Take Four

by Karen Kingsbury

  “Didn’t you hear him? At the end there he pointed to each of us and told us where we’d be working.” His face lit up again. “I’m in Wicked. I can’t even believe this is happening.”

  Bailey couldn’t draw a breath for a moment. Wicked? The top show on Broadway? “That’s perfect!” She found a thrill of joy for Tim, her own disappointment pushed back for the moment. If he could win a role in the ensemble for that show, this first six-month contract would only be the beginning. She was grateful they’d broken up nearly two months ago. Otherwise they might’ve been confused by this goodbye—since the separation here was out of their hands. But Bailey had long since let Tim go, long before their breakup. Now she was truly happy for him and his future here in New York City.

  “You’ll be here one day, I know it.” He hugged her loosely, their bodies both drenched in sweat. “Keep trying, Bailey. Don’t ever settle.”

  She felt a tenderness work its way into her smile. She hadn’t settled in love—that’s why she was dating Cody Coleman. And she wouldn’t settle when it came to her dreams of performing, either. “Thanks for that. I won’t settle.”

  “Promise?”

  “Promise.” Bailey took out her cell phone. “I need to call my mom.” She dreaded this conversation, but she had to have it. She kept her tone upbeat and simply asked her mom to pick them up out front. No details yet. Five minutes later the car pulled up. Her mom jumped out and gave each of them a quick hug. “So…what happened?”

  Bailey waited until they were in the car, then she took the lead. “They passed on me.” She smiled, even as another layer of tears built in her eyes. She wasn’t shaking as badly as before, but she was weary, worn out from the physical and emotional drain. She didn’t make eye contact with her mom, because if she did, she’d break down. And she didn’t want to do that until later, when she and her mom were alone. “But guess what?” Her voice trembled a little, but she fought for control. “Tim got a job with Wicked! Can you believe it? He was one of four guys chosen. You should’ve seen him. He was easily the best out there.”

  Her mom’s immediate response was to congratulate Tim, but at the same time she reached out and took hold of Bailey’s knee, squeezing it as if to say her heart was breaking. Her mom loved her so much, and clearly she hadn’t missed the obvious. Bailey hadn’t been chosen. But her mom also knew her well enough to know this wasn’t the time or place for sadness. It was Tim’s shining moment, and he deserved their excitement.

  Not until later in their hotel room, when the door was finally shut and they were alone, did Bailey fall into her mother’s arms and let her tears come. “I wanted it so badly, Mom. I’ve never tried so hard for anything in all my life.” The sobs came in waves, and for a long time her mom simply held her.

  “Oh honey, it’s okay to cry. I know you’re disappointed.”

  After a minute or so, Bailey pulled back and met her mom’s eyes. Her heartbreak sounded in every word. “I thought it was God’s will. I mean…I prayed about this for months, and…and I thought I was ready. I’d have Tim here to help keep an eye on me and…and it would’ve been perfect.” A few more sobs shook her body and she pressed her fingers beneath her eyes.

  “You can try again.”

  “I know.” Bailey sniffed and nodded. But the tears came once more and she brushed them away. She paced to the window of their hotel room and stared out at the city. “I will.” She looked over her shoulder at her mother. “And next time I’ll work harder. God would want that from me.”

  “I agree.” Her mom’s expression showed how badly she hurt for Bailey.

  They ate pizza in their room that night, and Tim turned in early. Bailey and her mother watched an ESPN special on the Indianapolis Colts, and how Bailey’s father—the Colts’ offensive coordinator—was one of the top coaches in the NFL. When the special was over, they called Bailey’s dad and congratulated him. “Every team in pro football will want you after that,” Bailey settled into the sofa closest to their hotel window. “I’m proud of you, Daddy.”

  By now he knew about her audition. “I’m proud of you, too, sweetheart. And next time you’ll be first one picked.” His voice was tender. “I know you. This will only make you stronger.”

  While they were talking, her mom took a call on her cell. She slipped into the hotel bedroom for the conversation and when she joined Bailey in the sitting area, her eyes were dancing and a smile tugged at her lips. “That was Katy Matthews.” She uttered a disbelieving laugh. “God’s timing is amazing, as always.”

