This was his second summer after graduation.
The pact with his parents was about to expire.
“Do you always go this fast?” Star screamed in his ear over the roar of his motorcycle. Clinging to Ty for dear life, her hair escaped the helmet he insisted she wear, strands flying out straight.
“Only when on a caper, Miss Bloom,” he yelled back through the wind.
To Star, the only thing missing was Superman’s cape. She felt sure they would levitate off the black asphalt of Atlantic Avenue into the clouds, flying like a bird in a straight line from the diner to wherever Superman was taking her.
The shiny black bat-bike swung into a driveway sheltered by arching live oak trees trimmed in an abundance of Spanish moss. Tyler slid off the seat, extended a hand to Star, and engaged the kickstand.
Catching her breath, shoving her hair out of her eyes as she pulled off the helmet, she stood beside the Harley looking at a three car garage, a line of windows above. There was a staircase up the side leading to whatever the space was behind the windows. The house and garage, trimmed in white, were sided with clapboard painted a soft moss green.
Ty caught his breath as well—the sun was dancing on her golden hair.
Star took a step closer to the garage. Nestled next to the stairs was a cozy stone patio. A small glass table, black wrought iron legs, was flanked by two Adirondack chairs painted geranium red. A round table with a red umbrella, matching the color of the chairs, poked up through the center providing shade for sipping iced tea or reading a book.
A predominantly black calico cat sauntered up to Ty, stretched her hind legs, ending with a flick of her toes. She grazed Ty’s ankle, performed a figure eight around his feet, then sat next to his sneaker proceeding to comb her fur around her ear with a dainty white paw.
“Meet Cleopatra, Cleo. As you can see she reigns supreme around here.” Ty grasped Star’s hand pulling her to the stairs. “Come on, I’ll show you my studio.”
“This is all very nice but I don’t see how you can help me in time. The entry has to be received in three days, by midnight.”
“Come on Cinderella. I’ll show you how.”
At the top of the stairs Ty dropped her hand, unlocked the door, opening it wide, motioning to her to enter.
Star stepped into a large open space spanning the three garage bays below. The vaulted ceiling had two skylights per side. The windows on one wall faced the driveway, and on the opposite side faced a secret garden filled with flowers, guarded by towering oaks. The hardwood floors were graced with oriental rugs. A futon, dresser, and lamp table were tucked into one corner at the far end. Ty explained that a small half bath anchored the sleeping area. The opposite corner was composed of a galley kitchen arrangement—studio refrigerator, counter, sink, and microwave oven. A full bath with shower and Jacuzzi was on the other side of the door connecting his studio to the main house.
Other than the small quarters at the end, tables and bookcases lined the walls. Three long tables pushed together held a small printer, a large laser printer, stacks of paper in various colors, two computers, one with three monitors to run his animations.
The computers were connected to a large TV screen mounted on the wall. Star would soon learn that the computers were loaded with the latest in graphic, animation, and sound software. Off to one side sat a large drafting table, then an expanse of cupboard space. Pine paneling covered the walls and ceiling creating a warm atmosphere, a non-intrusive space, a place allowing Tyler to stir his creative juices.
“This is a serious studio, Ty.” Star had trailed behind him, eyes wandering, pointing to one thing then another as he explained the equipment and his living area. “What does that panel of buttons control?” Star asked pointing to the side of the door where they had entered.
“One runs shades over the skylights.” He pushed the button and dark shades rolled over the glass blocking out the sunlight. “And this one draws the drapes over the front windows. The button next to that takes care of the drapes at the far end. And this one turns on indirect lighting. Keen, huh?”
Star laughed. “Way keen. What business is your dad in? Printing money? This had to cost a fortune.”
