WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR: a nostalgic romantic comedy (Boston Classics Book 1)

by Karen Grey

  Even though I get why financials are such an issue for him, I wish he weren’t so stubborn about it. “We wouldn’t have to stay in a hotel. Everybody has giant houses down there, and you could stay with a cousin if it’s too weird to stay at my parents’ house. That part is easy.” He just stares at the ceiling. I bite my tongue. Let him get used to the idea before pushing further.

  “What’s the actual date?” he finally asks.

  I hop up to grab my planner. “Saturday, July second.” I tap on the date. “Yeah, Monday is the fourth. An actual holiday for me. Another reason I have to go, since I can’t really use the work excuse.”

  As much as I’d love to have him there, the look on his face tells me I need to backpedal. “You know what, I’m a big girl. I can face my family on my own.” I drop my planner on the nightstand and paint a smile on my face. “You don’t have to come. I better call her back though.”

  I pick up the cordless phone and stare at it, psyching myself up for the conversation. I have to ward off my mom’s worries that I’m always on the verge of a nervous breakdown. My parents never quite got over how I fell apart after the mess with Jonathan.

  Will grabs my hand. “Wait. You want me to go with you?”

  “Um.” My head and heart haggle for a moment. Heart wins. “Yes?”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  I grab his hand and squeeze. “Yes. If I have to go, I’d rather you be there.”

  He shrugs. “Then I’ll go.” Like he’s really okay with it. He points a finger at me. “But I have to be back Sunday morning to help Deb and Pam. They throw a huge barbeque every Fourth of July weekend. It’s a big deal to them.”

  “Even better.” My faux casual tone probably doesn’t cover my relief and excitement at the prospect of having not just a date for a family wedding, but a date that I actually care about. “Gives us an excuse to escape right after the wedding. Are you sure? Because I should probably call a travel agent and buy the tickets first thing tomorrow.”

  He hesitates for a moment, but then says, “Yes. I’m sure. Let’s do it.”

  “Okay, it’s your funeral,” I joke, and then dial my parents’ number before either of us can change our minds.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  BEEP. MONDAY, 5:15 p.m.

  Hi, it’s Kate. Hope your first day as a movie star went well! Just letting you know I got plane tickets for the wedding. They were super cheap so don’t worry. We leave Friday morning and get back Sunday morning before eleven. Hope that’s okay. Bye!

  WILL

  The first day on set felt like a week of days. When I get home all I want to do is go to bed. But I need some healthy calories in my body, so I make a quick egg scramble.

  Deb appears in the kitchen doorway while I’m listening to my messages. “You’re going to a wedding with her?”

  Ignoring her, I take my dinner into the living room. Pam is half-asleep on the couch, and Letterman is on with the volume turned low. “What are you guys doing up?”

  Deb pushes me onto the couch, probably so she can feel like she’s towering over me. “Will. Going to a wedding with a girl means something.”

  I sit back, putting my feet on the coffee table. “I thought you’d be happy about this. I’ll be back in time for the party.” I fork up a big bite.

  “I am happy that you are dating again. And I like Kate. A lot. We both do, right, Pam? Pam!”

  Pam flinches. “Uh, yeah.” Her voice is scratchy. “I thought we stayed up to ask Will about the movie?”

  “Yes, but then he dropped the bombshell that he’s not going to be here the day before our party because he’s going to a wedding with Kate! Aren’t you concerned?”

  Pam doesn’t answer right away. When I look over, she blinks in slo-mo. “Yes?”

  “You guys didn’t have to wait up.”

  Deb points at my plate. “Do you want me to make you some toast to go with that?”

  “Nah, that’s okay. I need some decent food.” I calculate the amount of junk food I ate over the course of the day. “Craft service tables are evil. Candy and soda just begging you to inhale them so you’ll stay alert.” I stare at the TV, half my brain taking in Dave’s top ten list. “It’s weirdly exhausting to sit around waiting all day.”

