by Hayes Grier
CHAPTER TWO
“HURRY, HURRY!” VIOLET TOLD HERSELF, practically running to the driveway. “I can’t be late on my very first day!” The car, a sporty-looking two-door about a decade old, was already turned on, and Mia was waving out the window.
“Coming!” Violet shouted, not paying attention to anything but the car and Mia.
“Good morning!” called someone from next door.
Violet twisted her head toward the voice and crashed into some drums Uncle Forrest had left outside.
“Whoa!” Violet held out her hands to stop her fall and landed on her side with a thud. For a moment, she didn’t move.
“That’s right! Stay right there! Don’t move until you’re sure you’re okay.” A boy who looked about her age, maybe a little older, rushed over. He bent over her anxiously. “That was totally my fault! I shouldn’t have called out to you when you were running! Can you stand up?” He held out his hand.
Violet gazed up at him. He was definitely cute, with curly blondish hair and a sweet, concerned expression. But why was she even noticing? She was late!
Violet jumped to her feet, not bothering to answer. “Oh no! Is my shirt okay?” she called out to Mia. “Are there any stains?” She twisted around, trying to see her sides and back. She probably sounded like an idiot, but she didn’t care. “Where’s my backpack? Did I drop it? Oh no! I didn’t even bring it!”
She raced inside and when she got back out, the boy was still there. “I’m Jay,” he offered. He was holding Violet’s muffin, miraculously still intact. “Don’t forget this. Lucky for you, it landed right-side up! And you must be Violet. Mia told me you were coming.” He grinned lazily at her. “Do you always go one-hundred miles per hour?”
Violet stopped short, taking the muffin. Was this boy flirting with her? When clearly she had places she had to be and was in no mood for small talk?
“You should slow down and smell the roses.” The boy took a few steps, then plucked a rose from his yard and held it out to her. “Life is short.”
“What?” Violet almost screeched, ignoring the flower. Everyone knew the worst thing to tell a panicked person was to slow down or stay calm. “I don’t have time to smell anything! I’m late!” And she jumped into the car, slamming the door behind her.
Mia waved, then backed out of the driveway. They drove in silence for a few minutes, Violet munching on the muffin. Not bad, she thought. And healthy, too. She began to feel calmer.
She looked at the car clock. 8:27. She still had to pick up coffee for TJ—her very first task—and be at the lot at 9. It was really cutting it close.
“So you met Jay,” Mia said, breaking into her thoughts.
“What? Who?”
“Jay. Our neighbor. He’s seventeen.”
“Oh yeah. Jay.”
Mia glanced over at Violet. “You must be nervous. Jay is really cute, and you didn’t notice?”
“I did notice,” Violet admitted. “But this summer is definitely not for romance. I have to concentrate on my job.”
The job, Violet thought, that would bring her in close proximity to one Hayes Grier, her number one celebrity crush. She’d been trying to block it out, to focus on writing and interning for TJ. But somehow, that fact kept creeping in.
What were the chances she’d even see Hayes? There were thousands of people working on the movie, dozens of locations, and different sets. Surely, she’d be on the nonglamorous end of things, doing grunt work, probably for the writers or TJ. If she was lucky, she’d spy Hayes from a distance. And really, that was just as well. How could she concentrate if he was close by?
“It is a big job,” Mia agreed.
“I haven’t even told you the best part,” Violet said, wiping her mouth with a tissue she found in the glove compartment. “I only had to submit one scene for this writing contest. But I spent all last year writing an entire script. When I FaceTimed with TJ for my interview, he said he’d read the whole thing and give me feedback.”
Mia merged onto the Santa Monica Freeway, then patted Violet’s knee. “And?”
“Well, I’m meeting with him first thing. And if he liked my script? He’ll write me a college recommendation letter to get into the Hollywood Screenwriting Academy!”
“The Academy?” Mia whistled. “That’s the most selective school in California! I’ve heard it’s even harder to get into than Harvard!”
