Chapter 2
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“Welcome back to Good Morning Sacramento Live. We’ve been talking to Shayne Fox, who just celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday, about walking away from the role that had made her a household name, Mindy Reader. And another role that led to an Oscar nomination, which was her spellbinding portrayal of Marilyn Monroe. So tell us Shayne, what’s next for you?” Marty Spears plastered on a broad, fake smile that was a prerequisite in his line of work as he asked what most people would take as the perfect set-up.
Shayne Fox was not most people. When she saw the glint in the talk show host’s eye as he posed what should be a straightforward set-up for her to introduce the subject of her new project, all of her internal warning bells were going off. He was up to something, she just wasn’t sure what yet.
Growing up in the foster care system, she’d honed several vital skills that had served her well in her career and life. One was the ability to mask any and every emotion that could be read as a weakness. Another was the art of communication, she could talk her way out of anything. And the last, the one she valued the most, was her keen ability to read people and their intentions.
It was a hidden talent. A gift that some had called intuition, others labeled street smarts, but she referred to as survival. It had served her well during her less than ideal childhood and even more so as an adult in an industry that chews people up and spits them out. It had saved her from dangerous situations more times than she could count and may have even been the foot that had gotten her into the door of Hollywood.
Her big break had been on the show Mindy Reader and it had changed her life. From nineteen to twenty-two she’d played a teenage telepath that used her ability to solve crimes. During her last audition, one of the executives had asked her to “pretend” to read each of the suits’ minds. She went around the room and quickly deducted semi-personal traits and habits using her finely-tuned skill. They never confirmed that she’d been correct, but by the time she was leaving the lot, her manager called with the good news that she’d booked the role.
Today, since the moment she’d sat down in front of the bright lights on the living room set, she’d felt like the other shoe was about to drop. She just had no idea if it was a flip-flop or a steel-toed boot.
Her brain was busily calculating where his leading question was actually going when she smiled and replied, “I’m very excited to be working on an incredible project with Kyle Austen Reed.”
“Oh, Kyle Austen Reed. I know he’s a viewer favorite. Tell us a little bit about it.”
“It’s called Red Card Warning. And it’s a story that follows a hotshot crew during a particularly harrowing fire season. It will be Kyle’s directorial debut.”
She left out that she was a producer on the film or that it was a script that she’d bought the rights to and had been the one to send it to Kyle after she’d found out that he was interested in working with her.
She’d optioned it after reading it and recognizing that it was the role of a lifetime. It had taken her four grueling years to get it made, but it was finally happening. Once the movie came out, she’d be happy to take credit for her larger role in the production, but until then she didn’t want the extra scrutiny and prejudgment that her involvement as anything more than an actress would bring.
“And will you be Kyle Austen Reed’s love interest?”
“My character, Josephine Norris is a hotshot firefighter.”
Yes, her character also ends up with Kyle’s character, but that wasn’t what the movie is about and she refused to marginalize it for a soundbite.
“So the movie is not a love story, then?”
“It has a little bit of something for everyone. It’s a dramedy, action, romance. At its core, it is about love. Not necessarily in the romantic sense. It’s about the love of family, friendship, and the unbreakable bond that develops between a crew of people who put their lives on the line for each other and those they’ve sworn to protect.”
“Action? Wow, that’s something we’ve never seen from Shayne Fox.”
“I’m looking forward to the challenge.”
“Will you be doing your own stunts?”
“As many as they’ll let me, Marty.” She’d actually taken out special insurance so that she and Kyle would be permitted to go through the rigorous training that hotshots are required to do and also do many of their own stunts.
“Switching gears, I know this is a sensitive subject, but I feel that it must be addressed….” Marty leaned in as he spoke. There was a pregnant pause, and Shayne knew this was the segue that she’d been bracing herself for. She could see in Marty’s eyes this was the kill shot. “Shayne, would you like to comment on the rumors that you’ve just completed thirty days at a rehab facility for drug and alcohol abuse?”
