Written in the Stars Series Collection

by L. L Hunter

  Halfway along my route adjacent to the sand, my phone rang. It was in my pocket, and I didn’t feel like answering it. I glanced at my fitness tracker, and my mother’s name was displayed. I stopped running, grabbed my headphones out of my pocket, and answered the call. I could never turn away my mom.

  “Mom. Hey,” I said, out of breath. I stretched my legs out while I talked.

  “Honey, are you… are you okay?”

  I froze. How could she possibly know what had happened? Had my manager called my parents?

  “I’m fine. Why?”

  “Oh. You just sound out of breath.”

  I let out a sigh of relief. Thank God she didn’t know what I’d just done. Her and my father would give me the biggest lecture of my life. My grandfather would be worse. Being from Asian descent, I was brought up to always work hard and strive to succeed. If someone in the family wasn’t successful, then they were often made to feel shame. It was the thing that had plagued me for years. I joked it was my family curse. But that would be kind of offensive to my heritage. Still, when I said I wanted to be an actor rather than a doctor, like my mother and uncles, I was instantly seen as the black sheep. That was until I started making a little money. Now, I was kind of the golden child. Something I resented. I was just me.

  “I was running, Mom. Was there something you wanted?”

  “Jack, don’t be short with me. Don’t tell me you’re still upset over what your grandfather said the other night. You know how he is.”

  “Yeah, yeah. But that’s not why I’m upset. Something happened at the meeting this morning. I… Look, I can’t talk about it now. How about I come over for dinner tonight, and I’ll tell everyone then.”

  “That would be lovely. I was just calling to invite you over, actually. And to ask if you could stop by the store on the way and pick up some more rice paper and vermicelli noodles.”

  I was stretching out my calf muscles when my mother dropped the bomb on me. She knew how much I hated going to the store. That’s why I often got my manager’s assistant to get my groceries, or I had them delivered. But my parents were nothing if not traditional. Especially my mother, being Vietnamese. My parents married shortly after the Vietnamese war, where my mother worked as a doctor and my father was a soldier who was wounded. My mother treated him, and they fell in love instantly.

  I sighed once more. I couldn’t disappoint my mother. Not now, anyway. I just hoped I wasn’t going to disappoint her and the rest of my family later on at dinner.

  “Sure, Mom. I can do that. See you later.”

  “Thank you, honey. See you tonight. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  I hung up, threw my headphones back in my pocket, and zipped up the pocket. Then I ran toward the nearest Asian grocery store.

  But chaos awaited me when I got there. This was the exact reason I hated going shopping. There were a group of photographers outside a clothing store next door to the grocery store my parents loved. And as soon as they saw me, they forgot the celebrity they were currently waiting for and pounced.

  “Jack Dean! What are you going to do now your last two films have flopped?”

  “Jack, are you and Alexa still together?”

  “Have you set a wedding date yet?”

  God, the things they asked were ridiculous and couldn’t be further from the truth. But their goal was to get a reaction out of me to later sell to the highest bidder. And I wasn’t going to give them one. I quickly ran inside the supermarket and shut the door behind me and locked it.

  The shopkeeper, a little Chinese man, looked up when he heard the doorbell ring and the glass door slam shut. He then proceeded to yell at me in Chinese. I don’t know. I didn’t speak Mandarin, but I only guessed he was yelling due to the fact he was waving his hands about in the air in an angry manner.

  “Sorry. I just need to close the door for a moment. I’m an actor, and there’s a bunch of photographers outside.”

  The little angry Chinese man glared at me.

  “I’ll just be really quick.”

  Glare. He didn’t even blink.

  “I’ll pay you extra for the inconvenience. I apologise again.”

  He seemed to understand the word pay. All Asian people understood the word money in its many forms, no matter what the language. He began nodding profusely and bowed, thanking me. Then he went back to his newspaper, almost as if the whole situation had never happened. I let out a sigh of relief and quickly did my shopping.

  I paid for my items, tipping the man extra as promised. Then I asked him if I could use his back entrance. He nodded and showed me the way. He thanked me again, and I shook his hand and made my escape before the paps realised what was happening.

  3

  Even though my parents lived only a few houses away from me, I still drove over that night. Something about being hounded by the media night and day made me a little afraid to walk anywhere. Especially at night. When I went for a jog, I made sure to always wear sunglasses and a hat to hide my face. Sometimes I even wore a fake beard. Besides, when I was jogging, I was always too fast for those fools.

  I also drove to my parents because driving was something that calmed me. I gripped the steering wheel of my Audi and took a deep breath in and out, repeating the cycle over and over until I was outside their front door. I had grown up a few hours from here, further south, in a modest small town. So the mansion I now stood in front of was bought by me as a present to my parents. It helped them see that my acting career was indeed successful, and I could do well for myself. I hoped it would soften the blow I was about to deliver. But I knew that was wishful thinking.

  I let myself in the front door, locking my car behind me, and called out.

  “Hey, it’s me.”

