Better than the Book: A Romantic Comedy (Charitable Endeavors Book 4)

by M. E. Carter

  Sighing, I don’t respond immediately. With my head resting on the back of the couch, I rub my forehead, a tension headache fighting to make its presence known. Or maybe it’s the lingering effects of whiskey. Who’s really to say?

  “Honestly, I don’t know. I feel restless and indecisive. I’m staring at the contract I’ve worked so hard for and I’m not sure I want what it offers.”

  “Oh honey. How long has this been going on?”

  That’s the million-dollar question. I want to say since the trip to the wedding and the weeks that followed. I want to blame the hesitation on exhaustion. Truthfully, it’s been a gradual shift over the course of the past year. I’ve become more restless, wondering what direction to take my career. What the next five years looks like. Who I want to be a decade from now. Will I still be happy being an actor or is there more out there for me?

  “Maybe a few weeks. Maybe a year. I’m not really sure. I just know there’s something holding me back.

  Like the fixer she is, Mom begins talking through it to a solution. “What about asking for more time? Can you do that? Take a break and think things through?”

  “No. I’ve already put them off until Monday. Eddie is breathing down my neck for an answer. And, before you say it, he isn’t pushing because of his commission. It’s more that I haven’t been able to explain my inability to commit.”

  My mom doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, the line is quiet, only the sound of the television in the background. I hear a door close and then the telltale sign of her windchimes and I know she’s settling into her favorite chair on the back deck.

  When we were kids my mom would sit in that chair and read books, drink tea with her sisters, and watch us kids run around the yard. She’s always called it her oasis and over the years my dad has worked hard to make it extra nice for her. Once I started making real money, I pitched in to the fund to upgrade everything. Well, except the chair. That has remained the same.

  “Hunter, you’re holding back. That’s concerning to me. We’ve always been able to talk about anything. Level with me.”

  I sigh deeply and do my best to speak without thinking too hard. Maybe that’ll get to the crux of the problem. “I should be over the moon. I’m doing what I’ve always dreamed of. I’m an actor. A paid actor, Mom. While I’m not wealthy by any means, I’m most definitely not hurting. We’ve seen my name in big lights with my first major picture. It’s almost impossible to go to a big box store because I’m recognized. Still, even with all of that happening, it feels like something is missing. How selfish does that make me sound?”

  “Oh Hunter. It isn’t selfish. If anything, it means you have bigger dreams than even you realized. For you it has always been about your craft and never about popularity and money. When was the last time you were truly happy?”

  I don’t hesitate to respond. “When I was in New York.”

  “Oh my, back when you were picking up change off the ground and surviving off the care packages we sent you?”

  Chuckling, I stand from the couch and move to the kitchen for something to drink. “No, Mom. Give me some credit. I mean, those were great days and I thought every experience was the absolute best. But I meant a few months ago after my trip to my buddy’s wedding.”

  “Ah, the trip to the tropics and the weeks you fell off the radar. What made that time different than the rest?”

  Celeste. It’s the simple answer with the most complicated connotations. Being with her relaxed me. Balanced me. Working with Manuel as they put the production together and feeling that energy zipping around the space was intoxicating.

  “Hunter? Have I lost you? Dammit, is this thing charged?”

  I stifle a laugh as I hear her voice get loud and then quiet. I know she’s pulling the phone away and looking at the screen.

  “I’m here. I was just thinking.”

  “Phew. The kids were watching some videos on it last night and I thought maybe it killed my battery. Talk to me, honey.”

  She makes it sound like we’re going to talk about the weather or what to buy my niece for her birthday. Something simple. Something casual. Celeste is anything but simple and casual.

  “I met someone.”

  “In New York?”

  “Before New York but she’s who I stayed with while I was there. We actually met months ago at one of the big Cons. Then as luck would have it, we were both at the wedding, and then…”

  My mom sighs into the phone. It isn’t a sound of frustration but one that reminds me of my sisters when they were teens and crushing on a boy. It’s the sigh of a hopeless romantic. Of a woman who has been married to the same man for more than half her life.

