Like she’d done countless times that night, she thought again about her lack of options. In the moments after she had her news she made a desperate call to Taz. Stupid, she told herself now. What good could he possibly do now that she was pregnant? Did she really expect him to take the news with kindness and compassion? Come to her and promise to stay by her side? Did she think he’d offer to marry her and make a life with her and their child?
Her attempt to reach him never even got that far. A girl answered his phone, and in the background she could hear Taz scolding her to hang up. “That’s my phone,” he hissed at her. Then the line went dead. Andi vowed it was the last time she would call him. Her next call had been to her parents, not that she was about to tell them her news. Rather, she wanted to hear their voices, to know that the safe world of hope and truth in Christ still existed somewhere.
But her father didn’t answer his cell, and when her mom picked up, what sounded like a loud celebration in the background made it impossible for her to hear. “Andi,” her mom shouted above the noise, “everyone loved the film! Your father and I are so happy, sweetheart. Wish you were here.”
“Mom…I don’t feel good.”
The noise on the other end grew louder. “What? Andi, can you speak up? Is everything okay?”
“Yes.” She practically yelled her response, tears streaming down her face. “Go celebrate, Mama. I’m fine.”
“Okay. Talk to you tomorrow. I love you, honey!”
And with that she was alone again, sitting in her room, the walls closing in around her. The room stopped spinning and Andi opened her eyes. She was weak and drenched in sweat and her stomachache spread through her whole body. She moved slowly to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, but all she could see was Taz. She covered her face and shook her head. How could she have believed someone so opposed to God, someone so dangerous? What possessed her to agree with him, that nudity in film meant quality movie-making? The idea was disgusting. Or that sleeping with him was some sick form of art?
She shuddered and grabbed the toilet again. The memory of his sickly suggestive words choked her, made it hard for her to draw a breath. With everything in her she had known Taz was wrong for her, but she’d ignored every sound, godly thought that crossed her mind back then. How could she have let herself fall so fully, so thoroughly? She would give anything to be the old Andi again. To be Bailey Flanigan—sure of her convictions, confident in her faith. If only Bailey were here right now, maybe Andi could tell her the truth about being pregnant. But Bailey was at the Cru retreat—where Andi might’ve been if she hadn’t chosen her own ways. And Rachel was with Jesus in heaven—where she couldn’t do Andi a single bit of good.
What would it matter anyway? She could stand in the Indiana University commons and tell the whole student body she was pregnant. No amount of sympathy or understanding could change the fact. Taz’s baby was growing inside her. She was no longer a virgin, no longer the sweet Andi Ellison, innocent daughter of missionaries, no longer a young girl with the world ahead of her. She had given up her innocence without a fight, and now she’d be better off dead.
For the first time in her life she understood why someone might want to die. If her heart stopped right now, her parents would never know the truth. She wouldn’t have to go through life with the knowledge that she’d broken her promise to God and ruined her future. She swallowed hard and leaned closer to the cool white rim. In a violent rush, another series of dry heaves shook her body and made it almost impossible to breathe.
The room slowly stopped spinning and Andi opened her eyes tentatively. She was weak and drenched in sweat, but she needed to rest, even just a little. Her body shook as she planted her feet on the floor and dragged herself up.
Halfway to her bed she caught a glimpse of Rachel, smiling at her from the framed photo that still hung on the wall near the window. Andi had always felt sorry for Rachel, saving herself for the right guy, believing in God’s plans for her life only to be snuffed out in a car accident far too soon. Rachel’s death convinced Andi that God was unfair at best. If anyone deserved a rich, full life it was Rachel Baugher. But now, betrayed by her body and certain that her future was ruined, Rachel seemed like the lucky one. Safe in heaven, walking with Jesus, free of the confusion and hurt of this world. Rachel had hoped for an abundant life, and God had given her that, after all.
Just not the way any of them had expected.
