by Dori Lavelle
I’m not sure we would be offered food even though we will be spending the entire day on set. I brought my own lunch just in case.
I find Tori, the costume lady inside the makeshift changing room—a tent. She’s fixing the hem of one of the actresses’ skirts. Her honey blond hair is held together by a pencil on the top of her head, a needle with a thread hanging from it dangles from her lips.
She is so busy that she doesn’t respond when I greet her. There are so many people vying for her attention. I’m among the lucky few who already have our costumes. I’m already dressed anyway.
Many people are walking around, most half naked as they search for their clothes on the racks.
I walk around various props and make my way out of the tent to see if I can find someone else that I know.
Adrenaline rushes through me when I spot Dax standing next to a white caravan. He looks devastatingly handsome in blue jeans and a white polo shirt. Someone is talking to him, but he doesn’t seem to be listening as his eyes land on me.
I can’t look away. Something about him drugs me. I’ve read everything about him on the internet and most of it wasn’t good. But the person I have come to know for a few seconds, the person who had encouraged me to go for this opportunity, didn’t seem so bad. I guess everyone has to make their own experiences sometimes. We can’t always judge someone based on what others think and say about them. The press is infamous for editing the truth so it suits them.
I’m afraid to approach Dax. I don’t really know him, and it might not be my place to be talking to the major actors. But before I can walk away to mingle with people at my level, he moves away from the trailer and starts to walk in my direction.
Oh God. This can’t be happening. But it is.
When he’s close enough, he stretches out a hand and I find myself accepting it. Our eyes meet. Neither of us speaks as we stand hand in hand. His grip is a little too firm, but I don’t mind.
Finally, I slide my hand from his and drop it to my side, still tingling from his touch. My mind instantly returns to the image of him back at the hotel, with water glistening on his tanned skin, faint dark hairs peeking out of the towel around his waist.
“Nice to see you again, towel girl.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “You auditioned after all. I’m pleased to see you here.”
“Thank you for encouraging me.” My gaze sweeps the large grounds. “I’m really excited to be a part of this movie.”
“I do have to warn you that it’s going to be a very long day. Filming a movie is not as easy as many people believe.”
“Any tips you’d like to share?” I cannot believe I’m chatting with a major celebrity as though we know each other, as though we’re old friends.
“Only one.” He pushes his hands into his pockets and leans back in a relaxed manner. His gaze holds onto mine. “Just be yourself. We saw potential in you at the hotel. Now it’s time for you to show that potential to everyone else. You never know where a moment might take you.”
I don’t know what potential he’s talking about. He hasn’t seen me act. But who cares. If Dax Pierce sees potential in me, who am I to disagree?
“Thanks,” I say as butterflies come to life in my belly, snatching my breath. “Yeah. Thanks again.” I avert my gaze. I’m feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “I better go and find out what I’m supposed to do.”
“Sure. See you around.” His eyes linger on my face for a moment before I turn away.
As I distance myself from him, I can feel his gaze on my back. Dax Pierce. I will be in a movie with Dax Pierce. It feels like a dream. Miracles really do happen. I feel the urge to pinch myself to make sure I’m not dreaming.
I find the assistant director, a stocky man with a braided beard, chatting with a group of women at the entrance of the main building. He tucks a clipboard under his arm and gives me a few short instructions that make me nervous. He doesn’t really go into detail and he speaks so fast it’s hard to catch what he’s saying.
“Just be yourself,” he says, repeating the same words Dax had said to me. “Be in the moment. We’ll show you what to do before we start filming. As long as you follow instructions you’ll be fine.” He walks away to attend to more important members of the cast.
An hour goes by and I’m still not called into the building. As I wait, I sit on one of the benches outside the building, surfing the internet for tips on how to act.
“Emma Stanton,” someone finally calls my name.
“Yes.” I look up. The sun is so bright in my eyes that I shade them with my hand. It’s the assistant producer.
“We’re ready for you. Come with me.”
On our way into the building, other extras are called to follow us. The instructions are brief but clear. There’s no time to waste.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. When lunchtime comes around, I’m ready to drop, exhausted, my arm aching from holding a silver tray with drinks on it, and from repeating the same words over and over again. “What may I offer you to drink, sir?”
Twice I had dropped the tray and the glasses had fallen to the floor. Lucky for me, even though they give the illusion of being made out of real glass, they were actually hard plastic. Nothing got broken.
Dax had been one of the men at the table I was serving. It was hard not to stare at him the entire time. When I came close to him, placing a glass in front of him, I’d caught a whiff of his manly cologne. It was hard to keep my control with him around, but I didn’t make a fool of myself.
We find a separate tent set up outside for the extras and less important members of the cast. I’m a little disappointed as we are ushered inside. I won’t get to see or speak to Dax. I sit next to Miriam Gleeson, a waitress at The Lamb. I try to bond with her over how amazing it is to be acting in a major film, but she pretends not to know me.
Could she be jealous? Unlike her, I actually had some words to say on the film. All she did was stand at the door of the restaurant, nodding as guests entered.