  “Why?” Bailey sat up a little straighter. “What’d she say?”

  “I guess the casting director for Unlocked saw your footage from The Last Letter. She loves you, Bailey.” Her mom sat down across from her. “She said Dayne might contact you about an audition.” She brushed aside a section of Bailey’s long brown hair. “God has a plan in this, honey. Even if we can’t see it now.”

  “I know. I believe that.” Bailey thought about the possibility of being an extra in Unlocked. It was bound to be a big movie—the book was a major New York Times runaway bestseller. Everyone had read it, and everyone loved it. Now the film was being produced by Jeremiah Productions—Dayne Matthews and Keith Ellison, the father of Bailey’s friend, Andi. “Being an extra in a movie like that would be nice. It would look good on my resume, I guess.”

  “Hmmm.” Her mom tilted her head. “Maybe they want you to read for a bigger part. It’s possible, right?”

  Bailey smiled. “I don’t have experience for anything more.” She shrugged, trying to stay light-hearted. “It’ll be fun. I’ll definitely meet with them if they’re interested.”

  “That’s my girl.” Her mom’s eyes showed a support some kids only dream of having. “Let’s get some sleep, okay?”

  They turned in, and Bailey realized how exhausted she still was. She could sleep ten hours easily. But before she drifted off, she thought about Cody and Bloomington and the season ahead. She would enjoy every minute, hold onto the time with the people she loved. But she would also work harder than ever before. Because with God’s help and her own determination, this time next year she wouldn’t be heading back home after an audition in New York City.

  She’d be looking for an apartment.

  Two

  KEITH ELLISON STILL WASN’T USED TO the attention Dayne received wherever they went. After Dayne replaced Chase Ryan as the other lead producer for Jeremiah Productions, Keith quickly forgot Dayne Matthews had once been a big-time Hollywood star. He had instead become a friend, a confidante, and a very talented part of their production company. When they were on the road, however, the reality of Dayne’s past was constantly an issue.

  That was the case now on this late Friday afternoon as they boarded a United Airlines flight from Los Angeles International Airport to Indianapolis. Never mind that LAX was used to seeing celebrities frequent the ticket counters. Even after a few years of virtual seclusion, Dayne Matthews was enough to cause the sort of disruption that required extra security.

  “Here goes,” Dayne grinned as they pulled up at the United outdoor baggage counter. He kept his head low as he stepped out of the black Navigator that had shuttled them about all week for various meetings regarding the first two Jeremiah Productions films, The Last Letter and Unlocked.

  Keith signed for the ride, thanked the driver, and stepped out beside Dayne. The driver set their luggage on the sidewalk beside them and they headed for the line at the United counter.

  “Shorter out here,” Dayne continued to keep his face downcast, as if he’d developed a sudden and intense interest in the zipper on his rollerboard suitcase. “Less chance of getting recognized.”

  They’d traveled together enough times in the last month that Keith knew the drill. He’d keep Dayne engaged in what seemed like an intense conversation until they had boarding passes and were headed for security. Dayne had more than a million air miles built up from his days of acting, so they upgraded to first class every time they fle
w. That also added to some sense of privacy.

  Even so, as they reached the baggage counter, a young woman in her twenties ran up and touched Dayne’s arm. “Dayne Matthews!” She screamed and looked around, as if she needed someone to appreciate what had just happened. “I can’t believe this! Everyone look! It’s Dayne Matthews!”

  Keith felt his adrenaline kick into gear. They had a plan for moments like this. “Ma’am, here you go.” Keith pulled an autographed mini-picture of Dayne from his bag and handed it to her.

  “I wondered what happened to you after that terrible car accident.” The woman stood as close as she could to Dayne, babbling so fast it was difficult to understand her. “I mean, you were in the hospital for a really long time and a lot of us wondered if you’d ever walk again. But then didn’t you fall in love with someone from the Midwest? I read about it one of the magazines and—”

  “Ooops, sorry.” Dayne smiled and held up his forefinger, just as he pulled his phone from his back pocket and pushed his wife Katy’s number—all in a quick rush of motion. “Got a phone call,” Dayne whispered. “It’s important!”