  My mother instantly came running from the kitchen and hugged and kissed me.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Oh good. You brought them.” Then she took the bag of groceries from me and hurried back to the kitchen. I followed her hesitantly. In the kitchen, I found most of the women of the Dean and Le households. I kissed my grandmother and my two aunts before slipping in between them and stealing a bit of chicken.

  My grandmother from my mother’s side yelled at me in Vietnamese and smacked my ass with a wooden spoon. I laughed and walked to the liquor cabinet, which was situated in the living room adjoining the kitchen. In the living room, I found my father and grandfather on my mother’s side locked in an epic battle for TV game show glory. My grandfather spoke little to no English but understood enough to cheer when he got a trivia question correct. I leaned against the bar and watched them for a moment before I grabbed the whiskey and made myself a drink. They were happy now, but probably wouldn’t be once I told them my news. I hated the fact that I could possibly tear my family apart.

  As I set the whiskey bottle back on the shelf, the glass clinked against another bottle, and my father turned around.

  “Ah, there he is. My famous boy. What are you doing hiding back there?”

  “Hi, Dad. Just getting a drink.” I walked out from behind the bar and took a seat next to my dad on the couch. My dad wheeled his chair back a little and turned it toward me.

  “It’s good to see you, son.”

  “You too, Dad. How’re the new legs doing?”

  The first thing I noticed when I sat down was that my dad’s prosthetic legs were nowhere to be seen. They had been another gift from me when I started making serious money. My dad had lost both his legs in the war and was far too humble and proud to ever ask for help. So his legs were often left in his bedroom and were rarely used. He got by mostly with his wheelchair.

  “Yeah, good. But I take them off at night time. The ol’ limbs ache sometimes.” He patted his stumps, and I just nodded. I knew he was lying and trying to make me feel better.

  “You know, you need to start using them more, so your muscles don’t go to waste.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know.”

  I didn’t press him anymore. I patted
him on the shoulder and my grandfather, as well. He patted my hand, and then I left them to their game show and joined the ladies in the kitchen.

  Growing up, I spent most of my time in the kitchen with the women, rather than with the men playing cards or watching TV. This was how I learned to cook. I spent most of the time stealing the food we made and eating it, though, and getting scorned by my mother and grandmother, but I loved it. Over time, my grandmother and mother passed their recipes down to me. One day, I vowed I would share them with my children and wife—if I ever met the right woman.

  I pushed myself up onto the kitchen counter and watched as the women in my family prepared all sorts of tasty morsels. After a moment of silence, my mother put down her spoon in a huff and turned to me, hand on hip.

  “All right. Out with it.”

  “What?” I said around a mouthful of duck pancake that had been left on the counter. A little too close to me for their liking. My mother saw me and moved the plate to the other side of the kitchen. I sighed and swung my legs. No food was safe around me.

  “Something is troubling you,” said my mother. “So, come on. Tell us.”

  God, my mother had the strongest intuition known to man. She knew.

  “Okay. There is something, but I’d rather wait until dinner so I can tell everyone at the same time.”

  “Okay, okay. Dinner will be ready soon. Get off the counter and help if you’re not going to talk.”

  “Fine.” So I leapt off the counter, washed my hands and got to work.

  The ladies had prepared us a feast. All my favourite foods were on offer. I knew they were doing it to placate me. And it was working. Damn them. But I held off with my confession for a little while longer. I poured myself more wine and stuffed another spring roll in my mouth.

  But I could avoid it no longer when my grandfather gave me a look that had me pinned like an insect on a specimen board. Damn it. My family was far too intuitive for their own good. This was going to be really hard.

  “So, I hear you have some news for us, Jacky,” said my father. I was taking another sip of wine when he spoke, so I choked on it. My grandmother patted my back. I nodded thanks and turned to face my family. This was it. I couldn’t avoid it any longer.

  “Uh… yes.” I cleared my throat, getting rid of the last remnants of wine from my throat. “I do.” I studied my wine, and then looked up again, hoping my family would have forgotten all about it in the two seconds I had spent trying to avoid speaking.

  But they hadn’t.

  They were all patiently waiting to hear what I had to say.

  I might as well rip off the band-aid and get it over with.

  “I… I’ve decided to take a break from Hollywood.”

  Silence greeted me. I swear I could hear crickets chirping.

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Everyone started speaking at once.

  “But why?” said my mom.

  “You love acting!” said one of my aunts.

  “It’s because of the movie, isn’t it?” My father’s words I heard the loudest. I turned to him, sitting on the left of me at the head of the table.

  “Yeah, Dad. It… It hasn’t done so well. But that’s not it…”

  Everyone shut up and listened. And the words just flowed out of me.

  “I’ve felt this way for a while. This business is hard. Really hard. Don’t get me wrong. I love acting, and I love movies. But life is short, and I’d like to do something else.”

  “What are you going to do?” asked my Aunt Dora. She was my mom’s older sister and was often the spokesperson for the three sisters. Well, when my mom, the middle child, wasn’t trying to gain attention.

