Second Act (His Chance Book 1)

by Alexa Land

  I put my hand on his to stop him from placing the call. “Don’t do that. It’s disheartening that he thinks I’m terrible as Alex, but he’s entitled to his opinion.”

  “But he’s not entitled to hurt you!”

  “The fact that it hurts is my fault,” I told him. “My self-confidence is way too dependent on what other people think of me. Why do I have to be like that?”

  “Because you’re human.”

  The waitress returned, and I ordered another drink while Lorenzo ordered coffee. When she left, I said, “I’m pretty sure Alex and After is an autobiography. Bowen always denied it in interviews, but I think he was lying.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “There’s a line in the first chapter, something about Liam being unable to hold a football because of an old injury. Bowen has a big scar on the back of his hand, and I know it might seem like a stretch, but you should have seen his niece’s reaction when I tried to talk to her about it. Obviously, we can’t tell anyone. He’s kept it a secret all these years for a reason. But it was surprising to realize I was probably talking to Liam.”

  “Does knowing it’s a true story change anything for you?”

  “I feel more pressure than ever to do the best job I can. It’s not just about trying to do justice to a character. It’s about honoring Alex’s memory.”

  Chapter 12

  The next two days on set went about like I’d expected. I shot several scenes with the four lead actors, which all required a million takes. They averaged two diva meltdowns per day, which Gage Lang handled remarkably well. Meanwhile, I tried my best to take it in stride and not act like a spoiled child.

  Since I was already feeling a lot of pressure, Lorenzo and I decided it would be best if we waited a bit before he sat in on filming. So instead, he spent most of Wednesday and Thursday cooking and baking. On my lunch breaks, he met me in my trailer with healthy, delicious meals and let me vent to him about how terribly the scenes were going. I explained that I could just grab a sandwich from craft services, but he said, “This is better.”

  At the end of each workday, he was waiting at the beach house with cocktails, appetizers, and elaborate four-course meals. On Thursday night, when I told him I felt bad that he was going to so much trouble, he said, “I’m actually really enjoying it. This is a great kitchen. Besides, you know I love taking care of you.”

  “And that’s wonderful and amazing, but I feel like I’m taking advantage of your kindness.”

  He frowned a little and said, “I have to ask, just because this seems like a big deal to you. Didn’t anyone cook for you when you were growing up?”

  “Not really. My parents both hated to cook, so breakfast was whatever I could scrounge up, and dinner was usually fast food or something frozen that could be thrown in the microwave. I’d also get free lunches during the school year. I loved those. There was always a main course, two sides, and a dessert. Mondays were the best. We’d get a cute little individual pizza, a fruit cup, carrot sticks, and a chocolate chip cookie.”

  That must have sounded pathetic, because Lorenzo pulled me into his arms and kissed the top of my head. Then he said, “I really hope you can stop feeling guilty when I cook for you, because I have absolutely no intention of stopping.”

  “If it starts to feel like an obligation, or if you just get tired of it, please don’t force yourself.”

  “I promise I’ll stop if that ever happens, as long as you promise to stop feeling guilty about it.”

  I said, “I promise to try.”

  After dinner, we went outside with a thick blanket and curled up together on a bench overlooking the ocean. The moon was almost full, and its light sparkled on the dark water and softly lit our surroundings. We sat in silence for a while, taking it all in, and then he asked, “How are you feeling about filming Alex’s death scene tomorrow?”

  “Well, I’ve just realized I’m going to freeze to death because we’re shooting at night, in January, and I’ll be barefoot and wearing nothing but a T-shirt and jeans. But hey, maybe the hypothermia will distract me from the terror of trying to pull off the most important scene of my entire career.”

  “That’s all you’re wearing? It’s only about ten degrees above freezing out here.”

  “Alex wanders outside drunk and totally distraught. It wouldn’t make sense for him to put on boots and a jacket first.”

  “True, but you’re going to get sick, especially if the director makes you stand out there for hours doing a million takes.”

  “Don’t worry, the crew will take care of me. Phoenix checked to make sure I’ll have an electric blanket, hot tea, and someplace out of the wind to duck into between takes.”

  “I want to be there. Is that alright?”

  “It’s more than alright. This is going to be tough, both emotionally and physically, and I’ll need you to help me through it.” By the expression on his face, you would have thought I’d just given him the most amazing gift.

  Then he got up and said, “Let’s go back inside. You’re already going to be cold tomorrow night, and there’s no point in freezing tonight, too.”

  Riley and Phoenix were in the kitchen, along with my traitor of a cat, who seemed to vastly prefer Phoenix’s company to mine. While I got a kettle going, Lorenzo put out some brownies he’d made earlier and told our housemates, “Please help yourself. I’ve been getting a little carried away with the amount of baking I’ve been doing.”

  “Yes you have, and I sincerely hope you keep that shit up,” Riley said, before cramming half a brownie in his mouth.

  Lorenzo asked me, “Since they’re filming your scene after dark, does that mean everyone’s off until tomorrow evening?”

  “Not everyone. Emma and Harper are shooting three scenes in the morning, so the crew is working a split shift. I’m looking forward to sleeping in, assuming I actually manage to fall asleep tonight.”

