“I like you too much.” My voice had come out nice and even, but my heart went nuts. I sat up and actually gasped. “Oh God, that was scary.”
“How is that scary? I already told you I like you.”
“Yes, but you could change your mind. You could have spent the whole night being like, ‘Iris Thorne is too high maintenance. Terrible for my career. She wasn’t even a good kisser.’”
He laughed. “Is that what it’s like in your head? Is Satan in there, poking you with his pitchfork whenever you start to feel happy?”
I pictured my father in a Satan costume, sitting at his desk, typing his novels. It worked. But there was more… Something kept blocking my way.
“Story structure,” I murmured.
“What was that?”
“When I was Ryder’s age, my dad made me study literature. I had a tutor and everything. At the time, I thought my dad wanted me to grow up to be a professor, and I was an excellent student. Now he uses my brain to talk through his plot dilemmas. I help him a lot actually.”
Those were the only times I felt truly good outside of my music—helping Dad write a book. Ryder wasn’t wrong; we did have a little club. Dad would haul me into his office, and I’d kick back on the small sofa and hear what was giving him trouble, offering advice.
“Eamon, can we not follow the laws of story structure here? I mean, I know you like me and I like you. And we’ve got some, uh, complications, which means we should stay apart awhile longer before we get together. I don’t want to do that.” Whoa. “I’m leaving soon, and I don’t want to wait until the last night of camp, so to speak, before we kiss again. It was too amazing.”
Eamon rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks vividly pink. “Well, aren’t you direct.”
I waited for him to say more, but he went quiet. We pulled into the airport parking lot, and I hoped I hadn’t made a huge fool out of myself. I’d said how I felt and that couldn’t be bad, right? When does all this honesty pay off, Cate?
Eamon took the keys out of the ignition. “Shoshanna,” he said, bringing me back to the stakes at hand. If I couldn’t somehow convince her to come back, we didn’t have four days.
We had none.
DR. JILLIAN HOLTZMANN FOR THE WIN
The Dublin Airport was much larger than the one in Shannon. We swept every area before security without finding Shoshanna.
“She must have gone through to the gates,” Eamon said, dejected.
We both glanced at the Garda. “Then we’ll have to get creative,” I said, leading him to the help desk and a smiling middle-aged woman. “My friend went through security but she forgot her medicine. Could you page her to come back through? Her name is Shoshanna Reyes.”
“What gate?” The woman squinted. I looked at Eamon. He shrugged. “You don’t know her gate? What about her destination city?”
“Los Angeles,” I said, but I didn’t know if that’s where Shoshanna would go. “I think.”
“You think?” she said, cutting so hard into the th it ticked. “Come back when you have more information.”
We left the counter with slow steps. “Why don’t we even know where she’s from?” I asked, mostly to myself. “She knows everything about us.”
Eamon glanced at the monitors. “There’s a plane leaving for LA in forty-two minutes. It’s already boarding.” He sat down hard before the Aer Lingus lines and put his head in his hands. I wanted to push my hand through his abbreviated curls, settling for an awkward pat on the shoulder instead. “Thanks for trying, Iris.”
His brokenhearted tone was too much. And I hadn’t tried. Not really. If I had, I could make it happen. After all, I was the same person who’d marched into a music store when I was eleven with an envelope containing my life savings—and walked out with Annie despite my father’s mockery and disapproval.
I felt the bulge in my pocket. There was a reason I’d doubled back to my trailer before we jumped in Eamon’s car. I’d picked up my wallet and passport.
“Stay here.” I jumped to the front of the Aer Lingus line. “Sorry! Emergency!” I called out to the scowling people who’d been waiting. When I reached the counter, I put on my most earnest expression. “I need to get on that flight to LA. My…” Mom? Dad? They wouldn’t give me enough emotion to pull this off. “My brother was hit by a car. I have to get to him.”
