Young Adulting

by Christina Benjamin

  It was going to feel incredible to finally share what I’d been working on with him instead of letting him endlessly drone on about his hot new project. A slow grin spread across my face as I drove with the top down letting the cool Santa Ana winds caress my hair.

  I’d been waiting for this moment for a long time and I was going to savor every second of it.

  Finally, my father would have to acknowledge that my indie ambitions had merit and his way wasn’t the only way to make meaningful movies in Hollywood.

  Sharing the spotlight wasn’t in my father’s nature and I’d promised myself I wouldn’t gloat. Just having him acknowledge my talent would be enough, but as I drove through the winding hills leading to the restaurant, I had a hard time squelching the sweet vindication swelling in my chest.

  I pulled up to the restaurant and schooled my features as I tossed the keys to my Mercedes to the valet. “Put the top up, please.”

  Eager to shake up this sleepy Sunday, I took the steps two at a time, grinning at the maître d’. “Morning, Rolf. Did I beat my old man or is he here already?”

  Rolf’s ever-professional façade never faltered as he said, “Your father canceled his brunch reservation.”

  “What? Why?”

  “That’s a question you’ll have to ask his assistant,” Rolf replied. “Would you still care to dine with us today?”

  Frowning I shook my head. “No, I-I…” I trailed off, moving out of the way so Rolf could help the impatient couple behind me while I checked my phone.

  No messages or missed calls.

  What the heck? My father never missed our monthly brunch.

  I pulled up my contacts and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring. “What is it?”

  “Dad, is everything okay?”

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  “Because you’re not at brunch?”

  “I’m aware. I canceled it last week.”

  “Well, thanks for telling me,” I muttered. “I drove all the way out to West Hollywood for nothing.”

  “And that’s my fault?” he questioned dryly.

  I let my anger get the best of me. “Well yeah, Dad. I’m not sure who else to blame.”

  “Might I suggest Shari? Willa assured me she was notified of the change to my schedule.”

  Freaking Shari strikes again! I held in a groan, holding my phone much too tightly as anger coursed through me. It was my father’s fault that Shari was my assistant, but I knew bringing that up would be pointless. He never took the blame for anything. That was Lars Landon, made of Teflon.

  “Shall I assume this means you weren’t informed about Blythe’s birthday soirée?”

  “Who?”

  My father’s disappointed sigh crackled through my phone. “Blythe Maxwell. Your mother’s god-niece.”

  “God-niece?” Was that even a thing?

  Another sigh. “Just tell me you’ll be there. The Maxwells are family friends and this party is important to your mother.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, the Maxwells are Academy members, therefore they’re important to our family, which you are still a part of, are you not?”

  “Yes, but I have a meeting this afternoon.”

  “Henry, the party starts at two. I expect to see you there.” Then the phone went dead.

  I swore under my breath as I made my way back down the steps, with much less enthusiasm than I’d ascended them.

  So much for my great day. Instead of serving my father his just desserts at brunch, I’d been served humble pie in the form of a lecture that made me feel like a petulant child.

  Yet again, my father wins. I didn’t know why I was surprised. He’d always been skilled at dashing my dreams. Why should not being in the same zip code thwart his impeccable record?

  Back in my Mercedes I gripped the steering wheel, anger simmering off of me. Perhaps some of it was misdirected. It wasn’t my father’s fault that I hadn’t gotten the message about cancelling brunch or the birthday party. No, that particular folly belonged to my lovely personal assistant Shari, whose incompetence knew no bounds.

  It wasn’t lost on me that the repeated blunders of my personal assistant were problems of my parents’ making. They might be able to make me keep her on and force me to attend this ridiculous party for a spoiled little girl, but there were some things in my life that were still under my control and I intended to make the most of them.

  I dialed Izzy’s number, determined not to let today be a total loss.

  “Hello, this is Isabelle Ellis.”

  Just the sound of her voice loosened the tightness in my chest. “Hey, Izzy. How do you feel about kids?”

