Acting on Impulse

by Mia Sosa

  I glance at a glossy-eyed Elaine, whose face is tilted to the side. Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel. It’s time to wrap this up. “I’ve said too much.”

  Elaine squeezes her eyes shut and reopens them. “Not at all. This has been eye-opening. Care to tell us the name of the person who captured your heart?”

  “Definitely not.”

  “And I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you about your weight loss for Hard Times. What was that like?”

  “Brutal. And it’s not something I’d wish on anyone. I consulted a physician to ensure I had enough essential nutrition to avoid a total collapse, and I ran the equivalent of a half marathon every day. I don’t ever want to run again.”

  “You do what you need to do for your craft, right?”

  She has no idea how shitty that question makes me feel. Essentially, that’s been Tori’s point all along—and not in a good way.

  “I did what I thought I had to do at the time, but going forward I’m going to be more selective about the things I do for my craft. Acting doesn’t define me.”

  “Are you looking forward to the premiere next week?”

  Not really. Not without Tori by my side. “It’s my first in a movie I’m in. Should be interesting.”

  Elaine directs her gaze to the camera. “Well, there you have it, folks. Up close and personal with Carter Stone.” She glances at me and stretches her hand out. “It’s been a pleasure, Carter.”

  I shake her hand. “Thanks for having me.”

  She again turns to the camera to sign off. “Tune in next week for a dose of double trouble. We’ll have the husband-and-wife acting and directing team everyone in Hollywood would love to work with, Jim and Cassandra Lang. Have a great evening.”

  A voice from the control room directs the camera crew. “Standby, Camera One, closing wide shot in thirty seconds.”

  Since I know I’m still on camera, I paste on a carefree smile, though my chest feels like it’s going to fold into itself. What the hell did I just say? I can’t remember, but I doubt it paints me as the carefree, easy-to-work-with actor whose star is on the rise.

  Julian’s going to kill me, but for the first time in a long time, I simply don’t care.

  Hollywood E-Gossip

  Casting Round-up

  By Lisa Maxen

  Posted 9:02 a.m. PT

  A Win for Winn

  Sources tell us Andy Winn has been cast in the lead role opposite Gwen Styles in Swan Song, the film adaptation of the best-selling novel of the same name. Winn, who’s best known for his breakout performance in The City’s Stories, will play a soldier stationed in Iraq who befriends and falls in love with his pen pal (Styles). Other actors considered for the part include Drew Cherry and Carter Stone. “The film’s producers were confident Winn had the chops to play the challenging role,” an anonymous source close to the casting process confided, whereas Cherry and Stone were deemed better suited for romantic comedies and action films.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Tori

  AFTER MY FATHER’S party, I return to the apartment and tiptoe inside. Eva wasn’t feeling well when I left and passed on joining me.

  I leave my shoes by the door and head straight to the bathroom, where I run into a body that’s not my roommate’s.

  “Nate! What the hell?”

  My boss is in my apartment.

  Wait. What? Why?

  The door to Eva’s bedroom flies open. She’s wearing a black nightie. “Oh, fuck,” she says when she spots us in the hall. “You’re supposed to be at your dad’s party.”

  “You’re supposed to not be”—I point at Nate—“with him.”

  Nate rubs his bald head. “I’m just going to get the rest of my stuff and head out.” He ambles into Eva’s room, and she looks at me wide-eyed before she closes the door, leaving me alone in the dark hall wondering how Mr. Stickler for Personnel Issues ended up in my best friend’s—and his employee’s—bed.

  I’m still cackling when Nate emerges from Eva’s bedroom. She’s nowhere to be seen. You can’t run or hide, hussy.

  Nate stops in front of me. “This is awkward.”

  “That it is,” I say.

  “I should explain—”

  “No, you shouldn’t. She’s my best friend. I talk to her first. Always.”

  He puts up his hands. “Okay, okay. Have you heard from Ben?”

  “Ben? No, why?”