Honest to God tears welled in my eyes as I pictured Ryder bleeding and injured, my bleak imagination working for me for once. The woman behind the counter still appeared to doubt me, and I held up my empty arms. “I didn’t even pack any bags. I came straight here when I got the call. I’m a study abroad student at Trinity.”
The woman typed in her computer. “There are a few seats, but I won’t promise you’ll make it through security in time. That’ll be three thousand, two hundred and forty-seven euro.”
Shit.
I opened my wallet and stared at my dad’s credit card. He’d lose his mind for sure this time. He’d try to ground me, which wouldn’t work because I didn’t have a life outside the house. When he realized that, he’d take away Annie.
I held out the credit card, trying not to shake. She ran it, handed me the ticket, and I sprinted toward security. Glancing back once, I saw Eamon hadn’t budged from his head-in-hands position. I rushed through security and to the gate—only to nearly dash past Shoshanna at the bar. Her Ghostbusters tattoo was peeking out the side of her tank top while she stared at a half-drunk pint, miserable. Possibly more miserable than Eamon or Cate had been.
I tapped her shoulder, right where Dr. Jillian Holtzmann held up her proton gun the way Rosie the Riveter held up her fist.
She turned. “Oh, you. Headed to Lotus Land and your translucent yet tolerable life?”
Keep cool. I glanced at the tickets on the bar beside her. One to JFK, and the other from JFK to Providence. “You’re from Rhode Island? I’ve never met someone from Rhode Island before.”
She exhaled as though she’d been babysitting me since we met and I’d spit up one too many times. “What do you want, Iris?”
“I’m here to bring you back to set.”
“Ha! The movie is done. No audience for it.” Her eyes sealed on mine in a fed-up, sure-of-herself way. “You know, everything in that interview was true. The production has problems. The studio has been pulling out. And Cate is holding up the whole thing by herself.”
“No, she isn’t. You’re holding it up too,” I said.
She scoffed and took a long drink of what looked like hard cider.
“You don’t think I haven’t noticed you putting your all into this role? Working to the breaking point and helping Eamon in your time off? The production has problems, but every movie has problems. You know that.”
“I don’t want my name attached to this film anymore.”
“That’s bull crap.”
She laughed. “Bull crap?”
“I spend all my time with an eight-year-old, who, by the way, is going to be devastated if you kill this film by quitting. His life has been a series of disappointments and unbelievable trauma. Both of our lives have been, but we’re turning it around. Starting with this movie.”
It was a gamble to admit the harsh realities of being a Thorne. It softened most people with pity—unless they’d also been dragged by the hair through this world’s unique tragedies. Shoshanna didn’t soften. She hardened, her back straight, her face turning into a stoic mask. I should have known she’d also suffered. After all, she had a lot more in common with Sevyn than I did.
“Shoshanna, you and I are going back even if I have to make you.”
“How?” She slid off her barstool and looked down her nose at me. Shoshanna was taller, more fit, fiercer than me in every way. I’d known that from the moment I met her, and yet I’d been wrong about one thing: we were not from different planets.
“I�
��ll haul you out of here by that voluminous hair if I have to,” I said.
She chuckled and climbed back on her barstool, patting the one beside her.
I sat. “I’m serious.”
“I see that. Care to explain the rather sudden change of heart?” She took a drink.
“I want to make out with Eamon.”
Cue impressive spit take.
She wiped her face, laughing hard. “I just…can’t. You puppies are too much.”
“Why does everyone keep calling us ‘puppies’?”
“Because you’re adorable and clueless.” She squinted. “If we could share thirty seconds of you two online, the fan concerns would evaporate. If you did that, I’d come back to the set.”
I could have lied and said maybe. I could have strung her along. “I’m not letting Cate use my face for this movie. I have too much at stake.”
“Fair enough. Now tell me why I should let her use mine.”
“Because I saw you act last night. This is your role. And you are good. And Eamon? Eamon is on the other side of security, devastated. Think about how good he was. The scene we shot last night was amazing. This movie might actually be amazing.”
