Hollywood Lights

by Lana Xavier

  It might be the best option I had and at this point, I was more than willing to do it that way. I just wanted to get away from Caleb and anyone like him.

  “So how are you enjoying California so far?”

  I sighed heavily and shook away the reminder about last night. “No opinion yet. I haven’t really done anything.”

  “Gotcha. Well, you’ll have tomorrow and Sunday to explore and decide how you like it.”

  I didn’t want to rain on his parade and say that I was planning on hiding in my hotel room for the weekend, simmering in my shame for the next few days before slinking home with my tail between my legs.

  Whether I liked it or not, Caleb had severely damaged my ego. I was just exhausted and sick of people in general. I couldn’t wait to finish this meeting and just go take a nap.

  “Sabrina?”

  “Hmm?” I hummed as I turned to Nathan with raised eyebrows.

  “You coming?” he asked with a small smile.

  I nodded dumbly as I realized we had arrived at our stop and Nathan had already gotten off the cart while I was busy zoning out.

  Way to make a first impression, Sabrina. He probably thinks you’re a total space case now.

  “Sorry,” I apologized as I got off the cart and followed behind him. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now. I'm usually far more... present.”

  Nathan gave me a wry smile. “Again, no worries. You’ll find out soon enough that a lot of people around here are pretty vacant. You're a lot better than some of the actresses I've worked with.”

  “Is it really that bad?” I hesitantly asked as we stepped into the building, unsure of whether or not I really wanted to know the answer.

  “Afraid so. I hate to say that the clichés are true, but Hollywood is full of airheads. Not everyone, of course. You may find yourself pleasantly surprised at how intelligent a lot of the people in this industry actually are.”

  “Ah, I see. So the trick will be to keep my expectations low,” I quipped as he led me down a corridor.

  Nathan laughed. “It'll help, trust me.”

  We entered the conference room together and Nathan introduced me to a handful of other members of the production team and I mentally tried to connect each face to their names as I shook everyone's hands and smiled politely.

  After the introductions were done, I presented my final edits to the group and waited patiently as Nathan and a woman I now knew as Anne Watson flipped through the screenplay, nodding and murmuring to each other.

  After what felt like hours of waiting while wringing my sweaty palms together, Nathan plopped the script down on the table and looked up at me.

  All the chatter in the room stopped at once as soon as Anne calmly said, “We love it.”

  Nathan nodded. “We do. We loved it before, but with the rewrites— this is gold. We want to fast track it.”

  I furrowed my brow. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “It means we want to get it done as quickly as possible, Sabrina. Hopefully in time for the next award season.”

  “Do you think it's really got a chance at winning awards?” I asked in awe, totally blindsided by the possibility.

  Anne and Nathan both nodded simultaneously and the others in the room nodded along as well. I wondered if the others really believed it to be true, or if they were just trained to agree with their bosses. It wouldn’t really surprise me if Anne and Nathan were the only ones here who actually read the script.

  “We really do. And I believe we can get it out in time. We just need to begin casting immediately and find a director.”

  I couldn't help but to get excited. I bounced slightly up and down in my chair as I asked, “So what's the next step?”

  “We need to sign the contracts before we do anything else. I'll have Eric call your hotel and extend your stay until Wednesday, unless you have conflicting plans.”

  All eyes turned to me and I quickly shook my head. “No, I'm good. Wednesday is fine.”

  “Wonderful. Then we’ll see you back here Monday morning at nine and we'll have the contracts ready to sign. Then we can begin talking about casting.”

  I wondered if things in Hollywood always moved so fast or if it was just dependent on the project. I was already having trouble trying to keep up with how quickly Anne and Nathan were speaking.

  No wonder so many people out here had personal assistants.

  “Um, is there anything I should do before Monday?” I asked, hoping they would say yes and I would have something to do besides sitting around and licking my wounds.

  Anne shook her head and my hope deflated. “No, just relax and enjoy Los Angeles. It's your first time out here, correct?”

  “Yeah,” I confirmed with a nod.

  “Then just have fun. But not enough fun that you show up on Monday blitzed out of your mind. Alright?”

  I chuckled nervously. Did people actually show up to meetings drunk and high?

  “Oh, I wouldn't do that. You don't-”

  Nathan raised a hand in the air to cut me off. “It's not you in particular, just a general disclaimer we hand out to everyone.”

  “Oh. Alright then.”

  I wasn't expecting to be immediately dismissed afterwards, but that's exactly what happened. Everyone stood up at once and I followed suit, awkwardly pulling my messenger bag back onto my shoulder as Nathan guided me out of the room. I wished everyone a pleasant weekend and followed him back out to the golf cart and hopped on so he could drive me back to the front gate where the driver was waiting.

  “That went well,” Nathan said, his voice pleased. “I knew she would love it.”

  “Is Anne the boss around here?”

  “Yep. She's the original owner of the company's daughter, so everything we do needs her approval before we even think about going into production. She writes the paychecks around here so keep that in mind,” he told me with an exaggerated wink.

  I nodded to myself as I made a mental note to treat Anne respectfully— even though it wasn't really in my nature to be a bitch to people.

