Typecast

by Kim Carmichael

  “What are you talking about?” He snapped his fingers.

  Ha! I’m not crazy! I didn’t know they had a major in . . . me.

  She couldn’t stop her smile and didn’t really want to try. It’s actually a master’s degree in cinematic arts, but part of my thesis was movies that changed their generation.

  “Ivy, are we working or what?”

  At last, she pried her phone away from her face. Matt was here. He showed up, didn’t toy with her, or make her wait. “You know, maybe we can make this work. I did my graduate work in movies like Hollywood Stardust.”

  “Of course, we can do this together.” He reached over and took her free hand. “You can’t quit just because you hit a rough spot. Life is like a stage. It can be scary, but you can’t hide.”

  His words sunk in. “You don’t know what it feels like.” Strange, Logan never mentioned her stage fright like Matt. She slid her hand away from his as Logan texted again.

  Well, with a pedigree like yours, I will allow you to choose what we do for our project tonight.

  Our project. He called it “our project.” Together. An idea entered her mind for their project. I know just the thing.

  “I know when you get scared, you hide. That’s why we aren’t further along in our relationship.”

  Her screen flashed with a response from Logan, and her heart jumped.

  “Ivy, I’ve told you many times how I feel about you.” Matt’s gaze traveled down to her phone.

  She turned the phone over, forcing her focus on the man in front of her. “Matt.” How many times did she have to tell him it wouldn’t work? While his friendship meant everything to her, she couldn’t conjure magic feelings for him.

  He reclaimed her hand. “I wish you would stop letting fear get in your way.”

  She gave Matt the requisite nod anyone received whenever they gave her advice about her life. All she wanted was her hand and to know Logan’s reply. She gave in to one need and flipped the phone over.

  You can be the boss . . . tonight. I’m on my way.

  A quick calculation in her head told her it would take Logan no more than twenty-five minutes to arrive. Nothing on Matt’s spreadsheets could be accomplished instantly, and she couldn’t have their paths cross. “I’m doing better.”

  Matt moved his chair closer. “I know it was a blow to have that man disappear. You know more about the movie than anyone. Bring something new to the story and don’t be scared.”

  “I’m not scared.” Her gaze fell back on the screen with the spreadsheet of every one of Logan’s sins. She jumped out of the chair and shut the laptop. In the process, her phone fell and skidded across the floor. “This story is meant for me to tell, but right now I have to tend to something.”

  Before she could get to her to her phone, Matt retrieved it. He peeked at the screen and placed the phone in her palm. “Now I understand. Be careful, Ivy.”

  “I’m not in any danger.” She peeked to make sure Logan hadn’t texted again.

  “Everything about him is manufactured, remember that.” He packed up his equipment. “He’s designed to make you see stars in your eyes, and when this is over, don’t expect to see him again.”

  Deep down she knew Matt spoke the truth. “I do want to work on the story with you. What you created is exactly what I need.”

  “When you need it, then it will be here.” He walked toward the door.

  She scurried after him, passing Giselle in the living room and opening the door to find Logan standing there. “Oh my God!” Her heart seized, and she pressed her hand to her chest to keep the poor organ in place. He never ceased to surprise her or sneak up on her, and the air sizzled with his mere presence. “What did you do, fly here?”

  “I texted you while I was getting gas. I thought you might want to take a ride.” His signature unlit cigarette dangled from his lips, and he stepped away from the door.

  At the sight of the car—the car—she shook her head. “Logan.”

  “There’s no way I can compete with that.” Matt gave her a kiss on the cheek and, without a word to Logan, left.

  “Matt!” she called after him.

  Her friend simply waved.

  As if under a spell, she looked up to Logan and her knees weakened. Only yesterday she had kissed him. She had kissed Logan Alexander.

  “I would kiss you hello, but we are still marinating.” He bent down as if telling her a secret. “See how I took what could potentially be an uncomfortable situation and turned it around?”

  At his comment, her only choices were to laugh or kiss him. She hated herself for choosing to laugh. “I need to ask you something.”

  He nodded.

  “Do you have any advice for my stage fright?” Why did she ask him? He had known her for three minutes, and he was the personification of confident. “Why haven’t you mentioned it?”

  “You know you have it. No need to mention it. When you need me, I’ll be there, and FYI, I don’t give advice. I’ll tell you what to do.”

  A pure Logan Alexander answer. A pure answer. She couldn’t stop her smile or the way her eyes darted toward the magnificent car once more.

  He motioned toward the vehicle. “Go ahead. You know you want to.”

  With his permission, she rushed toward the jade-green 1984 BMW coupe, ran her fingertips over the lines of the car, and stuck her head inside the open window to breathe in the scent of vintage leather and Logan. The car from the movie was more than a prop. It was a character. Sales of vintage BMWs skyrocketed the year the movie came out.

  “What do you think?” Logan took her by the waist and pulled her out of the car only long enough to open the door.

  She slipped in the driver’s seat and put her hands on the steering wheel. Twenty years ago, the actors did the same thing and took off on a journey unlike any other. Closing her eyes, she tried to transport herself to that magic time.

