Brit has stopped chewing and is staring up at the ceiling, which I hope means she’s taking our ideas into consideration. While Brit sits in silence, I look over at Hannah and smile at her. She obviously cares about Brit and that fact combined with the warm, fattening food in my belly is comforting all the way down to my feet.
Seeing Brit and Hannah together, easily and effortlessly wrapped up in each other, makes me doubt that what I have with Camden is something real. We don’t really talk at work. He texts me a lot, but mostly it’s just flirty, silly things. And when we are together, we’re really just making out or I’m listening to him complain about someone or something on the Vamp Camp set. That’s not a real relationship, is it? It’s not something I can wrap my hands around and carry with me when I’m having bad moments. It’s not something I can take out and see for what it is . . . a real connection. A real support system.
But Hannah isn’t just supportive. She’s pushing Brit to be better.
Kind of like how Tate was today while showing me how to edit. He pushed against my ideas, but it always ended up better in the end because of how much he challenged me. I bet he would give Tower a read, too—which I’m more and more convinced Camden will never get around to reading.
Now the delicious food I just ate is a giant rock in the pit of my stomach. I push my chair away from the table and stand up, “I think I’m going to work on my script before bed. And Brit, you obviously have some recipes to come up with, right?”
“She does,” Hannah says before Brit can answer. “And I’ll stay and help you if you need, okay?”
I say good night to Brit and Hannah and walk back to my bedroom. Judging by the bashful stares between them and how Hannah’s arm ended cozied up next to Brit’s on the table, I bet their date will last into the early morning hours.
* * *
“Dani, come with me, will ya?” Lowell asks just as I finish disinfecting the headsets worn at video village. I nod, surprised, and follow him down the hall.
“I thought you might like to sit in on a writers’ meeting,” Lowell tells me as he leads me to the big conference room connected to set. “They are breaking ideas for the episode that will air before our three-week hiatus.”
I’m stunned. Lowell pretty much spends his days either yelling at me or asking where I am so he can yell at me. But I don’t ask for a reason, I just thank him as he gestures toward the writers’ room.
“Just sit off to the side and don’t speak. And report back to set in an hour.”
Lowell shuts the door before I can thank him again, so I quietly find a seat that’s next to a giant whiteboard almost completely covered with colored index cards. They have some lines drawn between them, obviously trying to connect storylines, but my eyes cross before I can make sense of it all.
As I wait for the writers to trickle back in from their break, I start to get a little nervous. Camden told me more than once that the Vamp Camp writing staff isn’t into the craft of creating a story, and I’m nervous that this will be a waste of my time. I don’t want to be around people who don’t take their work seriously. I debate slipping out quietly, because honestly, I’d like at least some part of this business to remain untarnished for me.
But then Katie, the head writer, enters. And she enters with such authority that I am frozen in my chair. Everything about her screams “no fuss.” Jeans. White T-shirt. Hair pushed back off her face with a headband. Black-rimmed glasses that are not hip, only necessary.
I instantly like her. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s the way the room falls completely silent when she sits at the head of the table. Or the way Katie reminds them how important this episode is for viewers and for the show. Fans won’t be getting any new stuff for three weeks after it airs, so it has to be good. I know that at the very least, Katie won’t let me down.
As soon as Katie is done speaking, the magic really begins.
“Lee, what are you thinking?” she asks one of the head writers next to her. Lee, a petite woman who I’ve never seen without a New York Yankees cap, clears her throats and leans forward.
“I think this episode could be an opportunity to show how Austin and Sophia first became vampires,” she suggests.
“Flashback?” Katie asks.
“Yes, let’s take them back to where it all began. It’s time to dive into the mythology,” another writer chimes in.
“I’m not sure, Lee. Sophia just broke Austin’s heart in the episode before. Don’t you think fans want to see their interaction? I know I’d be anxious to see how they act with each other.”
“That’s true,” Katie agrees. “What if we use their first awkward meeting as setups for the flashbacks?”
“We could connect where they’ve been to where they are now. A full circle, journey theme,” throws out a different writer. Lee and Katie nod enthusiastically.
“I had this idea that maybe this could be the episode where Austin finally finds the final shard of the Omega key,” someone pitches. “Actually, Ashley and I have a couple ideas for that.”
“Yep!” starts who I assume is Ashley. “If there is a key to turn vampires into humans, then shouldn’t there be a key that turns humans into vampires?”
“I like that,” Katie says, typing out some notes on her iPad. “Can we have some extreme rules to go with these keys? Something that will challenge the characters?”
“Murder? Someone has to murder someone to change from vampire to human or vice versa?” comes a voice from the back of the room.
“Murdering of an innocent soul? Up the stakes!” shouts another.
“Scarifies? Can Austin and Sophia debate doing this to save their souls?”
Suddenly the ideas are flying around so fast that I can barely keep track of them all, but that’s the job of the two writers assistants, who are both typing away madly on their laptops.