  “And then you fell in love.”

  Choking on nothing but the air I breathe, it takes a few minutes for me to gather my wits enough to reply. “I never said anything about love.”

  “A mother can hope. So tell me about her.”

  That I can do.

  “Celeste is great. She’s a total theater nerd and pretends she doesn’t watch television, but I found her secret obsession with Prince of Darkness, although she swears she was only watching to critique my character development. Her laugh is infectious, and she is kind to everyone. Her roommate is a little scary and a lot outspoken, but they have a great yin and yang thing going.”

  “And being with her is what made you happy?”

  “Yes and no,” I answer truthfully. “It was everything. Not being committed to being in ten different places in one day. The reality that I could get lost in a city and just be me. Be us. We walked the streets together without being approached, went out to dinner like regular people, and then she took me to the theater. That’s when I remembered why I wanted to be an actor. Why I love this industry.”

  The line is quiet again but this time, I welcome the silence. I’m left to sit in my thoughts. To recognize the truth in everything I’ve said.

  “And Celeste? She’s part of this too, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah. The time we’ve been apart has been harder than I expected. We didn’t talk about what happens next, just living in the moment. But, now, I keep looking at this contract wondering when I’ll be able to see her. She’s building her own career, and I can’t ask her to come here, even if it is for only a few days to visit.”

  “Well, that sure is a lot to unpack. So I understand, you met a woman who you spent time with and want to continue to spend time with. Someone you care deeply for and who, I assume, also feels the same about you. Meanwhile, your career is at a level you’ve worked for and have finally reached but still doesn’t feel fulfilling. Is that about right?”

  When she puts it like that I feel like an idiot. A whiny idiot. I have a great life. I’m blessed beyond my wildest dreams and still, I don’t feel fulfilled.

  “That’s about it. What advice do you have for your favorite child?”

  “You know I love all my children the same. Do not play that game with me. You’re a smart guy, Hunter, you don’t need me to share any words of wisdom. I think deep down you know what you need to do. Just remember you became an actor because you love being on the stage. It’s where you’re comfortable and your true self comes to life. No amount of money or fame will matter if you don’t love what you’re doing. I look forward to meeting the woman who has made you want to put your heart above all else.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Anytime, honey. Now I have to go see if your father has fallen asleep in his recliner. We’ll see you Sunday at six. Love you.”

  “Love you too, Mom. Thanks.”

  Ending the call, I take my drink and resume my spot on the couch. Picking up the contract, I read through it one more time. This time, I look at it with different eyes and my mom’s words floating in my head. Slowly, it all becomes clear.

  • • •

  “And you’re sure I can’t change your mind?”

  Shaking my head, I reread the terms one final time before signing my name. Replacing the cap
to the pen, I place it on top of the papers and slide it toward Eddie.

  “We’ve discussed this. Stop looking so crestfallen.”

  “I’m worried about you. This feels so sudden and out of character.”

  Laughing, I lean back in the chair, my hands behind my head. “It’s actually completely within my character. I just forgot for a while who I was. I’m not quitting acting, just adjusting things a bit.”

  He picks up the contract and stares at it wistfully. He’s so much more distraught about this decision than I am. That explains a few things. “You know, this is probably going to send Prince of Darkness fans into a frenzy. They won’t know what to do with themselves. Nikolai the crime fighting vampire in only six episodes a season.”

  “They’ll survive and so will you. I owe my career to this show but it’s time for me to get back to basics.”

  “Please. We know you mean getting back to the girl.”

  He has no idea how true that is, but this decision is also about what is best for me. For my soul and how important acting is to keep me centered. Besides, Celeste has no idea I’m doing this. I wanted to tell her but each time we’ve spoken it never felt like the time. Maybe I’m a wimp or, perhaps, I’m scared she’ll discourage me from making this change. Or that she’ll simply reject me.