Violet groaned. “I know. And I have to apply in the fall! If he doesn’t write that rec for me, it doesn’t leave much time to get another one.”
“I’m sure he loved it,” Mia said loyally.
“Well, it could be the best screenplay since Gone with the Wind. But if I’m late for work, that wouldn’t make the slightest bit of difference. TJ would still toss it and refuse to write the letter. I don’t think TJ’s the easiest guy to work for. His assistant told me he can be late, but he hates if anyone else is. Even one minute late drives him crazy. And I can’t forget to pick up a coffee for him on the way in.”
Violet tapped her phone to look at her notes. “A coconut-almond iced cappuccino with a scoop of condensed milk spiced with juniper and basil. Who knows how long that even takes to make!”
They pulled up to World Famous Studios, choosing the first gate they came to. Mia gave Violet’s name, and the guard waved them through. But inside, Mia braked uncertainly. The studio looked like a busy city, with streets branching off in different directions, and golf carts zipping around them.
“Oh God. It’s 8:54,” Violet moaned. “We’ll never find the right soundstage.”
“Have a little faith!” Mia said cheerfully. She rolled down her window and asked the first person who walked past, a man herding a crowd of people dressed like cavemen and cavewomen. “Excuse me, but do you know where they’re filming The Midnight Hawk?”
The man nodded. “Take a left up ahead, then two quick rights.”
“Thanks!” Mia said, already pulling away. One minute later, she stopped again, outside a large building where a stream of people hurried in and out. “This must be it. And look!” She pointed across the street to a coffee cart parked at the corner.
“That’s a sign things will work out!” Mia cried as Violet flung open the door. “It’s 8:55. You have plenty of time.”
* * *
Hayes had been on set for three hours. First he’d been rushed through hair and wardrobe like it was some kind of cosmetic emergency. And at the end? He thought he wound up looking very close to his normal self. Then an assistant director had hurried him to set for the Hollywood This Week interview, where he’d sat around waiting for so long, his makeup had to be retouched.
It was a lot of action, with very little to show for it.
Now, for the past hour or so, he’d done nothing but hang around while an assistant director walked through shots with his stand-in, making sure to get the right camera angles.
With nothing else going on, Hayes lounged in the director’s chair and went over the interview in his head. He sighed. It hadn’t gone very well, he thought, at least on his end. With TJ going on and on about his work, his ideas, his movie, Hayes barely got to say a word. Maybe the reporter would forget Hayes was even the star and cut him from the clip.
Hayes knew he was being silly. Publicity should be the least of his concerns. He was here for the work. He should forget about being a celebrity, about being famous. He needed to concentrate on being the best actor possible. That was the important thing: the work.
He was just getting antsy, that’s all. Hopefully, they’d film this scene before he was old enough to vote, and once they started, he’d feel better.
The scene they were shooting came pretty early in the movie. But it was far from the first one. It seemed shooting was always out of order. TJ wanted to film scenes in a group, set by set. First they’d shoot his bedroom scenes, then the school cafeteria ones, and so on. But it was all a little confusing, so Hayes ran through the early scenes in his head, keeping everything in order.
The beginning scenes took place in school, with “Hawk” getting the courage to ask out “Devon,” who would become his girlfriend. Then came a few shots at a pizza place and movie theater.
The scene in his bedroom came after: Hawk is lying in bed, goofing around on his phone when his mom comes in. She’s clearly upset, torn about whether to tell him something. Finally, she brings out an old photo album and shows him baby pictures, then shots of finding him in that scorched field.
Hawk is shocked beyond belief. He’s adopted, just picked up in some strange field! He’d had no idea. Then he learns something more: He’s not even a human child! He’s an alien.
Hawk doesn’t think it can get any worse, but it does. His mom shows him his father’s journal. His dad is a scientist, and he’s been trying to find out what makes Hawk different from humans. There are notations on his growth, his speech patterns, and his intelligence, starting at three months and ending last week.
