With the front door of the department locked, I began my usual stroll across the lot and made my way to my car. Against the backdrop of the huge stages, I felt so small. Gazing into Stage 27 through the enormous elephant doors, I took in the shell of an airplane split in half for filming purposes. Every time I caught sight of a prop like that, it re-kindled my excitement over being part of Gemstone and all its creative activity. I belonged here.
Just off to the left of the stage were a line of executive movie trailers. The ones actors got to hide out in between shots. Right in front of one of them stood a basketball hoop. A ball lay beneath it. I put my bag down and picked up the ball. It was fairly new. I crooked my head, peering up at the white basket, then I gave it my best shot. The ball failed to reach the net and bounced by my feet.
One of the trailer doors opened.
I turned to greet whoever was coming out with a smile.
George Clooney, wearing a white shirt and blue jeans, stood there looking back at me, and he too was wearing a puzzled expression.
I seriously considering running for it. Though my feet stuck to the ground as though fear had glued me there. The ball dropped from my grasp and bounced.
George hopped down the trailer steps and picked it up, turning it round in his hands. He threw the ball at me and I caught it. Turning in a dreamy state, I threw it up at the basket. The ball fell short, bouncing. He reached for it and threw it to me again, an eyebrow arched in a ‘have another go’ kind of way.
Feeling caught up in the slow-mo of the moment, I tried again and failed to throw it into the basket. George threw the ball high and it dropped effortlessly into the net. He gave a ‘see, easy’ expression.
He threw it over to me. “You looked lovely at the Oscars.”
“Oh,” came my faint reply.
George had known it was me all along.
“By the way,” he said with crooked smile. “Thank you for getting rid of that standee.”
I twisted my mouth in embarrassment. “Sorry about that.”
“You did me a favor.” He nodded toward the basket.
I faced the post, leaping into the air and throwing the ball. It flew out of my hands, bouncing on the side of the net, and slid in. I jumped up and down in celebration. George threw another ball into the basket and caught it again. He gave me that dreamy smile he was famous for and placed the ball by the base of the net.
I had just played basketball with George Clooney. Kind of. My own smile made my face ache.
George climbed onto his motorcycle and said, “Arthur’s a good friend to have around. He’s one of the good guys. Take care of him.”
“I will.”
He clutched the handlebars. “Need a lift to your car?”
“No, but thank you.”
“Stay safe.”
“You too.” I waved goodbye, my expression probably incredulous.
George revved the engine and the bike responded with a deep rumble. He rode off into the night. I’d forgotten to tell him that he was much more handsome then his bobblehead.
Cool air stirred the few stray leaves around my feet. A stretch limo turned the corner of Stage 8 and drove in my direction.
The back window lowered and Jamie poked his head out. “Good day.”
The limo came to a stop in front of me.
“Hey Jamie,” I said, thrilled to see him.
“How are you?”
“Great.” I neared his window. “I’m on my way home.”
Jamie gave a slow nod.
That uncomfortable silence found us again.
“This place keeps me pretty busy.” My mouth twisted into a frown and I recalled Adam telling me to keep my face still, emotionless and camera ready.
I didn’t like the idea of suppressing my emotions and questioned if I’d ever be able to pull off a stone-face. Sure I could keep my voice calm when someone was injured so as not to alarm them, but hiding my feelings didn’t sit well with me. All part of that old fashioned Wisconsin honesty, I suppose.
“Resident wrapped today,” he said. “I’m not coming back for a while.”
“I hope you had fun.”
“The schedule was pretty grueling, but I think we accomplished something special.”
“Can wait to see it,” I said, wondering if that sounded hokey.
Fifteen or so four-year-olds came out of nowhere and swarmed us. I recognized Troy, one of the children from Grayson’s class. Troy clambered atop the hood of the limo, his small arms reaching out toward the dumbstruck driver staring at him from behind the other side of the tinted window. I leaned over the front of the car and wrapped my arms around Troy, lifting him up with ease.
“Whoa.” Grayson appeared and took Troy from me and placed him gently on the ground, saying, “Slow down, buddy. Remember what I told you about climbing onto stranger’s limos.” He winked my way.
Troy’s brow knitted together like a serious old man. “What?”
“Thank you, Piper,” Grayson said, throwing a wave at Jamie. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem,” Jamie said.
Grayson rallied the rest of the children, turning to explain, “Their afternoon teacher is off with the flu.” He guided the children away. “Let’s go take a peek at that airplane.”
