The Golden Boy

by J Darcy

  He worked his muscles until they hurt, and he stared at the cabinet he held his liquor in until he felt like he’d go insane. Cade was trying to be good—to be better—but it was so fucking hard when no matter what he did, he was under a microscope. He hated resenting the attention he got too—he was living the fucking dream and millions of people would kill for the position he was in.

  It was his own fucking fault for the bad press, anyways. Maybe if he didn’t get in arguments with fans, or reporters, or get shitfaced whenever he felt sad, his reputation wouldn’t be taking such a sizable hit. George had been pretty vocal with him too, asking if he was trying to actively sabotage his own career.

  That required a moment of self-reflection. Maybe the pathetic, insecure part of him was trying to ruin his career before everyone realized that he was untalented and had no business even being an actor, much less a famous movie star.

  Thankfully, before his wallowing got too intense—and drove him to do something stupid like have one of those drinks that he had gone nearly a week without—his phone buzzed with an invitation to dinner from one of his closest friends.

  Dean Chambers was one of the few people Cade trusted in the world. Their friendship went back nearly a decade—they met when Cade had a small, reoccurring role on a network sitcom, and Dean was an overworked and underpaid production assistant. Despite their different loves—Cade with acting, Dean with directing—their passion for film and similar backgrounds helped create a bond that hadn’t broken since. Dean was a reliable friend who understood Hollywood, all while mostly being able to stay out of the public eye since he usually worked behind the camera, not in front of it.

  In fact, for the first time in their careers, they were finally working with each other. Dean would be directing Cade’s upcoming film after working in a creative capacity on some of the previous films in the franchise. Cade was so proud of his friend, and equally—selfishly—excited to have him by his side.

  So, he welcomed Dean’s invitation with open arms, especially since their busy schedules usually kept them apart. And sure, with production starting in three months on the new film, they’d see each other more often, but hanging out in a work capacity—being colleagues—wasn’t the same as catching a game or just enjoying each other’s company.

  Dean meant a lot to Cade. Because well…

  Cade didn’t have many friends. He never had. Maybe it was a side effect of him being a loner, or an asshole, or the fact that he didn’t have a normal childhood, but making friends was not his strong suit. Outside of Dean, his one closest friend had probably been, well, Kellie.

  And look what he did to destroy that friendship.

  When he showed up to the quaint pizza parlor that he had frequented since moving to LA, his face obstructed by his sunglasses and a ballcap, he immediately spotted Dean at a table on the patio. Sometimes he envied Dean for being able to do what he loved, all while avoiding the wrath of the paparazzi or the internet. Most directors were famous in name, not face, meaning no matter how high Dean flew, he probably didn’t have to worry about making the headlines of Page Six.

  If only Cade were so lucky.

  He dropped into the chair across from Dean and grinned. He hadn’t seen his friend in months, so long in fact that he couldn’t even put a number on it. Four, maybe? He really couldn’t say.

  “I was going to make a joke about you having the balls to show your face but you’re really not,” Dean quipped, before taking a sip of ice water from the glass in front of him, “Look at you, already in a true superhero disguise.”

  Cade smirked and leaned back in his chair, watching his friend in amusement. “I tried my hardest.”

  “I bet you did.”

  After a brief pause to order his favorite sausage and peppers pizza, he directed his attention to his friend. Ever casual in a plain t-shirt and a pair of jeans, Dean dressed more like a tech CEO than a Hollywood director, and it never failed to amuse him.

  “As your boss, I feel like I have to ask if you’re even allowed to be eating pizza,” Dean began, his voice tinged with amusement, “I bet the trainer the studio is paying for wouldn’t exactly like that.”

  Doing what Cade did best, he flipped him out. “Fuck off. My meal plan doesn’t start till next week. If I’m going to live off of salmon and vegetables and eggs or whatever the fuck they’re having me eat, I think I can have a pizza for now.”

