Craving Midnight

by A. M. Hargrove

  It’s only around nine, but I decide to turn in and read for the night. My phone rings again, but this time it’s Danny.

  “Midnight, am I disturbing you?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I have bad news. Holt is threatening to put a hold on the picture. He’s claiming he needs a break. He says he’s depressed and can’t film for the next month.”

  “What?”

  “I know, I know. We’re working with his agent, trying to get him back on set.”

  “Yeah, well, he’s going to ruin my career.”

  “It won’t come to that. We’ll keep you busy. That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. We want you to do a screen test for another role.”

  It’s hard to contemplate another film when I’m facing a potential train wreck with this one, not to mention I’ve barely had time to breathe with the schedule we’ve been keeping. Working six, sometimes seven days a week and twelve-hour days hasn’t left much time for anything else. This weekend was the first little break I’ve had in ages.

  “Who’s the lead?” I ask.

  “It’s not been determined yet.”

  I’m stunned. I would possibly be cast before the lead male? I’m a nobody.

  “The person we have in mind is great. You two would be great together. I’ll send everything to your agent.”

  “Well, you know I’ll audition. But I want to finish this one too.”

  “Yeah, same here. Let us handle Holt. Plan on coming in Monday anyway.”

  After I end the call, I contemplate our conversation about Holt. I hate to even go down this road, but what if? What if Harrison could help? There’s only one way to find out.

  Chapter 24

  Harrison

  When my phone rings, I’m surprised to see it’s Midnight. She didn’t answer earlier and I assumed it was because she wasn’t taking my calls.

  “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m fine. Well, sort of. I went to dinner with Helen.”

  “Helen Reddy?” I ask, surprised.

  “Yeah, that Helen. So the reason I’m calling … you’re gonna love this. Danny called tonight. Holt is threatening to suspend filming. He’s claiming he’s depressed.”

  My molars are about to crack by the time she finishes telling me about this. We need to pay Holt a little visit. I’ll be damned if he’s going to fuck up this film for her, and that’s exactly what he’s trying to do.

  “What’s Alta doing about this?”

  “Danny said they’ll handle him.”

  “Do you know how?”

  “No, but they want me to audition for another film. They’re sending everything over to my agent.”

  “That’s great.” And it is. But she will finish this one. I’ll make sure of it.

  “Harrison, is there any way you can help? With Holt, I mean.”

  “Let me see what I can do. And Midnight, do you feel safe over there? I’m ... sorry for the way I acted.”

  “It’s fine. I need to get used to being here. And the window’s been fixed so I’m good.”

  “If you need me, you know where to find me.”

  I make a phone call because it doesn’t sit well that asshole Ward is playing these games. I want someone watching over her place. It’s early enough for Leland to get in touch with one of our agencies so they can send someone over. Once that’s taken care of, I can rest easier.

  The next morning is Sunday. Leland calls to set up a plan for Holt.

  “His place will be locked up so there’s no way we can just knock on his door,” I say.

  “Let’s put someone outside the gates and when he leaves, we follow. As soon as he gets somewhere approachable, we can make a move.”

  “Why not just call again and use our human trafficking threat? I can have Rashid reactivate the website and do what we did before.”

  “Harrison, if he’s really the whack job you say he is, he might not give a shit about that now.”

  “True, but why not test it?”

  “What if he forces our hand? Then we’re stuck with our thumbs up our asses.”

  Leland makes a good point. “Okay, call our guy and let’s tail him. I hope to fuck he hasn’t turned into Howard Hughes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Don’t you know who that is?”

  “Of course. But I still don’t know what that means.”

  “Howard Hughes was a recluse and never left his house.”

  Leland sighs. “Shit. That would be bad.”

  By midmorning, we have eyes on the Ward estate. Too bad it’s gated. I’d like to be at his door, breaking the fucker down. Sometimes a man has to learn to be patient.

  One piece of good news is no one bothered Midnight the night before. Our guy said her parking lot was dead—just the way I want it.

