“What do you know about Marc Corona?” I held my breath while Michael lowered his glass and set it on the bar’s counter, his face twisting into a deep frown.
Despite having woken up on New Year’s Day with a hangover that I swore would be my last, by the Friday after Sophie’s audition I’d decided to take Michael up on his offer to go out for a round of beers. Although he insisted that we were celebrating my good work, we both knew there were bigger things to cheer about when we raised our drinks in a toast to Kelly O’Brien.
From what I’d gathered from Michael, the director had a heart tucked inside his massive chest and Sophie’s read-through had caused it to swell to three times its normal size. A second screen test was on the calendar and while the studio execs were apparently skeptical about casting her, Kelly seemed convinced that Sophie would be the key component in rocketing his film to the top of the box office charts. He refused to promise anything but that hadn’t stopped Michael from bursting into my converted supply closet looking like he’d won the lottery.
It was good news for everyone but even that didn’t help me sleep at night—nothing did. In the week that had passed since taking White Hat’s business card, I’d spent each night tossing and turning, wondering and worrying about what he knew, how he knew it, and what he wanted from me. I was torn between wanting to ask Sophie what his deal was and not wanting to freak her out; maybe Corona was harmless and I was seeing things that didn’t exist, like a paranoid thinking everyone was out to get him. A part of me believed that but another part, a bigger part, told me that I had reason to be concerned. Still, I waited, hoping that my misgivings would fade away like they had before. It wasn’t until my fourth day of stumbling into work on two hours of sleep that I decided it was time to talk to the only other person who might know something.
“Before I answer that, the better question is what do you know about Marc Corona?” Michael asked, running his palms up and down the sides of his glass until all of the mist that had gathered melted away. He wiped the water off on his jeans and looked me directly in the eye.
I hesitated and took a long swallow of the dark Belgian brew I’d ordered, swishing the cool beverage around in my cheeks while I stalled. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. “Nothing, really.”
“Bull,” Michael retorted with a snort.
“He approached me,” I admitted, staring at the circular water stains that had bored into the surface of the wooden counter over the years.
“When?”
“During Sophie’s audition with Kelly.”
“Jesus, and you didn’t bother telling me until now?” Michael chugged what was left in his glass before motioning to the bartender to pour him a refill. “What happened?”
“Nothing,” I said and Michael gave me a scouring look. “Seriously, he came up to me and said some weird stuff about wanting me to tip him off about Sophie. I said no, he gave me his card, and he peaced to go hunt down someone more important.”
“But you said no,” Michael repeated with an urgency in his voice that I rarely heard.
“Of course, dude. Do you really think I’m stupid enough to get mixed up with someone I don’t even know?”
Michael set his mouth in a grim smile and shrugged. “I was.”
“What?”
“This is completely off the record, but like I said last week, I had to figure a lot of stuff out on my own when I was getting started. I didn't have anyone to pull me up so I made deals and worked with a lot of people before I made it to Geller. Nothing serious—well, nothing too illegal, I mean.”
“Yeah, I understand.”
“I don’t feel bad about any of it,” Michael said. He furrowed his eyebrows and let his shoulders sag slightly. “Except for working with Marc Corona.”
“What happened?”
“I was, uh, assisting a location scout and I was flat broke, wondering if I should give up and become a drug dealer--”
“Are you kidding me?”
Michael waved my question off with a blatant eye roll and continued. “Anyway, my boss had gone inside a potential spot for filming while I waited out by the car and after ten minutes of twiddling my thumbs, Corona came up and asked what company I was working for. I told him, not thinking it was a big deal, and the next thing I knew he was asking if I want to make an easy couple hundred.”
“What’d you say?”
“I was broke so obviously I said yes. I was already eight days late on my rent.” Michael reached for his glass and shook his head. “It was small stuff and all pretty stupid. Just, like, where’s the next shoot? Who’s going to be there? If it was an out-of-town location, what hotel was the cast staying at? I was probably violating the non-disclosure clause in my contract ten times a week and my team was freaking out because they couldn’t figure out where the leaks were coming from. At the time I didn't care because I’d made enough from Corona to get my agent’s license and quit my job while I looked for a new one—this one, actually.”
“Didn’t they realize it was you after you left?”