She fell into bed and curled up on her side. Lying there, her heart raced, her lungs refused to work correctly, and Andi could only see two options, two ways out of her current nightmare. She could kill herself. First she’d have to find a way, and then she’d have to have the guts to pull it off. Pills maybe, or she could suffocate herself somehow. Her problems would be over, but what about her parents? What about Bailey? The people who knew her would suffer the aftereffects of her suicide for years. Maybe forever.
The idea made her feel more sick than before, and from the pit of her stomach a slow anger began to churn within her. Why should she kill herself? Why put her family through that sort of heartache and pain? This wasn’t their fault, and it wasn’t hers either. Taz was to blame for this mess she was in. He’d known about her faith and conviction, but he’d led her down the path of destruction anyway. He could’ve chosen any girl, but he chose her. This nightmare was his fault.
Which led her to her other conclusion: She would put Taz out of her mind and have the baby on her own, love the baby with every day of her life from this point on. She would be the sort of mother her own mom had been to her, even if she never had a man to help her.
Andi rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She would move to California, live with her parents in San Jose. Her mom would help her know what to do, how to take care of the baby without the help of a husband. When to change the baby’s diapers, when a cry meant the baby was hungry or tired or sick. And when the baby was a few months old, Andi would go back to school. When she had her degree she would make a great life for the two of them. She and her baby.
As soon as she had a plan, she put her hands protectively over her stomach and felt herself drifting off, dreaming about the days ahead and the life she would choose to live, not for herself. But for her baby. Andi felt fresh tears in her eyes. She had done everything wrong when it came to love, made every wrong choice and believed every wrong thing Taz had ever told her.
But this…this she would do right.
Six
KEITH TOOK A SHAKY BREATH AS he parked deep in the cement garage beneath Delta Talent Agency’s enormous Century City building. He looked at the clock on his dashboard. Nine-twenty. Ten minutes before the biggest meeting he’d ever taken—the one where Brandon Paul and his management team would sign a pre-liminary deal locking the young heartthrob as star of their film, Unlocked. Luke Baxter, their attorney, was joining Keith here with the paperwork, and by all indications the meeting was a matter of formality. Brandon wanted to make the picture, and his team wanted to keep Brandon happy. The deal shouldn’t take more than half an hour to discuss and then they could celebrate the signatures. But Keith had never been more nervous in all his life for one reason.
Something was wrong with Chase.
It was Friday in a week that had been marked by some of the biggest meetings the team of Jeremiah Productions had ever taken part in. Three meetings with various brass at American Pictures, each of them fine-tuning the process of seeing The Last Letter released to the big screen. A key lunch with the author of Unlocked and her agent, and now this crucial session with Brandon Paul. And Chase had missed them all.
His phone call had come last weekend, hours before they were scheduled to fly out. “I need to be home,” Chase had said. He was adamant, and unwilling to talk about the reasons. “Look, Keith, I’m sorry. It’s not something I can talk about. Tell everyone I’ll explain later. I can’t be on the road this week. I just can’t.”
Of course Keith had pressed him, asked whether Macy’s
flu had gotten worse or whether something was wrong with Kelly. But Chase only sighed. “We can talk when you get back. Right now I need you to do one thing for me.”
“What?” Keith was desperate. He wanted to shake Chase and bring him to his senses. Whatever the crisis at home, it could wait. These meetings were what they’d worked the past year to achieve. Keith hadn’t felt this confused since he and Chase had dreamed up the idea of making movies back on the mission field. “What do you want me to do?”
“Pray for me. I’ve got a lot to think through.”
Even now that the week of meetings had come and gone, Keith couldn’t understand what his friend meant by that. A lot to think through? They were at the top of their game. What could Chase possibly have to think through now? It was one thing to doubt their direction back when the funds weren’t available and everything about the production of The Last Letter seemed to be falling apart. But now? When they had a lucrative offer from American Pictures on the table and they were this close to a serious deal with Brandon Paul? Chase should’ve been thrilled to hit the road this week.