After twenty minutes in the room, I realize something. Camden is wrong. These people are not just jaded minions trying to crank out crap that sells. They are passionate about their characters. They care about the storylines. They care about what the fans will think, if a scene is out of character for a person, or if lines should be better. They spent almost ten minutes on whether or not Sophia says “good-bye” or just “bye” to Austin at the end of the episode. They argue their points. They defend their choices. This is a room full of people who care about their work.
It’s so inspiring that when the writers break for coffee and cigarettes, I pull out my notebook and start sketching out a scene for my secondary character. I’m not sure what it will be yet, but I imagine a long, dimly lit hallway and a man at the end of it. What does the man want? Why is he there? I’m not sure, but at least I have a start. At least I have a vision.
But I need to be working on Tower every night, no matter how tired I am. I made a promise to Tate, but now I need to start keeping promises for myself. Not only to finish the script, but to make sure it gets seen.
I decide to stop by Lowell’s office to thank him for letting me sit in on the meeting, but on the way to his office (where he always eats lunch by himself, natch), I spot Tate talking to his publicist, Margo. They are standing close together, obviously hoping to keep their conversation quiet.
Unfortunately for them, I’m just around the corner from them and can hear everything.
I peek around the corner. Margo is holding up a magazine that has a small photo of Tate and Elise in the corner. He’s kissing her on the cheek and underneath the picture are the words “Vamp In Love!” printed in a bright blue font.
I glance at Margo, expecting her to scold Tate for being seen out in public with a girl, especially after the Tarantula incident. Instead, Margo looks positively elated as she waves the magazine in front of Tate’s face.
“She’s perfect,” Margo tells Tate chirpily. “Keep it up! Pretty soon all that bad press will be behind you, okay? I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Margo kisses Tate on both cheeks and click clacks down the hall in her too-hi
gh-for-my-taste heels. I watch Tate lean against the wall and study the photograph of him and Elise.
I back away slowly as I try to make sense of what I just saw. Camden’s accusation explodes in my head. Is Tate using Elise to get good press? Does he even care about her?
And if he doesn’t, what’s he doing hanging around me? Does he collect the adoration of other girls the way a teenage girl collects ticket stubs after movie dates with her boyfriend, a tangible token to put into a box that they can take out later and make themselves feel wanted? Am I Tate’s ticket stub?
Or is he longing for someone different, someone he can make a real connection with?
And then the most terrifying and exciting question smash-cuts into my head:
Am I that person?
Lowell storms out of his office, startling me.
“Dani, glad I ran into you. Walk with me to set,” he asks as he brushes past me. I turn on my heels quickly and jog to catch up with him. When I reach him, he takes his eyes off the shoot schedule in his hands and looks down at me, as if he’s surprised to see me there even though he literally just told me to follow him four seconds ago.
“I’m a co-owner of a new Japanese restaurant and it’s opening tonight. You should come. Lots of writers and actors will be there. It’s not a big Hollywood thing, no press or anything, but it should be fun. You might meet some other writers or directors from the studio.”
“Wow, are you serious?”
“Yes. Why would I joke about opening a Japanese restaurant?”
Lowell never jokes.
“Right. Sorry. I just never thought you would be doing so much for me in one day.”
Lowell stops in front of the double doors to set and looks at me. “Look, I know I’m a prick, but I also appreciate hard work. And I like to reward it. You bust your ass around here, which is why I’m constantly yelling for you. I don’t trust other people to do the work you do. It comes off as me being an asshole, but I promise it means I like you.”
I’m stunned. It must show on my face because Lowell laughs a bit.
“Not everyone in Hollywood is an asshole, Dani.”
And with that, he heads through the double doors and onto set. I consider what he says as I watch Tate saunter down the hallway toward me. On instinct, I give him a big smile. And I’m worried that my first instinct upon seeing him is to smile. But then I remember what Margo said to him.
“Keep it up!”
Keep up his sham of a relationship with my best friend.
“Hey, Danika,” Tate says smoothly. I wrinkle my nose at the sound of my full name.
“Don’t call me that.”
Tate puts his hands up in defense. “Whoa, sorry. Didn’t mean to make you mad within five seconds of seeing you.”
“It’s a talent only you possess,” I reply, catching his eyes for a second. His gorgeous blue eyes. I look lower on his face instead, but even the chip in his tooth is adorable. I definitely shouldn’t be staring deeply into Tate’s eyes or admiring his cute smile. Elise is the one who is allowed to admire this man so intricately. That’s Elise’s job.
Ugh. That’s exactly what she might be to him: a job.
“Hey, you okay? What did Lowell say to you?”
Tate’s concern somehow makes me angrier, but I remember his face in the firelight as he told me about Tarantula and I crumble. I look up and into his blue eyes, which seem to be lit up from the inside as he stares down at me worriedly.
I almost tell him I overheard what his publicist said to him. I almost tell him that I know Elise. I almost tell him everything. It’s not too late. I can get the truth for Elise and we all can still be friends if I get everything out now.
“Did Lowell tell you about Plum?”
Tate’s question catches me so off guard it takes a few seconds for me to answer.
“The fruit?”
“No, that’s the name of his new restaurant. He’s having an opening tonight. You should come.”
“Yeah, he invited me already. That’s what he was talking to me about.”