  “I can’t remember what my character would have said at this moment.” He kneeled down by her.

  “That’s okay. After tonight, you’ll know.” With her resolve set, she faced him.

  “Oh, are you going to feed my lines to me?” His eyebrows rose.

  “No, before we do anything else, you need to see your movie.” She made sure not to break eye contact. “I thought we could go back to Chargge’s office. We have a video room there. You need to see it on a real screen.” Though the thought of taking him back to watch it in her bedroom did cross her mind, she had to keep her resolve.

  As if needing a moment to process her words, he stood, walked around in a circle, and returned to his position next to her. “I’ve never seen my movie.”

  “I know.” It took all her strength to hold back a laugh at his admission.

  “If we are going to see it, we will see it my way.” He offered her his hand. “Starting with me driving.”

  She took his hand and let him lead her around to the passenger side.

  While he got settled in the car, she took her time to truly look at the man, an easy yet difficult task. His words said everything. With him, everything would always be his way. He would tell her what to do, he would drive, and he would be the one to drive away after he was done.

  No matter what she couldn’t kiss him again.

  HOLLYWOOD STARDUST

  CUT TO:

  INT. CAR ON THE ROAD IN KANSAS – DAY

  The drive is long, the road desolate with nothing to see. CHARLES is not feeling well. Both WILLIAM and STEVEN are upset after all four of them shared a room the night before, and ROXY opted to share CHARLES’S bed.

  ROXY

  Do you ever feel torn?

  From the front seat, WILLIAM and STEVEN both shoot her a look.

  WILLIAM

  I’m not sure about torn, but I’m sick of people thinking they always need to hide.

  ROXY looks down.

  STEVEN

  Maybe sometimes people hide for a reason.

  WILLIAM

  Yeah, what go
od does it do? It always comes out anyway.

  STEVEN

  How do you know?

  WILLIAM

  Know what?

  STEVEN

  Know if someone is hiding something. Maybe sometimes it comes out, but what about all the things that never do?

  Chapter Seven

  “Ivy?” Logan entered one of the studio’s private screening rooms. Every once in a while his name held some clout after all, or at least a threat. After Ivy let her activity out the bag, he wanted to argue, then he wanted to sit down on what appeared to be her comfortable couch in her apartment and stretch out while she watched the movie and he tried to ignore the travesty.

  However, when he looked down at those pristine pink lips he got to play with the night before asking him to see his own movie, and she coupled her request by pleading with her huge gray eyes, he knew he could deny her nothing, even if it meant two hours and four minutes of torture. He did want to remind her there were far better ways to spend two hours and four minutes.

  “Over here!” She twisted around in her seat and waved to him as if she were guiding him through a crowd.

  He wrinkled his nose at the tiny mock theater boasting about ten plush, oversize, royal-blue velvet chairs, a huge screen, and some of the best projecting equipment money could buy. In these rooms, executives could make a star, or snuff one out, without ever leaving the studio lot. Thankfully, tonight he and Ivy were the only ones here.

  As they had taken the car for a little joy ride, he had made his plans with the studio. They had chatted about the project and shot a little video. Though he’d wanted to ask who the clean-cut gnat was who had decided to show up on his turf, Logan had held his tongue and planned to allow Ivy to make full use of the organ at her earliest convenience. His tongue and mouth happily remained open 24-7 for her to use as she saw fit.

  Once at the studio, Ivy went to the commissary to get some treats and he received a much too detailed lesson of how to use the controls in the room. With the remote created straight from the depths of hell, or some overactive technology hormones, clutched in his hand, he took his seat next to her.

  “Look what I got.” She opened her purse.

  “As long as it’s not nuts, I’m good.” What his brother did to those nuts was, well, envious. But he took the opportunity to do as she asked and look at what she had. On tonight’s menu were her legs, highlighted by her 1960s simple, but sexy, emerald-green minidress and knee-high go-go boots. The peek he got of her thigh might rival her breasts, but he didn’t know why he had to choose.

  With a little giggle, she pulled out some red licorice and opened the package. “Would you like some?”

  The answer to her question was a resounding yes. Well, he wanted some, but not licorice. “Sure.”

  “Here you go.” Her manicured fingernails slowly peeled off a piece of the treat, and she handed it to him. The simple act of candy sharing shouldn’t arouse him, yet he needed to shift in his seat.

  As she crossed her legs, the already short hemline of her dress rode up her leg to an almost inappropriate level.

  He shoved the candy in his mouth and ran his hand through his hair. Her telling him things needed to marinate did throw a monkey wrench into his plans. Of course, they could have sex and not kiss. Problem solved.

  Wait. He was going to be a gentleman and wait for her to make the next move. Gentlemen sucked.

  “Are you okay?” She put the licorice between her teeth and pulled. The red rope extended until it broke, and she smiled as she chewed.

  Good thing they were going to watch a teen movie, since his body decided to behave like an adolescent. Rather than speak, he gave her a thumbs-up.

  “Well, then. Are you ready for your first time?” At her words and the blatant double entendre, she covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Most definitely.” Hell, she opened the door. He merely walked through it. He offered her the remote.