The last entry stated observation was not enough. Previous findings had proven inconclusive. Hawk would be taken to a laboratory, held under lock and key, while his dad ran test after test. He’d be a prisoner. Everyone would be told he’d been killed in a motorcycle crash.
“Run,” his movie mom tells him. “Run.”
“Run,” Hayes repeated to himself. “I should run through these lines again.”
He looked around the set. Everyone was busy doing something … something important, he guessed. He couldn’t just pull somebody over and demand they help with his lines. Normally, his assistant—and buddy—Jackson would be right there with him, happy to help. But Jackson had just switched to a new job yesterday, running Hayes’s online merchandise store, and he couldn’t do both. It was a big job, handling the website, keeping track of T-shirts and hoodies, coming up with new ideas for merch.
Hayes liked the idea of a bobblehead, but that would have to be looked into.
Hayes stood up. He definitely needed a new assistant, and not just for lines. He needed all the help he could get.
Scoping out TJ, he waited for the director to be alone. Then he quickly walked over. “Hey, TJ, got a minute?”
“Not really,” TJ muttered. Then he looked at his watch. “Well, I have to take a break in a bit anyway, to meet with an intern, so why don’t we take our usual seats?” He waved to the set of interview chairs, and Hayes sat back down.
While Hayes told TJ about Jackson and his need for a new assistant, TJ scrolled through his phone, shouted at people passing by, and drank his coffee. He tossed the cup into a wastebasket and sighed, looking around as if another would magically appear.
“Have you even been listening?” Hayes asked in exasperation.
“Sure,” TJ said, his eyes finally meeting Hayes’s. “You need a new assistant. Don’t worry. I’ll find you one.”
“Great!” Hayes grinned. “That’s really great.”
“In the meantime,” TJ went on, “I have some news for you.”
Now that he had TJ’s full attention, Hayes almost took out his own phone, to show him what it felt like to have someone half-listen. But he didn’t. Getting back at the director wasn’t quite the professional thing to do. “What’s up?”
“There’s been a change in the script.”
“Is it major?”
“Kind of,” TJ answered. “There’s a new ending.”
Hayes’s heart sank. He’d been hoping The Midnight Hawk would turn out to be the first in a series. “Tell me you don’t kill off Hawk.”
“Nope,” TJ said cheerfully. “You get to live. And you still get to beat the bad guys.”
“So what changes? Is the big motorcycle stunt still in? Or did you cut it?”
Getting rid of that scene and Hawk’s supercharged ride would be almost as bad as dying.
TJ shook his head. “That’s in, too. But we changed the last scene. You break up with Devon at the very end. You love her. But you want to protect her. If she stays with you, she’s in danger from your enemies.”
TJ thrust new script pages at Hayes. Hayes quickly scanned them: Devon is tearful. She tells him she knew all along he didn’t really love her—at least not enough to stand by her. The last shot is Hawk standing alone on a hill, overlooking the city. A single tear rolls down his cheek. Then he squares his shoulders and turns, ready to take on the world.
“It’s pretty emotional,” TJ was saying. “Do you think you can handle it?”
Hayes looked up and met his eyes. “Of course,” he said easily. “It sounds like a great scene. Not a problem, TJ.”
“Good.” TJ checked his phone. “Why don’t you go back to your trailer and relax? It turns out we won’t need you until this afternoon.”
Hayes nodded. He’d have to go through hair and makeup again. That was annoying. But maybe it was a good thing. He needed time to digest this news. Crying on camera? Showing a vulnerable side on-screen? He’d sounded confident to TJ.
But that’s not how he felt at all.
* * *
Violet glanced at her phone as she rushed onto set. 9:01. One minute late. But she had the coffee, and she’d even picked up fruit-salad-in-a-cup to go with the drink. Who doesn’t like fruit? Sure, it was a brownnose move to appease TJ. But maybe it would help.
Suddenly, Violet stopped, not sure where to find TJ. People rushed past her. Everyone wore an intense expression, and she didn’t want to bother anyone with a silly question. Then she spied the bedroom, with cameras surrounding the scene. Maybe TJ would be around there.