  Deb grabs my arm, stopping my fork halfway to my mouth. “Listen. I just want to make sure you know what you’re doing. You go to a wedding with a girl? You. Are. Dating. No questions. You might as well have said the ‘L’ word. And I don’t mean lesbian.” She pokes Pam, who has fallen asleep. “Pam, this is important. I need your support here.”

  Her eyes closed, she mumbles at the ceiling. “Okay. But can this go faster? I have an eight o’clock call tomorrow that involves operating heavy machinery.”

  “It’s just⁠…” I put down the fork and rub my eyes, the nervous energy that had been keeping me going all day rapidly draining away. “She looked so... beaten listening to her mom on her answering machine. Which is so unlike her. Kate’s a fighter. She doesn’t think she is, but it’s amazing how she deals with all the assholes at work. But one phone call from her mom, and she’s a mess.” I sigh. “I wanted to make it better.”

  I shove another forkful of food into my mouth. “Plus, I like weddings,” I say with my mouth full.

  Deb pilfers a spear of broccoli. “All right, it’s your funeral.”

  “Funny. That’s what she said.” I swat her hand away when she goes in for a slice of pepper. “Hey, hands off.”

  She sits back with a huff, somehow snatching the pepper and popping it into her mouth before I can stop her. “Okay, Pammie. We can go to bed now. I’ve done my best here.”

  Pam sits up, blinking blearily. “But what about the movie?”

  I lean forward to grab the napkin I’d dropped on the coffee table. “It was fine. Kind of fun, actually. The other actor is great. We only had one talk-through of the scene with the director, but he pulled me aside and we rehearsed on our own. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him.”

  “What’s his name?” Pam asks.

  I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. “Graham Wolfson. Do you know him?” Man, I hope I have enough energy to walk to my bedroom. And to get up and do this all over again.

  “Oh, yeah,” Pam says over a yawn. “I know that guy.”

  Deb whaps me on the back of the head. “You should’ve told us it was him before. I was a dresser on a show he did at the Huntington! He’s so nice.”

  “Yeah, I guess I haven’t been around to talk about it much.”

  Pam pokes me. “But how was the lighting? The set?”

  I haul myself to my feet, yawning again. “Oh. The set is really just a park bench. The lighting was… hot? I mean, we were outside, where it was hot, but then they also used lights and this reflector making it even hotter. ’Scuse me.” I edge between Deb’s knees and the coffee table. “Which actually made it hard to deal with the costume because I kept getting sweaty. The costume person whipped my shirt off every time we had a break.”

  Deb gets up and turns off the TV. “Yeah, I bet it was because you were so sweaty. You are so clueless. Okay, Pammie. Time for bed.”

  “Yaaay.” Pam yawns and holds out her hand.

  Deb pulls her out of the chair and drags her down the hall, the pair chattering sleepily on their way to bed.

  Is she right? Am I setting Kate up for disappointment? I check my watch. Almost one a.m. Way too late to call her. Even leaving a message would wake her up. Hopefully, I’ll catch her tomorrow.

  At the end of the lunch break later that week, Cliff, the assistant director, taps me on the shoulder. “Somebody’s waving at you, Will.”

  My grip tightens on the script he just handed me. I worked hard to memorize my lines last night, but apparently they’ve done rewrites. I hadn’t known things could change like this.

  Kate’s still a welcome sight. As she steps off the path onto the grass, she stumbles. Before I can even get to my feet, a tall guy swoops in t
o catch her elbow.

  Hot Steve. Great. She travels with the guy all the time these days. You’d think she’d want a break from him.

  Cliff’s walkie-talkie squawks, and he rattles off what sounds like trucker-speak before clapping me on the back. “Need anything else, man?”

  “No, thanks. Except⁠⁠—” I hold up a hand to stop him. “That’s my, uh, girlfriend.” I’ve never called her that before, but it seems easiest to explain her presence that way. “And a guy she works with. Is there a good place for them to watch from?”

  “Oh, sure. I’ll get them a couple of chairs. They can watch the monitor.” Cliff points across the set. “If you take them over to the sound guy’s cart, he might have a couple extra headsets. Then they can hear, too.”

  “Great, thanks, Cliff.”

