by Tia Wylder
“We’re here to talk about you,” I said evenly. I pulled out my favorite notepad and pen – even in the age of paper-thin laptops, I always preferred paper – and flipped it to a clean page.
“Yeah, and how my life is in shambles,” Thomas grumbled. “Well, I can do that. I just need a drink first.”
When the waitress came with our drinks, Thomas poured himself a huge glass and took a long sip before sighing contentedly and leaning back against his chair.
“So,” Thomas began. “How was last night? Did you get that girl’s number?”
“No,” I said, looking down at my pad of paper. “Stop getting off topic, Thomas. Tell me about Candy.”
“She wants over ten million in the divorce settlement,” Thomas said. He sighed moodily. “And I just don’t have that kind of money – not now.”
I frowned. “Did something happen?”
“Well, I have the money,” Thomas said. “But not in cash. It’s all tied up in investments. You know how that stupid burrito company went public a few months ago? Well, I bought a ton of stock…and then a ton of people got food poisoning from their lettuce. Stupidest decision I ever made, aside from marrying Candy, of course.”
I winced. “Ouch.”
“Yeah and that’s not everything,” Thomas continued. “She wants my property – the house I own in Malibu, and my yacht, and all three of my vintage cars.”
“She’s not getting that,” I said. “So, don’t worry. The two of you weren’t married for nearly long enough for the judge to award her that.”
“Well, she’s got to get something,” Thomas grumbled. “What do you think I have the best chance of keeping?”
I sighed. “You’re going to have to make an offer to her and make it sound like she’s getting the best end of the deal. I think you should give her the house.”
“What?” Thomas’s jaw dropped. “You’re kidding!”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Thomas, trust me – I wish that was the case. But she’s not going to be satisfied with a boat and three cars. Offer her the house, and a small lump sum.”
“And then what about me?”
I shrugged. “Well, the judge could still rule in your favor…especially if you make such an attractive offer, it makes you look generous. She’s going to look greedy, and that’s not a good look. The two of you don’t have any children, she’s not pregnant, and you didn’t cheat on her.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Thomas said morosely. “California is a no-fault state.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Which makes you look even better, don’t you agree?” I raised an eyebrow at Thomas, and for the first time since we’d sat down, I saw that he looked almost relieved.
“Damn,” Thomas said. He whistled. “You’re good.”
I shrugged modestly. “I try,” I said. “And you know I’m here for you. Look, realistically, you’ll probably have to sell the house, pay her part of the sum, and keep the rest. Don’t worry about the rest of your property. Then you can buy a new place and make new memories there.”
Thomas rolled his eyes and took a long swig of his margarita, finishing his first glass. “You sound like a realtor,” he said, shaking his head.
I laughed. “God, I hope not,” I said.
“Seriously, man, I can’t thank you enough,” Thomas said. For once, his voice was serious and calm. “You’re saving my ass. I wish I could repay you.”
“You’ll repay me,” I joked. “Why not get me a gig writing a few scenes for that new soap you’re working on, what’s it called? Paradise Cave?”
Thomas laughed. “Heaven Cove,” he said. “And you can’t possibly be serious – do you know what those writers make? Practically nothing,” he added.
“No, I mean, I don’t want to do it full time,” I said, narrowing my eyes. “At least…I don’t think I do.”
Thomas snorted. “You mean, you actually want to be a writer?”
I shrugged, feeling embarrassed. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” I said. “And I always did enjoy writing…you know I just studied law for my father.”
Thomas stared at me for a long moment before nodding. “Okay,” he said. “You know what? I’ve got the script for next week here, why not take a look and write a couple of scenes?” He smirked. “Who knows, Barnes – maybe this is your true calling after all.”
I took the script from him and glanced down, flipping through the pages. I wouldn’t have admitted it to Thomas, but I was feeling pretty excited about the chance to try something new.
“Great,” I said. “Thanks, man.”
Thomas smirked. “No problem,” he said. “Besides, you’re getting all the girls out here…there are some pretty hot chicks on set.”
Instantly, a vision of Gianna popped into my head. “I bet there are,” I said. “But I’m not interested.”
“What?” Thomas squinted. “Are you crazy, man?”
“No,” I said. “Just not interested.”
--
When I got home, I flopped down on the couch and started reading through the copy of the script Thomas gave me. Immediately I realized that Heaven Cove wasn’t a typical soap opera – it was obviously meant for teenagers, with a lot of modern touches that the old soaps didn’t have. By the time I got to the end, I realized I was actually kind of enjoying it. Immediately, I took the script over to my desk and started making a few notes.
