by S. E. Rose
“I just…yeah, I was. I felt bad.”
“Why?” I ask, curious why he would even care.
“Here I was trying to make a great second impression on you and now it’s all over the press. I wasn’t sure if you would decide I’m not worth a third try.”
“A third try?” I laugh. “Listen, Grady, I admit you suck at first impressions. But I’m not going to turn down the next date because we got photographed. I mean, this is LA after all.”
“You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah, shocking, I know.”
He’s quiet for a long moment and I wonder what he’s thinking. “You really aren’t like other women, Emma.”
Now it’s my turn to be silent. He’s said this a few times and I wonder if me being “different” is good or bad.
“You still there?” he asks.
“Yeah, just processing.”
“Fuck. Did I say something offensive? Because I really am trying not to be a total prick.”
“You’re trying?”
He laughs. “Yes.”
I giggle. “Well, you can make it up to me on Saturday.”
“That’s like five whole days away.”
“Yep. It better be epic,” I say. I find myself grinning because of our playful banter.
“Wow, no pressure. OK, OK. I’ll work on it.”
“Good. I gotta go. I have to plan for a meeting with Andy and your mom.”
“Cool. I’m glad they are going to sit down with you.”
“Me too. Any tips?” I ask because why not.
“Come prepared and ready to be critiqued. But at the very worst, you’ll at least get some pointers and at the very best maybe some help.”
“Good points. Thanks,” I reply.
“I’ll let you go. I’ll text you deets for the date later.”
“Cool. See ya later,” I say. I hang up and go in search of the perfect hiding spot amongst the stacks. Time to make some magic, I think to myself as I open my laptop.
Chapter Thirteen
Grady
Thank the fucking Lord! She’s not pissed. It would be my fucking luck to finally find a woman that interests me only to have the fucking paparazzi ruin it.
I get in my car and head over to Rhett’s place. He has a garage studio where we like to work on our music. Something about being in a crappy garage like the good old days just gets our music minds working.
I pull up to his house and park. I need to talk to the guys today and I hope Jackie, AKA Yoko Ono, will not be there. I do love her, but sometimes I wish she’d give Rhett more guy time.
I walk into the garage and groan. Jackie is sitting on the sofa typing away on her phone. Damn it. I really need their advice, but this is strictly guy talk. Jackie doesn’t know anything about what I’ve been up to lately and I want to keep it that way. In fact, the fewer people that know, the better.
I’ve been doing so much soul searching lately. There are so many loose ends and unfinished aspects to my past and I just need to close that chapter and move on. But until I deal with this one last thing, I can’t do it.
“Hey,” Max says as he finishes messing with his snare.
I nod over at him. “Let’s get practicing. I wanna work on that song we were writing the other day.”
And with that, we get down to business. The session is productive, and by the time we finish, I feel like we have a solid song to add to the list for our next album. I breathe a sigh of relief when Jackie kisses Rhett goodbye.
I lean back on the sofa and stare at my friends.
“Out with it,” Rhett says.
I grin. These two fuckers know me better than anyone.
“I found him,” I admit, running a hand through my sweaty hair. Did I mention the garage has no air-conditioning and only one giant ceiling fan?
“No way!” they say in unison.
“Yes way.”
“Fuck,” Max adds, pulling up a chair and turning it around so he can rest his arms on the back. “What are you going to do?”
I shrug. “I don’t fucking know. I mean, I want to get in touch with him. I feel like…it’s the right thing to do, but what if he doesn’t want to connect, or what if he says fuck off? I don’t want to mess up someone’s life.”
I sigh and look down at my hands.
“Well, we’re here for you, you know that,” Rhett says. I nod. “Whatever you want to do, man. You want us to come with you; we are there. You want to do it alone; we got your back. You just tell us.”
“I need to think about it. I was thinking about finding him at work and going from there. But that sounds creepy. Then I thought to send a letter, but what if it gets lost in the mail? Then there’s social media, but would you believe it, he has no accounts.”
“Really?” Max asks, his eyes going wide.
“Nope. At least none that my PI could find.”
“Shit, that’s weird. How old did you say he was?”
“Two years younger than me.”
“I don’t know, dude. Has he tried to find you?” Max asks.
I shrug again. “Don’t know. I mean, not that I know.”
“You think he knows about you?” Rhett asks.
I pause. I don’t know if I want to talk about that. The last email I got from my PI, showed that he had looked up information on my dad not too long ago. But it could be a total coincidence. I don’t want to read too much into it. I decide to keep that part vague, for now. “I mean. It’s sort of hard to tell. He probably knows our band, so maybe he has some of our songs on his phone. Hell, he could have been to one of our concerts.”
“Damn. This shit is whack,” Rhett says.
“Totally,” Max adds.
We’re all silent for a long beat as we process it all, them with the news, and me with their reactions. “So, should I?”
“Give it a few weeks. Think about it. Because once you do, there’s no going back,” Rhett points out. He’s always the wise one.
I nod my agreement. “Valid point, my friend.”