  “No problem.” He listens to the walkie-talkie again. “You’ve got a couple minutes. They’re still working on that camera move.”

  “Got it.” As Cliff heads toward the clump of directors’ chairs, I cross the grass to meet Kate and Steve. “Hey, glad you could make it.” I step between them to kiss Kate—lingeringly, on the lips—before shaking Steve’s hand. “Good to see you, Steve. I’m glad you guys could get away from work.”

  Steve flashes his salesman smile. “Jay said it’d be cool to check it out.”

  Kate reaches for me, but then hesitates. “Can I hug you? I don’t want to rumple that fancy suit.” She turns to Steve. “He almost looks like one of you.”

  “What—a Brad/Mark/Steve?” He grins at her. A little too affectionately.

  I step close, grab her hand and squeeze it as I tip my chin in the direction of the wardrobe trailer. “Yeah, Annie doesn’t like me to do anything when I’ve got this thing on. But I think I can kiss you without wrinkling it.” I plant another one on her.

  “I can’t believe how many people are here,” Steve’s saying. “I thought this was a low-budget thing.”

  “It takes a lot of people to make a movie.” I shrug. “There are a few student interns. But most of the crew are union pros.”

  One hand still clasped in mine, Kate uses her other as a sunshade as she scans the set. “I guess it’s why movies are such a risky investment. It’s a huge initial outlay for an unpredictable yield. How do they even deal with balance sheets or convertible assets year over year, I wonder?” I can almost see the adding machine running in her head. She points at one of the trucks, where grips are moving the giant sail-like structures that filter and reflect light. “It’s not just people, but all this equipment.”

  “That must put a lot of pressure on you,” Steve says.

  I nod. “Yeah, I mean, I put a lot of pressure on myself no matter what. But the producers do have a lot riding on this.”

  “I don’t know how you⁠—” Steve starts.

  “Will, we need you on set!” the second AD calls, interrupting Steve.

  I wave to let her know I’ve heard, then turn back to my visitors. “Sorry, I gotta go, but I think I can get you situated first.” Still holding Kate’s hand, I search for a PA. I’ve done my best to learn their names this time. “Jimmy! Hey, these are my friends Kate and Steve. Cliff said they could watch at the sound cart. Would you mind taking them over there?”

  “Sure thing, Will.” The skinny redheaded kid grins and gestures toward one of the tents, holding tight to his clipboard. “Right this way.”

  “Thanks, Jimmy.” I squeeze Kate’s hand. “I’ll see you in a bit. Hopefully we can talk before you have to leave.”

  After giving her another quick kiss, I jog over to the bench, handing my script to the second AD before sitting and closing my eyes to allow the makeup person to dab at my face as I go over lines in my head again. I really hope I don’t screw this up.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never worked on a film before. Your instincts are spot on, Will.”

  “Wow, thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

  It’s the end of the week, and Graham and I are sitting on what now feels like our park bench for the fifth day in a row, waiting for the crew to change the camera and lighting setup. Usually we’d head back to the trailers to wait, but the director said it’d be a quick turnaround. Graham claims that we’re actually moving along at a good clip, especially for the size of the budget, but that’s hard to believe.

  He stretches his legs out in front of him. “Why haven’t you done this before? You’ve been out of school, what, five years?”

  “Six, actually. It’s just… I guess I’m just a theatre geek at heart.” I squelch the defensiveness that even I can hear in my tone. I have a lot of respect for Graham. “I’ve been working constantly onstage since I graduated. I didn’t want to complicate that with running around to auditions for commercials and stuff.”

  He wears an expression I’ve seen from his character, like he’s been around the block a few more times than I have.

  I shake my head. “Just say it.”

  He spreads his arms wide on the back of the bench. “Nothing, but—you’re a bartender, right?”

  When I nod, he raises one scruffy, graying brow. “I know actors who are still bartending at forty, fifty years old. And they are not happy. Their feet are really not happy. Eventually, working for peanuts gets old. Being poor wears on you.”

  I look out over the park where a now-familiar crowd of curious tourists stares at us like we’re animals in a zoo. “When did you start doing on-camera stuff?”