By the time I looked up from my work, it was dark outside. My stomach was empty, but my mind was filled with ideas – and I realized that for the first time in months, I was feeling truly happy. Maybe it was my all-night romp with Gianna, or maybe it was the tantalizing prospect of getting a second chance at a career, but something had certainly changed…and I loved it. I proofread the file, then emailed it over to Thomas. And while I didn’t want to get my hopes up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d really stumbled onto something good.
Over the next few days, I felt the balloon of hope start to deflate in my chest. I knew it, I thought one late evening as I stood by one of the windows, watching over the canyon. I don’t have any talent. I’m not a writer, and I never will be. Just as I was walking into the kitchen to make myself a drink, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I frowned at the unfamiliar number before accepting the call and holding the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“I’m calling for a Barnes Harrington?”
I frowned. “This is he.”
“Barnes, this is Eric Knowles, I’m the executive producer of Heaven Cove. Thomas Winsell passed along the scenes you wrote a few days ago.”
“Oh, yeah,” I said. “Thomas said he was just doing me a favor, but—“
“I’m calling to tell you that I fired one of the writers for Heaven Cove,” Eric said, cutting me off mid-sentence. “And I want you to replace him.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, well, we loved what you wrote,” Eric said. “Can you come in next week?”
“Yeah, of course I can,” I said.
“And we’ll need six more scenes before then,” Eric said. “Don’t bother meeting with the other writer – I’m going to have Thomas email you everything that you’ll need.”
“Okay,” I said. “Yeah, that sounds great.”
“Good,” Eric replied. “I think we’ve got something really great here, really fresh. The ratings were starting to tank at the end of last season, so I think we can really turn things around.”
“I’m glad you think I’m the right man for the job,” I said.
“Yep,” Eric said curtly. He hung up, and I stared at the phone for a few moments, blinking.
Must be that weird LA rudeness everyone talks about, I thought before putting my phone back in my pocket.
After the initial shock faded, I couldn’t believe how happy I was. I realized that I’d been desperately hoping to hear from Eric, or someone like him, with similar news. And even though writing for a soap opera wouldn’t make me much money, I didn’t care �
�� I still had plenty in the bank from my Boston firm, and I doubted that would change any time soon.
Maybe I’ll see Gianna again, I thought as I poured a few fingers of whiskey into a tumbler. She had mentioned that she was an aspiring actress…and what better way to meet actresses than working on the set of a trendy teen soap?
Maybe I was too hopeful, or maybe I was naïve. But either way, I couldn’t believe how excited I was to begin working on the set of Heaven Cove.
Chapter 7
Gianna
“Number fifty-six!”
I leapt up from my seat, clutching my folder containing my brand-new headshots and walked into the casting room with a smile on my face. I knew that I had to appear confident, happy, and relaxed all at once – something that wasn’t exactly easy to do when I’d been in Los Angeles for two weeks and still had yet to land a single role.
“Over here, please.” An older woman took the folder from my hands and directed me to stand before a table of three men, all looking down at their phones.
Not promising, I thought, trying my best to keep smiling. Why won’t they even look at me?
“You can start,” one of the men said. He still hadn’t torn his gaze away from the screen of his phone, and I felt a lump of anger and sadness begin to swell in my throat.
I cleared my throat and looked down at the audition sides in front of me.
“Oh, Anthony,” I cried loudly, putting my hand on my chest and stepping forward dramatically. Finally, the men looked up at me. One of them narrowed his eyes.
“Thank you,” he said.
“Oh, my darling,” I said passionately, closing my eyes and dropping to one knee. “However will I do this—”
“Thank you!” The man said again, frowning. “That’s enough, you can go.”
I squinted at him. “But I just—“
“Thank you,” he said sharply.
With a sigh, I yanked my folder of headshots from the older woman’s hands and stormed out of the room feeling angry and discouraged. I didn’t get it – what was I possibly doing wrong? I’d gone to auditions for all kinds of things – dramas, comedies, sappy romances, even community theater! But I hadn’t even gotten a single callback…and I was feeling incredibly frustrated over the whole thing.
Outside in the bright sunny weather, I began to feel a little better. I still had two auditions lined up for that afternoon – one for a new soap opera geared to teenagers, and the other for some kind of low-budget monster movie. Maybe one of these will go better, I thought as I walked into the studio where the soap was being filmed. After all, if I was competing against a bunch of other unknown actresses, maybe that meant my chances were better.
The worst thing about auditioning was the waiting. I stood in line with twenty other girls, all wearing dresses exactly like mine. Great, I thought as I rolled my eyes and shifted my weight from one foot to the other. The casting crew won’t even be able to tell us apart.
After an hour, I was taken into a room. Again, there were three men seated at a table…but thankfully, none of them were looking at their phones.
I smiled warmly. “I’m Gianna DiFaba, auditioning for the role of Marybeth.”
One of the men nodded, and I took that to mean I should begin.