  Dean just laughed. “I don’t envy you, man. I mean, the money and the fame and the legions of fans are great, but that’s a long time to go without pizza. Or tacos.”

  “Don’t taunt me, asshole.” Cade sipped his water and shook his head. “How are you doing? How’s life?”

  Leaning back in his chair, Dean just laughed. “How’s life? It’s good. I had a nice month break, and now I’ve just been in the planning stages for Golden Phoenix.” At the mention of their upcoming film, Dean seemed to tense. “I’m more worried about you though.”

  “Me? Why would you be worried about me?” Cade shoved his hands into his jean pockets, watching his friend, “You see the trades?”

  Dean rolled his eyes. “You mean the Deadline article about you storming out of a luncheon for poor kids and arts funding? Yeah, I saw.”

  “Look, the reporter was being a prick. How many times am I going to be asked about that fucking argument in London before it goes away?”

  That question was one that had been taunting Cade for months now. No matter what he did, those angry words with that teenager came back to haunt him. The world didn’t know that he was heartbroken and angry and a little drunk. They just saw an actor being a dick to an overbearing fan.

  “I don’t know, man, but you need to cool it. You’re starting to rub some people the wrong way.”

  Cade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Are you telling me this as my director or my friend?”

  “Honestly, both. Don’t get yourself blacklisted because you’re a diva.”

  Thankfully, their pizza arrived, and Cade was thrilled with the distraction. As he tore into the pizza, they got into actually catching up on their lives, instead of rehashing the same conversation about Cade’s misbehavior over and over again. Cade got to hear about Dean’s newest passion project—his first time pushing for a script he wrote on his own—and Dean got to hear about Cade ruminating for the eightieth time on whether he should adopt a dog or not.

  It was nice seeing a friend.

  Until Dean pushed his plate away and met Cade’s gaze, his face suddenly serious. Cade didn’t know what was going on, but that look from his friend immediately had him on edge. Nothing good ever came out of them having a serious conversation.

  “Hey, so, I need to be honest with you,” Dean began, only taking a brief pause to clear his throat, “I called because I wanted to catch up with you. But I also had some news that I thought I should share in person.”

  “Okay. Go on.”

  Dean sighed and rubbed at his face. “So, it’s been a bit of a long week. Eleanor had to back out of Golden Phoenix. Her mother just found out she has stage four breast cancer, and Eleanor wants to be able to spend as much time with her mother as she can.”

  Cade cursed and leaned back in the chair. He couldn’t imagine what Eleanor was going through. He didn’t know her all that well, but she seemed to be a nice person. Not to mention, losing a parent—anyone, really—to cancer was brutal. Not to mention devastating.

  He would know, too, since his father died when he was twelve from lung cancer.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. Her family must be shocked.”

  Dean nodded and pushed at his glass, clearly uncomfortable by the situation. “Yeah, they are. But I’m happy she’s able to be with her for whatever time she has left.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments before Cade finally had to speak up and ask the question on the tip of his tongue.

  “And the role of Olivia?” He asked slowly, not wanting to come across as insensitive to the situation, but also de
sperate to know about the hunt to find his new co-star, “Did the studio have someone in mind? Did you have someone in mind?”

  The role of Olivia was an important one. Cade’s character, Ace—otherwise known as the Golden Phoenix—was in love with her. She was his ex-girlfriend, and he spent most of the movie trying to win her back. Olivia even gets powers of her own, and the movie ends with Ace training her. The scripts weren’t ready for the second and third movie, but it was expected that Ace and Olivia would begin fighting side by side.

  Whoever would replace Eleanor needed to fill that perfect balance of charm and severity, while also willing to take on a superhero mantra and sign on for at least three films. It was no small task. Not to mention, they were running out of time, and delaying a movie meant spending more money.

  Cade didn’t care how much a movie cost as long as he was paid well. But he knew the same couldn’t be said for Dean. His poor friend had to deal with angry studio executives and ambitious producers trying to save a buck on a daily basis.