Shayne stared at the morning talk show host and counted backward from a hundred in her head as she tried to calm down while plotting ways to murder her manager who she knew had spun this story. She’d spent ten days in a therapeutic treatment center for some anxiety issues she’d been having, not for substance abuse, but that was not as glamorous as drugs and alcohol.
Since this was live television, there was only time to get to ninety-eight before she needed to respond. If she said no comment, everyone would believe the rumors, which were false. If she denied the rumors, people would probably believe them anyway.
Knowing that her answer would be dissected by various entertainment gossip outlets, she knew that her response had to be peppered with just the right amount of charm, grace, and a little humor. Believable, relatable, and most of all, vulnerable. If people thought she was trying to protect herself, they would attack. It was a sad truth, but a truth nonetheless.
Rule one of acting: if you feel it, the camera can see it. So instead of trying to hide what she was truly feeling, she drew up sincerity and genuine amusement as her lips lifted into a sparkling, engaging grin. “All I have to say is don’t believe everything you read.”
She saw the indecision in Marty’s stare as he decided whether or not to follow up and press the issue. No doubt there was a producer in his earpiece pushing him. This was a live broadcast, though, and his choice had to be made in a split second. “There’s also been news that you ended your two-year relationship with Blane Freely. Do you want to comment on that?”
There were a lot of stories in the press about her and Blane’s relationship and ninety-nine point nine percent of them were not true, but this one was. Making sure to keep her tone light and her good-natured grin firmly in place, she said, “That is something I can confirm.”
“And I know that this might be hard to talk about…”
Shayne hated that preface. If it were coming from Katie Couric, Barbara Walters, or Oprah, it would be fine. Those women were true entertainment journalists. But when it was coming from a regional morning talk show host trying to get clips for national coverage, it was never good.
“But I have to ask, was your sobriety a factor in the split?”
He had to ask? No. He didn’t.
He wanted to ask and he crafted the question in such a way that Shayne could easily incriminate herself. Depending on how she answered it, she would be admitting that sobriety was a factor in her own life. Which it wasn’t.
“The only factor in our decision was distance. Our schedules kept us apart for months at a time.” Which, in truth, was the best part of their relationship. She’d agreed to date—and she used that term lightly—the actor when she’d been pressured into doing so by her management team. He’d turned out to be an asshole of epic proportions and last week after she’d left the treatment center, she’d finally put her foot down and refused to carry on the charade. “Blane and I mutually agreed that we were better off as friends.”
“That’s a shame. You two seemed like you were made for each other.”
The host’s mock sympathy wasn’t the only thing that caused her stomach to turn, it was also hearing that she and Blane Freely were made for each other. They had nothing in common. Except that they were both actors and had the same publicist and manager. That was where their similarities ended.
He continued, “I think I can safely speak for myself and our viewers that we will all be mourning the loss of Foxly.”
She inwardly cringed at the moniker that the media had coined for her and Blane that combined their last names.
“You and Blane were hashtag-relationship-goals. Right?” He waved his hand out to a non-existent studio audience and the pre-recorded applause played through speakers.
“Well, Shayne Fox, thank you so much for stopping by our studios. We’ll be looking forward to seeing what you have in store for us in the future.” There was more canned cheering.
“Thank you so much for having me, Marty,” she said sweetly.
“Next up, we have local chef Penelope Roberts showing us how to make your summer barbeque the hottest in town. And then, can running do more harm than good? Our in-house doctor will be here to answer all of your questions.”
“And we’re clear.” An assistant director called out, and the room was instantly filled with people hustling to get set-up for the next segment.
Shayne stood as the sound woman removed her microphone from beneath her shirt. “I loved you in Discovering Marilyn. When you were on the beach, staring out and he’s standing behind you, but you don’t know.” Her eyes started welling up with emotion. “When you turn and see him, I lose it. Every time.”
“Thanks, Marina.” Shayne could see the excitement in the sound tech’s eyes that she’d remembered her name.