Keith glanced at the clock again. It was time. He climbed out of his car and felt the suffocating stillness of the underground garage. What was it about being in one of these parking structures? He shook off the strange feeling and made his way to the elevator. Three minutes later he met up with Luke Baxter in the lobby of DTA’s lucrative firm. If a person didn’t know the talent agency was top in the business, they would certainly figure it out by entering the firm’s front doors. Granite and crystal, marble and plush carpet marked every inch of the place.
“This is it,” Luke grinned. “We can make our own press announcement when we’re finished here. Once Brandon is officially linked to the project, everything else will come together.” Luke sorted through his paperwork. “Everything’s very clear-cut at this point. We’ll work out the finer details of the contract later.”
Keith nodded, trying to feel enthusiastic. What if something really was wrong with Kelly? Or maybe one of the girls was sick with something worse than the flu and Chase wasn’t ready to talk about it. What choices could he possibly need to make that would take a week of prayer and thought? He stared out the window, only dimly aware of Luke and his enthusiasm.
“Hey,” Luke touched his shoulder. “You all right?”
“Huh?” Keith turned to his attorney. “Sorry.” He allowed an uncomfortable pause. “Thinking about Chase.”
Luke’s expression showed his frustration. “He should be here. The two of you are a team.”
“Exactly.”
“Have you heard from him, why he missed this week?”
“Nothing.” Keith shrugged. “I can only figure it’s something with his family. Maybe he needed a week to regroup.”
“Let’s hope so. This is too big a project to handle alone. Besides, Chase is your director. I’m not sure where you’d be without him.”
Keith didn’t want to think about it, and at the moment he didn’t have to. The receptionist invited them back to the meeting room, and they sat around a stunning burl wood table that looked like a piece of artwork. Luke and Keith had only just taken their seats when Brandon breezed in followed by five members of his management team and his agent from DTA.
“Hello, gentlemen.” The lead DTA guy was Jacque Ruse, a Frenchman with a high-powered charisma that made Keith feel out of his league. But Luke was up for the challenge.
He stood and shook Ruse’s hand. “Luke Baxter, attorney for Jeremiah Productions.”
“Pleasure.” Ruse moved quickly to Keith. “And the talk of the town—Keith Ellison, I presume.”
Keith’s heart felt like it would give out, but he hid the fact. He stood and shook hands with the man, and then moved down the table, greeting Brandon Paul. God, what are we doing here? Can this really be us? Having a meeting like this and preparing to make a film with a star like Brandon Paul? Help me feel able, God. Please.
Introductions and small talk lasted another five minutes, and during that time Keith snuck a few long looks at Brandon. His eyes looked a little bloodshot, and he had the hint of crow’s feet around the corners of his eyes. Not a big deal if the guy was in his forties. But Brandon was only twenty-four. The physical signs were one more reason to worry. Lately, the paparazzi had talked about Brandon becoming a party boy. Once, a month ago, Keith had called Dayne Matthews—who had been at least as famous as Brandon Paul a few years ago—and asked about the young actor.
“You can’t trust everything you read in the rags,” Dayne had advised. “But if they’re catching photos of Brandon partying, there’s probably some truth to it.”
Now Keith had to wonder, and again he wished Chase were here. They didn’t need Brandon Paul, really. Yes, he was a huge actor, and yes he had gone to the author of Unlocked practically begging to play the lead. But if Brandon brought a tainted image to the film, or if he embarrassed them, the fallout could hurt Jeremiah Productions more than it might ever help.
As the meeting got under way, Ruse talked about the supporting cast. He pulled out a sheet of notes and grinned at the people around the table. “Great news just in from our children’s division. The script calls for Brandon to have a younger sister, someone who is instrumental in helping bring the character out of his prison of autism.” He passed out copies of a single headshot of a pretty young girl with shining blue eyes. “This is Annalee Sullivan. She’s seven years old and by all accounts one of the fastest rising child stars in the business. Her agent says if Brandon’s the lead, she definitely wants the part of his sister.” He pointed to a few bullet points on the child’s resume. “She goes by Annie Sullivan, and she loves to sing and dance. I imagine she might even sing a partial song in the movie.” He winked at Brandon. “Talk about your heart-grabbers.”