  On the other end, Katy must’ve answered because Dayne lowered his head and covered the phone as he began to talk.

  Keith stood between Dayne and the woman. “He’s busy, ma’am. Thanks for your interest.” He motioned toward the distant door. “If you could move on that’d be great.”

  The woman seemed bewildered by the turn of events, but she did as she was asked, grateful for the autographed picture. As soon as she was gone, Dayne wrapped up what was a very quick call to his wife, then he put his phone back in his pocket and winked at Keith. “Worked again.”

  “Like a charm.” Keith was amazed at how practiced Dayne was at diffusing moments like that one. “How’s Katy?”

  “She’s great. Sophie was saying, ‘Da-da,’ in the background.” Dayne’s eyes shone. “Can’t wait to get home.”

  They got through the baggage counter, and at the security line the man checking IDs looked hard at Dayne. “You look a lot like another Dayne Matthews—used to be an actor a while back.”

  “Hmmm.” Dayne grinned. “I hear that now and then.”

  The man moved on to Keith’s ID and let the matter pass. When they were through security, Keith laughed about the incident. “It’s not like you grew a long beard and let yourself go,” he grabbed his roller computer bag and hurried alongside Dayne to the concourse.

  “Hey, it works for me. The last thing you want is to sign an autograph for the guy checking security.” He chuckled. “The whole line figures something’s up.”

  They had only a little time at the gate before they boarded, and only after the plane was in the air did an older flight attendant bring him a piece of paper and a discreet smile. “Please, Mr. Matthews, could I get an autograph for my daughter. She’s a huge fan.”

  Dayne was sitting near the window and seemed happy to oblige. He kept the matter quiet, the paper low to his lap, so no one would see what was happening. After the interruption things settled down Dayne turned to Keith. “What a week.”

  “It was.” Keith’s head was still spinning from everything that had fallen into place in the meetings these past few days. “We finally have a release date.”

  “I’m glad they let us have input on that. Some dates can kill a movie.” Dayne recalled an incident to Keith from a few years back, where a major studio released a Christmas movie in early November, thinking there’d be more holiday weekends for people to see the film. Instead, moviegoers disregarded the picture as something not to see until the Christmas season. People weren’t ready for a Christmas story just days after Halloween. Dayne turned, his shoulder pressed into the seat, his attention on Keith. “The movie needed a Thanksgiving Day release, of course. But by Thanksgiving it was already doing so poorly it was on its way out of theaters.”

  “I agree. The release date is huge. I was glad for your input. Your experience is priceless, Dayne. Really.”

  They’d agreed on a December 26 release for The Last Letter—meaning the film would go head-to-head with some of the top pictures of the holiday season. Generally, Christmas films would release around Thanksgiving, and the day after Christmas a slew of family-friendly movies would hit theaters, giving people on Christmas break another reason to line up at box offices.

  “A year ago if you’d told me we’d have a release date the day after Christmas I would’ve thought I was dreaming.” Keith pulled a folder of notes from his travel bag and looked over a summary of their various meetings. “I think they respect us more with you on the team.” He paused. “You feel good about it, right?”

  “It’s perfect.” Dayne didn’t look even the slightest bit concerned. “The Last Letter is a great picture, and with the buzz from film festivals it’ll be huge. Might as well put it on a weekend when everyone can see it.”

  Keith tried to believe that was true. The stakes were high, because if viewers chose to support a different film that weekend, there might not be much of a second weekend for The Last Letter. And if that happened, the movie wouldn’t only bomb at the box offices, it would lose money and fail to repay investors—a death knell to Jeremiah Productions and everything it hoped to accomplish.

  “I know what you’re thinking.” Dayne’s eyes danced, his confidence like a physical presence around him. “It won’t bomb. It’ll be the top box office draw, for sure.”