“No, because the minute I told Corona my plan, he found someone else. It’s not like there’s a shortage of hungry interns in this city.”
“So it sounds like it worked out.”
“Well, yeah, except for the fact I’m going to have this hanging over my head for the rest of my career. What do you think would happen if our higher ups found out that I used to sell production secrets to tabloids?”
“No idea.”
“Me neither, but I’m pretty sure it would involve me collecting an unemployment check every month. It makes me a liability.” Michael’s face clouded over with disgust. “Just work clean and you won’t have any regrets.”
“Good to know,” I mumbled, finishing my beer and staring at the empty glass.
“Yeah, and besides, I’d have to fire you so that should be some incentive to stay away from him.” Michael laughed, though the hardness around the edges of his eyes told me that he meant it.
“I’m not interested, I’m just… What’s his deal? I don’t get it. I don’t get why he’s so obsessed with Sophie.”
“Verbal comprehension isn’t your strong suit, is it? The point of my story is that if Corona gets his claws in you, he won’t leave you alone until you’re out of reach and the same goes for the rest of them. Of course, the truth is that Sophie's worth a lot of money to those magazines so I can’t really blame him for thinking he could sucker you in.”
“That’s another thing I don’t get. If she hasn’t been working, why do people still want to read about everything that she does?”
“Because no one can look away from a train wreck.” Michael reached across the counter and pulled a happy hour menu from a stack. “Want anything else?”
“Whatever you’re getting is fine.”
“Great.” Michael waved to the bartender again and put in an order for two whisky sours. “Look, to be completely honest, I didn’t want to take on Sophie because the girl has problems but those same problems are what move articles about her--different markets, different standards. She’s valuable when she’s working and worth just as much when she’s dropped from projects for partying too much.”
“But why?”
Michael sighed. “If I had to guess, I'd say it's because she appeals to those people who love to hate on celebrities.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that there are plenty of folks who get off on watching others crash and burn and that’s never going to change. To go from an Academy nod to a cocaine arrest in less time than it takes most people to file their taxes? She might as well walk around with a giant, neon target on her back.”
The bartender set our whisky sours down in front of us and Michael clinked his glass against mine with a wry smile. I lifted the drink to my mouth, letting the sweet bite of the alcohol tickle my nose. “Even though she’s really not that bad?”
“Unlike you, most people will never get the chance to learn that.”
“That sucks,” I muttered.
Michael laughed into his glass, producing a hollow echo. “Maybe for her. For everyone else, that’s business.”
-------------------------------------
I woke up Sunday morning convinced it would be the day that I finally finished my screenplay. With only ten weeks left before the submission deadline, I knew that I was out of excuses and even worse, the theater students I’d roped into acting were beginning to ask if they should agree to filming other projects. With the pressure mounting, I’d come straight home from the happy hour with Michael armed with Pop-Tarts and Gatorade, prepared to barricade myself in my apartment until I typed out the words, ‘The End.’
That was the plan, anyway, but the reality of it was that every time I looked at my computer screen, my brain went blank. The cursor line flashed tauntingly while I stared at the same empty page that I’d opened hours before, mocking my inability to even string a sentence together. I placed my fingers on the keyboard and forced myself to write something—anything—to get the process started. I took a deep breath and typed out, “It…”
I stayed hunched over for a moment, waiting for the next words to spring to my mind, but nothing ever came. That was all I had. “It.”
“It what?” I asked my empty apartment as I groaned and rubbed my temples, praying for some idea to be shaken loose.
If I’d been expecting my appliances to answer my cry for help, they didn’t, and I slumped further down in my chair feeling defeated. After two days of getting nothing accomplished, self-doubt had taken hold and I wondered if this was a sign that I wouldn’t be able to handle the program even if I got in. Most of the film students that I knew worked on month long schedules with each week respectively dedicated to writing, shooting, editing, and presenting before starting all over again. I’d started my script in September, what did that say about me if I was still on step one?
Shutting my laptop’s lid, I started to brainstorm, running through dialogue and twists until my head felt like a time bomb. I got up and started pacing the length of my living room, realizing the problem was that I had no idea how I wanted to end Hunter and Molly’s story. There were only so many directions that I could take them in at this point and the worst part was that I didn’t like any of the options on the table. I’d written myself into a corner and short of re-writing the entire middle arc, I couldn’t see a way out.