  “If she’ll have me. Now come hug it out with me and wish me well. I’ll be back in a few weeks to shoot that episode, and I’m still expecting you to follow up on that indie film.”

  Eddie grumbles but rounds the conference table and pulls me in for a hug. If I’m not mistaken, he sniffles. Oh jeez, he’s crying. I’ve got to get out of here. Cutting the hug short, I smack him on the back and exit the room. Waving to the receptionist on my way to the elevator, I scroll through my contacts. I know I saved it here. Or at least I thought I did. Shit. I didn’t. Great now I have to scroll through my texts for our conversation.

  The trip to the garage level is quick but it’s enough time for me to find the conversation I was looking for. Sliding behind the wheel of my truck, I back out of the space and when I pull out onto the street, connect the call. Dammit. I didn’t even think of the time. Oh well, I can leave a voice—

  “Hello?”

  “Manuel? It’s Hunter Stone.”

  “Hunter? Oh! Hey. Gimme a sec.”

  Flicking my blinker, I turn to the onramp of the freeway and merge into traffic. The line is quiet for a few seconds before Manuel comes back on the line.

  “Sorry about that. This is a… wow, yeah. This is a surprise.”

  “I know. Sorry to call so late.”

  “No bother. I’m a night owl. What can I do for you, Hunter?”

  “I’m going to be making a move back to your neck of the woods and wanted to reach out.”

  Why do I feel like I’m asking a girl out on a first date? I’m so nervous.

  “Of course you are. It is the greatest city in the world. Hollywood isn’t for you.”

  Laughing at his candor, I reply, “You have no idea.”

  “Celeste hasn’t mentioned anything, I’m sure she’s thrilled.”

  “She doesn’t know yet. I planned to surprise her but before I do, I wanted to see if you know of any productions casting? I’d like to give my agent a little nudge in that direction and it would help if I can hand him some potential auditions. You know, get him less heartbroken about my television exit and more excited about the Broadway potential.”

  This time it’s Manuel who laughs. A very loud and boisterous laugh at that.

  “As a matter of fact, I think I know of a production in need of a leading man. When do you plan to arrive?”

  “I’m on the red eye Sunday.”

  “Text me your itinerary and we will meet next week. And don’t worry—I’ll let you break the good news to Celeste.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Celeste

  Rehearsals have been going well. The cast gets along, the skeleton crew is quick and understands Manuel’s vision down to the details, and I’m checking off items from my lists by the hour. The producers are pleased with the progress we’ve made in a short amount of time and other than the occasional meeting, haven’t been around much.

  The biggest snag is our main actor. And by “snag” I mean major crisis. Two broken bones in his ankle and surgery to place pins means he’s can’t walk for a minimum of six weeks. And a main actor that can’t walk means he’s out of the show.

  No one is blaming him for being injured in a freak accident. From what I’ve been told, he has been taking a dance class, which is pretty common when you’re a stage actor. That and singing lessons give you more marketable skills. What’s not as common is missing a landing after a leap. I don’t even want to think about how he managed breaking two bones. Just thinking about it makes me shiver. This is why I prefer to work behind the scenes. No leaping permitted. I hope he recovers and wish him well, but his accident has put us in a precarious position.

  Thankfully, Jeremiah, the understudy from the ensemble, has really stepped into the role with ease. Not that he wouldn’t. It is his job after all. Still, it doesn’t really help the production overall. Jeremiah is the best at playing several small characters because his face is like rubber. His innate inability to morph from character to character seamlessly has made him a vital part of the cast. Don’t misunderstand, Jeremiah could be a great lead. But he is a phenomenal character actor. A true standout. What we need is another actor familiar with the script and able to slide into the lead role. But that is a pipe dream. And since we’re so far into pre-production, it going to be next to impossible to recast.