“Mmhmm.” Brandon was texting, his entire focus on his phone.
“Right.” Ruse chuckled. No one from DTA seemed bothered by Brandon’s lack of focus. He was still something of a kid himself. At least that’s what his team had called him a time or two.
Keith had a sense that whatever Brandon wanted, he got. Who was going to tell him what to do when he was the biggest box office draw around? Besides, Keith didn’t have to be sold on Annie Sullivan. He knew who she was. The idea that she would co-star in Unlocked was only one more unbelievable development. He nodded at Luke and then at Ruse. “We’d love to work with Annie. She’d make a very believable sister for Brandon.”
“Definitely.” Brandon looked up from his phone. “Annie’s great. I’ll have to bring my A-game or the kid’ll leave me in the dust.”
The conversation shifted to other co-stars, and with each successive role Keith had to work to contain his excitement. He and Chase had talked about what it would mean to investors and creative types to have Brandon Paul. But he hadn’t imagined they’d be able to round up such a star-studded cast. The film would easily be one of the most talked about of the year.
So why isn’t Chase here, God? I need him. Keith hid his concern about his friend, and Chase’s name came up just once toward the end of the meeting. Ruse handed a stack of documents to Brandon, and on the star’s other side one of the team presented the actor with a pen. “Time to make it official.” Ruse’s face was a perpetual grin. “The lawyers can hammer out the rest later.”
Brandon took the papers and read through none of it. His trust of his team was complete. “Where do I sign?”
The DTA executive on his right side pointed to a number of lines and Brandon easily signed everywhere he was told. While that was happening, Ruse focused an intense look at Keith. “I understand Chase has some family matter at home?”
Keith was caught off guard, but he rebounded quickly. “Uh…yes, he’s home this week. I expect to meet with him tomorrow and get him up to speed on all this.”
“Good.” Ruse tapped the table a few times. He was the antithesis of laid back. “Chase is a vital part of the team. We’ll want to meet with both of you next week to s
et production dates, line up a director of photography, nail down a director. All the important pieces.”
“Definitely.” Keith figured Luke must’ve told Ruse about Chase’s family issue. The explanation was honest and it bought Keith time. He would thank Luke later. He could hardly tell Ruse that he had no idea what was going on with Chase or that he could barely get him to talk on the phone.
The meeting was over, and Brandon stood first, reaching across the table and shaking both Keith’s and Luke’s hands. “This film is gonna rock! I’m already Twittering about it. Got a couple million followers. They can’t wait to see it!” He flashed a sideways peace sign on his way toward the conference room door. “Got another meeting down the hall. Later, guys.”
His team lingered a little longer, and Ruse was the last to leave. He set up specific meeting times with Luke, hours of discussion that would bring Keith back to LA for most of the next three weeks. Whatever Chase was working through at home, Keith hoped he had the details resolved. Things were picking up speed.
There was a chance they’d film Unlocked in Bloomington, Indiana, of all places. The state offered great tax incentives to filmmakers, and already Keith and Chase were connected with caterers and the technical staff needed to pull off a major motion picture. Either way, they wouldn’t be home for a long time at this rate. Maybe this week at home would give Chase added energy and enthusiasm so he’d be ready for the race ahead.
Keith and Luke discussed a few more legalities in the lobby before Keith headed down the elevator three floors into the parking structure. He was halfway to his car when the ground began to move. It was an earthquake, Keith was certain. He’d lived through his share of temblors and now there was no denying the telltale signs—the way the lights swung above him and the noise of creaking cement and rebar.
Take Three Page 7