  “Carter contacted us yesterday.”

  The contents of my stomach are in danger of being ejected. “About what?”

  “He thanked us for making you available to him for training. And he passed along a video snippet of your class, the one you teach at the community center. Said he thought we should reconsider our objections to the class. The guy’s obviously smitten.”

  What video? I had no idea Carter had taken any video. And he gave it to them? Oh, my heart. “He did?”

  “Yeah. Ben and I were impressed with it.”

  “So you’re ready to let me teach the class?”

  Nate leans against the wall. “No. It’s still not on brand.”

  “Yeah,” I say, trying not to let my disappointment show. “I can see your point.”

  “But we’d like to talk to you about investing in your studio.”

  It’s hard to take in any air. “What? Are you serious?”

  “We’re serious. You’re talented, and we think you’re on to something.”

  “Wow. I’m floored. And I’m definitely interested in talking.” After I’ve digested this new information, I add, “Um, sometime down the road, I might want a studio out in California.” I can’t believe that came out of my mouth, but yeah, if I want to be with Carter, that’s likely where I’m headed. Or am I being too presumptuous? “Nothing’s definite,” I clarify. “Just a thought. Would that . . . be a deal breaker?”

  Nate’s chin rises slowly, and he grins at me. “Well, all right. And no, that’s not a deal breaker. We’re investing in you, not a location.”

  I glance at Eva’s closed bedroom door. “You should know, though. This isn’t going to color how I feel about you and Eva. I’ll take my cues from her.”

  Nate pushes himself off the wall and salutes me. “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you, Tori. Good night.”

  “Yeah. Good night, Nate.”

  After using the bathroom, I get undressed and tumble into bed.

  And, of course, I think about Carter until I fall asleep.

  THE NEXT MORNING, I wake to discover Eva threading her fingers through my curls. I push up on my elbows and shake my head. “Goodness, woman, you’re a creeper. Did you snip a lock of my hair while I was sleeping?”

  She shoves my shoulder. “I was admiring how your face looks when you’re not stressed out by life.”

  I pull the sheet over my mouth to cover my morning breath. “That’s a thing? Not being stressed out by life?”

  “A rare phenomenon that happens every seventy-five years or so, like the appearance of Halley’s Comet, or in your case, when you sleep.”

  “I love that this stuff tumbles out of your mouth at six o’clock in the morning.”

  She smiles. “Well, you’re going to love something else about me because I made you breakfast.”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “Breakup therapy.”

  “That’s a thing, too?”

  She nods. “Absolutely.”

  “What did you make? A smoothie?” I ask hopefully.

  “Nope. Eggs, bacon, and toast. And coffee. So much coffee.”

  I’d usually pass on the bacon, but doing this for us makes her happy. “I want all of it.”

  We decimate the breakfast at the small table in the eat-in kitchen, and as we sip coffee, she leans over and places a hand over mine. “I have another surprise for you.”

  “Stop being weird, Eva. I’m not even sure it’s fair to call this a breakup, but even if it is, I’m not going to shatter into a thousand pieces.�
�

  “I’d never think that of you, mama, and my surprise proves it.” She stands and motions for me to follow. “It’s in my bedroom.”

  “Is it . . . Nate?”

  Then I laugh so loudly I’ll probably wake our neighbors.

  She huffs. “We’re not talking about that now. Not yet.”

  “Whenever you’re ready,” I singsong behind her.

  At the threshold, she places her hand on the doorknob and turns to me. “Now cover your eyes.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Eva.”

  “Just do it.”

  I slap my hand over my eyes and wait. Eva grabs my other hand and pulls me through the door.

  “Okay, open them,” she says.

  When I do, I jolt, because there’s a freestanding punching bag in the middle of her room—and it has a photo of Carter’s face taped to it. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

  “Punch it, pinch it, kick it, whatever you need to do.”

  “I don’t want to punch Carter in the face, not even in jest.”