  Except Caleb. But that was different.

  Still, I would make sure I didn't back-talk her or do anything else that may affect my chances of the film being made.

  We arrived at the front and Nathan waved to the driver, signaling it was time to take me back. I stepped off the cart and said good-bye to him.

  “See you bright and early on Monday!” he called out as he sped off back to the office building as fast as the cart could go.

  I got into the car and the driver carried me back to the hotel. Before I even made it to the elevators, the girl who checked me in the day before called me over to the front desk to inform me that my stay had been extended until Wednesday.

  I was sincerely hoping that the studio would have something for me to do on Monday and Tuesday and that I wasn't going to expected to entertain myself until my flight home. I was already dreading the next two days, knowing that all I was going to do was hide in my lavish hotel room while trying my damndest not to think about my first brush with fame.

  * * *

  By the time Sunday afternoon rolled around, I felt like a total pig.

  All I had done for the entire weekend was laze around ordering room service and occasionally breaking out my laptop to work on my second screenplay. I was happy that I managed to get some work done, but I was starting to feel like a vegetable after being cooped up for so long.

  Of course, I was aware that I only had myself to blame for that.

  But I felt pretty damn proud of myself for stopping myself from logging into the hotel Wi-Fi and reading up on gossip regarding Caleb. I had stuck to my guns and kept myself offline, focusing entirely on working and occasionally taking a break to eat and watch something on television.

  Which was what I was doing when I noticed that the awards show Caleb had off-handedly mentioned the other night was about to start. The red carpet feed was currently airing and while I desperately wanted to not watch, it was
like a damn train wreck. I couldn’t stop myself from looking.

  I pressed the button and went to the channel, watching with wide-eyes as stars and starlets made their way down the red carpet in fabulous outfits and imagining myself doing the same next award season. Not that I was naïve enough to think that I would be walking down the red carpet to a huge audience since I was just a writer, but a girl could dream.

  My daydreams turned into a full-blown nightmare when the reporter suddenly pointed down the carpet and exclaimed, “Caleb Bradshaw has arrived!”

  The small smile I had fell off my face as the camera turned and landed on Caleb, dressed to perfection in a perfectly tailored suit.

  The outfit was completed with a blonde hanging on his arm that I couldn't pretend not to recognize. The girl was in so many movies it was a miracle she even had time to take off to come to the show.

  “It’s Caleb Bradshaw and his longtime girlfriend, Marlena Hardin! Aren't they so adorable together?” the announcer gushed and I felt a deep frown form on my face.

  Longtime girlfriend? What the-

  The camera turned again, just in time to lock onto the couple as they shared a sweet, chaste kiss. I felt bile rise in my throat as I watched in horror. He had a girlfriend. A longtime girlfriend.

  Yet he slept with me anyways.

  Disgusted, I hit the off button on the television remote, unable to stomach watching the show any longer. I couldn't believe I slept with a womanizing playboy like Caleb. What the hell had I been thinking?

  Even though I knew it wouldn't do me a damn bit of good, I rushed to the shower to scrub my skin again. I felt dirty and heartbroken— mostly because I allowed myself to buy into the theory that a man like him might actually like someone like me.

  I’m such a fool.

  * * *

  I spent Sunday night tossing and turning as I fought with faceless people in my dreams.

  They barraged me with cameras, demanding to know why I would knowingly try to split up Hollywood's most-loved power couple. No matter how many times I screamed that I hadn't known, the paparazzi became louder and louder until the sound of the crowd was almost deafening and I couldn't see anything beyond all the flashing lights.

  I woke up at seven in a cold sweat. I showered again, attempting to wash off the seemingly tangible scent of my shame.

  I went through the motions in a haze, ordering myself breakfast and picking at it for half an hour until I couldn't stomach the thought of eating any more. All I wanted was for it to be nine so I could go to the meeting and distract myself for a few hours, then go home as soon as I possibly could.

  Hollywood wasn't agreeing with me. My gut instinct to sell the script and get the hell out of dodge was stronger than ever before and I was intent on listening to it. Fuck casting— I didn't want to be involved with this project any more than I needed to be.

  I also didn't want to burn any bridges between myself and the studio, but I knew I needed to make it clear this morning that all I wanted to do was write and sell to them— nothing more.

  After I got dressed, I waited downstairs for my cell phone to ring. I didn't even answer the call when it did, I just stepped outside into the warm California air and walked over to the car. I politely greeted the driver before leaning back and losing myself in my thoughts.

  “We're here, ma'am,” the driver announced as we pulled up to the gate a few minutes later.

  I sat up straighter and got ready to exit the car, already spotting Nathan waiting for me once again on that damn golf cart. After the driver flashed his credentials and we passed through the open gate, I was already reaching for the door handle the second the car rolled to a stop. I hopped out and waved at the driver, frowning when he just backed up the car and ignored me.

  Nice to know that the majority of people in Los Angeles are just as rude as the majority of people in New York, I thought wryly.

  “Hello again, Sabrina!” Nathan called.

  “Hi, Nathan,” I greeted as I hopped on the cart.

  “Excited?”

  “Oh yeah,” I breathed out. “You have no idea.”