  Unfortunately, Ward doesn’t make a move all day. Monday morning, at four thirty, my phone rings. I’m told his gates have opened and he’s driven to Santa Monica. Midnight did mention they were filming on location from now until they were finished.

  “Do not let him out of your sight. At the end of the day, we need to run him off the road, without causing a wreck.”

  “I’ll need help. I haven’t slept all night.”

  “Don’t worry about that. You’ll be relieved by then and we’ll have a plan in place. Just stay on him so we know where he parks.” My instructions are clear. “Oh, and since it’s so early, don’t be obvious.”

  He laughs. “Mr. Kirkland, I’m no novice at this.”

  “Good. Thanks for the call.”

  My next call is to Leland. “Who do we know at the LAPD that owes us a favor?”

  “About twenty people. Why?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Later that day, when Holt is leaving the set, our guy and Leland pull behind him at a discreet distance. When the timing is right, exactly as we planned, an unmarked police car pulls him over into a vacant parking lot. Enter me. I get out of the police car and walk up to Holt’s car.

  Leaning into his window, which he’s already rolled down, I grab his shirt and say, “Hello, Holt.”

  I have to hand it to him. He must be shocked to see me, but he hides it well. “What do you want?” he snarls.

  “You know perfectly well what I want.”

  His car is penned in with the unmarked car blocking him from behind and my guy in the front. He can’t go anywhere, which doesn’t add to his rotten disposition.

  I jam my face into his. “Since you don’t seem to be very talkative, let me spell it out for you. You will finish this film. On schedule. No delays. No time off for ... stress or whatever the fuck you said you needed. You have two weeks left and then you can have all the damn time you need. Do I make myself clear?” I’d like to mar that pretty little mug of his, but doing so would fuck things up for Midnight.

  “You have no right to dictate what I need to do.”

  “On the contrary. I have every right.”

  He finally looks me in the eye. “Who do you think you are?”

  Instead of raising my voice, I do the opposite. In a menacing tone, I say, “I’m the man who will ruin your life and will love doing it. You’ll never get another role in any kind of film again. Not even a shitty one. That nice little house you live in? You can kiss it goodbye. You’ll be selling it in order to pay off your debts. Don’t fuck with Midnight or me. Do your job, Holt. And do it well. Two weeks. Understand?”

  “You think you can push people around. I won’t tolerate it.”

  “You will. I won’t tolerate you ruining this film. Do not fuck this up. This isn’t a warning, Holt. It’s a fucking threat. If you value your career, I would strongly urge you to take this seriously.” I glance at Leland, who’s in the car, and nod. Then I look back at Holt, whose shirt I’m still fisting. “You might want to check your phone.” I release him then.

  His brows wrinkle as a puzzled expression forms on his face. He reaches for his phone and there are two texts th
at I can see on his notifications. When he reads them, he says, “You son of a bitch.”

  “Actually, my mother is a gem. Like I said, this isn’t a warning. I can make those go away, but it’ll depend on your cooperation over the next two weeks. Don’t fuck up your life, Holt.” I straighten and then lightly pound my fists on his roof. I saunter back to the car where Leland waits.

  The unmarked car leaves and we follow it.

  “Well?” Leland asks.

  “I think he’ll behave. I owe Mike a huge debt.”

  “Yeah, you do. But don’t worry. He’s always fucking up.” Mike is the studio exec who texted Holt. He was a little leery at first, but I told him the shit he pulled and then he was all in. I also guaranteed that he would straighten his ass out too. I hope that promise holds.

  We’re on the way back to the office when my phone rings. It’s Weston.

  “What’s up, man?”

  “You. Where have you dropped off to?”

  “Yeah, about that. I’ve been really busy,” I say, trying to wheedle out of an explanation of why I haven’t returned any of his calls lately.

  “Right. So, the reason I’m calling. You know Prescott is seeing Vivi Renard from Crestview, right?”

  “Kind of. I had dinner with him the last time I was in New York and he was into her, but was pretty cryptic about it.”