“My dad, Anthony Jackman, his friends call him Tony, is a computer engineer. And, my mom, Cindy, operates her own real estate agency. As I said, they gave me two years to follow my dream and then I’m on my own. They paid for my college, gave me the Harley as a graduation present along with surprising me with this layout. I can borrow Mom or Dad’s car if I have to haul something. Some of the equipment came from the company Dad works for, but the majority was hauled up from his man-cave on the main floor of the house as he upgraded his electronics. He invents stuff. But, he likes this space the best … I think. That computer setup at the other end of the tables is his. It’s kinda fun to work alongside each other. We don’t talk, really immersed in what we’re doing, but we feel each other’s presence.”
Star envied the way he talked about his mom and dad. The family was very close it seemed, something she had missed out on. Except for her Gran. “This is really something, but I don’t see a camera. How are you going to take the video?”
Tyler hustled to a closet, opened the door. Grinning, he waved at the contents. Three cameras of various sizes, sat on one shelf. Another shelf held numerous lenses. Two tripods leaned against the end wall along with what appeared to be white umbrellas.
“Now, let me show you what I’ve learned from the Food Network.” Noting her raised brows, he replied, “Yeah, I’ve seen a few shows. After you started cooking at the diner, I wanted to understand more about what you were flipping, mixing up back there. Come on. You have to see your stage.”
Grasping her hand, he led her to the door adjoining the main house. It opened onto the second floor hallway, several doors were open off to one side including the bathroom he had mentioned. The hall was cut in the middle with a flowing, curved staircase overlooking an expansive foyer. A cherry wood railing topped white spindles bordering the hall and stairs.
Ty kept hold of her hand slowing his steps so she wouldn’t fall as her eyes focused from one viewpoint to another. At the bottom of the stairs, he led her through a dining room and a large family room open to the kitchen.
Waving his arms around, he turned grinning. “Ta Da! Your kitchen awaits, Miss Bloom.”
“Oh, Ty, do you mean it? Your mom would let me prepare something in here for the video?”
“Yup. I haven’t asked her yet. You know I just had the idea when I picked you up. I couldn’t exactly call when we were on the bike.”
“Thank God for that. I was already scared and if you had taken your hands off the handle bars, well …” Her words trailed off as she walked behind the counter in the middle of the kitchen. There was a gas stovetop with counter space on each side, granite counters over honey-pine cabinets. Twirling around she took in the layout, already envisioning herself—the refrigerator on one end, along with a sink, and then double ovens were all within a step or two of the stovetop.
“Ty, can you capture the warmth of this kitchen in the video? It will be such a wonderful backdrop. Oh, but I need a mixer, pots, sauté pans, or maybe not. I have no idea yet what I’ll want to cook up on the video.”
“Yes, Cinderella, all right here.” Tyler pushed open the small sliding doors along the wall at the back of one of the counters displaying a mixer, blender, food processer—one large, one small for chopping nuts. “Now, let’s go back to my studio and workup a game plan.”
“You’d better call your mom first. She may not want me to invade her kitchen.”
Chapter 12
────
THE BLACK HARLEY sped down Atlantic Avenue from Ormond Beach. Ty let up on the gas feeling Star’s arms circling his waist, clutching him tightly. Neither screamed questions above the roar—Ty planning the kitchen setup for filming tomorrow, Star doubting the whole competition thing.
A video?
A very i
ffy proposition.
She trusted Ty, but this wasn’t one of his sketches, wasn’t a cartoon. This was real life, her life. She’d read about the camera’s eye—loving some people, rejecting others, ending careers before they even started. What if they, whoever they were, didn’t accept her into the baking competition? Then what?
Parking behind the diner, Ty chained the Harley to the bike stand. Star leaned against his arm, spoke in a hushed voice. “Let’s keep the competition a secret. If by some wild chance I’m accepted, then I’ll have to tell Charlie … Wanda … rearrange my schedule. I have to be careful, Ty. I can’t jeopardize my job.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t say a word. We both have tomorrow off … no problem,” he said leaning closer, whispering, “This is but the first step to making your dreams come true, Miss Bloom.”
Shaking her head, back to reality, clearing the dream away, she hustled to take her post behind the grill.
The shift was a foggy blur—flipping burgers, mixing batch after batch of meatball mini-tarts that Tyler served with dollops of spicy cranberry glaze. The tartlets had become a big seller especially with mom’s finding something their kids liked to eat. How great was that?