I ignore her and enjoy my chicken salad. I spend my time talking to people who want to talk to me. As soon as I’m done eating, I walk out of the tent to get some fresh air before the filming starts again.
I find Dax Pierce standing at the entrance of the trailer he had been in front of when we spoke earlier. He’s smoking a cigarette. The smoke swirling around him gives him an air of mystery.
This time I’m the one who gets up the courage to approach him, butterflies going wild in my stomach.
“You were great in there,” he says when I get to him. “Have you ever considered acting full-time?”
I run a hand up and down my arm, trying to hide the smile that’s creeping up on my face. “Not really, no.” I chuckle. “I did take some acting classes before and it was fun but—”
“You did? No wonder it came so easy to you.”
“You’re funny.” I laugh. “I didn’t really have to do much. Anyone can carry a tray and ask people what they want to drink.”
“Not when in front of the camera. Trust me, most people freeze when asked to act out the simplest roles.”
My throat feels dry and I can barely swallow as I respond. “You told me to be myself. That’s what I did.” Feeling as though someone is watching me, I take a glance over my shoulder and notice Dax’s manager in the distance, observing us. I take a step back. “I should go and see what I need to do next.”
“Of course. Good luck.”
As I leave him behind, he calls my name again. Dax Pierce saying my name. Now that’s huge. Emma sounds special coming from his lips.
I spin around to face him. I’m on the verge of fainting from the rush of being so close to him. “Yes?” I whisper.
“I meant it. Your potential really showed through. If you ever decide to pursue acting in Hollywood, give me a call.” He pulls out a business card from his pocket, holding it between his forefinger and thumb. “I’d be happy to introduce you to some important people.”
&nbs
p; I walk back to him and reach for the card, my hands trembling “Really?”
Any attempt to be professional goes out the window as I gawk at him like a fool.
“I think it would be a shame to let your talent go to waste. Think about it.”
“Thank you.” I gaze at the business card, taking in his name in golden lettering.
“I’m shooting a new movie in a year. You could try auditioning for a part in it as well. If you don’t feel confident enough, you could always take some classes to prepare for more serious acting roles.”
“I don’t know what to say.” My smile widens.
“Say you’ll take the chance.” He tosses down his cigarette, grinding it into the ground with the tip of his shoe. “You never know.”
“I have to say it’s very tempting, but I don’t . . . Moving to a different town without a job or a place to stay sounds scary.” I shrug. “I don’t even know anyone in Hollywood.”
“That’s not true. You know me.” He leans against the trailer, eyes hooded. “It’s a good thing to have someone to shield you from the dark side of the movie industry.”
I tilt my head to one side. He’s definitely flirting with me and I don’t want it to end. “If I choose to go to Hollywood, I’m sure I’ll be able to handle it alone.”
“Bullshit.” His sharp tone and sudden dark expression make me flinch inwardly, but an apologetic smile quickly softens his face again. “Sorry about that. I tend to be too direct sometimes.” He drags a hand down one cheek. “Just call me when you get to Hollywood.”
“If I come to Hollywood.” I’m still baffled by his earlier reaction, but I tuck my emotions away into a corner of my mind and return his smile. “I haven’t made a decision yet.”
“Wrong.” He pulls out his phone and switches it on. “Your eyes tell me you already have. See you in Hollywood, Emma Stanton.” He walks away then, the phone pressed to his ear.
Hours after our conversation, I make a decision. Dax was right.
Chapter Four
Eleven months later
At midnight, I crash with a sigh onto the secondhand couch of my tiny studio apartment. After almost a year in Hollywood, my dreams of being an actress did not take off as Dax Pierce promised they would.
I push myself to my feet again and head to the kitchenette, where I warm up a tuna pizza left over from yesterday. Then I settle down with my dinner in front of the small TV. After a long day on my feet while waitressing at the Olive Grove, my body and mind feel numb. I waitress at the restaurant a few days a week, when I’m not working as a receptionist at a boutique hotel across the road from it.
Before leaving Mistport, I had promised Christa that I would not depend on Dax Pierce since I don’t know him. Of course she was right. Even though Dax had offered for me to stay with him at his penthouse in Hollywood Hills, I reluctantly turned him down. I haven’t even visited the place. The temptation to say yes was great, but I could not shut off Christa’s voice inside my head, warning me against being impulsive yet again.
The day I told Christa I was moving to Hollywood, she had been so shocked that she hadn’t said a word for almost ten minutes. Before I could pack my bags and say goodbye to her, we had our biggest fight ever. She was convinced I was making a huge mistake.
My cell phone rings as I’m about to take the first bite of my pizza. I lower the slice onto the plate and answer. My stomach twists when Christa’s voice comes through. She already called three times today, still trying to convince me to return home.
“I’m really worried about you, Emma,” she says.
I massage the tension from my forehead. “How many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to worry about me? This is where I’m supposed to be.”
“You have been there for almost a year. Nothing seems to be working. I hate to think of you suffering over there.”
