Hello, Hollywood!

by Janice Thompson

  He paused, and silence wrapped us in its embrace. “When her mom took off at such a young age, it was like revisiting my childhood all over again,” he said at last. “Those feelings of abandonment are hard to erase. And I feel like I’ve spent a lot of my life trying to be the funny guy so that I don’t have to deal with the harsh realities of single parenting. I don’t want Brooke to spend the rest of her life in counseling, trying to get over the awful life she had as a kid. I just want her to be carefree. Have fun.”

  “She doesn’t have a horrible life,” I said. “And just for the record, all girls go through a bunch of emotions when they’re preteens. I remember crying for absolutely no reason.”

  “Really?”

  “Oh yeah. I was a mess. And I had the ideal family situation. Honestly, being eleven, almost twelve, is so hard. Your body is changing. Your emotions are changing. And I’m sure this move from Las Vegas to L.A. was pretty startling too.”

  “I thought she could have a better life here than in Vegas. That’s such a strange place for a kid to grow up.”

  “She can have a better life here.” I felt a smile wriggle its way up from deep inside me. “And now that she’s landed on the Pappas doorstep, we’ll do what we can to help. I promise.”

  “That’s just it.” His expression shifted. “You don’t know how many times I came close to having an ideal situation as a kid. A couple of the homes I stayed in were really nice. But something always happened. The rug got yanked out from under me. What happens if I lose this writing gig at Stars Collide and have to look for work in another city? Then what? She loses your family and all of those relationships.”

  I hardly knew how to respond. First of all, it had never occurred to me that Stephen really thought his job might be in jeopardy. Second, I couldn’t imagine my family leaving Brooke hanging like that. She’d become part of us. Even if she moved away—my chest began to ache at that thought—she would always know she was loved.

  “Why do you think I’m trying so hard to come up with new and original ideas for the show?” he asked. “And why do you think I’m taking that plotting class?”

  “To drive me crazy?”

  “No.” He laughed. “That’s just an added benefit. I’m doing all of this to let Rex know he hasn’t made a mistake in hiring me. I have to stick around. Being in L.A. means the world to my daughter. And now that she’s met you . . .” He looked into my eyes and smiled. “Well, you and your family. Now that she’s met all of you, it would rip her apart to pull her away.”

  “You won’t have to. I have a feeling you’re here to stay.”

  “I hope so,” he whispered. His hand reached for mine, and he pulled me close. “That’s what I want.”

  My heart began to race as I whispered, “Me too.”

  “Just for the record, I love working with you. And there’s something to be said for being a sitcom writer. We have the most powerful job in the world. You know that, right?”

  “Most powerful? What do you mean?” Most of the time I felt pretty powerless, actually.

  “We get to push people around on paper all day. We write a scene and plop them down in it. The actors and actresses get all the glory, but in reality they’re just doing what we tell them to do. They follow the script that we write.”

  I had to wonder what he was trying to get at.

  “Following the script is easy when you trust the writer,” he said. “That’s kind of my philosophy about life too.”

  “Care to elaborate?”

  “Sure. I believe that God is ultimately in control, but I know that he gives us free will.”

  “Right.”

  “It’s what we do with our free will that matters. Do we bow to his plan for our lives—that is, stick to the script—or bolt? Write our own lines? Does that make sense?”

  “Perfect sense,” I said.

  “Yeah.” He drew me so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Pushing characters around on paper is fun. But sometimes I find myself waiting around for the next real-life scene, thinking I can somehow control where things are going to go, like I do when I’m writing a script for the show.”

  “Really?” Where are you headed with this? I’d just started to ask him when the serious expression on his face shifted into a sly grin.

  “Yes, really. For example, I’d be willing to bet you didn’t pencil this into the next scene.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned in to kiss me. My heart skipped into overdrive. What was happening here? For a moment I wasn’t sure what to do. How would I have written this scene? Would the heroine fight off the advances—if, in fact, these were advances—or would she succumb?