“Oh, big shot Dani doesn’t need anyone to invite her to the cool parties. She gets her own invite,” Tate says with a mock air of superiority. “Shall her highness be arriving in a limo or a gold-trimmed limo?”
“Please. It’ll be diamond-encrusted.”
And just like that, we slip back into our usual back and forth. And it feels so comfortable, like slipping into a well-worn pair of sweatpants after a long day of wearing jeans.
“Well, you should definitely come,” Tate says with a smile. “You can finally meet my girlfriend.”
“Your girlfriend?”
“Yeah, she’s coming with me tonight and I’ll be sure to introduce you. She’s really sweet. You’ll be there, right?”
Tate’s invitation was met with two emotions that collided clumsily inside my own head: happiness that he wants to spend time with me and utter terror that he is going to “introduce” me to the friend I’ve known since fourth grade.
I open my mouth to make up an excuse: my roommate needs help with her hair, my dog ate my party dress, something, anything to keep me from this party. But instead I say . . .
“Sure. I’ll be there.”
Rules to Stay True to Yourself
Never forget that no one knows you better than your mom.
The best way to remind yourself who you are is to ask a trusted friend.
Never forget where you are going.
Never forget where you came from.
Never forget where you are.
If you find something funny, laugh. If something makes you sad, cry. If you are being disrespected, leave. Don’t let anyone else dictate your emotions.
Just breathe. When all else fails, just breathe.
Chapter Seventeen
Elise, I don’t think this will work.
Yes it will! it totally will promise . . . . just act cool
Act cool? Act like I don’t know pretty much everything about you? This is too weird
Well what do u think we shld do instead? ignore each other??? i think this will be good
Fine. I’ll do my best.
just show up at the party and act like u normally would . . . . then tate will intro us and we can just small talk or whatevs. i think it’s good that he wants to intro his gal pal to his girlfriend . . . . must mean he’s serious about me, right????
Dani? RIGHT?
Dani . . . did you get my last text???
Yes, Elise. I think you are right.
I watch my last text get delivered and I find it hard to swallow. It’s not just that Tate might be totally playing Elise. That’s awful enough. But I think—and I hate myself for feeling like this—I think the idea of Tate getting serious with Elise is making me . . . grumpy? Which is stupid. For so many reasons and on so many levels. They need a new word for the amount of stupid that that notion is.
But it’s hard to say that anything about Tate and Elise’s relationship is promising, considering that she’s using her friend to test his faithfulness, that we’re both lying to him, and that we’re about to pretend that we’ve never met when we “meet” each other for the first time.
As Brit drops me off outside the restaurant—a small, nondescript brick building with a giant wooden barn door that slides from side to side—I silently pray for an open bar.
I spot Tate’s golden head of hair immediately, sitting at the sushi bar next to another blonde head of hair. Elise. I decide I need at least one glass of wine before I go over there, but luck is not on my side tonight. Tate sees me almost immediately and waves me over. I start to walk over there, and I’m ten feet from them when Elise turns her head and spots me.
I panic. I don’t want to get caught in a lie. I don’t want Tate to find out what I really am.
But mostly, I don’t want to be next to Elise as she curls her hand around Tate’s bicep like she is now.
Panic.
So I turn directly to my right and disappear into
the crowd. I walk quickly away from them until I find myself directly in front of Lowell and the bar.
“Hey, Dani. Glad you made it. Here’s a glass of champagne.”
He’s barely finished saying the word “champagne” and I’ve already downed the entire glass. Lowell stares at me in disbelief, but I don’t have time to decide if he’s impressed or horrified, because Camden appears next to me.
“Hey, there you are!” I’m so happy to have an excuse to not go over to Tate and Elise that I basically throw my arms around his neck. “Do you want to sit down with me for a bit?”
I gesture behind me vaguely, all I know is that the direction I’m pointing to is in the opposite corner of Tate. Camden looks behind me indifferently, almost bored, as if I just waved at the wall and said: “Look at this paint on the wall. Isn’t it a nice color?”
“Can’t right now. I have to go sit and talk with some people. You know, Hollywood heavyweights,” he says, rolling his eyes. But I see by the way he’s clasping his hands together and smoothing out his plum-colored tie that he’s anxious to get to that table.
“Oh, okay.”
“Sorry. I’ll find you later. It’s just . . . you know. Gotta impress the big people,” he touches my cheek and is gone before I can register if that sign of affection was actually a sign of affection.
And did he just imply that I’m one of the little people he doesn’t have time for?
I’m officially grumpy and ready to throw back another glass of champagne when I can sense someone has come up behind me. It’s like the space around me has changed, and in a way I’m all too familiar with. I know who’s behind me without turning around.
“Dani, did you not see me waving?” Tate asks. He grabs my shoulder and spins me around gently. “C’mon, sit with us. Meet Elise. Have some food. Let’s go.”
“That’s a lot of things you are ordering me to do,” I complain as I clumsily hand my empty champagne glass back to the bartender. “Though I won’t object to the food. I’m starving. Where’s a menu?”
Rules of Seduction Page 19