Violet edged her way over, losing even more precious seconds. It was 9:02 now. Where was he?
“There you are!” came a loud voice behind her. Violet spun around, the coffee sloshing over the cup lid and dripping down her arm. She ignored it.
“TJ!” she exclaimed. “Here’s the coffee! And I brought you some fruit, too.”
The director ran a hand through his short spiky hair and frowned, but took the offerings. “You’re three minutes late.”
Violet held back from correcting him. It was still only two.
“I’m so sorry. There was a line for the—”
“I’m not interested in excuses,” he cut in. “Part of your job is to be punctual. Time is money while we film. We have everything planned to the second.”
“Excuse me, TJ?” a nervous production assistant interrupted. “But we have to push back the bedroom scene until at least one o’clock. The crew finished filming those rain forest location shots, but they’re stuck in Seattle.”
“Guess you can’t plan everything!” Violet said without thinking. She flushed, realizing she should have kept quiet.
TJ nodded brusquely and steered Violet to the director’s chairs. There were three. Violet stood there awkwardly, unwilling to sit in the ones marked HAYES or TJ, and she couldn’t see the name on the third. What if it was for the actor who played the bad guy? He was big and scary, and he had a really big name, too.
“Here!” TJ pushed the chair in front of her. The back was blank. Gratefully, she sank down. Then she remembered she was on the job. She edged forward and sat up straight, hoping she looked capable.
“I’ll be up front with you, Victoria.”
“Violet.”
“What? Oh yeah, Violet. I read your script, and I didn’t like it.”
Violet deflated, her hopes dashed. Would that be it? Would she spend the summer getting coffee and fruit cups, then be on her merry way without a letter of recommendation? And no chance of getting into the Academy?
TJ didn’t seem to notice her change in posture. “Your writing voice is weak; it’s barely there. You need to have a stronger, more singular style. You need a better POV.”
“POV?” Violet repeated weakly.
“Point of view,” TJ went on briskly. “There’s no heart in your script. And that’s what’s most important.” He tapped his chest. “Heart.”
He sounded so cold and unfeeling. He could use some heart. But she nodded. She stood up, convinced the meeti
ng was over.
“Now hold on a second.” TJ waved her back down. “Your writing has problems. Big ones, too. I can’t write that rec.”
Okay, Violet got all that. Why was he still talking?
“But,” he continued, “I do see potential.”
Violet sucked in her breath and waited to hear more.
“I’m willing to read another script.”
“B-b-but,” Violet stammered, “I don’t have another script.”
“You will,” TJ said. “At the end of the summer, by the time The Midnight Hawk has its premiere.”
The end of the summer? It had taken Violet months to write the first one, the one without heart or point of view. How could she possibly write a whole other—better—one so fast?
Still, it was a chance. She had more direction now. Plus, shadowing TJ around set, learning the ins and outs of dialogue would certainly help!
“Thank you so much!” Violet gushed.
“You are welcome. As I said, I’m willing to read the script … under certain conditions.”
There were more conditions, besides that ridiculous deadline?
“I’m changing your job, as of right now. You are no longer my intern. You are Hayes Grier’s assistant.”
“I am?” Violet felt her pulse quicken. This couldn’t really be happening. She wouldn’t be shadowing TJ after all. She’d be working for Hayes Grier!
“Yes. But I warn you, it won’t be easy. You’ll have to get every little thing right. You’ll need to make sure Hayes is always on time. That he knows his lines and doesn’t do anything stupid. The boy needs to buckle down and stay safe. If he does any crazy tricks on that scooter or does anything that could put him in harm’s way, not only will he be hurt, but the movie will be hurt, too. Your job is to make sure that doesn’t happen. So if you do all that? Then, and only then, will I read your new script.”
He paused. “Do we have a deal?”
Violet’s head was spinning. It was almost too much to wrap her mind around—she had another chance for a recommendation … she had to write a new script … she would be Hayes Grier’s new assistant … and no matter how starstruck she felt, she had to do everything right.