Name recall was another gift that she’d honed during her childhood going from school to school, foster family to group home. It had been a key to her adapting and thriving in each new environment. It was something that also served her well in this industry, where, on any given day, she could meet upwards of fifty people.
“That was a very emotional scene to shoot.”
Mainly the emotion was frustration thanks to her costar. He’d been high as a kite and kept insisting that he needed to speak, instead of remaining quiet, which was the entire point of the scene. So, each time she would turn around, he’d improv a line and ruin the take. Thank God for post-production. Magic takes place in the editing room.
Marina smiled as her manager approached them. Between his man-bun and wire-rimmed glasses that had no practical purpose, he was the embodiment of a wannabe hipster. She’d met Chester Mason when she was waiting tables. She’d served him one day and he’d asked if she was an actress or model. He was by no means Nostradamus since everyone waiting tables in the greater Los Angeles area was either an actress, model, writer, comedian, or musician.
He’d offered to represent her, got her headshots, and even put down first and last month’s rent plus a security deposit on a studio apartment so she could move out of the sketchy hotel that she’d stayed in her first month in Hollywood. He’d driven her to auditions and made sure that she had the right wardrobe for meetings with agents. He’d done more for her than any other person in her life had done since she’d lost her grandmother. That was the truth, one that he constantly reminded her of.
He’d believed in her when she was nothing, when she had nothing. Because he’d discovered her, he believed she’d be nothing without him.
As her star had risen, so had his clout and arrogance. She’d wanted to make a change in her representation for quite a while now but she hadn’t. Loyalty was something that she valued, in herself and in others. So as much as she wanted to tell him to kick rocks, she hadn’t.
Her assistant Ruby, who was seven months pregnant with her first baby, followed closely behind him and gave her the thumbs up, the way she always did when an interview went well. Unlike Chester, Ruby was someone that Shayne wanted in her life forever. She was the closest thing that Shayne had ever had to a sister. Even if they didn’t work together, they’d always be family.
Ruby was the first person that Shayne met when she got to Los Angeles, mere hours after she stepped off the Greyhound bus. They were both applying for jobs at a coffee shop on Sunset Blvd. They were hired the same day, and from then on, they’d been inseparable.
“We’re late. We need to get on the road.” Chester snapped his fingers.
It was a new thing that he was doing, and Shayne was not a fan. She wasn’t a dog. She also wasn’t the one who’d decided to schedule this last-minute interview. She wasn’t standing around, wasting time. She was working.
“Don’t snap at me,” she spoke firmly.
He ignored her instruction and started typing on his phone as he turned and headed toward the backstage area.
“He’s getting worse,” Ruby whispered under her breath as they followed behind his man-bun.
“Yeah.”
Since Shayne had received her Oscar nomination and the deals that she was being offered were bigger and more prestigious, his attitude had gotten worse. The higher her star rose, the worse he treated her. His behavior was very counter-intuitive.
As her fame increased the larger his over-inflated ego became until he genuinely believed she’d never drop him. He was convinced she knew she needed him and that her career would fall apart without him. She hoped it was a phase that would pass once he realized that she wouldn’t. Because if not, his fears were going to turn into a self-fulfilling prophecy.
“Excuse me.”
A deep, male voice sounded in the darkened hallway.
Shayne turned to see a very good-looking man dressed in a navy-blue button-up shirt and gray slacks. He stood at least six feet two inches tall with broad shoulders and an impressive, muscular frame. He had sandy blond hair and wore glasses that gave him a sexy nerd vibe.
She waited, hoping that she’d feel all the things she’d read about in books and had to portray on screen. The zip of awareness. The tingle of arousal. The spark of any interest at all. But there was none of that. The man standing in front of her was attractive, but she wasn’t attracted to him.
At twenty-four years old she was beginning to think that she might just be asexual. She’d never felt overwhelmed with passion or even underwhelmed with desire. She felt…nothing. Any enthusiasm that she’d ever shown toward the people she’d dated had simply been another acting job on her part.