  Surprised by his friend’s silence, he met Dean’s gaze and held it. The longer he stared into his friend’s eyes, the faster his heart began to beat, and his stomach began to painfully cramp. Dean was usually the one laughing or telling a joke. But with his mouth set in a severe straight line, Cade just knew.

  “Dean…” He asked slowly, unwilling to ask what he already knew.

  The man in question blew out a breath and leaned backwards in the chair hard enough that the flimsy plastic nearly flipped him over. Only when he was steady on the ground did he offer Cade a slow nod.

  “Dean.” Cade began again, this time losing his patience.

  “What do you want me to say?” Dean finally replied, suddenly looking exhausted by the line of questioning, “She was their next pick and honestly, I agreed. I think she’d be perfect for the role.”

  Cade swallowed the bile rising in his stomach. This was not happening. This couldn’t be happening. He was supposed to have a break. A chance to escape his stupid decisions and heartbreak and daily torment of the woman he wasn’t good enough for.

  “What are you telling me?” He asked, his voice laced with desperation.

  Dean sighed. “Officially, Kellie accepted the role last night. We’re going public tomorrow morning.”

  Cade jumped to his feet, suddenly feeling sick. “I…You know, man. You know. Why?”

  “I only have so much of a say, Cade,” Dean explained with a sigh, “And I know you two have a complex past, but you’re incredible together on screen. You can use this as an opportunity to patch up your relationship.”

  He laughed darkly. “Yeah, well, she definitely doesn’t want that. She hates me.”

  “She hates you because you did something stupid. Now man up, apologize, and fix this.” Dean shot back, before dropping a wad of bills on the table, “Lunch is on me. Now go figure out how you’re going to behave like a normal human being, because so help me god Cade, if your fighting with her fucks up my movie set, I’ll castrate you like a fucking bull.”

  Cade watched his friend leave, white noise ringing in his ears. He felt ill. With shaky legs, he strolled back to his car, ready to return to his home. And the self-pity. The wallowing. The misery. He was pathetic.

  ◆◆◆

  Only after a nap that seemed to calm some of his concerns did Cade finally think about the situation with a level head. There were pros and cons to the change. The pros were obvious. He knew Kellie. She was an amazing actress. The films would be excellent.

  But the cons? Well, the cons were overwhelming. Like that Kellie hated him. And that he wanted to hate her too. They didn’t do press together after their night in bed, and most of the public seemed to either think they were dating or wanted them to date.

  It was a mess and he had Dean’s words ringing in his head. He couldn’t afford to fuck this opportunity up by fighting with her. For three movies. Maybe more. He needed to suck up his pride and talk to her. Fix things. Their relationship may be permanently damaged—mainly by his own actions—but he could at least try to mend it.

  The best they could do was be civil. People didn’t have to like who they worked with.

  He stared at his phone for approximately twenty minutes before he finally worked up the courage to find her name in his contacts and call her. Every second the phone rang without an answer had his nerves on fire and butterflies filling his stomach. He had pretty much convinced himself she wouldn’t pick up. Part of him assumed she blocked him.

  “Cade?” The sound of her voice nearly had him dropping his phone.

  He took a deep breath and sat on the edge of his bed. “Uh, hey.”

  She cleared her throat. “Hi. Can I help you?”

  If only he could see her pretty face. It had only been a day since he last saw her and already that was too long without looking into those stunning emerald eyes. He shifted on the bed and a ran a hand through his hair. “So, I uh, I heard about you accepting the role in Golden Phoenix.”

  Silence filled the other end of the line. Once again, he felt like he was going to be sick. Maybe calling her was a terrible idea. Until she finally spoke.

  “I did. I think it hits the news tomorrow.”

  He took a deep breath. “I just…I thought we should talk. We didn’t exactly leave on the best of terms and I don’t want a repeat of filming A Fiery Heart.” At their core, Cade and Kellie were professionals, and for the most part, they acted as such. But it didn’t mean their time filming their last movie hadn’t been tense.