  “Uh, I mean, I think I’d like to have a few someday, but not until after I’ve secured my career.”

  I smirked at her innocence. She was a breath of fresh air that I desperately needed. “No, sorry. I didn’t mean how do you feel about having them. But good to know where you stand.”

  “Oh, okay…”

  “I meant more like, how do you feel about spending your Sunday with them?”

  “Uh, is this some sort of method acting research for Heath O’Brien, because I’ve already told you, you have the part.”

  I laughed. “No, it’s nothing like that, but something’s come up. Long story short, I have to go to a kid’s birthday party today and I was wondering if you wanted to come with me?”

  “Uh…”

  I scrambled at her hesitation. “We’ll only be there an hour tops. I know we have a lot to go over today and I don’t want to reschedule. If I could get out of this party I would, but it might not be all bad. There will probably be a lot of influential industry folks there. I could introduce you around and maybe we can make some connections for Beyond Sunset.”

  “Well, when you put it that way…” Izzy teased.

  “Great! I’ll pick you up in an hour.”

  “Oh, no you don’t have to do that. I can just meet you there.”

  I chuckled, picturing her trying to roll up in an Uber. “It’s not really that kind of party.”

  “What kind of party is it?”

  “It’s at Martina Maxwell’s house.”

  I heard the sharp intake of air on the other end. “As in the singer?”

  “Yeah. It’s her daughter’s birthday and she’s apparently my mother’s god-niece. Anyway, the guest list is kind of exclusive, so you’ll need to be with me to get in.”

  “Oh, r-right,” Izzy said, sounding more than a bit starstruck.

  “Text me your address. I’m heading back toward the city now.”

  “Um, my place is out of the way. How about I just meet you at the studio?”

  “Izzy, I’m picking you up. Don’t make me ask Shari to look up your address again. She got it right with the dresses but there’s no telling what address she’d send me if I ask a second time. I might end up lost in the desert somewhere.”

  She sighed like the idea of giving me her address pained her. Geez. Did she think I was going to stalk her or something?

  I thought we were making progress. And maybe we were because she finally caved. “Okay, I’m texting it now.”

  “Great, see you in an hour.”

  Her reluctance needled my guilt. I needed to come clean today and tell her that me and Leo were one and the same. I should’ve done it during our first lunch meeting, but things had been going so well that I hadn’t wanted to ruin it. Plus, she’d thrown me for a loop when she told me we’d met before. It had me worried that I was still fighting an uphill battle. She’d agreed to put the premiere behind us, but what if I’d been a jerk during our mystery meeting too?

  Selfishly, I wanted more time to win her over, but I could tell she was someone who valued trust. The longer I let this charade go on, the worse it would be in the end.

  Today, I promised myself, I’ll tell her today.

  I double checked the address again. This can’t be right.

  Glancing back at the bleak, gray two-st
ory building I fought the urge to cringe. There was no way Izzy lived here. With the paint peeling from the cinderblock and rusty barbed wire stretched across the gated entrance, the place looked more like a rundown prison than the Bella Vista economy apartments they claimed to be.

  If she actually lived here then I’d severely underestimated her work ethic. This gave dedication a whole new meaning. I thought about the sacrifices I’d made in my life and was instantly filled with regret. The fact that I’d ever felt bad for myself was astonishing in the face of this…this…I couldn’t even find the right words for it. But I knew one thing. Izzy deserved better.

  It made me even more determined to make Beyond Sunset a hit. It was time we both saw some rewards for our labors.

  That thought shook me from my daze.

  I ignored the strange looks my idling Mercedes was getting and pressed a button on the dash, the automatic convertible top clicking back into place. As I turned off the ignition and exited the car, I wondered what the odds were of it still being here when I came out.

  But that was the least of my worries.

  The only thought in my head was getting Izzy out of this place—permanently.

  And that started today, maybe even at the Maxwell’s party.

  Chapter Ten

  Izzy

  “Have I told you lately how much I hate you?” Fallon asked.