“I’m not suffering. And I’ve had a few great auditions this month. I have a feeling one of them will be successful.” Although I’m not exactly where I thought I would be, I haven’t been a complete failure. I did land a few small roles in less popular films. “I actually landed a role in a commercial that’s starting to shoot next week.”
“What kind of commercial?”
I close my eyes and rub my forehead. “It’s for a shampoo, but—”
“I thought you wanted to act in movies.”
“Well, it takes time. Many well-known actors also started this way.”
“Anyway, I just want you to know that I’m here. If you ever decide to come back home, Heidi said she’d be willing to give you another chance . . . a final chance.”
I’m quiet for a long time and when I speak my voice is determined. “Please tell her I don’t need the job. When I come home, it will only be to visit you, not to stay.”
When I end my call with Christa, the doorbell rings. That’s weird. I never get visitors, definitely not this late. Since I have little time left to socialize—too busy working, in acting classes, or auditioning—I haven’t been able to make friends, at least not the kind that would visit this late.
I’m frowning as I go to the intercom and press the button. “Who’s there?”
“Emma Stanton?” The person downstairs says.
“Yes,” I say suspiciously. I don’t recognize the husky male voice.
“This is Hector Mcneal. Mr. Dax Pierce sent me to you.”
At the sound of Dax’s name, excitement seizes my body. The power of his name over me never fails. Every time I read it in the papers or hear it on TV, my stomach tingles.
“I’ll come down,” I say without hesitation. I don’t even stop to think about the danger of going down this late to talk to someone I don’t even know. At least I’m not asking him to come into my apartment.
I quickly change from my pajamas into a pair of black jeans and a faded gray t-shirt, then I rush downstairs. My feet barely touch the ground. Could Dax be waiting downstairs as well? Since the last time I saw him briefly, six months ago, shortly before he left to shoot a movie in Europe, I’ve been longing to see him again but only got to speak to him on the phone. Talking over the phone has always been brief and never felt like enough.
Inside the tiny elevator, I fix my hair and press my lips hard against each other, to give them a natural pink tint. When the doors open, I step out, short of breath as though I’d taken the stairs.
A burly man in a suit as dark as the night sky above him is standing outside the door. I peer at him through the slice of rectangular glass in the center of the front door.
“Emma Stanton?” His deep baritone voice seeps through the wooden door as he leans forward to peer right back at me.
I hesitate for a moment, then open the door. The air outside is balmy against my skin. I plant myself in the doorway. “Hello. You mentioned that Mr. Pierce sent you to me?”
He bobs his head. “I’m his driver. I came to tell you that he’s back in town and wants to have dinner with you.” He glances at a Rolex watch. “He gave me thirty minutes to deliver you to him.”
“It’s—it’s after midnight.” What I really want to say is hell yes, but I don’t want to seem too eager.
“Mr. Pierce’s plane landed an hour ago. He hasn’t had a chance to eat dinner yet. He wishes for you to join him.”
The fact that Dax arrived an hour ago must mean he’s just as eager to see me as I am to see him. What could it all mean? I know what I want it to mean, but I don’t dare get ahead of myself.
“I’d like to talk to him first, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.” Hector pulls out a phone, presses a button and puts the phone to his ear. “Sir, she wants to talk to you first.” He pauses. “Okay. Please hold on.” He hands me the phone.
“Dax?”
“Emma, I hate eating alone. Join me.”
“Are you aware what time it is?” I slide my lip between my teeth. “I—”
“You’re awake, I’m awake. Time doesn’t matter. Get dressed and come ove
r here. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up before I can continue to play hard to get.
“I’ll go and change.” I hand the phone back to the driver, then pull in and release a deep breath. I've never allowed anyone to make my decisions for me like Dax does. I’m still unsure how that makes me feel.
“Of course.” He pockets the phone. “I’ll be waiting in the car.”
I run a hand through my bob and gaze over his shoulder at the black stretch limousine behind him. I’ve never been inside a limo before. I have a feeling things are about to change for me, in more ways than one.
“I’ll be right back.” I turn on my heel and hurry to the elevator. Behind me, the door closes with a thud.
On my floor, I sprint down the hallway so fast it’s a wonder I don’t trip or sprain my ankle.
Ten minutes later, my hair is brushed to a sheen and I’m wearing the most expensive dress in my closet, a strapless canary yellow cocktail number I have nicknamed my lucky dress. It’s the dress I normally wear to auditions.
It’s both casual and fancy at the same time. Since I’m not in the position to afford many expensive clothes. . . yet, I choose pieces that do double duty. Before walking out of the apartment, I throw a black cardigan over the dress.
Back inside the elevator, on my way downstairs, my body is tingling with both excitement and anxiety.
Hector opens the door for me and I slide inside the most beautiful car I have ever been in, sinking into the cream leather seats and inhaling the rich scents of expensive leather, wood, and cologne.
For the first time since coming to Hollywood, I feel like a star, even though a part of me is telling me I don’t belong here.
My palms are sweaty, my throat dry to the point I can barely swallow. I don’t even ask Hector where Dax told him to drop me off. I’m assuming it will be at his place, where I’ve never been before. I allow myself to be surprised.