“Carter, you can’t talk to me like that,” I said passionately. After a brief glance at the audition sides in my hand, I realized that I was supposed to cry. The men at the table were staring at me like I’d suddenly grown another head, and I knew right then and there that unless I did something drastic, I’d never get the part. Think, Gianna, think! I ordered myself. Think of something sad!
Stepping closer to the table, I clutched the audition sides to my chest and thought of the saddest thing I could think of: me, at home with my parents, aged forty-five, and single. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I sniffled, dropping down to my knees.
“Oh, Carter,” I improvised. “I love you so much! How can you possibly think of leaving me for Jennifer?!” By now, I was wailing. I sobbed and cried, covering my face with my hands and spitting out every trite, lovelorn line I could think of.
When I heard one of the men clapping, I looked up sharply. To my surprise, the men behind the table were standing and smiling.
“I think we found our Marybeth,” one of them said. He grinned at me. “I’m Eric, the executive producer. Nice to meet you, what did you say your name was?”
“Gianna,” I said, grinning widely and wiping the tears from my cheeks. “My name is Gianna.”
--
For the next two days, I waited on pins and needles to hear from the production crew of Heaven Cove. While Eric hadn’t given me anything in writing, I was sure that I’d landed the job. But after hours of silence, I wasn’t so sure. There had been a ton of girls behind me in line – what if one of them had somehow outdone my crazy performance?
By the end of the week, I was a nervous wreck. I kept going to auditions, but none of them went half as well as Heaven Cove, and I was starting to think that I was a complete failure as an actress. I should just move back home and marry old Barnaby, I thought sadly to myself one rare rainy afternoon. My life is pretty much over.
On Saturday morning, just as I was getting ready to go out for a run, the hotel phone rang. Flopping across my bed, I grabbed the receiver and held it up to my ear.
“Hello, this is Gianna.”
“Gianna, this is Eric, from Heaven Cove. Remember me?”
“Oh my god, yes,” I said quickly. My heart began to thud in my chest, and I felt my face grow hot and tingly like it always did when I was excited about something.
“Congratulations,” Eric said. His voice was more sarcastic than warm, but I didn’t care. “You’re our new Marybeth!”
“Oh my god,” I repeated. Covering the receiver of the phone, I squealed loudly and kicked my legs into the air. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”
Eric chuckled, and I got the sense he was used to be flattered by pretty girls. “Well, you’re the one who landed the part,” he replied. “Now Marybeth is a new character – she’s moving to Heaven Cove to live with her sister. There’s going to be a love triangle between Marybeth, her sister, and a mysterious old flame who keeps popping up.”
I grinned. “Sounds great,” I said. “When do I start?”
“We just hired a new writer, so we’re going to work with him for a week and then we can start shooting the following Monday,” Eric replied. “Does that work for you?”
I pretended to consider it as if I had something else to do. “Yes,” I said. “That should be fine.”
I could barely contain my excitement. When I hung up the phone, I leapt off the bed and danced around the room, waving my arms in the air and shaking my butt. I shrieked and screeched and hopped around like mad, twirling and spinning through the air until my lungs ached and my muscles were sore.
Take that, Mom and Dad, I thought smugly as I looked out the window. I’m making something of myself after all…and without your help!
The next week seemed to crawl by. After calling Diane and gushing about my new role as Marybeth on Heaven Cove, I got an email full of scripts from Eric. There weren’t too many lines in the first set, but I was really pleased to see that the second week gave me four big scenes in one show – that was a lot! I spent the weekend relaxing by the Crown Jewel outdoor spa and pool, reading my scripts and sipping fruity cocktails and feeling like a true Los Angeles superstar. Now that I had a job, I figured it was probably time for me to start looking for a more permanent home, but part of me liked the idea of living at a posh hotel. It seemed appropriate for a wealthy young starlet like myself.
On Monday, I got up early and took a long shower. I took extra time blowing my hair dry and curling the ends, and I picked out a flattering black dress even though I knew costumes would put me in something else…probably something ridiculous that made me look fat, or frumpy, but I didn’t even care. The studio was bustling when I arrived, and it took me a moment to figure
out where I was going. Before I had a chance to go into hair and makeup, Eric saw me and beckoned me over.
“Gianna, I want you to meet some of our writers,” he said. He leaned in close and winked. I tried not to shudder – I was not about to become one of those girls who sleep with her producer.
“You’re going to want to impress them,” he added in a low voice. “Because if they don’t like you, they won’t give you scenes. So, it’s very important for you to get along.”
I nodded nervously and flashed a big, bright smile. “I’m sure everything will be fine,” I said. Eric gave a wolfish smile, and again, I felt an unpleasant chill down my spine. As much as I wanted to believe I’d gotten this job based on my acting talent, I was starting to wonder if it wasn’t just because Eric wanted to sleep with me.