Fame

by Karen Kingsbury

  “That’s right.” Landon squinted. “One of Ryan’s coaching buddies is involved, isn’t he? Jim Flanigan?”

  Ashley snapped her fingers. “That’s it. Jim Flanigan. He and his wife have kids in the theater group, I think.”

  “So . . .” Landon moved closer, smiling. “What’s my little do-gooder wife thinking up?”

  “Well . . .” Ashley felt a surge of hope rise within her. It was one more thing she loved about Landon, that even when she was missing her mother the most, he could help her find a reason to smile. “Maybe they need help making sets, you know, painting backdrops, that kind of thing.”

  “Hmmm.” He scratched his chin. “I thought you said you wanted us both to get involved.”

  “I do.” She hopped off the stool and reached out, taking hold of his hands. “You can paint, Landon. Just because you’re a big macho fireman doesn’t mean you can’t paint.”

  “I can paint a house maybe.” He gave her a skeptical look, but the way his eyes danced told her he was considering the possibility. “Theater sets?”

  “Yes.” She tugged on his hands and angled her head. “Mom loved the theater. We could work at it together and do it in her memory.”

  Landon gave her a crooked grin. “I hope they have a lot of plain brown walls to paint.”

  Ashley let her head tip back as she laughed at the image—her painting landscapes on theatrical backdrops and her husband painting brown walls. “Oh, Landon.” She caught her breath and looked at him. “It feels so good to laugh.”

  They heard Cole running down the hall to his bedroom.

  Landon leaned in and kissed her again. “It feels good to hear it.” He crossed his arms and made a silly expression. “Okay, call Kari and get the Flanigans’ number. Tell the theater people they have two more volunteers if they need them.”

  “Yay! I’ll call her right now.” Ashley squeezed his hands and looked straight to his soul. “Thanks for understanding. I think helping out would make Mom proud.”

  The teasing faded from his eyes. “Me too.” He hesitated, and his expression changed. “Hey, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.” Landon caught her gently and searched her eyes. “Remember that honeymoon we were going to take?”

  Ashley bit her lip and nodded. “The timing never seemed quite right.”

  “Losing your mom, then school starting up for Cole.” He paused, a new glow coming from his soul straight through his eyes. “But it’s summer again, Ash.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and held it out to her.

  “What’s this?” Ashley’s heart fluttered. It had been so long since their wedding, she figured Landon had forgotten about the honeymoon they never took. Not that it mattered. With Landon, every day was a honeymoon. She opened the envelope, and inside were two ticket folders. A piece of paper wrapped around them had a heading across the top: “Congratulations on the purchase of two Caribbean cruise tickets!”

  Ashley felt her arms grow weak. She looked at Landon. “Are you serious?”

  “They’re the real deal.” His grin took up his face. “We’ll be gone the week of July 12, our first anniversary.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Kari and Ryan said they’d watch Cole.”

  Ashley pictured Landon and her on a cruise ship, vast blue skies and endless warm seas, sailing the Caribbean. The idea felt like something from a dream. “Landon, I’m in shock!” She held up his hand and danced a pirouette beneath it. “Yippee!”

  Cole darted into the room, his hair clean and combed as best he could comb it. “What’s yippee, Mommy?” He looked from Landon back to her. “Did you and Daddy find another froggy?”

  “No, silly.” She grinned at the crooked part in his hair. “Mommy and Daddy are taking a trip! On a big boat!”

  “Can I come?” Cole jumped in place a few times. “I love boats!”

  Ashley smiled to herself. The only boat Cole had ever been on was his uncle Ryan’s ski boat. “This boat’s a little bigger, and nope, sweetie. This time it’s just Mommy and Daddy.”

  “You, Coley—” Landon winked at him—“will stay with Aunt Kari and Uncle Ryan. Maybe they’ll take you out on their boat.”

  “Yeah! Then I can kneeboard again!” Cole dashed out, calling as he ran, “I have to find my swimming suit if we’re going out on the boat.”