  “I’ll let you do the honors.” Instead of taking the device most women longed to control, she motioned for him to go ahead.

  He lowered the lights and put his finger above the play button, but went no further.

  “Logan?” Her voice came out as a whisper as if she needed to be quiet for the audience.

  “Yes?” His finger remained in the air.

  “Are we going to watch the movie?”

  “That’s why we’re here.” He didn’t move.

  “Logan?” She leaned over, her arm brushing against his.

  “Yes?” Thus far, he’d made it twenty years without seeing the movie. Even at the premiere he’d managed to dodge the entire film. Between the behind the scenes drama with the four of them, and being distracted by the entire fanfare of the whole thing, he never screened the movie all the way through. Now it seemed like he shouldn’t watch it.

  “Are you nervous?”

  “No.” His throat dried out and he swallowed. “Yes.”

  “I get it. It has to be weird to watch yourself, especially with this kind of movie.” Without him instigating, she hooked her arm in his. “I think you may like what you see.”

  He patted her hand. “Is it weird to see this with me?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t seen anything.” She put her finger over his. “Ready?”

  Seriously, a simple touch shouldn’t turn him on, yet here he was. “Absolutely.”

  She pushed his finger down on the button. The studio logo flashed on the screen, the telltale alternative rock music filled their small space, and Ivy gasped.

  Suddenly, the trip to Hollywood Stardust came alive.

  For the first bit of the movie, he fidgeted and got caught up in watching him and his friends, not as William, Steven, Roxanne, and Charles, but as Ryder, Logan, Erin, and Drew. Memories of what happened on set and how their real lives intertwined with the story distracted him.

  As if she inherently understood, Ivy patted him or squeezed his arm at just the right times, and he cocked his head to watch her.

  The flickering light from the screen illuminated her pristine profile, her eyes wide, watching the movie she loved enough to work into her graduate degree. But she didn’t know about the days he was on set with the stomach flu, and how behind the scenes the love triangle depicted in the story played out in real life—but it was more of a square and almost ended all of their friendships. She wasn’t there the day Drew slammed his hand in a door and how he went with him to the hospital to be the buffer between his friend and his parents. She didn’t get that the movie was shot out of order. Combine that with the fact he was teenager himself, plus all the years that passed since then made him forget the plot she knew by heart.

  All she saw was a story she loved.

  He wanted to see the movie she did, and he refocused his attention back to the screen and allowed the story to absorb him.

  Four friends were on slightly different quests, but traveled on the same road. In the BMW he and Ivy drove to the studio, the characters took a trek from Indianapolis to Hollywood, encountering their trials and tribulations, a carnival, a bad hotel room, a car breaking down, lack of money, infighting, even an impromptu visit to his on-screen grandparents for some comfort.

  One hundred and twenty-four minutes of teen angst—the struggle to break free but the need to go home. The search for love and acceptance, not only by one’s peers, but internally.

  By the time Charles flew home to make it back in time for school the next day, William and Roxy had kissed outside the theater to go fulfill their destiny and Steven had driven away. Logan finally understood.

  Steven had driven away.

  Steven, not Logan, but Logan wasn’t ready for the story to end.

  A hollow sensation took over his chest. He watched the screen while the credits rolled and the music resumed.

  Everything made sense. The fans, their reactions to him and his character, why Ivy needed to correct him at every turn. At last he understood why the film had such a following, why they begged for
the sequel, and why no one would ever forgive them for not finishing the story.

  No one would ever forgive him.

  Not Steven, but Logan.

  He would forever be responsible for Steven driving away and the world not knowing what happened when Roxy opened her eyes and watched him go.

  Lost in the world of Hollywood Stardust, he finally realized Ivy hadn’t moved in quite a while, and he turned to her.

  She simply stared straight ahead with the light flickering on her face and tears twinkling down her cheeks.

  He opened his mouth, but then closed it, turning away to give her a moment. After what seemed like much longer than necessary, he faced her again.

  The tears continued, accompanied by little sniffs.

  Her reaction was bigger than the movie. The last few days had to take a toll on her. They had had more twists and turns than a ride across the country in a BMW. “Ivy?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head, grimacing as if something hurt.

  Not sure what action to take, he slid up in the chair. “Are you all right?”

  A squeak left her throat and she swallowed.

  “Speak to me.” He got on his knees in front of her and took her by the shoulders. “Ivy.”

  She inhaled, her breath hitching. “He just drives away.” With the words out, she lowered her head. Her whole body shook as she let the emotion out.

  A crying female, more accurately a crying Ivy, ignited a primal instinct he didn’t know existed, and he pulled her into his arms. “Come here.”

  “Logan.” With a sigh, she gave in and hugged him.

  “I’m here.” He ran his fingers through her hair.

  “Every time I see it, though I know how it will end, I think he’ll turn around.” Her fingers toyed with his shirt collar. “I wanted Roxy and Steven to be together.”

  “You did?” He tilted his head. Did they watch the same movie? Still, he pulled her a tad closer. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. Steven needed someone, and no one understood him like Roxy. I think she was scared to love him.” She looked down.