  “I’m going to be so glad when you finish the death scene,” he said.

  “Same. The next few weeks will be a piece of cake after that.”

  “Even your love scene with Emma?”

  “Alex is supposed to look nervous and uncomfortable in that scene,” I told him. “I’m pretty sure I’ll ace it.”

  After I poured us all some tea, we sat around the kitchen island chatting for a while. At one point, Phoenix snapped a picture of me, and when I shot him a questioning look, he turned his phone to face me and explained, “We need to get better about posting content to your Instagram. You’ve gained over ten thousand new followers since the studio issued the announcement that you’d been cast as Alex. Can I post this?” It was actually a great photo, so I told him to go ahead. Then he asked, “How do you feel about that interview you’re doing on Saturday?”

  “I haven’t had time to worry about it. Alex’s death scene tomorrow night is overshadowing everything else.”

  “I’ve met this reporter,” Phoenix said. “He’s a nice guy, and the photographer who’s coming with him is fantastic. You’ll probably end up with a great article.”

  “Any advice on answering the reporter’s questions?”

  Phoenix shrugged. “Just stuff you already know. Keep it positive, and less is more. In most cases, a single sentence answers the question much better than a rambling paragraph. Also, if he asks you anything that makes you uncomfortable, remember you’re under no obligation to answer.”

  I asked him, “You’ll be around, right? Just to make sure I don’t do anything stupid?”

  “I’ll be here, but you don’t need to worry,” he assured me. “I know you’ll do great.”

  After a while, I refilled our cups, and then Lorenzo and I said good night to our friends and carried our tea upstairs. Along the way, he asked, “Are you more worried about that interview than you’re letting on?”

  “I’m definitely nervous about it. There’s always that concern about saying the wrong thing, or the interviewer taking something out of context and twisting it
around. Also, I really hope I won’t be pressured to spill the dirt on my costars or gossip about Trent Chambers. But Sylvia booked this interview because she really believes the reporter will be a professional and treat me with respect.”

  “Let’s hope so.”

  “This might sound silly, but my main goal here is just to end up with something my mom can be proud to put in the scrapbook she made for my acting career.”

  Lorenzo said, “I definitely want to see that when we visit your parents.”

  “Sure, but you’re just going to see a lot of blank pages. You know I landed a part in an action movie shortly after moving to California. I only had a handful of lines, and then my character died. What is it about me that I’ve once again been cast as a character who dies? Anyway, after that movie came out, a national magazine printed an article that was titled something like, ‘Ten hot young actors to watch in Hollywood’, and they actually included my photo and a short bio. My mom was ecstatic. That was when she started the scrapbook, because we both expected my career to skyrocket after that great start.” I sighed and muttered, “That article must be the only thing in there. About a decade later, she’ll finally have something to put on the second page.”

  “You’ve done other things besides that action movie.”

  “A handful of commercials and a tiny role in a play—literally nothing worth writing home about.”

  “I think you’re selling yourself short,” he said. “For one thing, you had thousands of Instagram followers even before you got the part of Alex. That tells me you’ve had more of a career than you give yourself credit for.”

  “Okay, so I do have some fans. The ‘ten to watch’ article in a major publication was actually a big deal. It hit right around the same time Instagram was gaining momentum, and thanks to some great advice from my agent, I was quick to jump on that platform. But let’s be honest. All those people who follow me on social media aren’t there because of my acting career. They follow me because they think I’m cute.”

  He smiled at me and said, “Well, in their defense, you really are adorable.”

  We’d reached the master bedroom by that point. It had a gas fireplace, so he joked that he was going to build a fire and flipped a switch, which produced instant results. We each grabbed a book and got comfortable on the couch in front of the fire, and Lorenzo was soon lost in the pages of his novel.

  I couldn’t concentrate though, so I rested the open book on my chest and looked around me. If someone were to take a photo right then and post it to social media, it would look like I had the perfect life. It was all an illusion, though.

  This beautiful home wasn’t mine. In fact, I’d only get to stay for three more weeks. The beautiful man sitting beside me wasn’t mine, either. A photo of the two of us in this moment would make us look like husbands, or at the very least boyfriends. We weren’t either of those things. We were just two close friends who’d recently added ‘with benefits’ to the mix.

  It was so easy to forget, given the way I felt about him. Living under the same roof just made it more confusing. In reality though, that New Year’s kiss had only happened the week before, even though it felt like months had passed since then. That was also when he told me he wasn’t ready for a relationship. Then we’d gotten caught up in this whirlwind of making a movie, and we’d fallen into a pattern that made us seem an awful lot like a couple. But we weren’t. I had to keep reminding myself of that.

  I ended up napping most of the next day, which surprised me. It wasn’t news to me that I was exhausted, but I’d expected my nerves to keep me from getting any rest.

  Instead, I awoke in the late afternoon and stretched out in that fluffy, luxurious bed. Lorenzo was back in his spot in front of the fireplace, and he looked up from his book as I mumbled, “Hey. How much time do I have before I need to be on set?”

  He glanced at his phone, then said, “You’re due in hair and makeup at seven-thirty, so you have almost four hours.”