  The whole thing is a mess. A fixable one but a mess just the same. The most concerning part is Manuel’s reaction to the issues. He has been extra cool about the whole thing. It is completely out of character from the usually dramatic and well… over-the-top director. I’m worried he’s going to crack at some point. A director that loses his shit is a much harder predicament to come back from than losing a character actor to the lead role.

  “Okay, people!” Manuel shouts and claps his hands together a couple times. “We’ve got work to do. Let’s pick it up where we left off yesterday. We’re in Act One, Scene Three.”

  He strolls back to the table where I’m already sitting, going through my to-do list and responding to emails.

  “Anything I need to be aware of?” he asks me quietly as he sits down.

  “We have a tentative opening date.” I turn my laptop so he can see, and he smiles at the news. We both know the date is pending producer approval, but this is a good sign that we’re still on track despite the setbacks.

  “Awesome. Can you do me a favor and go let the costume design team and set crew know about this?”

  I furrow my brow. “You don’t want me to just email them, so they have it in their records?”

  “You can do that too, but I’d feel more comfortable if I knew they were told in person. Just to make sure there’s no confusion about our deadlines.”

  That’s weird and not at all our usual process. Maybe this is his way of dealing with the stress of the cast change. It’s not really my place to question so I say, “Sure,” and head out of rehearsal, hoping I don’t miss something important.

  The walk to wardrobe isn’t long. We’re all in the same building but they’ve holed up in a room at the far end of a narrow hallway. The space is huge, and they’ve lined it with large workspaces, mannequins, and sewing machines. So many sewing machines that all you hear when you enter the room is a constant hum. Although not nearly as fancy as that of major motion pictures or even televisions shows, it’s a great setup for a theater with our budget.

  “Hey Cheryl,” I greet as I sidle up to the lead designer’s workspace.

  “Hi Celeste.” She pops the end of a piece of thread in her mouth before squinting her eyes to thread a needle in her hand. “What’s going on? Did Manuel have another design idea he needs right away?” She laughs softly because ever-changing details are p
art of his charm and reputation.

  “Actually, no. We have a tentative opening date and he wanted to make sure it won’t mess with your schedule.”

  Cheryl looks as confused as I am but shakes it off quickly. It only takes a few minutes to give her the info and make sure we’re all good to go. Then I’m out the door and on my way to set design.

  The conversation there is almost identical, except Sal doesn’t look at me strange. He doesn’t look at me at all, instead continuing his work. Although he does pause to say, “Is Manuel losing his shit? Because I’ve never missed a deadline yet.”

  After reassuring Sal no one was losing their minds, except possibly me on this weird expedition, I’m off and hustling back to the room. I don’t like missing out on rehearsal. I’m always afraid something major will happen, I won’t be there to notate it, and it’ll fall through the cracks.

  Fortunately, I’ve only missed about ten minutes and it doesn’t seem like they’ve gotten far in my absence.

  “Break’s over!” Manuel yells.

  Break? They took a break at the beginning of the day? Maybe Sal’s onto something about Manuel’s mental state.

  “Uh… let’s switch gears.” Manuel flips through his script until finding what he’s looking for. “I want us to start in Act Two… let’s do Scene Five.”

  Act Two, Scene Five? That has a major monologue for our lead. A lead who hasn’t rehearsed that with only Manuel yet. We’ve intentionally skipped over this scene because it is so complex with emotions.

  “Let’s do the monologue.”

  My jaw drops open. What is he doing? Looking around the room, it appears I’m the only one surprised by this turn of events. The actors are moving around, shuffling positions with not a care in the world that our director is currently in the middle of a mental breakdown. Maybe I’m in a bad dream. That would make more sense than what is actually happening.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to just go with the flow. None of this is what we had originally planned for today and I have no idea what’s happening. But if I know anything about working with Manuel, it’s that he always knows what he’s doing, even if I can’t figure it out.