  “I did anything and everything they’d pay me to do—voiceover, industrials, commercials, TV, sometimes even stuff that barely paid if it was good work—as soon as I got out of school.”

  “Even stupid commercials?”

  “Whatever paid the rent. I’d rather get paid to act than scrounge for pennies in other ways.” He shrugs. “But that’s me.”

  “Graham! That reporter’s here to do the interview!” The second AD waves from the trailer. “Will, you can take a break. Sorry, guys, we’re on hold for twenty,” she shouts to the crew.

  Graham stands, a hand on my shoulder. “Listen, if you want an intro to the other casting directors in town, I’m happy to do that for you.”

  “Thanks. Wow. Yeah, I’ll take you up on that.”

  Graham ambles over to the second AD, who’s impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet. While part of me still resists this work, steadfastly—or stubbornly—hanging on to the idea that theater is the only place where “real” acting happens, another part of me knows that his mentorship would be invaluable.

  I lie down on the bench, looking up through the trees to the blue sky beyond. I’d love a theatre career like Graham has. Maybe doing all that other stuff made the roles Graham’s played onstage possible, rather than impeding his progress. Maybe I am just being pigheaded.

  My mom and Deb and Kate would probably agree with that assessment.

  And then it hits me. I could use the money from this job to cover the fees and travel for the Society of Stage Combat Directors conference in Las Vegas. Going through their fight director certification is high on my list of career goals.

  I sit up. Wasn’t that kid Jimmy saying he and his buddies were looking for a project to shoot and edit for some class? I scan the faces of the crew hanging around the camera truck. When I find Jimmy’s, I jump up to jog his way.

  Maybe I can make this job pay off in more ways than one.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  BEEP. FRIDAY, 7:15 a.m.

  Good morning, Katie Mae. This is your mother. Just wanted to say that we’re looking forward to meeting your young man and not to worry, we’ll find him somewhere nice to stay. Don’t make any extra plans because we need all hands on deck. All right, sweetheart, we’ll see you soon. Bye, now.

  KATE

  The days leading up to my cousin’s wedding have flown by. Roland’s back in the hospital due to some further complications from surgery, but he promises he’s on the mend. I’m really hoping it won’t be a problem for me to take next Friday off to go to the wed
ding. Not too long ago, I’d have welcomed the excuse to skip it.

  But now… flights are booked and Alice has lent me a dress so I don’t even have to go shopping. To be honest, the prospect of a weekend away with Will has me fired up like a venture capitalist for a hot IPO. Between the bar, the show and the film shoot, Will’s been booked solid lately—plus I’ve had out-of-town trips—so even our late-night visits have been few and far between. The only place I saw him this week was on the film set.

  I’m even kind of looking forward to the wedding itself. If the relatives get too nosy, I can always distract them by getting Will to talk about his movie.

  I’ve already dropped the fact that I’m dating a “film actor” to the secretaries at work. Since then, they’ve actually remembered my name.

  Maybe it would be the same with my family.

  My many aunts, uncles and cousins may know my name, but they have a really hard time remembering what I do or why I’m in Boston doing it. They just want to know when I’m moving home to start a family. As if that’s all I should aim for. I’m having fun with Will, and so far there’s been no opportunity cost to my career.

  Which is the most important thing.

  To me.

  Maybe, just maybe, my family will see that I’m happy. On my terms.

  That afternoon as Steve opens the door of the third new investment group for whom we’re to perform our dog-and-pony show today, I square my shoulders, lift my chin and picture myself as a lioness. Almost effortlessly, a predatory smile lifts the corners of my mouth. Will would be so proud. Turns out I’m a pretty good actress.

  My fake-it-till-you-make-it demeanor seems to throw these old men and young turks so completely off guard that they lap up everything we serve them. Steve can’t stop high-fiving me in the car or talking about how big his bonus is going to be this year. I’d be having the time of my life if guilt about the article I read in the paper just this morning about the widening gap between the super-rich and the desperately poor wasn’t nagging at me.