The truth popped my ears. For all the things that had gone wrong or felt fantasy-nerd bizarre, there were moments when this story tugged. When Cate’s settings leaped out with dramatic colors and emotion-packed landscapes. When the characters whispered real feelings…and the story actually helped me figure out my real life.
“What’s going on?” Shoshanna asked, breaking my thoughts. “You look like you’re about to cry or punch me. If you freak out in public, everyone will call it a lover’s spat. It’ll light up the media.” Her voice had dropped low, a sincere warning that highlighted more than ever that I didn’t understand what it was like to be Shoshanna Reyes.
Overhead, a gate attendant announced the last call for a flight to New Zealand, and I felt that familiar twist toward story logic. This was my specialty. Why hide it? Why be ashamed?
“Hobbits,” I said after a rough pause. She looked at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Those books and movies are about how it doesn’t matter how strong or weapon-loaded you are. In the end, two tiny hobbits save the whole world.”
She blinked. “Have you been hanging out with Henrik?”
“Narnia,” I said, even more certain, “where you can’t escape war because war is everywhere, but you can be a king or queen even if you’re a kid. Or what about Harry Potter?” Shoshanna’s expression softened. Bingo. Harry Potter lived in the hearts of people our age. “No matter how bad the situation gets, all you need are a few good friends.”
I paused. “I haven’t read my grandmother’s books, but Elementia is a force for good.” No matter what Dad says. “Sevyn saves her brother. She saves the world. A girl saves the world. How often do we get to see that on the big screen?”
“You don’t know what happens at the end of the third book, do you?”
I glared. “Why? What happens?”
Shoshanna shook her head. “I’m not destroying your little speech there. It was too good.”
“What about Cate Collins?” I asked. “She’s one of the only female directors to have been given a Hollywood blockbuster. If this movie fails, they’ll blame her. They’re already blaming her, even though her efforts have been heroic. But if it doesn’t fail, thousands of girls are going to grow up wanting to be directors like her.”
“Yeah, but…” Shoshanna grimaced. “Too little, too late. I’ve got to think about my career.” She stood, pulling her bag strap over her shoulder—her shoulder!
“Dr. Jillian Holtzmann!” I yelled, making the people around us jump.
Shoshanna froze. “What about her?”
“She’s a queer girl action hero. That’s why you have that tattoo. She inspires you, and you’re going to inspire girls. You’re going to be a freakin’ queer Daisy Ridley, and girls are going to get tattoos of you.”
Shoshanna blushed for the first time since I’d met her. “Oh Jesus, Iris.”
“I’m right!” I shouted. “All of this is important. I get that now! Okay?”
Shoshanna glanced at the audience of people enjoying my public revelation. She stepped close, almost like she was checking for sincerity in my pores. “Don’t you backslide.”
I nodded. And meant it.
• • •
When Shoshanna and I came back through security, Eamon actually cried, and he was much better at it than Julian. No snot. Just big, beautiful tears dropping from those crystal-blue eyes. Shoshanna told him he was embarrassing her, but gave his elbow an affectionate squeeze. I called Cate and told her the good news—that we’d be back soon and the movie could continue. She surprised all of us by demanding we take the rest of the day off and come back in the morning.
And that’s how we got to see Eamon’s Dublin.
He took us to Trinity College, where the historic buildings were nothing compared to the odd trees that grew strong and curved on the pristine grounds. He took us across the slow-moving Liffey River to see the old post office with its pillars riddled with bullet holes from the Easter Rising. For dinner, we ate at an eccentric upstairs restaurant called 101 Talbot, and Shoshanna drank wine and told us her story.
She’d been a child actress, movies and television—this I knew. What I didn’t know was that her parents’ marriage had detonated over her young career. Roles died down when she was ten, and her manager mother wanted her to do some questionable commercials abroad. Shoshanna’d left acting to live in Providence with her dad, who was battling multiple sclerosis. After he died, she broke back into Hollywood. Her first talent agent said he wouldn’t represent her if she came out, claiming it would diminish the roles she’d be considered for.