  I never had a chance to complete that thought. As Stephen’s lips met mine, I melted like butter in the sun. Hmm. Too cliché. I melted like a chocolate bar on a s’more.

  Enough with the food analogies. I melted. And as the kiss lingered, I melted some more. I found myself distracted, thinking about this moment in writers’ terms. How would I describe this scene in a script? I’d have to say something about tingles running down my spine, right? Nah, that was probably overused. If this happened to be one of those cheesy romance novels, I’d throw in something about Stephen’s rippling abs or his broad, manly shoulders. He did have great abs, and his shoulders were nothing to sneeze at, so I wouldn’t have to exaggerate. Then again, if this happened to be one of those really sleazy, over-the-top romance novels, I’d have to add something about heaving bosoms. They always talked about heaving bosoms.

  Nah. I was woefully underqualified to write about that. Now, if we were writing about cellulite in someone’s thighs . . . that I could address with some degree of authority.

  Focus, Athena.

  Of course, if I decided to write about this, I’d have to use the word fire. Romance writers always equated kissing with fire, though for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

  Stephen tightened his grip around my waist, and our kiss deepened. Now I understood why they used the word fire.

  Okay, enough kissing.

  By the time we came up for air, my eyes had filled with tears. I was a puddle. In a good way. Thankfully, we were already in a pool. I gazed into Stephen’s eyes—eyes sparkling with merriment—and sighed.

  Good grief. He was right—I’d never seen this one coming. Thank goodness. Being caught off guard was so much more fun.

  From one of the upstairs bedroom windows, a couple of girls let out squeals. I heard Trina’s voice as she hollered, “I told you they were going to kiss. You owe me a hundred dollars.”

  Brooke responded by calling out, “Dad, can I borrow a hundred dollars?”

  “I see she has your sense of humor,” I managed.

  “Guess she does. I’ll loan it to you at 17 percent interest,” he hollered up at her. “Payable on a four-year loan. If you don’t pay it all back by the time you’re sixteen, you can’t date. Ever.”

  “What? No fair!” She began to rant about his terms, and he chuckled.

  “She’s definitely my child.”

  Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any more embarrassing, Mama came outside. “What’s going on out here? I thought I heard shouting.”

  Stephen and I put a little space between us.

  “They’re kissing, Aunt Thera,” Mary shouted down from the window. “We made a bet and Trina won. A hundred dollars.”

  “Kissing?” Mama looked my way and clasped her hands together at her chest. “There is a God and he loves me!”

  I had a sudden, overwhelming desire to drown myself. Well, not technically drown myself, but to swim to some distant shore where no one knew I’d just been kissed. By a really handsome guy. In my family’s swimming pool.

  In the Pappas household, however, everyone knew everything about everyone. And right now, it looked like everyone included Bob and Paul. By the time Stephen and I had gotten out of the pool and wrapped ourselves in towels, our fellow writers had joined us.

&nb
sp; “Something you want to tell us, kids?” Bob asked. “’Cause the girls upstairs are coming up with a whopper of a story about the two of you. Just verifying their tale to find out if it’s fact or fiction.”

  I groaned. “Bob, do we have to do this? It’s humiliating enough that the girls were spying on us.”

  “Oh, so it is true.” He chuckled. “I knew it. Thought maybe I’d picked up on that vibe earlier in the day.”

  Aunt Melina joined the party next. “Athena, come inside and have some coffee and diples. A party isn’t a party without you. We’ll celebrate your new relationship.”

  Lovely. Next they’d offer to throw an engagement party.

  “Diples?” Bob glanced at my aunt. “Do you mind if I ask what that is?”

  “It’s a Greek sopapilla that’s topped with honey, walnuts, and cinnamon,” she explained.

  “Sounds great.” He turned and disappeared into the house, chattering about how great it was to be back in California. Paul followed behind him, turning only for a moment to give me a curious glance. I’d have to explain later that Stephen wasn’t really the threat we’d made him out to be. He was a great guy. A really great guy.