  Eva tilts her head to the side and regards me with a quizzical expression. “So why aren’t you in California?”

  I groan and bend over so my face is completely hidden by my hair. “I don’t know. I’m the worst. My brain’s one big stew of second-guessing my decision to see him again.”

  “So take your frustrations out on the bag.”

  It’s not a bad idea. Maybe it’ll help me to sort out what to do next. I rip off the photo Eva taped to the bag, crumple it into a ball, and toss it in the trash can. “Give me the gloves.”

  Eva cheers and hands them to me. After I throw them on, she checks the laces like she’s a boxing coach and a championship match is set to begin after the bell rings.

  “You hate that your relationship with Carter played out in the press,” she prompts.

  Hitting the bag hard, I yell, “Yes.”

  “You hate that he was photographed with another woman even though you know he has no interest in her.”

  I punch the bag again. “Yes.” I’m feeling better already.

  “You miss his eggplant-emoji-sized dick.”

  I can’t help snorting. Dammit, that warrants two jabs and an uppercut. “Yes, yes, yes.” I resume my fighting stance.

  “And you’re annoyed that Carter has his own hang-ups just like anyone else and that you have to work through them with him.”

  I drop my arms. “No, no, that’s not true.”

  “And your relationship with Carter is doomed because despite how you obviously feel about each other, you refuse to live the kind of public life that comes with dating a Hollywood actor.”

  Leave it to Eva to pull my head out of my butt. I love the man. And even though he hasn’t said the words, I know he loves me, too. I’m wasting time being apart from him. So what if our life won’t be easy? He’s right. I shouldn’t chase after a trouble-free existence, not when the alternative is an imperfect but full life with the man I adore.

  I give Eva a weak smile, pull off the gloves, and drop them on her bed. “Thanks for the entertainment. I’ve got to get ready for work.”

  “I’m sensing a lot of tension,” she calls after me. “The punching bag will be here whenever you need it.”

  “It worked, Eva,” I say over my shoulder. “You gave me the final kick I needed. I’m going to book a flight after I shower.”

  Behind me, I hear her shout “Yes!”

  Back in my bedroom, I pull out my phone and look up Maisie Hunt from Philly Water Cooler. The way I see it, she owes me for misprinting information about Carter and me. Let’s see if she agrees. Hopefully, she has a friend in California who can get me what I need.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Carter

  THE BLACK SEDAN that will take me to the Westwood Village Theatre for the Hard Times premiere arrives promptly at six in the evening.

  “Good evening, Mr. Stone. I’m Elijah. Will you be traveling alone?”

  I shake Elijah’s hand. “Yes.”

  I’m ignoring Julian’s advice and attending on my own, for one reason only: Tori.

  The possibility that we won’t be together devastates me. Even the news that I didn’t get the part in Swan Song didn’t affect me as much as Tori’s absence from my life.

  I don’t care about projecting confidence in the face of the brutal reviews Hard Times continues to receive. I couldn’t care less about speculation concerning my relationship status. And I don’t give a rat’s ass about what people might be whispering behind my back.

  I just want Tori to know that she’s irreplaceable, that if she were willing, she is the only person I’d want by my side. Does attending a premiere without a date communicate all that? Probably not. But in the end, I don’t want to go with anyone else anyway, so I’m sticking with this plan.

  As I climb into the car, my cell phone rings. Jewel’s name and image appear on the screen. “What’s up?”

  “Hey, Carter,” she says in a hushed voice. “Glad I caught you. Julian just called and asked me to tell you that Dana’s approved a red-carpet interview with Hollywood Insider Live, so don’t be antisocial, and answer the reporter’s questions, all right?”

  Huh. That’s bizarre. Dana hates live interviews because they’re unpredictable. And I don’t want to talk to reporters, period.” I sigh into the phone. “Jewel, are you sure Dana cleared it?”

  “What, Carter?” Jewel shouts. “I can’t hear you. There’s something—”

  Our call is disconnected. Great. Now I’ll have to suffer through a live interview that might end in disaster depending on the correspondent’s questions.