  I grunted as I tried to pull Carolina’s skirt up over my thighs. “Once or twice.”

  Her sigh from my phone's speaker was melodramatic, even for Fallon. “You’re just so lucky!”

  I couldn’t argue with her there. I knew that from where Fallon was sitting—in a dorm room in Ohio—my life was looking glamorous. But then again, she didn’t see how hard I’d been working, or the ridiculously unglamorous way I was trying to smash myself into a too-small leather skirt.

  I looked up at Carolina with a disappointed sigh and shook my head. “Not gonna work. Not unless I lose ten pounds in the next ten minutes.”

  Carolina’s face fell and I felt a stupid surge of guilt for disappointing her. The more I got to know my roommates, the more I liked them. Even Carolina, the cold as ice Russian supermodel. Turned out she was actually pretty sweet, just permanently hungry.

  And often hangry.

  “Maybe I have something bigger,” she said in that thick Russian accent, holding a hand out to take back the skirt as I shimmied myself out of it. “I’ll be back.”

  I heard Fallon’s snicker from my phone’s speaker as Carolina retreated. “Does she know she sounds like the Terminator when she says that?”

  I reached for the sundress Becca had told me to try on.

  Henry’s sudden change of plans for today’s meeting had us all scrambling to reconfigure the game plan. It seemed to be a point of pride for my roomies that their least-fashionable friend didn’t embarrass them in front of Henry Landon and the powers that be in this town.

  Ashley was currently shouting at me from the bathroom. Something about how we forgot the eyebrow gel, whatever that meant.

  “Be right there!” I shouted back.

  I turned to the phone. “You never answered.”

  “You want the scoop on Henry and Elena?” Fallon laughed. “I can’t believe it. Miss ‘I’m too cool for Hollywood celebrity gossip’ is coming to me for help.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Fallon, don’t make me regret this.”

  Her laughter was a familiar, calming sound in the background and a pleasant distraction from the chaos going on outside my room as my roommates scrambled to help me not make a fool of myself at Martina Maxwell’s house.

  Martina Maxwell!

  I still couldn’t believe it. My mom was going to freak when I told her that I was going to her favorite singer’s house.

  “Last I heard they were back together,” Fallon said. “But honestly, it’s too hard to keep up with those two. They could have broken up again yesterday for all I know.”

  I stared at the phone as my stomach flip-flopped; diving down toward the ground at the news that Henry was taken and then soaring like I was on a roller coaster at the thought that maybe he wasn’t dating the flawless Elena Rhodes.

  I tugged the sundress over my head and muttered a curse under my breath. It shouldn’t matter one way or the other if he was taken.

  We were nothing more than business partners.

  Just like me and Leo.

  With the friend ESP we’d honed so well over nearly two decades, Fallon said, “Izzy, do you have the hots for Henry? I mean, I totally get it if you do, but I thought you were into the screenwriter.”

  I made a face at the phone, wishing I wasn’t so easy to read. Even I was confused about my feelings, but I didn’t want to admit it. I mean, it was pathetic enough that I’d gone and fallen for a guy I’d never even met in person.

  “Need I remind you that your screenwriting pen pal could very well be a balding seventy-year-old lech with bad breath?”

  I winced. Exactly. “A seventy-year-old with bad breath and a good sense of humor,” I felt compelled to point out. Because there was no denying that I’d developed a massive crush on Leo’s personality and his mind. But while I’d love to say that I didn’t care at all about age or looks or bad breath….

  I couldn’t.

  “And then there’s Henry…” Fallon sighed, sounding world-weary, wise, and way older than her eighteen years. “I mean, trust me. No one understands the Henry Landon appeal like I do, but even so…Izzy…”

  I cringed, my eyes squinting shut as I waited for the blow. I knew what she was going to say. I knew it. I got it...

  But I didn’t want to hear it.

  “I just don’t want you to get your hopes up,” she finished.

  I let out an exhale. There it was. The warning we both knew I needed to hear. Henry Landon was out of my league. He existed in another world, and I was just visiting.