  “I can’t believe she made diples.” Stephen looked my way and sighed. “Nona would have been proud. I’ve definitely landed in the right family.”

  “Oh you have, have you?” I shivered and pulled the towel a little tighter.

  Stephen drew close, the moonlight reflected in his eyes. “I have,” he whispered, then kissed the tip of my nose. “And just so you know, this has pretty much been the best day of my life.”

  “Following my parents around and finding out what makes them tick?” I asked.

  “No.” He brushed my hair off my face. “Following their daughter around and finding out what makes her tick.”

  “Great line, Dad,” Brooke hollered from the window above.

  “But I think you need to work on your delivery,” Trina threw in. “You’re a great writer, but not the best actor.”

  Stephen groaned, then glanced upward. “For your information, I’m not acting.” He looked at me and shrugged. “Sorry. I forgot they were up there.”

  I glanced up, noticing that all three girls were going to topple out of the upstairs window if we didn’t end this show by going inside. Still, there was one lingering thing I needed to take care of. “This was one of the best days of my life too,” I whispered as I reached up and gave Adonis—er, Stephen—a kiss on the cheek.

  “Hey, Dad,” Brooke called down. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure you two are at Step 9 on the plotline.”

  “What?” He looked up, squinting against the light coming from the window above.

  “I’ve been reading your notes during the day when you’re at work. You know, from that class you’re taking. That kissing scene was a Step 9 if I ever saw one.”

  “Step 9, eh?” I grinned. “Wonder what that one is.”

  “A ‘Moment of Triumph,’” he said. “It’s a pretty good place to be at. Unfortunately, it’s followed shortly thereafter by the ‘Ultimate Test’—that point in the story where you have to prove you’ve got the goods.”

  “That’s the point where the hero and heroine have to jump back into the action to see if they’ve learned their lesson,” Brooke called out. “Have you?”

  Good question. I really had learned a lot over the past few days. I’d learned to guard myself from judging people too quickly. I’d learned some things about myself too. Looked like the pain from my past relationship really was behind me now. I was free to move on. And who better to move on with than the man standing in front of me now?

  From inside my house, I heard music playing. For a minute I thought the girls had put it on. Only when I heard the familiar Greek song did I realize the music was coming from the living room. Still wrapped in a towel, I took Stephen by the hand and led him into the house. Once inside, I rubbed the chlorine out of my eyes and found Aunt Melina and Milo dancing. Together. As a couple. They pulled Paul and Bob into their circle, followed by Mama and Babbas. Before long, Stephen and I had been ushered into the fold.

  We formed a serpentine line, then wove around in circles, everyone laughing and singing. Well, Paul wasn’t exactly singing. And I guess you couldn’t really call it dancing either, but he gave it the old college try.

  Brooke and the other girls showed up seconds later, their eyes wide.

  “It’s the Tsamiko,” Trina said. She took Brooke by the hand and pulled her into the circle. I could tell the preteen wasn’t keen on the idea, but she stuck with it just the same. I watched as she eventually ended up in her daddy’s arms, the little princess twirling around the floor, safe in her father’s embrace. In that moment, the most amazing feeling washed over me. How safe she must feel. How cherished.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Milo and Aunt Melina. He pulled her into his arms and spun her around the dance floor. She giggled as she lingered in his embrace.

  Crazy. If I’d been writing this scene, I would have added . . . Actually, nothing. I would have added absolutely nothing.

  Oh, we could have penciled all of this into a workable script, but it wouldn’t have had the same punch. Some moments were simply divine. God-breathed. You couldn’t plan or predict them. And, frankly, those moments suddenly held far more appeal than all of the scripted ones in the world.

  Aunt Melina picked up the pace, leading us into another variation of the dance. Milo followed suit, a broad smile on his face. The two of them put on quite a show as they shouted “opa!” and lifted handkerchiefs in the air.