  Ashley pulled Landon into her arms one more time. “A cruise, Landon Blake. So romantic . . .”

  “You know me.” He batted his eyelashes at her. “Mr. Romantic.”

  “I can’t wait.” Her tone was more serious now, the desire from a few minutes earlier back again. “I wish we were leaving today.”

  “No, you don’t.” He tapped her nose and chuckled. “Because today you’re calling Kari and finding out about painting sets for Christian Kids Theater, remember?”

  Ashley gasped. “That’s right. I thought I’d spend the summer missing Mom. Instead it looks like we’ll spend it celebrating life.”

  “Yes.” Landon led her from the room toward the sound of Cole rummaging through his closet. “And that’s exactly what your mother would’ve wanted us to do.”

  The information on Katy Hart was better than Dayne had hoped. She’d graduated from the University of Illinois with a theater degree and an emphasis on film. Three times she starred in university plays and tried her hand at a few community plays outside Chicago.

  But that wasn’t the best of it.

  Straight out of college Katy had earned a starring role in a television pilot. A two-hour TV movie about a Midwest family struggling to stay together. She played the family’s oldest daughter opposite a cast of unknowns, all of whom were said to have considerable talent. Rumors linked her to her cast mate, her love interest in the film.

  Despite good reviews for the pilot, the series was canceled before the first episode was filmed. After that Katy appeared in two commercials before she dropped off the entertainment radar screen and got involved with Christian Kids Theater in Chicago. A few years later she moved to Bloomington, Indiana.

  Dayne didn’t care about the reasons why she left the film industry. All that mattered was that she was capable. Very capable.

  Once again, the private investigator had done an amazing job. The report came in Wednesday afternoon, just two days after Dayne’s agent hired him. It included more details than Dayne needed and best of all a VHS tape recording of Katy’s television pilot. Dayne sat on his back deck and read everything in the report before snatching the tape and heading into his soundproof viewing room.

  It was a glorified home theater, really, painted black with two rows of black leather recliners. This room was the place Dayne would watch first-cut versions of his movies, the place where he studied and scrutinized and made sure he was still gaining ground as an actor.

  Now he slipped the tape into his VCR, sat on the edge of one of the recliners, grabbed the remote, and started the movie. He fast-forwarded past the credits to the opening scene in the kitchen of a house. The next shot was outdoors and showed a girl heading through tall grass toward a tree and a boy waiting near it.

  Dayne hit the Play button.

  The girl was Katy, no doubt. She was everything he remembered her to be. She wore a fitted navy turtleneck and jeans, her long blonde hair straight down her back. In the scene she was supposed to be upset about something, sneaking out of her house away from her family to meet the boy she was dating.

  The details didn’t matter. What did matter was the way Katy Hart lit up the screen, her eyes a brilliant cornflower blue that seemed to take up half her face. She met the boy and the two hugged. Dayne studied him for a minute. He looked familiar, and then he made the connection. The guy was a soap star now, heavy in the Hollywood party scene for a few years before he moved to Manhattan.

  Dayne returned his attention to Katy. Her character was listening intently to the guy, and then whatever he said made her laugh. Dayne hit the Volume button and listened. The sound of Katy’s laughter filled
the room. It was the most real and wonderful sound Dayne had heard all day. Not only because Katy was so engaging, so pretty, and able to dominate the screen. But because her laughter and her eyes held the very thing he knew he’d find if he ever got hold of her.

  They held innocence, the sort of innocence his world knew nothing about.

  Katy Hart wasn’t a Hollywood imitation. She was the real deal; otherwise why did she give up a budding career in the movies for director work with a kids’ theater company? That last question hung in the rafters of Dayne’s mind until he had to have an answer. He flicked the Pause button and trotted back to the kitchen where he’d set Katy’s file.

  It had to be there somewhere, the reason why Katy stopped making films. But all he could remember reading about was the series being dropped before it even got started. After that there were the commercials and eventually her work with the children’s theater.

