Matt

The LA heat was stifling, but the way the air conditioning cut to the bone was worse. I sat out by the pool on the swing that I’d bought for Lana. I’d wanted to have a piece of Maine in Los Angeles for her when she arrived, but now I wondered if I’d ever get to show it to her. Maybe I’d ship it to Worthington. All I’d been able to think about in the week since she’d left was everything I’d lost. What my job had cost me. She was gone and she wasn’t responding to my calls or messages.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, so I pulled it out and tossed it next to the script for The Final Battle, which had arrived a few days ago. Brian’s name flashed across the screen. No doubt he was checking up on me, making sure I loved what I was reading.

Far from it. It was pretty much the worst script I’d ever read. I was about half of the way through and although the part I’d been talking to him about was the lead, there were only a few pages of dialog, most of which was cheesy. Nothing about this film screamed box-office smash.

“Hey, Brian,” I answered.

“How’s my favorite client today?”

He wasn’t usually so chipper. “I’m your favorite? Why’s that?”

“I just got off the phone with Anthony Scott’s people. I have an offer for you.”

My heart sank. “Oh, great.” Even to my ears, my voice sounded flat.

“Great? It’s a fuck-load more than great. You have arrived. Have you read the script?”

Lana’s words continued to echo around my brain. Had I been allowing Brian and Sinclair to run my life? Make decisions for me? I’d been clear since I’d come to LA that what I wanted was to reach the top, and the pinnacle of Hollywood success was landing a franchise. Brian and Sinclair had been on board, so that was what we’d all been pushing for. It was why I’d agreed to date Audrey. It was the reason I’d said yes to the last three films and hellacious schedule. Every decision I’d made had been leading to this moment. It had been what I’d wanted. Brian and Sinclair were just doing their jobs.

Except that I’d never asked myself if it was worth it. I’d never stopped to wonder if this was what I still wanted. And now, with success within my grasp, all I could think about was Lana.

“Not finished with it yet,” I said, sliding my hand over the pages. “But I was thinking—I’m still interested in making The Brothers into a movie.”

He groaned. “You’re not still talking about that book about the kids?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah.” Reading this Anthony Scott script wasn’t getting me excited, but the thought of bringing that book to the big screen gave me goose bumps.

“Are you fucking crazy? You need to kiss Anthony Scott’s fucking ring and be grateful he’s even heard of you. We can start talking production deals when your abs go doughy.”

I sighed but didn’t reply.

“This is an Anthony Scott movie and they’re willing to pay you eight figures. And it’s likely going to turn into a franchise. Frankly, you should do the movie for fucking free, it’s such good exposure.”

Eight figures was a lot of money. But it was more than that. An Anthony Scott feature and a possible franchise was a lifetime pass to A-lister status. Signing on to this would transition me from rising star to Hollywood royalty. It was exactly what I’d been aiming for all these years.

Fact was, if I never worked again, I would be more than okay financially. I’d paid off my parents’ mortgage and set up college funds for my nieces and nephews. My family had never asked me for anything, and Lana had showed me that doing what I thought was best for people wasn’t always what they wanted. Every time I spoke to my dad, he told me the only thing he wanted was for me to come home and visit more often. I’d been doing things for people I loved without understanding what they really wanted from me and that wasn’t my money. It was my time and attention.

Lana hadn’t wanted me to solve her problem. She just wanted me on her team.

I’d been so controlling of my career and my image in the last eighteen months, that I’d simply tried to do the same for Lana. Except what she’d needed from me wasn’t control—it was honesty and support. I’d taken over and kept her in the dark about something that was hers to deal with. I’d been trying to do the right thing but it was stupid and selfish. I got that now. But it was too late. I’d been too focused on the end result and hadn’t cared about how I ended up there. It was the same with my career.

I hated this script, so why was I even thinking about doing it? It was all a means to an end. And I wasn’t sure that was enough anymore. In fact, I wasn’t even sure that getting a franchise fit my definition of success anymore. Things had changed. I wanted to be happy. I wanted to make The Brothers into a film. I wanted Lana.

The thought of working with Anthony Scott should have me popping champagne corks left and right. But being on the set of a movie I knew was a pile of crap wasn’t what I wanted to do with my career. Not anymore.

“Yeah, well I’m not going to do it for free. In fact, I’m not going to do it at all. It’s not the direction I want to go.” Instead of the panic I’d expected to swallow me whole, my shoulders felt a hell of a lot lighter.

Brian swore. “If you think this is the way you’re going to make it to the top, you’re sadly mistaken—”

“I’ve made my decision. I hope you can respect that, but I understand if you feel you can’t represent me any longer.” It felt good to have said no. I wanted something more than fame, money or success. I wanted to enjoy what I did and be proud of who I was. I needed to be less fixated on getting to the top and more focused on who I was and what that meant. “I hope that’s not what you decide to do, but if we continue to work together, we need to sit down and figure out where to go from here.”

The silence from the other end of the phone was deafening.

“You’re a fantastic agent, Brian. But it’s my career, and my life.”

Brian sighed. “That script for The Final Battle is a pile of fucking shit, anyway.”

It was the last thing I’d expected him to say. I chuckled. “Well, we can agree on the quality of the script, at least.”

“I’ll tell him you have a scheduling conflict. Honestly, it will do okay at the box office but it won’t be one of his best. If it tanks, it’s not going to turn into a franchise like they think it will.”

“If it does, I don’t care. I really want to produce The Brothers.”

I could almost hear Brian’s brain whir over the phone. “I’ll see what I can do. It might work better on TV, though. I could talk to Netflix, see if they’d be interested.”

It was exactly what I’d been hoping he’d say when I first talked to him about it. “Sounds great.”

“I’ll make it happen. I’ll come by later this week and we can work out a new plan for you. Christ, I’ve seen drinking, drugs and women change the direction of an actor’s career, but rarely does one of my clients fall in love and see the light.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you supporting me.” He thought I’d seen the light? Why had he never said anything before? Had he been too busy fighting to get me what I wanted? What I thought I’d wanted? Brian had only ever done what I’d asked him to—make me successful, secure me a franchise—but my priorities had shifted. He’d just been trying to deliver everything I wanted only for me to discover I needed something else entirely.

All I wanted to do was pick up the phone and tell Lana about my conversation with Brian. I grinned. She’d be happy for me. Even proud of me. If only I could show her how much she’d taught me. If it hadn’t been for her, I don’t think I would have ever dreamed I could produce something. She’d made me believe in a different future for myself—want something different, something more. She’d changed the direction of my life forever, whether or not she would share it with me.

“How is Lana? I heard from Sinclair that you two had a huge fight.”

I sighed. “She’s in Maine. And she’s not really talking to me. I’m trying to give her space.”

Life without Lana was empty. But the thought of her pain was worse and I hated myself because I’d caused it. I had just been trying to protect her from inevitable trauma, but when I saw what that had done to her, I knew I should have spoken to her. I shouldn’t have kept it from her. I’d made a dreadful situation even more appalling and she’d run. Maybe she always would have. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse. But I shouldn’t have been the one to give it to her.

I was doing my best to give her what she’d asked for when all I wanted to do was jump on a plane to Maine and hold her, comfort her, tell her how sorry I was. I wanted to fight for her. For what we had. But that’s not what she’d asked for. I’d learned my lesson and I was listening to her. Waiting for her. But I wasn’t giving up. Not ever.

Still, I had to do something.

At least I could clean up the mess I’d made.

As much as was in my power, I needed to make things right.