  “Well, he is. Balls deep, I would imagine.”

  “No shit.”

  “She wants to get us all together for New Year’s as a surprise for him. It’s part of her Christmas gift. I’m the one she’s designated as the call guy.”

  “Lucky you.”

  “So?”

  “So what?”

  “Be there. New Year’s Eve. His place. No later than three. No fucking excuses, Harrison.”

  “Oh, man. I’m so swamped here and there’s this client.”

  “I call bullshit on that. It’s all you ever say anymore. You own the fucking company. You can get away for two goddamn days. Don’t fuck this up for him. Or her, for that matter.”

  “Westie, come on.”

  “I’m not kidding at all. Special will be on your ass over this. It’s two fucking days, man.”

  “Okay. I’ll be there.” A groan rushes out of me. Leland makes a funny face.

  “I’ll send you the particulars,” Weston says.

  “The particulars. Who the fuck talks like that?”

  “Me. Shut up. Be there, 3:00 p.m. East Coast time at Scotty’s, or you’ll be facing an ass-kicking like no other.”

  “Got it.”

  I drop the phone in my lap.

  “Looks like you’re going away for New Year’s,” Leland says, laughing.

  “Shut up.” Now I sound like Weston.

  “What? You don’t want to hang with your friends over the holiday? What the hell, Harrison?”

  I can see the guy’s shoulders shaking. I cut Leland a look to let him know he needs to shut his mouth. I don’t want every person who works for me to know what my social life entails. Christ.

  “I wanted to stay here to make sure our little buddy didn’t cause any more issues for Midnight. That’s all.”

  “Harrison, you have several people who can hold the fort down while you’re gone.”

  He’s right, but that’s only half of it. I was hoping to be around so Midnight didn’t have to be alone on New Year’s Eve. Now, thanks to my friends, that’s been tossed out the window.

  “True. I just wanted you all to have some time off too.”

  “Hey, when was the last time you took a day off?” he asks.

  Shrugging, I say, “No idea.”

  “See? You need this. Besides, you’ll have a great time catching up.”

  “Maybe.”

  Enough of this topic. “So, back to Holt. Stay on top of him. If he so much as steps one inch out of line, we need to hit him with more texts. I want to scare the shit out of him. In two weeks, I don’t care if he goes to Tahiti for a year, but until then, he’s all mine. And get someone to keep an eye on Midnight for me. I don’t want anything happening over there.”

  Chapter 25

  Midnight

  Monday at work, Holt is surly as hell. He acts out his scenes but it’s a stretch. Greg has to cut repeatedly because of it. But Tuesday, he shows up a new person. He must’ve taken a handful of happy pills. Damn, I want some of those. The dude is all sunshine and daisies. Even Danny comments on it.

  “I don’t know what happened overnight, but whatever it was, I want it to keep happening.”

  “Me too. And can I drink some of that fairy juice?”

  Danny laughs.

  We’re shooting outside, and the weather has been gorgeous. Holt’s on top of his game and things are back to the way they were a couple of weeks ago. It’s as though we were both made for this—to work together. Why can’t he always be like this?

  Thursday is Christmas Eve. We’re off Thursday and Friday for the holidays. Holt is fine the remainder of the week. I worry how he’ll be when we resume after Christmas. These are the most crucial, poignant scenes. Whatever he does for Christmas, I hope it involves dipping into his happy juice.

  Harrison calls on Wednesday night and says he’s on a plane, flying to Virginia. I’m a bit disappointed, but I expected as much. His parents seem like great people and he should spend time with them. It would be nice to have that in my life. I haven’t talked to him since our disagreement, so I was surprised he even called. We don’t linger on the phone, and the truth is I miss him, so it makes it a little awkward.

  “Have a great time. Merry Christmas, Harrison.”

  “You too, Midnight. I’ll call when I get back.”

  Guess it’ll be Netflix and me.

  But I’m happy when Helen calls.

  “Hiya, movie star. Whatcha doin’ tomorrow?”