  “He’s hot as hell, Iz,” Fallon continued. “And he’s got charisma and star power. No one would blame you for being a little...smitten.”

  I hissed with my next wince. I didn’t want to be smitten! Only a fool would go and crush on an A-list Hollywood celebrity just because they’d shared one nice lunch and a couple of funny, flirty texts.

  “I’m not smitten,” I started to mumble. I trailed off though and didn’t even protest when Fallon gave a snort of disbelief.

  “Of course you are, babe,” Fallon said. “Who wouldn’t be?”

  I sighed. She was right. What warm-blooded female wouldn’t fall for the Hollywood fantasy? While I’d gone and fallen for Leo’s personality, there was no denying I was attracted to Henry’s...everything. His dimples, his smile, his body, his hair.

  The guy had really great hair.

  I took a deep breath. But his personality…

  My mind flashed back to our first meeting and then our second run-in at the premiere. Not exactly my dream date. But then again, he’d been so great at lunch.

  I took another breath and eyed my reflection as Carolina flew into my room with a stack of clothes that likely wouldn’t fit.

  It was official. When it came to Henry’s personality, the jury was still out.

  Not that it mattered because it would never happen.

  I eyed Carolina, who was standing with her back to my bedroom door and a weird, stricken look on her face. “Carolina?” I said. “You okay?”

  She didn’t answer.

  I eyed the blouse on top of the stack. “Are these for me to try on?”

  Her eyes widened and she shook her head quickly. “No time,” she hissed. “He’s here.”

  I stared at her blankly before it clicked. My brows hitched up and my breath caught. “He’s here?! Where?”

  I was already scrambling to get past Carolina as Fallon shrieked in the background. “Henry Landon is there right now? OMG, I’m in the same apartment as Henry Landon! Sort of!”

  I was in the hallway and down the hall because—oh crap! I’d assumed he’d text when he got to
my neighborhood. He wasn’t supposed to come inside. He wasn’t supposed to—

  I stopped short in the living room,

  He wasn’t supposed to see—this.

  I was keenly aware of the peeling paint, the shoddy furniture, the...gaping roommates. Becca and Ashley stared with open mouths and wide eyes at the A-list celebrity in our living room. Meanwhile, Henry was standing there looking totally at ease in a polo shirt, khakis, and his hair slicked back like he was about to pose for a photoshoot.

  He grinned when he spotted me in all my barefoot, half put together glory. “Hope you’re ready for birthday cake.”

  “Always,” I said.

  “Good,” he said with a chuckle. If he noticed the stares coming from his audience on the couch, he didn’t let on. “I was just telling your roommates here that I feel terrible moving our meeting to a kiddie party, but—”

  “Oh, not a big deal,” I said, noticing Kendal hovering in the doorway to the kitchen for the first time. Unlike Becca and Ashley, she wasn’t so much staring as glaring, eyeing him with wariness like he might try and steal her sewing machine in the corner.

  Huh.

  I loved my roommates, but they were definitely odd. In the silence that followed, we all heard Fallon’s shrieking coming from my bedroom. I flinched as she said Henry’s name and something that sounded a lot like “sexy studmuffin.”

  He arched his brows at me, amusement making his gorgeous blue eyes twinkle like a freakin’....well, like a freakin’ movie star.

  “Um, I’m gonna just…” I was already backing up toward my bedroom. “I’m just gonna grab my phone.”

  I bolted back into the bedroom and slammed the door, snatching up the phone and turning off the speakerphone as Carolina watched me, eyes still wide in terror. “He’s here,” she hissed, as if this was news.

  I shook my head and put the phone to my ear. “Fallon, I’ve got to run. I’ll tell you everything later, ‘kay?”

  “You’d better,” Fallon said. “And hey, Iz?”

  I paused in the middle of stashing my wallet into the purse I’d borrowed from Becca. “Yeah?”

  “Watch yourself, yeah?”

  I swallowed.