  “I can’t believe I slept the day away.”

  “I think it’s fantastic that you finally got some rest.” He set aside his book and crossed the room to me. Then he kissed my forehead and asked, “Are you hungry?”

  “Starving, and I’m really in the mood for breakfast foods, for some reason. I think I’ll go make myself some eggs and toast.”

  I started to get up, but he said, “Stay right there. I’ll be back in a few minutes with breakfast in bed.” I tried to tell him he didn’t have to wait on me, but there was no talking him out of it.

  Just a few minutes later, he reappeared with a delicious-looking mushroom omelet, wholegrain toast, and a plate of fruit. I thanked him and ate as much of that meal as my nervous stomach would allow.

  After I set the tray aside, I exhaled slowly, and he asked, “What’s going to help you calm your nerves?”

  “I don’t know. Whenever I get like this, I just want to run and hide.”

  “What did you do when you were nervous about something as a kid?”

  I said, “I’d build a massive blanket fort and hide in it with my imaginary friends.”

  “How about building one now and hiding in it with me instead?”

  I grinned at him and asked, “Wouldn’t you feel silly doing that?”

  “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with feeling silly. Come on, let’s gather our supplies.” He darted from the room, and I laughed and chased after him.

  We ran around the house grabbing blankets, sheets, pillows, and lights. Phoenix was sitting in the living room with his laptop, and he watched us with a mildly concerned expression. But he was used to dealing with eccentric people, so he knew to just leave us to it.

  Once we returned to the master bedroom with our haul, we went to work. Furniture was rearranged and stacked, elaborate suspension systems were devised, and before long, an enormous blanket fort had risen up to fill almost half the room. We stood back to assess our work, and Lorenzo asked, “What do you think?”

  “It’s almost too posh. All the bedding matches, and it should really be a hodgepodge. It’s a mighty structure though, and I feel it’s up to my exacting blanket fort standards.”

  “Excellent. In that case, after you.”

  He held the flap for me, and I climbed inside. We’d heaped the interior with about twenty pillows, and a few attractive table lamps gave it a warm glow. I dove onto the pillows, and Lorenzo followed me into the fort and went to work with a pair of scissors and some paper grocery sacks. After a bit of cutting and folding, he produced two hats worthy of a sea captain. Then he made a point of putting the scissors safely outside the fort, so we didn’t accidentally impale ourselves or suffer some equally horrible fate. It was just like him to think of that.

  After we both put our hats on—sideways, so we could actually lie down—he joined me in the pillow pile. I draped an arm and a leg over him and said, “This is the best thing ever.”

  “I have to agree.”

  “Did you ever imagine you’d be spending the afternoon in a blanket fort as a full-grown adult? Like, ever in your wildest dreams?”

  “No, and that’s just one of the many reasons why you’re so good for me.”

  “I am?”

  “Absolutely.” He glanced at me and asked, “Why do you seem surprised?”

  “I just can’t quite imagine what I bring to the table. I mean, you’re there for me in a million different ways. But what have I ever done for you?”

  “You really don’t know?” I shook my head, then fixed my paper hat, and he said, “You brought me back to life. When you showed up on Catalina, it felt like the answer to a prayer. All of a sudden, I had this sweet, kind, adorable man in my life, who just accepted me as I was. I didn’t have to be ‘on’ all the time, which was good because I was still so broken. Even if all we did was sit together and watch a movie, it felt special, because it was with you. What I needed desperately was time to heal, and you were so patient with me. You helped by being my friend, and caring abou
t me, and just being there. You gave me a reason to get out of bed in the morning. You made me feel needed. And when you looked at me with those big blue eyes and lit up the room with that perfect smile, you made me think about the future, instead of dwelling in the past. I’m so grateful for you, Will.”

  That was the best thing anyone had ever said to me in my entire life.

  Chapter 13

  Despite my wonderfully tranquil afternoon, by the time I took a seat in the makeup trailer that evening, the nerves were back. “Just take a deep breath,” Riley said, as he rubbed my shoulders. “You’ve got this, Will.”

  “Do I though? The entire film hinges on this one scene. What if I blow it?”

  “You won’t. Also, try not to think of it like that. Yeah, this is a key scene in the movie, but what’s really important here is Alex. I just finished reading the book this afternoon, and I can see why this character means so much to you. Just think about him and what he must be feeling.”

  I said, “He’s so upset in this scene. He and Liam just had a big fight, and Alex is devastated.”

  “Do you think he plans to kill himself when he walks out the back door, or is the fall off the cliff an accident? It bothered me that it wasn’t explained in the book.”

  “I think it’s not something he was planning to do when he left the house, but as he’s standing on that cliff, he makes the conscious decision to end his life. He thinks Liam hates him because he found out Alex and Emily slept together, and Liam is his whole world, so he must be thinking he has nothing left to live for.”

  “That’s so sad,” Riley said, as he circled around and sat on the edge of the makeup table. “He was only twenty-two, and he still had his whole life ahead of him.”

  “The author never spelled it out, but I got the impression Alex struggled with depression for years. There was no joy in his life, apart from Liam.”