  They refused to eat lunch together. Their trailers were as far away from each other as possible wherever they filmed. They did absolutely zero press together. Reporters weren’t supposed to ask them about each other. Hell, despite having three premieres for the film, they hadn’t once walked the red carpet together, let alone taken a photo together.

  Cade didn’t have the energy to do that for another three films, let alone the desire to do so. He certainly hoped Kellie felt the same way.

  “I agree. It wasn’t a healthy atmosphere. You and I take our jobs too seriously to let our personal relationship get in the way.” She responded after a few moments, her voice hesitant, “I want to do this film right.”

  Her words momentarily soothed the ache in his chest. It almost made him believe they could fix everything. Be friends again.

  Maybe something more.

  “Can we have dinner together?” He asked, hoping it came off as casual, “I think it would be better if we talked about this in person.”

  From the other end of the line, he could hear the hustle and bustle of a street. In fact, he knew Kellie’s response before she even said it.

  “I just got back to New York. I won’t be in LA until my show ends.”

  He stared at the gray walls of his bedroom, his mind on overdrive. They could talk over the phone. People did that all the time. Or, they could talk before they started training together. It was only weeks away. That was reasonable.

  But Cade wasn’t reasonable.

  He was always a bit reckless.

  It was what made him who he was.

  “Great. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven. You pick the restaurant. You know the food there a lot better than I do.”

  Before she could respond, he ended the call and jumped to his feet. Within seconds, he had a duffel bag and a pile of clothes on his bed. He figured if he was quick enough, he’d be able to catch a red eye flight out.

  Whatever got him to the city the fastest.

  Suddenly, seeing Kellie was the only thing on his mind.

  Chapter 4

  Kellie’s return to New York had been mostly peaceful. The flight was comfortable, her plants hadn’t died, and the weather was warm without being unbearably hot. In fact, as she geared up to return to her last week of rehearsals before the run of her show began, it occurred to her just how happy she was.

  She was returning to the stage—something she loved immensely—and had just landed her biggest movie ro
le to date. For nearly twenty-fours, she was allowed to think about just herself, and her successes, and her own happiness.

  Then Cade called.

  Despite working together before, it wasn’t common for them to communicate over the phone. Texting—sure—but even that communication wasn’t constant. When they filmed and promoted a film together, they were around each other so much that additional communication wasn’t even necessary.

  Not when they ate most meals together, traveled together, and spent months of filming in hotel rooms or rental apartments just feet away from one another.

  For two movies, they were inseparable. For one movie, they were at each other’s throats.

  Kellie couldn’t even begin to imagine what filming Golden Phoenix would be like. It was precisely why when Cade invited her to dinner—extended that proverbial olive branch—she knew she had to say yes. It didn’t matter if his hurtful and immature actions were responsible for ruining their relationship. They had to find common ground and well, call a truce.

  They needed to be professionals and as her agent Greg would so eloquently say, get their shit together.

  Which was why she accepted Cade’s invitation.

  Now, he was flying across the country just to talk to her. The one source of comfort she had after her falling out with Cade was simply the fact that they resided on opposite sides of the country. Sure, she frequently was in LA, and he was periodically in New York, but it was comforting to know she wouldn’t need to worry about running into him while dropping by the grocery store or grabbing a latte from her favorite coffee shop.

  She selected a small, quiet restaurant in Brooklyn, known for their Asian fusion cuisine and limited capacity dining room. Some of her friends had described it as romantic—or rather, the perfect place for privacy while on a date. Romance was out of the question, but privacy was necessary.

  So, wearing a casual black dress that she spent an hour mulling over, Kellie sat hidden at a table for two, wondering what the hell she was doing. Why had she worn a dress? Was it because she liked it? Was it because it was comfortable? Did part of her still want to look nice for the asshole that used and dumped her like she meant nothing?