Star spastically jotted notes on a small pad, tearing off the page, stuffing the page in her pocket, a pocket full outlining what to do, to say—a script for tomorrow. She and Ty kept whispering, adding, discarding, swapping dialog, preparing for the video shoot.
Finishing their shift, Tyler offered to take her home on his Harley promising to slow the bat-bike a notch. Ah ha, he had nudged ahead of Ash.
Before going to bed, her mind a jumble of opportunities for the video Ty laid out before her, Star sat on her blow-up mattress, leaned against the wall, and called Gran.
Gran barely said hello before Star began rattling off news of a baking competition—prize of fifty grand for the winner, a video required for entry, Tyler to produce the video, shooting the video tomorrow because it had to be emailed the next day before midnight.
When Star paused to breathe, Gran cut in, asking Star to repeat what she just said, slower. Then she made her granddaughter promise to call when she was accepted into the competition.
No if. When!
“I told you, Star, that your love for baking would someday be revealed as your path in life, and here it is. Don’t forget to call.”
“I won’t forget, Gran. I love you.”
“Love you too, sweetie.”
Chapter 13
────
TY PICKED HER UP at six o’clock sharp.
Today was their day off.
Today was video production day.
The shops along Atlantic Avenue whizzed by the car window as Star shielded her eyes from the glare of the early morning sun. Tyler had borrowed his mom’s white Lincoln Navigator, big enough to haul around her real estate clients, or props and supplies for her son’s cartoon endeavors.
Leaning back against the headrest, Star blew out a breath. She wondered what Ty thought about her studio apartment when he had picked her up. Glancing around when he stepped inside to help carry the boxes, she saw him take note of the green leatherette beanbag near the patio door, the little round bistro table she bought for five bucks at a consignment shop, and the blow-up-mattress covered with a bright blue blanket sprinkled with daisies. Her studio was a far cry from his studio. The word studio certainly had different meanings depending on how you looked at it—his studio, then her studio, a tiny room in comparison, a very cheap rental.
Star’s heart frozen in fear one minute, thumped against her ribs the next in anticipation that something wonderful was going to happen today. Closing her eyes, hunching her shoulders, the video loomed in her mind—a chance, maybe the only chance to break out of her downward spiral. It was now or never.
If she didn’t get into the competition, then she’d take it as a sign—having her own bakery was a pipe dream.
On the other hand, Ty could hardly contain his excitement. He had tossed and turned most of the night producing the video in his head, swapping one clip with another. “I bet your grandmother liked your idea of featuring her taffy.” Ty didn’t speed this morning, rounded the corners carefully so the supplies and equipment Star had packed for the filming didn’t fall over on the bags of ingredients tucked on the floor behind his seat. He was trying to help her relax but he could see he was not succeeding.
Letting his mind wander as he drove, Ty visualized his mother giving instructions to the cleaning lady—the kitchen was to be spotless. He smiled, thinking of how excited she was when he had filled her in on his plans for a video, providing, of course, that she gave the okay to use her kitchen.
Excited? She had been overjoyed. Partly because her son was actually going to produce something, and partly out of curiosity to meet the young woman Tyler was bringing to the house. It was a first and she didn’t care if he insisted it was only a job.
Tyler’s lips twitched, turning up ever so slightly, remembering when he told his dad about the video, and his dad deciding he’d stay at the house, have an extra cup of coffee before going into work. Ty knew his dad was just as excited about meeting Star as his mother.
“What? What did you say?”
“Gran did agree with my choice of featuring her taffy in the video,” Star said. “She thought it was a wonderful idea and agreed the taffy recipe could wow them. And, the taffy would give me a good story to tell when I introduce myself in the video. Humanize me, she said.”
Suddenly she felt she was asking way too much of her friend. Glancing at him, so intent on his driving. What was he thinking? Second thoughts?