  I wanted to shout too. For in that instant, with the people I loved dancing around me, I found myself in a near-perfect moment. A holy moment. And as Stephen glanced my way, his beautiful brown eyes locking firmly onto mine, I realized the yeast had done its work. Looked like our feelings were definitely on the rise.

  The rest of the weekend was spent floating on a cloud. After years of being a happy single, I suddenly found myself caught up in a whirlwind of romantic bliss. Opa! Of course, I realized that my relationship with Stephen came with an extra surprise package—an eleven-year-old. How would Brooke feel about having a twenty-eight-year-old as a potential mother figure?

  Am I a potential mother figure? Wow.

  How quickly my feelings seemed to be growing. However, I realized in that moment what all of this must be like for Brooke. I didn’t exactly fit the mold, did I? Sure, I played with the nieces and nephew. I’d spent a lot of time around kids. But what would Brooke think about me?

  By the time Monday rolled around, I’d settled the issue in my mind. Instead of rushing ahead, I would take one day at a time. Wasn’t that what the Bible said I should do? Sure. I’d ease my way into this relationship, and God would take care of the details. They were his to deal with anyway.

  As I pulled into the studio parking lot on Monday morning, I did my best to push my personal life to the background and focus only on events related to Stars Collide. The Snidely Whiplash episode would be shot this week, and we were already hard at work on new material for next week’s show. My parents had given us lots of fodder, especially that stuff about ending up in prison. No telling what would end up in our next script.

  I’d no sooner parked my car than Rex and Lenora pulled into the spot next to me in her pink convertible.

  “G’morning, princess!” Lenora called out. She gave me a queenly wave.

  I watched as Rex got out of the car and went around to open her door for her. What would that feel like, to have a man care enough about you to open your door? Did I need that? Well, I might not need it, but as I watched the smile on Lenora’s face, I realized suddenly that I wanted it.

  Lenora pointed to her gown. “Can you guess who I am today, Athena? C’mon. Guess!”

  “Hmm.” I squinted against the morning sunlight, trying to figure it out. Only when she began to hum the melody to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” did I get it. “Mary Poppins?”

/>   “That’s right!” She pointed to her dress. “This is the gown Julie Andrews wore when she flew into town on her umbrella.” Lenora giggled and extended her hand in Rex’s direction. “My parasol, young man.”

  He handed her a frilly umbrella, which she opened. Holding it above her head, she closed her eyes. Moments later, when nothing happened, she sighed. “Guess I’ve lost the magic.”

  “Oh no, sweet girl.” Rex drew her close and kissed her cheek. “You’ll never lose the magic. Not in my book, anyway.”

  Ah, love. How wonderful it made you feel. You really could rise above the circumstances when love swept in. Grab hold of the umbrella and fly away together—over the horizon.

  These thoughts, of course, led right back to thoughts about Stephen. I scolded myself and tried to focus on my work, not my love life.

  I followed Rex and Lenora into the studio, where we all stumbled upon Kat and Scott in a lip-lock. Wow. Was everyone feeling romantic this morning?

  Obviously not. Tia and Jason stood off in the distance, arguing about something to do with camera angles. Nothing new there. They were always bickering about this or that. Still, there seemed to be a certain romantic spark in the air. I couldn’t deny it, even when I listened to the bantering between director and cameraman. And when I made it to our office and saw Stephen for the first time—Be still my heart! He looks amazing in those jeans!—it was all I could do to keep my thoughts in line.

  He whispered a playful, “Good morning,” and I responded with a smile. I could feel Paul’s eyes on us but did my best to ignore him. No doubt this had to be confusing to him. One minute I couldn’t stand the new writer, the next I was dating him.

  “Hey.” Paul shook his head, a sour look on his face. “Where’s the food?”

  “Huh?”

  “The leftovers from Super-Gyros. It’s Monday. You always bring food on Monday. For as long as I can remember.”

  “Ah.” I paused. “Well, we were together all weekend, so I figured . . .”