Although I’d ignored my texts and voicemails all weekend, at that moment, the sharp buzzing of an incoming call against my leg was a welcome relief.
“Hello?”
“I’m bored.”
I frowned. The voice on the other end of the line was unmistakable but I double-checked the caller ID to make sure. “Hey, Sophie, what’s up?”
“Obviously nothing, which is why I’m bored.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered and received a loud sigh in return.
“What are you doing?” she asked and impatience danced on the edge of her tone.
“Uh, not much. Working on my screenplay.”
“Well, stop and let’s go do something that's actually fun.”
“I can’t, I really need to finish this.”
“So work on it when you get back home tonight.”
I shook my head, more tempted by her offer than I would’ve liked to admit. “I thought you wanted me to get into the film school.”
“Of course I want you to but right now I need you to save me from going insane.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” I joked as I wandered from the den to my bedroom, stopping in front of my closet.
“Cute. Please, Parker? I haven’t gone out once this week because I’ve been so worried about something going wrong before the screen test, but come on. My youth is drying up before my eyes.”
“You heard that kid at the ice rink. It’s called getting old.”
“You’re the worst,” Sophie grumbled and I laughed.
“And yet, you called me to come entertain you so how bad can I be?”
“Trust me, you’re terrible but Vinny's still out of town and I haven't talked to any of my other friends in like, six months so it's not like I can call any of them."
"I can't tell if you're trying to win me over or insult me right now, Soph."
"I'm sorry, I'm just so sad that you won't hang out with me in my hour of need," she said, making a noise that sounded like a mix between a fake sob and a dog's whimper. "You were my only hope but since you don't care about my suffering, I guess I'll go--"
"Wait, wait." I balanced the phone between my chin and shoulder while I rummaged through my dresser’s drawers for a clean shirt. “What did you have in mind?”
“Oh my gosh, literally anything," Sophie said and I shook my head at how quickly her feigned sorrow had come and gone.
“Pick something,” I said, reaching into my laundry hamper and pulling out a pair of mismatched socks.
“Disneyland?”
“God, no.”
“Santa Barbara?”
“Are you nuts? That’s two hundred miles roundtrip.”
“Fine, you’re so boring. How about the pier?”
“The pier,” I said, more than happy to agree to something that wouldn’t cost me a fortune. “That sounds good.”
“Great,” Sophie exclaimed and I knew she hadn’t been kidding about being bored. I’d never heard anyone sound more excited about going to a place that smelled like dead fish and unwashed tourists. “Can you pick me up?”
“Seriously?” I asked, pulling on a pair of jeans.
I ducked into the bathroom to drag a comb through my hair, pausing to squint at my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Dad hadn’t been kidding when he said I needed to get a haircut; I was starting to look like a sheepdog.
“Yeah, do you mind? Most rag reporters know my license plates.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have customized all of them with your initials.”
After a few more failed attempts, I gave up on trying to get my cowlicks to lie flat and stepped into a pair of untied sneakers lying beside by my shower’s door.
“Don’t pretend like you’re smart.”
“Who’s pretending?” I asked, grinning as I bent down to knot my fraying laces and listened to Sophie laugh.
“Whatever,” she said. “I’m going to get ready. Call me when you’re here and I’ll come out.”
“Sure,” I replied before saying goodbye and hanging up. I glanced at my hibernating laptop when I snatched my keys off the coffee table, a twinge of guilt coursing through me when I thought about my untouched screenplay. My hesitation only lasted for a second before I continued towards my car, deciding that “It” and the rest of the lines I hadn’t written could wait another day.
As I drove from my sleepy street to Sophie’s Beverly Hills estate, it struck me that this would be my first time hanging out with her when I was completely off the clock. I strummed my fingers against the steering wheel in time with the song playing over the radio, trying to ignore the slight nervousness building in my stomach as I drew nearer to her community’s gated entrance. Even though we’d spent the holidays together--even though we were just friends—I had a feeling that seeing her outside of work like this was exactly the kind of thing that HR wanted to discourage.
“Hey, Frank,” I said to the attendant as he poked his head out of the gatehouse’s window.
The old man’s face broke into a wide smile. “Always good to see you, Mr. Donahue. Hope January’s off to a good start?”