  “Did you have a nice weekend?”

  It was nice until I saw something that I would pay anything to erase from my brain.

  “It was fine. But honestly, I'm just really looking forward to signing this contract and getting the hell out of town. Los Angeles isn't for me.”

  Even though Nathan wasn't facing me, I could see the frown appear on his face. “It's not for everyone, I'm aware of that— But you want to leave already?”

  I sighed, wishing I would've just kept my mouth shut until I had both him and Anne in the same room at once. “Yes. I'd like to sell the script and leave if that's possible. I'm just... not interested in hanging around for the rest.”

  Nathan grunted in response and I felt worry creep into my stomach.

  “Will that be a problem?”

  “Anne prefers that the writers stay on board for the entire process. The initial rewrites are obviously done, but if we decide to add scenes—which happens quite often— she likes for the original writer to be available.”

  “So she's going to want me on set when it's filming?” I asked, both surprised and depressed by the news.

  “I'll let you speak to her about it, “ Nathan said dismissively, obviously not wanting to get too in depth without Anne present— just in case he may be wrong.

  Which— I was silently praying that he was wrong. I did not want to hang around with more stars like Caleb fucking Bradshaw unless it was absolutely necessary.

  The last thing I needed was to be stuck with another super-entitled prick who thought he was god's gift to mankind.

  This time when Nathan pulled up to the office, I was prepared. I got off the cart before he did and marched towards the doors, ready to tell Anne that I was either selling the script and going home or I wasn't selling it at all.

  * * *

  After the contracts were put on the table and I mentioned that I had stipulations, Anne dismissed everyone from the room while she and I discussed what they were. She had listened to my long-winded ramble about how much Los Angeles disagreed with me and how I'd prefer just to write and go— or consult via Skype if rewrites were needed— with a blank face and her arms crossed over her chest.

  When I finally finished, she nodded thoughtfully and asked, “You realize that we don't film in California, don't you?”

  “I'm sorry?”

  She chuckled, the sound irritating in its condescending tone. “California is expensive as hell to film in. I understand not liking Los Angeles—they don’t call it Hell-A for nothing— but we won't be filming here. It'll likely be in either Montreal or Vancouver.”

  “Oh,” I said dumbly, not at all aware of that fact.

  “Does that affect your decision?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  I considered it. While my concern of self-entitled douchebags would also apply in Canada depending on who was cast, at least I would be out of Los Angeles and easily able to stay away from the media frenzy that surrounded this city.

  Plus, regardless of how much I wanted to go home at this point, the experience and knowledge I would gain from being on set for the filming process at least one time might prove to be invaluable.

  So, the only thing I could really say was, “Alright. I'm in.”

  Anne smirked. “Good. Because it's in your contract that you need to be on set during filming. I would’ve hated to pass up this script over such a minute detail.”

  I wanted to bite back that my distaste for the culture wasn’t what I considered to be a 'minute detail', but thought the wiser of it. Instead, I sat silently as she called the others back into the room, including the studio lawyer and notary public who watched us both sign the binding contract.

  Once everything was done, Anne clapped her hands together excitedly.

  “Take note. We start casting immediately. We already have the male lead lined up so we need the female lead and suppor
ting characters. Nathan— Find me a director. A damn good director. Eric—”

  “Um, excuse me?” I interrupted, raising my hand in the air and drawing a barrage of dirty looks my way.

  “What?” Anne snapped, clearly aggravated that I had interrupted her train of thought.

  “I'm sorry, I just— You already cast Marcus?”

  If there was one character I would have wanted to have a hand in casting it was definitely Marcus, the male lead character. While the story was told more from the perspective of the female lead, the entire story revolved around Marcus and his past crimes as well as his mental instability. I wanted to make damn sure a good actor was chosen for that part.

  “Yes, we got word that a star was interested and I made the executive decision to cast the part. Trust me, Sabrina. You won't find an actor better suited to this role.”

  Something was telling me not to get very excited about Anne's choice of actor. I felt a tendril of dread creep down my spine as the door to the conference room opened and the secretary from the lobby entered, looking frazzled.

  “Ma'am, Annabelle Maxell and her clients are here. I tried to keep them in the—”

  “Get out of the way, dear,” an undeniably British accent called out as an older woman with gray hair swept into the room. “Hello, Anne.”

  “Mrs. Maxwell, wonderful to see you. Is Caleb with you?”

  I froze at the name. It couldn't be. No, there were thousands of Calebs in the world.

  “Right here.”

  But there was only one Caleb who had that distinct voice.

  God dammit.

  I slammed my eyes closed as the sound of Annabelle's heels clicking on the floor came closer to me and the unmistakable shuffle of sneakers trailed behind her. Even with my eyes closed, I could feel his presence at my back. Between the weight of his gaze on the back of my head and the scent of his cologne hitting my senses, there was no arguing that Caleb fucking Bradshaw was standing right behind me.

  “Annabelle Maxwell, Caleb Bradshaw— This is Sabrina Murphy, the writer of Godlike Delusion.”

  “Nice to meet you, dear,” Annabelle said with a fake smile after I braved a look up at her.