  When the sedan pulls up to the Westwood Village Theatre, a few of the film’s stars are being interviewed on the red carpet, and several others stand in front of the media wall while photographers behind the velvet ropes take their photos. A small crowd assembles near the media wall, but otherwise it’s a low-key event.

  The display includes an oversized official movie poster, and I get a small thrill seeing my name on the sign. Elijah opens the passenger door, and I exit the vehicle. A few bright pops of light cause me to dip my head as I wave.

  The small crowd applauds my arrival, but I suspect some of them are tourists who stumbled by the premiere and have no idea who I am.

  A woman in a sleek black dress and flats calls me by name and ushers me along the red carpet. I don’t have a starring role in the film, so there’s no need to coordinate my appearance with other actors in the film. I stop at the media wall for a few photographs and then look around for the correspondent from Hollywood Insider Live.

  Failing to see anyone interested in what I have to say, I fuss with my cuffs and then wave at the crowd. Impatient to get inside, I scan the area in front of the photo backdrop. My heart explodes like confetti in my chest when I see her.

  Tori’s here.

  She’s wearing a stunning gold-and-white gown that emphasizes her athletic figure. Her hair is swept up in an elegant hairstyle with a single sparkly hair clip at her right temple. And she’s holding a microphone.

  I swallow several times before I find my voice. “What’s going on?”

  She winks at me and gives me a saucy smile, but the microphone in her hand is shaking. “Go big or go home, right?”

  She doesn’t wait for my response, which is a good thing, because I have none. Instead, she points at the cameraperson behind her. “Ready?”

  He nods and counts down with his fingers. “Three . . . two . . . one.”

  She takes a deep breath and blows it out before she begins. “This is Tori Alvarez filling in for Laura Beck for a super special edition of Hollywood Insider Live. I’m here with Carter Stone, who we all know and love from Man on Third and My Life in Shambles. Carter appears in a supporting actor role in Hard Times. It’s, um, great to have you with us, Carter.”

  “Uh, thanks . . . thanks for having me.”

  “So is this your first premiere?”

  “It’s
my first premiere for a movie I’m in, yes.”

  “Awesome. Congrats on the accomplishment. Can you tell us what audiences can expect from your performance in this film?”

  “It’s gritty, I think. I’m stripped bare, figuratively and literally. And I think audiences will be surprised by the rawness of the film as a whole.”

  “Well, I, for one, cannot wait to see it. Now, Mr. Stone, your appearance on The Actor’s Couch was inspired, but I’d like to dig deeper on some of the issues you touched on. Would that be okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Before we go any further, I just wanted to point out that you look fantastic in that tuxedo, which probably can be attributed to the amazing physique underneath those clothes, am I right?”

  Tori nudges me with her shoulder and waggles her eyebrows. Who is this woman? This is Tori 2.0, and I’m having a hard time processing that she’s doing this in front of a camera.

  “Mr. Stone?” she prompts.

  “Oh, my physique—yes, I’d say that’s right.”

  “And did you work with a trainer?”

  “I did. Her name’s Tori Alvarez.”

  “Was she effective?”

  I give her “the eyes,” and then I say, “Very.”

  The cameraperson chuckles. “I have no idea what’s going on.”

  Tori widens her eyes and mouths “be quiet” to the cameraman.

  Turning to me, she asks, “Are you still working with Ms. Alvarez?”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I let her go.”

  Tori clutches her necklace. “Goodness. Why’d you do that?”

  “She’d completed the task I hired her for. It opened us up to new opportunities.”

  “Ah,” she says, giving me a knowing smile. “And is there anyone special in your life now?”

  “I want there to be, but it’s really up to her.”

  “You didn’t share this person’s name on The Actor’s Couch, but would you be willing to share her name now?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Her hands tremble as she holds the microphone in front of my mouth. “Go ahead, Mr. Stone.”