“No complaints yet. You?”
Frank handed me a guest pass and I tossed it onto my dashboard. “My New Year never starts until my resolution ends.”
He winked and I laughed, waving to him as the gate crept open to let me drive through. I navigated through the neighborhood easily, no longer needing to check the street signs to know where to turn. I set my car into park in front of Sophie's house before pulling out my phone and hitting redial.
“Hello?”
“I’m outside,” I said, fidgeting with my seatbelt while watching the pristine mansion for signs of movement.
“Okay, I’ll be right there.”
A click told me that she’d hung up and I lowered my phone without looking away from her sweeping driveway. I hadn’t noticed when I dropped her off the week before but the repairs Sophie had made to her property left it looking more ornate than ever. The battered fountain in the center of the courtyard had been replaced with one twice its size, leaving me entranced as the marble fixture spurt water high into the air.
Afraid of looking too eager, I dropped my gaze to my lap and began scrolling through texts from earlier in the day. I tapped out a short response to a message from Scott, telling him that I’d meet up with him and some guys from school to watch LAU’s basketball team play later in the week. I pressed send and then jumped when the passenger’s side door swung open.
“Hey,” I said, tucking my phone into my back pocket. I turned and did a double take, not recognizing the girl buckling herself into my car. “Whoa.”
“Whoa, what?” Sophie reached up and brushed deep chestnut colored bangs to one side, peering at me from behind thick-rimmed glasses.
I stared at her slack jawed, remembering what Scott had said about the actress likely making a great brunette and hating to admit that he’d called it. Her usually delicate features seemed sharper, harder in some way, but that didn’t make them any less appealing. At the same time, having never seen her without blonde hair, I felt like I was looking at an entirely different person. I shook my head, swinging my car into a tight u-turn as I headed back towards the gatehouse and visitor’s exit.
“Nothing,” I said once I realized that she was still waiting for me to answer. “I just wish you’d told me we were going to rob a bank so I could’ve brought a disguise, too.”
Sophie smoothed down the front of her grey knit blouse. “I don’t really feel like dealing with anyone today.” I glanced at her and she shrugged. “Fine, and maybe I’m still jaded about the Danny thing, so sue me.”
“What are you going to do, dye your hair every time you go outside and avoid small children?”
Sophie took a fistful of her hair and tugged. “First of all, it’s a wig, but more importantly, I’m doing it to help you out, too, you know. Your name easily could’ve been printed in the article that ran last week.”
“So?” I asked, nodding at Frank as I drove past his post and pulled onto the main road.
“So I don’t want that to happen to you.” Sophie paused to fiddle with one of her rings. “Especially if it doesn’t need to.”
“Thanks, I guess,” I mumbled and for the millionth time, my thoughts drifted to Marc Corona’s business card. Maybe I should’ve been grateful that he was the only photographer who’d approached me so far. Then again, maybe that was further proof that he was the only person obsessed enough with Sophie to find out who I was.
We drove down Santa Monica Boulevard in silence while Sophie fiddled with the radio tuner, switching between stations until she finally settled on a pop song with a monotonous beat and bubblegum lyrics. When had boy bands made a comeback?
“Thanks for coming out with me,” Sophie said when we pulled up to a red light.
“No problem,” I replied. “Although I’ve got to admit, I’m still a little surprised that you called me instead of hitting up Rodeo.”
“Funny, that was going to be my next suggestion if you said no to going to the pier. Should we go shopping instead?”
“Funny,” I said. “I think you need more girl friends.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. “More like another credit card. But anyway, how’s your screenplay coming along?”
“Not great,” I admitted. The light continued to shine a steady red.
“Why?” she asked with her face drawn in surprise. “Isn’t it almost done?”
“Writer’s block.” It…
“Well, do you have any idea about how you want to end it?”
“Sort of,” I lied. “Maybe a giant gun fight and a chain of explosions or something.”
Sophie licked her bottom lip, wiping away a small patch of tinted gloss. She frowned thoughtfully and said, “Personally, I think Hunter and Molly should end up together.”
I twisted in my seat to look at her. “You serious?”
“You don’t think so?” Sophie furrowed her eyebrows and focused her attention on her ring, spinning the band of blue gems around and around her slender finger.
