violet was paying strict attention. “Why are you here if you’re not ready to commit to this one hundred percent? And what is holding you back from fulfilling your dream?”
* * *
Violet had the rest of the morning off, so she went back home. The house was quiet. Uncle Forrest had gone to a yoga retreat, and Mia was taking an all-day art course at the college. Violet couldn’t even text her the news; Mia was sketching live models, and Violet didn’t want to distract her.
Humming tunelessly, she wandered through the house, not sure what to do next. She couldn’t tell anyone else the news, not even her parents. Even worse, she didn’t know exactly what to think.
At first she’d been euphoric, thrilled beyond belief that her writing career seemed set. But then there were Lydia’s two questions …
Gnawing doubts hit her hard and suddenly. What was holding her back?
Violet knew the answer without giving it any thought: Hayes Grier.
Sighing, Violet went to her room, slipping off her shoes before she reached the bed. She stretched out, thinking about Hayes and what could happen between them. A first date. A first kiss. Something more …
She rolled on her side, half-closed her eyes, and pictured more scenarios. Then she sat up, her eyes snapping open. Is this how she was going to spend the morning?
At the desk, the computer seemed to beckon, the screen winking at her in the morning sunshine. Writing would help her decompress. She just needed to let go of reality for a bit. It would be a release, nothing more.
She turned on the computer, opening up her HollywoodWriter310 site. She placed her fingers on the keyboard and began …
… Hayes and Rose were having the summer of their lives. Eac
h day was an adventure—hiking in Griffith Park, going to the movies, having bonfires at the beach—and they were growing closer and closer. Now Hayes had come to a decision. He wanted to take another step in their relationship. Show Rose a side of him she hadn’t seen.
“Saturday,” he told her. “I have a surprise for you.”
That morning, he blindfolded Rose and helped her into the front seat of his car. They drove through LA—Rose laughing all the way, trying to guess their destination, and Hayes refusing to give one little hint.
He pulled into a spot, helped her out, led her down the street, and stopped.
“Ready?”
“Ready,” said Rose, breathlessly, with no idea what to expect.
Hayes removed the blindfold in one smooth move, and Rose gasped. They were standing in front of the Dog World Dog Shelter.
“Why are we here?” Rose stared at Hayes in surprise. Then, of course, it all made sense. Where else would Hayes Grier, animal lover, be?
“I volunteer here,” Hayes said. “Tez is the only other person who knows about it. I haven’t told anyone else; I really don’t want it getting out. I share so much on social media, but not this. It means too much to me. And I don’t want the place overrun! But I trust you. I want to share it with you.”
Holding hands, the two walked inside. They went straight into a playroom full of puppies chewing on toys, bounding after balls, and having fun. The puppies raced over to greet Hayes and Rose, barking happily. “I hope it can be ‘our’ place now, Rose. That we can be here together.”
“Oh, Hayes.” Rose leaned into him, and they kissed. One adorable puppy nuzzled their legs and Hayes scooped him up.
“I won’t tell anyone,” she promised, gazing at him over the puppy’s head. “This will be our special secret…”
Violet read over the passage, picturing herself as Rose, because, well … she was clearly Rose! She smiled warmly, remembering every moment of the real visit. The writing worked; she felt calmer.
She loved the piece—reading it and writing it—but of course no one would ever see it. There were too many Hayes Grier personal details, and the animal-shelter setting revealed way too much.
She would never ever post it. It would be her own secret story to read when she was feeling down or confused.
Her phone alarm suddenly sounded, and Violet started. Thank goodness she’d set a reminder. Otherwise, she’d still be lounging around daydreaming.
But she had to get to the studio. Violet glanced at the time. Now! Hayes was shooting that final scene today; the tough emotional one, when he says good-bye to Devon. She had to be there to help him, to support him any way she could.
She cast one last wistful glance at the computer, then left for the lot. A moment later she raced back inside, taking the stairs two at a time. She’d forgotten to save the story!
She tapped the keyboard quickly, one eye on the clock, then left without a backward glance. She didn’t see the screen a split second later when it flashed Posting Complete.
The shelter story had gone live.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
VIOLET STEPPED QUIETLY INTO THE TRAILER. She’d seen Hayes and Tez rehearsing through the window—Hayes pacing and Tez sitting on the couch reciting from the script. And she hadn’t wanted to interrupt. Now she nodded at the two, signaling them to keep going.
Violet gazed around the space, missing the trailer, even though she was standing right inside it. Most likely her job would end today. The movie would wrap. And her time on set would be over. Zan rushed over to say hello, his tail wagging like crazy.
Violet crouched down to hug him close, listening to Hayes say the lines “It’s over, Devon. We’re done. Go back home where you belong.” His voice came out weak and strained.
“Shoot!” he cried in his normal tone. “That really stunk.” Frustrated, he grunted and plopped on the couch, his head in his hands.
“Thank God you’re here,” he told Violet, lifting his head a second later. “It ain’t workin’ with Tez, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe because I’m not a sixteen-year-old girl with straight black hair.” Tez grinned. “At least Violet’s got the girl part down.”
“And maybe Violet is a better acting coach, too,” Hayes retorted, punching Tez in the arm. “Now get out of here.”