  Dayne scanned the sheets of paper until he found what he was looking for. The page was titled “Unsuccessful Attempts at Films.” Beneath it was a list of auditions both in Chicago and Los Angeles. Four in a row, without so much as a callback. Dayne frowned at the information. Hollywood directors didn’t know what they were missing, but who cared? Their loss was about to be his gain.

  If the information was correct, Katy had wanted a break into the industry but never got the chance. He hesitated and tapped the sheet of paper. If she’d wanted a break that badly, why’d she give up after four auditions? She’d already shot a pilot. Lots of actresses go years without anything half that big.

  Dayne looked through the rest of the information, but still the question remained. If Katy had walked away so quickly, how badly could she have wanted the break? And how inclined would she be to attend an audition now, given the chance?

  There was only one way to find out.

  He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed Mitch Henry, the casting director who’d put everything on hold for him.

  Mitch answered after two rings. “I’m making dinner, Dayne. What’ve you got? You ready to go with the A-list?”

  Mitch was always like this, hurried and to the point. He defined multitasking, and Dayne guessed he was probably laying out a cast list, creating a film schedule, and making dinner all at the same time.

  Dayne cleared his throat. “I found her.”

  “Huh?” There was a hesitation. “Found who?”

  “The girl, Mitch. The one I told you about.” Dayne snagged an apple from his fruit bowl. His housekeeper was good to him, always keeping fresh food around in case he had time to eat it.

  “Your wild idea, you mean?” A crash of pans clanking against each other sounded in the background. “Stupid spaghetti sauce doesn’t fit in the usual pan. I must’ve made too much.” Another loud series of sounds filled the line. “There. Sorry. Go ahead. What’d you find?”

  “Not what . . . who. I found her, the girl I was telling you about. The real deal, remember? The one from out of state?”

  Silence. “So what’s your point, Dayne? I have three people coming for dinner.”

  “So . . .” Dayne took a bite of his apple. “I want you to call her. Tell her she’s being invited in for an audition.”

  “You call her. She’s your girl.”

  “Nah, I never said that.” Dayne leaned against his counter, facing out the window at the ocean. Fog was rolling in, dancing low over the gray surf.

  “Come on. Of course she’s your girl.”

  “No, really. Never even talked to her.” Dayne paused. “In fact, don’t mention my name. Just call her and get her out here. She’s the one; I’m telling you.”

  Mitch exhaled hard into the phone. “We don’t have time for games, Matthews. We start filming in—”

  “I know, I know.” Dayne chuckled. “Four months. That’s why you better call her tonight.”

  The director made a series of exasperated sounds and a few pans clanked together again. “Fine. I’ll play your games, Dayne, but if she can’t get here by Monday, you’re choosing from the A-list. You’re the only reason they’re willing to wait a week. The ladies can’t get enough of you, man. Maybe you should call the girl.”

  “No.” Dayne took another bite of the apple. “It has to come from you.” He turned his back to the ocean view and stared into the living room of his three-story beach house. He wasn’t sure if Katy Hart had seen him in her theater that day a year ago, but the offer had to sound legitimate. If she got a call from him asking her to fly to Los Angeles and read for a part, she might doubt the whole thing. But if the call came from the casting director . . . “Call her, okay, Mitch?”

  “All right. I’ll do it as soon as I hang up.” He hesitated. “I’ve got paper. What’s the number?”

  The PI had found every number that might possibly be associated with Katy Hart. The list started with the most current information, then went backward for a three-year history, just in case she was more easily reached by an older number. Dayne rattled off the information for her home, business office, and cell phone.

  “You have all that and you don’t know her? Come on, Dayne. What’re you hiding?”

  “Nothing.” Dayne laughed. What would she think if she knew that her private information was so available? Dayne guessed she wouldn’t like it. But that wasn’t his problem; it was hers. He was only glad the PI had been able to find her. “I looked her up. It wasn’t hard.”

  “Fine.” He made a grunting sound and then cursed into the phone. “My sauce is burning, Matthews. I gotta go.”