“I’ve honestly never even thought about it,” I said. Heat crept up the back of my neck and I pulled at my collar, too embarrassed to consider—or hope—that there was something more hidden in her comment.
I watched Sophie’s reaction, searching for a hint of what she was thinking, and was disappointed when her face betrayed nothing. “Really?” she asked just above a murmur. “It seems pretty obvious.”
“It wouldn’t fit,” I said, wondering if she’d brought this up to screw with me. I wouldn't put it past her. “It’s too close to the ending, it’d come completely out of left field.”
“You’re so right. The fact that the two leads spend nearly every scene together probably isn’t enough of a hint,” Sophie countered with a scoff.
“They work together.”
“It’s a movie, Parker, not a sexual harassment training seminar. I doubt anyone who watches it is really going to care.”
“Alright, but don’t you think… I don’t know, that it’d be weird?”
“Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said again, struggling to come up with the right words. “We’re just really different, that’s all.”
“We?”
My face burned and I scanned the front seat for something that I could use to put a swift end to my misery. Maybe I’d just get out of the car and stand in the middle of the intersection; a truck would have to roll through sooner or later.
“I said ‘they,’” I grumbled, ignoring the humongous grin stretched across Sophie’s face. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. Like I said before, it’s not about us.”
“Of course not,” Sophie said and I scowled, annoyed at how pleased she sounded with herself. Still smiling, she nudged my arm playfully. “Does this mean you’re not going to take my advice?”
“I’ll think about it,” I said under my breath, wondering if this was what divine punishment looked like. If not, it was hard to imagine it being much worse.
“Just do it,” Sophie said with a bright gleam in her eye. “I mean, you can’t deny that Hunter and Molly are beyond cute together.”
I stared at her and something told me that I wasn’t imagining what she was implying. I knew that if she’d been anyone else, if I had a way of avoiding her if I was wrong, I would’ve asked without giving it a second thought. I could’ve asked now but instead I continued to study her face until a chorus of horns began blaring somewhere in the back of my mind.
“Sophie…”
“It’s green, you know,” she said, pointing lazily at the light.
I blinked, glancing in my rearview mirror at the line of angry drivers waiting behind me. Cursing, I pressed down on the gas pedal and sped towards the coast while my mind reeled. In the distance I could see the Pacific Ocean glinting an inky blue and Sophie began talking about a frozen yogurt shop near the giant, solar-powered Ferris wheel at the end of the dock. As I drove I kept thinking that I should ask, that I needed to ask so I could clear the air and stop worrying about it. I wasn’t seventeen anymore and pining over Kelsey during calculus; I told myself I could handle it--that I’d do it as soon as we parked--but when I pulled into a spot overlooking the beach, Sophie jumped out before I could even ask her to wait.
I followed after her as she slipped into the crowd and I was surprised to find that we went unbothered. Visiting snowbirds on vacation with their families snapped photos in rapid-fire succession but no one so much as pointed a lens at Sophie. She seemed to thrive in the anonymity and it occurred to me that this probably wasn’t the first time she’d gone undercover as a normal girl. Her wig seemed to invigorate her and I listened while she talked endlessly about everything from funnel cake to her hatred of seagulls and sand. I listened and waited for the right moment to jump in and ask her the same question that I’d been mulling over since our conversation in the car.
I kept waiting until I realized that I’d waited too long. By the time we climbed onto the pastel racing horses circling the carousel, I knew that Sophie was no longer thinking about Hunter or Molly or whom I claimed they didn’t represent. I watched her take hold of the metal horse's reins and sighed, knowing that my opportunity had passed me by, probably hours before.
Still, I could’ve asked.
I could’ve asked but instead, I bit my nail and said nothing.
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A/N: I’m a day off schedule but I just wasn’t satisfied with how the chapter read last night. Hopefully it’s better now and you guys enjoyed the update! Please let me know if there are any typos. I edited but a few might have snuck past. Thank you again for all of your support. Hitting 10,000 reads is a crazy milestone and I’m really grateful to those of you who’ve stuck by this story and its characters.
This chapter is dedicated to @ALEKSANDRADALI who has been a tremendous source of encouragement since the beginning and made the lovely picture featured under the multimedia section. She’s probably the nicest person ever and deserves nothing but good vibes from everyone. Thank you again!<33