  “Ha. Funny. I have zero plans, other than a date with my TV.”

  “Good. Let’s cook. My place or yours?”

  “Yours,” I say.

  We plan our dinner and I run out to the store to get what’s needed. I take the time to stuff my hair under a baseball cap and throw on some sunglasses. You never know when someone with a camera will be around.

  Helen and I decide turkey’s out and opt for something a bit more glamorous. I’m taking a stab at beef Wellington, which I’ve never done before. I’m praying I don’t annihilate it. She’s doing some fancy French potato dish and a salad, plus cheesecake for dessert. Turns out Helen loves to cook.

  Christmas Eve, I sleep in and it’s wonderful. When I’m getting out of the shower and toweling off, my phone rings. I see it’s Harrison Facetiming me.

  “Uh, hi.”

  “Merry Christmas. Did you just get out of the shower?”

  “Yeah, my towel must’ve clued you in.”

  He flashes a sexy grin and my heart thumps. I hope the towel doesn’t fall off.

  “Uh, it might have. I wanted to call before we left.”

  “Left? Where are you going?”

  “To Aunt Edith’s. We’re eating lunch with her at her retirement village.”

  “Hmm. Sounds like fun.”

  “Yeah. She has it bad for Ralph, the sexy magician. He likes to pull quarters out of the ladies’ bras, or so Mom says. They like that better than the traditional bunny out of a hat.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Uh-huh. And he also serenades everyone. Evidently, he’s rather handy with his maracas too. Tosses them around, but he didn’t catch one once and it hit Aunt Edith’s friend Hattie in the back of the head. It knocked her wig off kilter and her false teeth popped out so they’ve asked him to stop juggling.”

  “You’re joking.” I’m dying.

  “No, it’s a true story.” He’s laughing now. “Apparently Hattie’s teeth landed in her chicken noodle soup and she had to spoon around for them. Luckily, she found them with all the teeth intact.”

  “Oh my God. What else does Ralph do?”

  “Mom says he’s a
master bingo player. He can play ten cards at once.”

  “I need to meet this Ralph. Sounds like a real charmer. Does he snore?”

  “Now that’s a question for Aunt Edith. I believe he’s a two-timer though.”

  “Did Aunt Edith catch him cheating on her?”

  “Oh, yeah. She called him out in front of the whole dining room. He had to do the walk of shame carrying his plate of roast beef and mashed potatoes. Hazel was there, the woman he was two-timing with, and she was none too happy about it. He’s straightened up since then. You can’t pull one over on Aunt Edith.”

  The thought of Ralph and Aunt Edith in a shouting match really gets me laughing. “That place sounds like a soap opera. Anything else happening at the village?”

  “Evidently one of the men gave a couple of the ladies gonorrhea. It started a small riot.”

  “Jeez. Is this place some sort of hedonistic, elderly, sexcapade village?”

  “That’s what I asked Mom. I’m going to give Aunt Edith a box of condoms for Christmas.”

  After I stop laughing, I ask, “What’s after lunch?”

  “Just the usual. Dinner reservations and then some party. In the morning, we’ll have our traditional Christmas breakfast, after which we’ll open presents.”

  My voice takes on a dreamy quality. “Sounds perfect.” I’m so envious of what he has. I wonder if he knows how lucky he is.

  “What about you?”

  “I’m cooking with Helen tonight. We’re doing up a fancy meal. I wasn’t aware how fond of cooking she is.”

  “Hmm, neither was I. What are you cooking?”

  When I tell him, his eyes widen. “Wow, I’m impressed. Can’t wait to hear about it.”

  “I’m sure your day will be awesome.”

  “And what about Christmas?”

  “No plans. Probably watch Netflix or something.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I look closely and notice his knitted brows.

  “Why? Because you still don’t like my jaded past?” I say it as a joke, but now that it’s out, the truth hits him hard.

  He brushes a hand over his face, top to bottom, then says, “I ... I’m just sorry, Midnight.”