“Of course that asshole was right, but I came out anyway and got a better agent. And that’s why I have Kate,” she said, reaching back to touch the tattoo on her shoulder blade. “There’s a spotlight for queer girls, and I’m going to be in it when we finally find the switch.”
I leaned forward and nearly got soup all over my shirt. “So you’ve reinvented yourself a half a dozen times already?” I somehow managed to refrain from yelling, Teach me!
“That’s a glamorous way to put it,” she said. I could see why I kept thinking of her as royalty. She was weathered, tough—and yet still graceful about all she had been through.
Eamon had been quiet the whole dinner, and I turned to him when Shoshanna left for the bathroom. His forehead was doubly creased.
“You do want to be an actor,” I said quietly. “Is that what you figured out today?”
He looked at the ceiling and blew out a breath. “Yes. I really do.”
I knew that look. I felt that look every time the garage door opened and I had to hurry to put Annie back in her case. I wanted to tell him that we’d find a way—for both of us to pursue our dreams—but instead my brain began to list all the ways in which this movie was still falling apart. That article. The doubting producers. A damn Thornian boycott.
I wanted to promise Eamon we’d make his career a reality, but how could I when I wasn’t even nudging my own dreams toward the realms of possibility?
DUBLIN’S FAIR CITY WHERE EAMON’S SO PRETTY
For the grand finale of the evening, we went to Eamon’s favorite pub, O’Sullivans. It was small and narrow, and yet packed with at least forty people, all singing along to a bald, charming guitarist at the front of the room.
Eamon had to spin some of his verbal magic to get me in since I wasn’t eighteen, but he knew the doorman, and I promised—boy-scout style—that I would not drink. Shoshanna took the alternative route, heading straight for the bar, so confident that people cleared out of her way.
I hid by Eamon’s elbow as he ordered a pint of something called Carlsberg. We slipped toward the back, against the side wall.
Eamon leaned in close to talk over the music, pointing to the guitarist who was giving himself to U2’s “All I Want Is You” with such passion that most of the bar was singing with him. “That’s Brian. I wanted you to see him in action. When I think about Iris in the future, that’s what I see. You singing your heart out in front of adoring fans.”
“I have to find the courage to play in front of one person first. Then I’ll figure out how to play to a crowd.”
“You’re thinking of it backwards. Playing in front someone you know? That’s the tricky part. Strangers are easy. They don’t judge. They’re having a laugh.”
I wanted to believe him. And while I was tempted to lean against the wall and enjoy the music, I wanted to keep talking even more, our faces close, my lips right next to his ear. “What should we do about Shoshanna?” I motioned to her tipsy grinning at the bartender.
“She’s just on the lash,” he said. “Needs to blow off some steam. Maybe we all do.”
“I can’t decide if she inspires or intimidates me,” I said, while he said, “I kissed her.”
“What?”
“It was an acting exercise,” he added in a rush. “We had to get close to film that scene, and Shoshanna said it’d be the fastest way to break the ice.” His neck blushed, and I swear I knew what he was thinking.
“And then she teased you for being a virgin?”
His response was to bury his face in his pint. Apparently there was a line with Eamon’s great-under-pressure demeanor. And I’d tripped over it.
Brian started singing “American Pie” and the crowd responded with overwhelming glee.
“She’s been on my case too,” I yelled over the music. “It’s okay if you’re shy.”
“Hey! I’m Irish.” Our faces were so close it felt daring. “The Irish don’t come shy.”
“You’re a shy Irishman!” I teased.
He slammed back his pint, a gleeful spark in his eyes, and pushed his way through the crowd until he was next to the guitarist. Brian moved over, and Eamon started singing into the microphone. At first I laughed, but then I listened, and he was… Dare I say it? A talented singer. He hit the advanced notes and brought the singing audience with him through the chorus. He didn’t know the right words, but no one cared.
Now a Major Motion Picture Page 17