  The conversation ended. Dayne wasn’t worried. Mitch would call her. He could complain and sound frustrated, but Dream On was Dayne’s film. The final call on the female lead would be his. He finished the apple and was about to head back into the screening room to watch the rest of Katy’s movie when the phone rang.

  Dayne reached for it and clicked the On button without checking the caller ID. He held the phone to his ear. “That was fast.”

  “What was fast?” The voice was familiar, but it belonged to a woman—not Mitch Henry.

  “Sorry.” Dayne went into his family room and plopped down on an overstuffed leather recliner. “Who is this?” He grabbed a remote. With a single click, the fireplace sprang to life.

  “It’s me. Kelly.” Her voice sounded hushed and frightened. “I’m not doing too good.”

  “Kelly . . . what’s wrong?” Dayne sat a little straighter. The last few times he’d talked to Kelly Parker their conversations had been the same, based around the fact that she was falling apart, afraid to leave her house because of the paparazzi. Now something in her voice told him things were worse.

  “I need you, Dayne. Can you come?”

  “Of course. Where are you?”

  “Ruby’s. Just off Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “Where in Ruby’s? The private room, the one in the back?”

  “Yeah. They opened it early for me.” A few sobs sounded over the phone line. “Come quick, Dayne. I need you.”

  “I’m on my way.” He hung up, snatched his car keys, and stuffed his cell phone back into his pocket. If Kelly needed him, he’d go. No questions.

  Kelly Parker was one of the most popular leading ladies in Hollywood. Four years ago she’d starred opposite Dayne, and the two hooked up during filming. They’d dated twice since then, but their schedules always kept things from staying serious. In the past six months she’d been linked with another of her leading men, but she’d kept her friendship with Dayne.

  Now he felt his heart rate pick up. About a year ago he’d read something about Kelly getting mixed up with drugs. At the time he figured it was only Hollywood gossip, the sort of detail the rags needed in order to stay in business. But tonight . . . something in her voice sounded desperate.

  The sun was just starting to set as Dayne drove his Escalade beyond the speed limit, south on Pacific Coast Highway to Santa Monica Boulevard. His mind was so set on Kelly he forgot to watch for photographers trailing him.

&n
bsp; When he reached Ruby’s, he hopped out, handed his keys to a valet attendant, and nodded toward the nightclub. “I might not be long.”

  The attendant was wide-eyed. “Certainly, Mr. Matthews. We’ll keep your vehicle close by.”

  “Thanks.” He slipped the young man a five-dollar bill and walked inside. The manager’s permission was needed to get into the back room. It was a private room with a second bar, not too different from the one off the main lobby, a dark-lit drink station with high-top marble tables and leather barstools and a dance floor in the middle of the room. Beyond that was a DJ hired just for the private back room crowd. Dinner was served in the early evening by request only.

  Dayne approached the manager. “I’m meeting Kelly Parker.”

  “Yes, Mr. Matthews.” The tuxedoed man slid a key into the door and opened it for Dayne. “She’s by herself.” He bowed. “Enjoy your evening.”

  Dayne made his way into the room and looked around. He’d never been here during dinner, only during the late evening, the nightclub hours. His eyes searched the back of the room, and he saw her sitting in a booth by herself.

  She was crying.

  “Kelly . . .” He whispered her name as he jogged the remaining distance to her table. Without waiting for her to acknowledge him, he slid in beside her and put his arm around her. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

  She looked at him, and something about her was different. So different he almost didn’t recognize her. Gone were the confident look, the dimpled smile that had won her millions of dollars for every film. Now her face was tearstained, her mascara running down her cheeks. “Dayne . . .”

  He pulled her into a long hug and rocked gently. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

  She wept on his shoulder for a few minutes before lifting her head and searching his eyes. “I can’t do it. I can’t take it.”

  Dayne nodded. “Okay, Kelly, tell me about it.”

  She took a tissue from her purse and wiped her nose. “I’m sorry.”