“You want me to leave?” Tez feigned shock and despair. “But I need to be with you!”
“See?” Hayes pushed him toward the door. “You really can’t act, bro.”
As soon as the door closed behind Tez, Hayes reached for Violet’s hand, gently drawing her to the couch. “Can we take it from the top?”
“Sure,” Violet agreed. “Let’s run through the entire scene.”
They went through the beginning lines, Hayes nailing each one like a pro. But when it came to the lines she’d heard him rehearse with Tez, starting with “It’s over, Devon. We’re done,” Hayes lost focus. He spoke in a dull voice, and Violet knew he was looking ahead to the next bit—dreading it, really—when his eyes were supposed to cloud with anguish and one lone tear trickle down his cheek.
“It wasn’t Tez!” Hayes paced the floor, frustration turning his face red. “It’s me! It’s me, V. I can’t connect to the scene. I just can’t act!”
“Hayes, shush.” Violet strode closer to settle him down. “It will be okay. Come sit.”
They moved to the couch, and Violet thought for a minute. “Okay, I have some ideas that could help.”
Hayes brightened. “I’ll try anything.”
“Let’s concentrate on the emotion. All we have to do is come up with a scenario that would bring out those same feelings you need here.”
Hayes nodded, listening closely.
“Think about how you’d feel if you had to protect Zan, and the best way for you to do that was to give him up. Then substitute Zan for Devon.”
They went through the lines, but right in the middle, Hayes snorted with laughter. “Sorry, V. I’m literally putting Zan in Devon’s place. I keep picturing him wearing Devon’s shorts and tank top. I think I’m getting punchy.”
“Okay, let’s stick with Devon, the girl.” Violet considered a new angle. “Try getting really angry at the bad guys. Think what you had to give up to fight them! Then try and turn that anger into sadness.”
That run-through was a little better, but Hayes still seemed to flounder at the end.
“Any other ideas?” he asked tiredly.
“How about this. You’ve just given up everything you love. Imagine how determined you’d be to save the world. That’s all you have left.”
“Loss transformed into determination. I like it.”
Hayes rose and recited the lines again. Something was still off.
“Let’s face it. Nothing is working. This final scene is the most important part of the movie. The success of the entire film hinges on these lines. If I can’t get it right, I’ll be the reason The Midnight Hawk fails. And you know what? I just can’t do it.”
“Yes, you can,” Violet insisted. She couldn’t let him give up. She looked at Hayes sitting next to her, slumped against the couch, his eyes closed in exhaustion. He had to make this happen. Acting was so important to him—as important as her writing was to her.
If she were writing this scene, how would she get the creative juices flowing? Of course, she didn’t really have an answer. She’d tried to write a new screenplay and had been hit by writer’s block right between the eyes. Still, she’d kept writing. She’d just turned to fanfic. Why did that come so much easier?
Violet sat up straight, the answer suddenly crystal clear. Because she wasn’t trying so hard!
“I have one more idea,” she told Hayes. “Take a deep breath and close your eyes. Clear your mind.”
Hayes nodded, breathing in deeply and shutting his eyes.
“Now open your eyes, put the script facedown, and say your lines without trying to act. Just say them,” she repeated, “and see what happens.”
&
nbsp; Hayes turned over the pages. He stood, opening his mouth to begin, when Derek stuck his head inside the trailer.
“You’re needed on set right now,” he told Hayes.
Hayes nodded calmly, but as soon as Derek closed the door, he looked at Violet in a panic.
“Just go.” She ushered him out, smiling gently. “I believe in you. I believe in your talent. I know you have this in you, Hayes. Now, go show everybody else.”
* * *
Hayes stood at the edge of the lot, trying to pull himself together. He squinted up at the hill, the spot where he’d say his good-bye to Devon, wishing he had just a little more time. If only he could walk away and come back tomorrow, surely he’d have the emotion down by then. Even a few more minutes would help. Maybe, if he ducked out right now, no one would notice.
He began to edge away …
“Hayes!” TJ rushed over. “You’re here! We’re all ready for you. Just remember, you and Devon have already been through so much together. You know what you have to do, but it’s so hard. You love her. She’s stuck by you…”
TJ went on for a bit longer, pointing out marks Hayes had to hit so the camera would track him and interrupting himself to shout instructions to the crew.
Hayes followed TJ from spot to spot, his eyes open wide like a deer caught in headlights. “Steady, guy,” he whispered to himself. “You got this. Just listen to Violet. Just clear your head, then say the words without trying to act. Just be. Just be Hawk.”
“I am Hawk!” he said out loud, like suddenly everything had clicked.
Violet, just sneaking onto the set, heard him and grinned.
“Of course you’re Hawk,” TJ said exasperatedly. “You’ve been playing him for days now!”
Standing in the shadows, Violet smothered a laugh. Sometimes, TJ could be so clueless. She watched Hayes and Coco take their marks, standing close together under the setting sun.
Violet concentrated on Hayes’s face, not the words they exchanged. At first his expression was hard, almost cruel, as he told Devon their relationship was over. She was on her own. Then, as soon as she turned to leave, his face changed. His features shifted and softened, his eyes clouded with pain. Violet felt a pull on her heart; his sadness was overwhelming.