“OK, is this heavy shit over, because I need beer and pizza, STAT,” Max says, breaking the moment. Max, fucking love that guy, but he’s seldom serious. When he’s serious, you know shit just got real.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s cool. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving. But first, I’m using your shower, because I’m sweaty as fuck.”
Rhett laughs as we all go into his house. Rhett orders pizza while Max and I shower. I let the cold water beat down over my back. I need to come up with a motherfucking game plan. I just don’t know what that will be. By the time I bring my body temperature back down to a normal level, I have decided to take Rhett’s advice and give it a few weeks to sink in before I make my decision.
And with that, I change into the clothes I always keep around in my car’s trunk and head into the kitchen to enjoy a meal with the guys.
Rhett pulls up his phone as I take a seat at his island. “What’s this about?” he asks, showing me the photo with Emma.
I groan. “Fuck. Yeah, I took her out. She’s pretty cool.” I decide to downplay it for now. I don’t need the guys razzing me about Emma. I want to take my time with her.
Rhett smirks. “Pretty cool, huh?”
I grab an apple out of the fruit bowl and hurl it at him. He catches it and grins widely.
“I do believe our little singer here has a crush,” Max says from the doorway where I didn’t hear him. I turn and give him the finger.
He walks up and sits down next to me, crossing his arms. “Try to talk me out of it.”
“Fuck off, Max. We aren’t twelve,” I mutter.
“Ha! I knew it. You like her. You want to marry her. You want to have little Gradys with her.”
I punch Max in the arm. And he feigns an injury.
“Whatever.” I feel my phone vibrate and I look down. I had a video doorbell installed about a year ago. I had started to get some weird mail, and someone kept lea
ving white roses on my doorstep. It creeped me out because that’s what was left at our home when my father was killed. I mean, lots of flowers were left, but there was a single white rose that showed up over and over in the months following his accident. Mom just figured it was a fan and never worried, but my gut always felt like there was more to it and that bothered me for years.
I don’t see anything on the video, just neighbors walking a dog. I put the phone back in my pocket.
“I should get going. I need to get some shit done on that press event we are having in a few weeks. Apparently, they want headshots and group shots.”
“Fuck, I hate doing PR shit,” Max groans.
“Damn, I forgot about that. Wilson set that up, right?” Rhett asks. Wilson Hawthorne is our publicist’s assistant. Clyde Gable had been our publicist for a few years now, but Wilson came on a few years ago and he usually sets up stuff for us. It’s a good thing. The band needs to stay in the public eye, but it’s also work that isn’t writing or singing, so none of us are jumping for joy about it.
Max nods. “Can’t we just write and shit and that’s it?”
Rhett throws a towel at him. “No, asshat. Unless you want to stop making money.”
Max groans again. “Have Blythe adopt me and then I can just live in her house and sing songs.”
I flick him off and push back from the island. “Nice try. It hasn’t exactly done anything for me.”
Truth be told, my entire inheritance is wrapped up into a trust fund that allots me monthly stipends. I get the remainder when I am thirty. And my mom, well, she basically is staying out of my way. She told me she’d cover any college expenses if I went that route, which I did not. I took a few online classes, but then the band’s popularity went through the roof and that was that.
I run a hand through my hair, which desperately needs a cut. I also need to work on some lyrics. We are starting to get a full list of songs written for the next album, but I’m our primary songwriter along with Rhett, and right now, I’m in need of at least one single and B-side song.
“Don’t go yet, the pizza’s almost here,” Rhett says as he holds up his phone to show me the delivery tracker.
“Fine. But I can’t stay long. So, Max…” I turn to him because I know the topic of Max and girls will get their attention off of me. Rhett and I tease Max for the next hour as we have a beer and some pizza. I glance at my watch after Rhett offers us a second beer.
“We could go down to the beach and have a lazy rest of the day,” he suggests. Part of me wants to say yes. I miss those days, but I also have things I need to do.
“I’ll see you guys later. I really need to get to work,” I say as I turn, leaving them both sitting around the island and watching me.
“Fine, I’ll drink your beer for you,” Max yells as I make my way to the front door. I grin to myself because I do love those two like the brothers I never had. I frown as I walk to my car deep in thought and promising myself that I’ll hang out with them once I have all this other shit sorted out.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma
I take a deep breath. I’ve spent all week preparing for this meeting. I got this. I let out the breath and open the doors to a small, trendy restaurant. I tell the hostess that I’m here for a meeting, and she immediately ushers me to a private area in a small awning-covered courtyard out back. The table she leads me to is separated from the rest of the space by a wall of vines.
“Here you go,” she says, holding out her hand toward the table.
I walk around the corner. Andy stands up and holds out his hand, which I shake. Blythe reaches over the table extending her hand next.
“Please,” she adds, motioning to a chair.
I sit down.
Blythe reaches across the table and pats my hand. “Breathe, sweetheart. Andy and I are here because we love your documentary concept. We want to help you. But first, we need to see what you have put together. Did you bring us anything to look at?”