  “I wanna travel, just take a break for a little while. And if I’m honest, I’d like to date someone who isn’t trying to use me as a ladder to boost their own career or for publicity. I want a real relationship for once. But that’s hard when you’re an actor or in the public eye. They would have to be someone who could handle all that. The media scrutiny. But I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. So, after the press tour in Australia, I’m going to take a break from work for a while.”

  My mom got out of her chair and ran around the table and wrapped her arms around me. I kissed her cheek, and she kissed my head.

  “I just want you to be happy, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks, Mom. That’s why I need to do this. Thank you for supporting me.”

  “You’re welcome, baby. We’re here for you.”

  After I cleared the air, I felt a lot lighter. More so than this morning when I’d stormed out of the agency. I took another sip of wine and enjoyed my family’s company for the rest of the night. In a couple of days, I would be flying to Sydney for perhaps my last press tour for a while.

  After that, I would be free.

  Until then, I psyched myself up for the media storm that was about to hit.

  Little did I know how crazy my life was about to get.

  Little did I know my life was about to change.

  4

  Before I left for Sydney, my manager had tried to organise a private driver for me, but I declined. I wanted to drive myself. Driving was calming to me. My manager hated how stubborn I was, but he relented.

  As soon as I landed, I hired a car and made my way to my accommodation. I hadn’t declined his offer of renting a house, though. And it wasn’t just any house. This house sat on a cliff top in Bronte Beach, where I had views of the famous Bondi Beach. It was amazing.

  As soon as I arrived, I dumped my suitcase in the master bedroom and made my way out onto the balcony. On this balcony were a pool and a spa. But I passed them and went straight for the view. I took in the long white sandy beach and the sparkling blue water and crystal-clear azure sky. This was just the thing I needed to help clear my head—my much-needed retreat. I took a picture of the view and posted it on social media. That would be the only picture I would be taking while I was here. I walked back into the house and got ready to head to the beach before my first scheduled interview.

  My interview that afternoon was with one of the top TV networks. I spoke with their entertainment reporter about the film and about what I planned to do while I was in Australia. I said generic things like spending time at the beach and trying some of the local food. I didn’t want to reveal the real reason I was here, besides the press tour. These vultures didn’t have to know—or they would know soon enough. I wasn’t about to give them an exclusive.

  When the interview was over, I did some laps in the pool at my place and then got ready for dinner. I had been given a list of some of the best restaurants in Sydney and was asked to choose one to dine at. So I picked one at random, not really caring. My manager had told me this would be added press for the restaurant and me. I just went along with it. The premiere for my latest film was the following night, so I didn’t really care what I did until then. I couldn’t wait until this was all over.

  The following morning, I had a photo shoot on the Sydney Harbour foreshore scheduled. When I pulled up, there was a group of photographers with light screens and cameras, and a few others I assumed were make-up artists and wardrobe stylists. I had opted to wear jeans and a T-shirt, so all the stylists had to do was pop a blazer over top and style my hair and do my make-up. Then I was asked to pose with a couple of sweet looking rides. I recognised them as the same models of cars used in the film. It was obviously a product endorsement kind of thing.

  As I posed for the camera, I spotted a couple of teenage girls watching from the other side of the barrier that was set up. When I was finished, I headed over to them. As I approached, they began whispering to each other and blushing and giggling. They made me smile.

  “Hi, ladies. How are you?” I said, giving them my best smile.

  One of the girls looked like they were going to pass out.

  “Good,” said one, blushing.

  “Could we take a photo with you, Jack?” asked the other.

  “Sure.”
>
  I posed for a couple of selfies with the girls and then asked someone from the crew to take a full body picture. They hugged me and thanked me profusely, and then ran off. For a moment, I forgot why I was here and remembered why I had started. I wanted to make people happy. I wanted to make people enjoy movies. If I could bring joy to someone’s life for a few minutes and make someone’s day, then all of this was worth it.

  5

  It was the night of the premiere. Even though I wasn’t feeling positive about the movie, thanks to everything my manager and agent had told me, and because every time I saw Alexa’s face, she brought back feelings of anger and gave me a sour taste in my mouth. I knew the critics were just that, critics, and I knew the public’s perception was going to differ. I just hoped they liked it. I knew that once this was over, even if the film did bomb at the box office, I would be taking a well-deserved break from the industry.

  Once on the red carpet, I knew I would have to answer a couple of questions from the media and take photos with fans. None of that bothered me. Not even the repeat or probing questions. I was used to it. Photos and press were second nature to me now.

  When I stepped out of the limo, which I had to bite my tongue and accept this time. It wasn’t the best idea to drive to your own film premiere, I was advised. I stepped out of the limo, and that’s when the screaming began. My eyes searched the fans first. I gave them a wave and walked over to them. I posed for a few selfies and signed autographs. And then it was time to face the media.

  The first few reporters asked the same boring, generic questions I knew they would ask. I held my head high and answered them with grace and patience. But I was bored.