They ran alongside Grayson, their faces lighting up with excitement for their next adventure. He waved goodbye to us.
“Piper, I’m on my way to the Sunset Strip,” Jamie said. “Wanna come?”
Grayson and the children were laughing at something. Their excitable chatter carrying.
Jamie leaned farther out. “You can come with me if you like?”
Grayson glanced back at us. His hair was sticking up and he looked so darn cute. My stomach tickled and it felt really nice. Like warm candy floss whooshing around in there, making me want to giggle.
And sigh.
Like I did now, watching Grayson point at the airplane, his eyebrows raised in anticipation of the children’s questions.
“There’s a new club opening on the strip,” said Jamie. “I’ve been invited to it. Celebrity presence and all that.”
“Sounds...great,” I said.
“Let’s get you out of those scrubs.” He laughed. “Where’s an Oscar winning makeup artist when you need one, right?”
Swelling with gratitude, I smiled my thanks to Jamie for his honesty and freeing transparency. “I think I’m going to say no.”
“What?” He waved off my refusal. “I get it.” He disappeared from the window, quickly reappearing with a Red Bull. “Here, you’ll soon be ready to party.”
“Actually.” I flicked a loose strand of hair out of my face. “I think I’m going to help out Grayson.”
“What?” Jamie seemed bewildered.
“Thank you again for taking me to the Oscars,” I said. “It really was fantastic.” I threw him a wave goodbye and headed across the lot.
From behind me came the sound of the limo window sliding closed and then the soft purr of the engine faded.
I made my way back to Stage 27.
Grayson looked surprised. “Isn’t your shift over?”
“Yes,” I said, returning a smile. “But I had this overwhelming desire to do some face painting.”
Troy bounced up and down beside me. “Are you going to make me into a lion?”
Grayson beamed the biggest smile.
“Yes Troy,” I said. “If Mr. Grayson gives his permission.”
Grayson’s face brightened. “I could really use the help.”
“Then face painting it is.”
“And then afterward,” Grayson said, his smile never wavering, “we could go get a bite to eat together, if you like?”
“Hunting like a lion,” Troy said, taking my hand. “What shall we make you into, Ms. Piper?”
“Hum,” I said, thoughtfully.
“Oh, I think Ms. Piper’s perfect just the way she is,” Grayson said, staring off into the stage, though realizing he’d said it h
e shook off his coyness, adding, “but if we were going to make her into something it would probably be--”
“Belle, from Beauty and the Beast?” Troy suggested.
Grayson smiled down at him. “Took the words right out of mouth.”
“No I didn’t,” Troy said.
“It’s an expression,” Grayson explained.
This warm, safe feeling inside felt like home and I wanted it to last forever. Yes, it sure was a miracle to feel this much alive.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
We have had countless people in our lives who have led us in one way or another to where we are today.
Through their unending kindness, support and generosity, we’ve been able to embark on this journey which led us to writing this book.
We are so grateful to Louise Bohmer for lending your support and talent as our editor. Your encouragement is never taken for granted. Thank you to literary manager Joel Gotler for always guiding us right. Big thanks to entertainment attorneys Uri Emerson-Fleming and Robert Lange for your friendship and always going above and beyond.
We wish to thank Liz Fewings, Diane Eadie, Cheryl Walker, Libby Fountain, Bob Dooley, Susie Schelling, Lucy and Don McCoy, Carla Sergenian, Robert Ellsworth, Deanna Marsh, Zach Hatch, and Brad Keene.
Thank you to Karen, Rosette and Michelle at Literati Author Services, Inc. for arranging our publicity tour and making it look so effortless. We know a lot of work goes into blog tours, so thank you! We express our gratitude to Becky Carter Nichols and Nicole Andrews Moore over at Stories and Swag Tours. You hold the best online book release parties ever! Thank you to J.B. McGee for sharing your Indie knowhow.
Thank you to all the bloggers, reviewers, and of course you the readers who have embraced Piper Day and made her your own! We are thrilled you love her as much as we do.
Even though George Clooney is not officially connected to this novel, we thank him too! We admire how you use your celebrity status to bring awareness to extremely important issues that are creating positive change in our world.
And thank you to Kelli McCoy, for even though your earthly life was tragically cut short way too soon, you were part of our inspiration for Piper: never giving up on anyone, determined, compassionate, caring for those who needed some extra assistance; all packaged into an adorable spunky personality.
Your love and light continue to shine.
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Piper Day's Ultimate Guide To Avoiding George Clooney Page 22