I nod. I pull out my laptop from my oversized purse and set it on the table. For the next hour, through a light lunch of salad and some fancy tea, I go through every aspect of my film. Every detail, every scene that I want, my wish list, and what I currently have done. Blythe and Andy listen and periodically ask questions or interject thoughts. I take notes each time they speak. When I finish, Andy sits back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other.
“I think you have something here. I really do. I’m going to put you in touch with a few people that I think will gladly participate in this project. I’d love to get a bigger studio involved, but I’m not sure that will happen. I’ll call in some favors though. I’ll reach out to Dr. Stevens and tell her Blythe and I would love to partner as your advisors on this project. I’ve known Carla for years and I’m sure she will be amicable to my proposal. Here’s my assistant’s card. Let’s set up some weekly calls and another meeting for the near future. I think we still have another few weeks of planning before we get down to the filming. The documentary may end up being longer than you anticipate, is that a problem for you?”
I shake my head and swallow. “No, not at all.”
“Wonderful, I look forward to working with you, Emma,” he says with a grin and my heart skips a beat. My smile is so wide I feel like my face might split in two. I can’t believe it. I know how unheard of this is, how insanely lucky I am, and how much work I have to do to prove myself to these two Hollywood legends sitting across from me.
“Thank you, both, so much! Really, I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity.”
Blythe bats my insecurities away with a wave of her hand. “Darling, this concept is great, and we are excited to be able to help a young talent like yourself.”
We all stand, and Blythe pulls me into a hug. “Oh, and how’s your date, Will? I heard he cut his hand at my house. I’m sorry I missed you both the other night.”
“Oh, he’s fine. Grady was nice enough to drive us to the ER so he could get stitches.” I pause, suddenly feeling awkward. “I hope he didn’t break anything important. I can replace the wineglass.”
Blythe holds up her hand and laughs. “Don’t be silly. I’ll never even miss it. I’m just glad he’s alright.”
I nod, feeling relieved.
“Take care and we’ll be in touch,” Andy says.
I nod and leave the restaurant in total shock. I make it to my car before I call my mom.
“Hey! How’d it go?” she asks.
“Great. They want to team up as my advisors. They are calling in some favors for interviews, and they had all these great ideas. I’m so excited!” I squeal as the reality of it all finally starts to sink in.
“Oh, honey, I’m so happy for you! You’ve worked so hard!”
“Thanks, Mom. I’ll text Dad and Carrie. I just had to talk to someone, and I knew you wouldn’t be with any patients.”
“I’m glad you called. How’s everything else?” My parents, sister, and I talk about once a week. I’m close to them, but all of us are super busy.
I launch into some basics about my classes and friends. Twenty minutes later, Mom has to go, so we hang up and I sit there in my car. I take a deep breath. I know a few other students who have had some help from major Hollywood players, as USC’s film school is well known and respected, but I also know it’s not the norm and it’s certainly unusual to get two people interested in advising you on a film project. I decide to text Kate, because I know she’s always waiting to hear.
Me: IT WAS AMAZING!! (smiling emoji)
Kate: I need the details!! Call me!!
I press call and she picks up before it even rings.
“Tell me everything!”
I giggle and launch into the story once more. When I finish, Kate squeals with excitement.
“OMG! I’m so excited for you!” she yells as I pull the phone back from my ear.
“Calm down, woman. You almost blew out my eardrum.”
“Whatever! You have to ke
ep me posted. I need a total play-by-play of everything that happens. I’m so bummed that I can’t be there to see you film some of it.”
“I know,” I reply with a sigh. “It’d be fun to have you here.”
“OK, don’t get sappy, I can’t ruin my makeup. Now, what about the Grady situation.”
I laugh. “Situation? Really?”
“Don’t be coy. I need to know what’s happening. It’s imperative for me to fulfill my best friend duties.”
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Whatever, on with the boy talk.”
I fill her in on the fact that I have a second date with Grady this weekend.
“Do people bump uglies on the second date? Like, what’s the current rule on that?” she asks.
“If the other royals could hear you now…” I chastise. She giggles. “I don’t even know if I really like him yet, so NO!”
“OK, well, then. I hope you get some lip action or something.”
“I’ll let you know, Dr. Ruth.”
“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” she says as I hear voices in the background. I’m about to put my phone away and finally pull out of the parking garage when a text pops up on my screen.
Grady: I hear you have new advisors.
Me: Wow, word travels fast in Hollywood.
Grady: Yeah, well, it’s trending on Twitter.
Me: What?
I start to pull up my Twitter app when I see another text from Grady.
Grady: I’m just KIDDING. Don’t panic.
Me: TG. I almost died.
Grady: (laughing emoji)
Me: (middle-finger emoji)
Grady: Chillax. So, what time should I pick you up on Saturday?
Me: Any time after 11 am.
Grady: Be ready at 11:01 am
Me: LOL. OK.
I place my phone down and drive home, replaying the lunch over and over in my head. When I get home, I see I have a missed text from Will.
Will: Hey! We should get together soon.
I contemplate what to say. I like Will, but I don’t know if there’s any chemistry there. But then again, he’s a nice guy. I sigh. I should give him another chance, one where he’s not having to hang with celebrities.