  Keith didn’t quite share Dayne’s certainty, but he liked the optimism of his new co-producer and he liked the deals they’d worked out that week. God was moving in a big way…he needed to believe that the way Dayne did. They had their release date, and American Pictures had made good on its promise—a ten-million-dollar advance toward publicity and marketing. With Dayne’s connections, they’d raised the other ten million dollars—unthinkable amounts when Keith and Chase first started out. But with a twenty-million-dollar budget, people everywhere would see the trailer, and maybe Dayne was right. Maybe The Last Letter would be the picture everyone would flock to see once Christmas was behind them.

  Keith would pray about it every day until then.

  The flight attendant brought them rolled up warm washcloths to clean their hands prior to the meal. Keith laughed softly as he took his. “Just as well the people in coach don’t see this. It’s a little ridiculous.”

  “Completely.” Dayne wiped his hands just as the woman came back around collecting the used cloths. “But you have to admire their efforts at customer service.”

  “True.” Keith pulled down his tray table as the flight attendant came again and spread linen cloths for each of them. No matter how many times they traded Dayne’s miles for first class, the experience would never seem normal to Keith. He checked his notes again. “And the filming dates for Unlocked, you’re happy about them too?”

  “I am. It’s soon, but I think it’ll work out.”

  “What about the cold weather and the snow?”

  “I think we can avoid it. But if not, it works.” Dayne angled his head. “There’s something symbolic about a boy struggling with autism through winter, and finding his way out of that internal prison come spring and summer. We can do the later scenes first, before there’s a chance of snow.”

  Keith nodded, pensive. “That should work.”

  “It will.” Dayne looked content with the plan. “Last year we didn’t have snow until well into November.”

  “Is that right?” Keith was surprised. “I always pictured Indiana colder than that.”

  “Oh, it gets cold.” Dayne rolled his eyes. “You should see me drive in the snow.”

  “Not pretty?”

  “Definitely not. I get snow tires each year on the first of November. But usually I’m the only one driving around with them until the end of the month.”

  They start filming October 25, and hope for a six-week schedule. That way they’d wrap up two weeks before Christmas, which was just enough time for a brief break before the public premiere of The Last
Letter. Depending on the editing process, Unlocked could be in theaters the day after Christmas a year from now—twelve months later.

  A man across the aisle from them reached over and tapped on Keith’s shoulder. Keith was on the aisle, with Dayne on the window—the way Dayne always flew. “Excuse me,” the man motioned past Keith to Dayne. “Your friend, can you get his attention for me?”

  As soon as the man leaned over, Dayne instantly appeared lost in some tremendous sight beyond his window. Keith had no choice but to tap Dayne’s shoulder. “Hey, quick question.”

  “What?” Dayne turned, surprised, and looked from Keith to the man. He smiled. “Sorry…what?”

  “I hate to bug you.” The man scrutinized Dayne. “My wife wants me to say…you look a lot like Dayne Matthews, the actor.”

  Dayne shook his head, like this might be one of the few times in his life he’d heard such a thing. “I used to hear that all the time. Not so much anymore.”

  “Yeah.” The guy nodded and settled back into his seat. “Just thought I’d tell you.”

  Dayne gave the man a friendly wave and did the same for the guy’s wife. It was all Keith could do to keep a straight face. He’d seen Dayne handle attention this way enough times that now it seemed like an art form. Dayne didn’t deny the resemblance, but he didn’t confirm it either. Almost no one went on to the next question, asking Dayne if he really was the actor. Most assumed by his response the resemblance was only that.

  Once more Dayne resumed looking out the window, and only a few minutes later after the flight attendants brought lunch did he stare at his meal and mutter under his breath, “You know what’s really wild? How come no one ever tells you how much you look like Keith Ellison?”

  This time, Keith couldn’t stop a single laugh from slipping through his lips. He, too, kept his attention on his meal, and they let the matter pass. They spent the rest of the flight talking about their families and all that laid ahead for them in the coming year. Dayne’s little girl, Sophie, was walking and saying her first words, and his wife, Katy, was excited to be alongside the two of them through the moviemaking process.