“Ty, are you sure you want to do this? I can’t pay you, but I will repay you some day no matter—”
“Hey, I’m not asking you to pay me. Who knows, maybe I’ll enter this video in a competition of my own. A comedy on making taffy—”
“Comedy? That’s not funny. Do you think your parents are going to laugh at me?”
“No way. Relax. Mom and Dad are looking forward to meeting the next bakery queen.” Reaching across the console, he patted her hand. Her skin was as smooth as he had imagined it to be. He liked the way she fixed her hair this morning. The soft waves falling around her shoulders were going to look great. He knew the camera was going to have a love affair with her. Maybe someday, maybe after she wins, he’ll give her a celebratory kiss.
He had dated a few girls at Florida State, nothing serious. Girls thought he was some kind of geek. They laughed at his cartoons but didn’t appreciate the artistic side like Star did. Star was different.
Parking in the driveway, they hopped out of the car as his mom and dad rushed out of the house to help. Tyler knew they were dying to meet the girl he was bringing home. It didn’t matter to them that he was just helping her out.
His mom held out her hand. “It’s so nice to meet you. The kitchen is spic and span for your video.”
“Mrs. Jackman, I hope you didn’t go to a lot of trouble, really your kitchen is—”
Laughing, she said, “Please, call me Cindy—”
“And I’m Tony, Tyler’s dad. We’re so happy to meet you and wish you success with the competition. Now, let Cindy and I lend a hand … my goodness. All this? Are you cooking up a feast?”
“No, not a feast but I hope you like my Gran’s taffy … Atlantic City Salt Water Taffy. Her world famous recipe … well, maybe not world famous …”
“Hey, after you two finish with the video, and you win, your Gran’s taffy will be world famous.”
“Okay, everybody. Let’s get these bags inside so Star and I can get started. And, no audience allowed. You’ll get a private showing tonight.” Tyler grinned as he handed two sacks to his mom, then a carton to his dad. Oh, this is going to be fun. Star looks nervous. Nothing like a little dose of stage fright to bring out the best in an actress.
Chapter 14
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THE STAGE WAS SET!
Star dressed in a white,
short-sleeved cotton blouse with a black skirt hitting just above her knees. It was the same outfit that she wore at the diner when she was hired as a waitress. Waves of blond hair swept her shoulders and white low-cut sneakers put a spring in her step. She’d tied a plain white square of cotton around her waist.
Ty fussed with the white umbrellas until the soft diffused lighting suited him. Turning to the equipment, he attached a special zoom lens to each of two Nikon cameras, steadied in place on tripods. A handle to the side of the tripod base allowed him to turn freely from refrigerator, to sink, to Star—the focal point. Every angle would be captured on the memory chips of the two cameras.
The director made a small exception to his no audience edict. He allowed Cleopatra to enter the kitchen. She perched on a counter to the side, slightly behind Tyler, the only piece of counter she was allowed on. She sat very still, purring, her white front paws occasionally kneading the flecked black granite, and baring her teeth with a wide yawn when there was a break in the action. At times, a flash of fur could be seen—a quick dart to her food dish, water bowl, out the cat door for relief, returning with a mighty leap to her perch. Superman would have been proud.
First, Tyler was going to film a short clip testing the sound quality, the lighting, and to let Star settle comfortably into her role. Tapping the camera button, he pointed at Star to begin.
“My name is Star Bloom, originally from Hoboken, New Jersey, and now Daytona Beach, Florida. Today, I’m—”
“Cut. Come see.”
Heads together, they looked at the test clip.
“The lighting’s good, Ty, and—”
“A deer caught in the headlights,” Ty mumbled. Glancing around the kitchen, he spotted a folding chair, stuck it in front of the tripod of the center camera. He positioned a kitchen chair to the side of the second camera. This camera would run continuously, to capture angles, shots to splice in where needed when editing.
Loping around the kitchen, opening, closing cabinets, Tyler tucked a cereal box, a five-pound package of flour, a package of sugar off the same shelf under his arms, grabbed a package of egg noodles holding it between his knees, and a pack of chocolate candy kisses under his chin.
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