“Hi, I’m Tate.”
“Hi, I’m Shayne.”
“I know.” His lips turned up and revealed perfect, straight white teeth. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my fiancée’s niece is a huge fan. She has a Mindy Reader shirt that her mom has to bribe her to take off so that she can wash it.” He smiled, and it was an easy, friendly smile. She might not be attracted to Tate, but two seconds around him and she knew he was one of the good ones. “I was wondering if I could maybe get an autograph for her.” He held out a piece of paper.
“Sure,” she answered as Ruby reached into her bag and pulled out Mindy Reader swag. “What is her name?”
“Jasmine, but everyone calls her Jazzy.”
She wrote one of her go-to Mindy Reader motivational quotes and signed it using both her real name and her character’s name. By the time she handed it back to him, Ruby had a Mindy Reader hoodie, hat, and notebook.
Shayne grinned at her. They usually only handed out one of the items, not all three, which meant that Ruby, must’ve also thought that Tate was one of the good ones. That or she thought he was very easy on the eyes. Both were true.
“Here you go.” She handed him the promo items.
“Thank you. You just made a six-year-old’s year.”
“Dr. York, we’re ready for you.”
Ah, so he’s the in-house doctor. Wow. Those looks and he was a doctor.
“Your fiancée is a lucky lady.” Ruby expressed the same thing that Shayne had been thinking.
“No. I’m the lucky one,” he said with heartbreaking sincerity.
Yep. One of the good ones. “Nice to meet you, Tate.”
“You too. And thank you, again.” He held up the items before following the PA with the headset.
“Damn,” Ruby breathed as both women watched him lift his shirt so Marina could mic him.
Shayne could see the ripples in his abs from across the studio, and still, nothing. No spark. No tingle. No zip.
“Anytime you girls are done drooling over Dr. Abs we have a schedule to keep.” Chester’s tone was a fun combination of condescending and impatient as he held open the steel door that led to the exit.
She and Ruby shot each other a look before heading outside and climbing into the SUV that would be driving them up to Hope Falls. That’s where Shayne would be spending the next six weeks in preproduction and production shooting in what she hoped was the film that would change the perception of her career to that of more than just an actor.
As soon as she clicked her seatbelt into place, Ruby handed her her phone. The screen was filled with Google Alerts of over a dozen outlets reporting that she’d been in rehab the last month and speculations as to whether it was drugs or alcohol. They were all quoting “inside sources.”
“You said you didn’t want people to know about the treatment center,” Chester spoke before she even looked up. His comment revealing who the “inside source” was. Not that she hadn’t known.
Keeping her tone as steady as she could, she shifted her attention to her manager that sat behind her in the back of the SUV. “Did you and Deb come up with this?” She asked wondering if her publicist had also had a hand in it.
Both Chester and Deb were of the philosophy that no publicity was bad publicity. They got downright giddy when one of their clients was arrested or involved in a scandal. It made Shayne sick to her stomach that people profited off of other people’s suffering, but that was the stark reality of the world not just the entertainment industry.
“Look, you were the one that decided to check yourself into the looney bin, I was the one left to answer where you were.” He lifted his hands as if he’d made the most out of an impossible situation.
The truth was, Chester had been upset that Shayne had turned down a national makeup campaign that would’ve made him six figures and instead chosen to take a break and work on her mental health. This was his way of punishing her. During treatment her therapist had said that her and Chester’s relationship was “unhealthy, abusive, and codependent.” Shayne had initially thought the woman was exaggerating, now she was starting to think she might be on to something.
Chester’s expression dripped with smug arrogance as he turned his attention back to his iPad and added, “Next time don’t take off for a month and there won’t be an issue.”
Twenty-one days. She mentally corrected him before reminding herself to remain calm. A large part of her anxiety stemmed from trying to control things that were out of her control. So instead of trying she focused on herself.
Stay calm, Shayne told herself. It doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is the work.
Her phone continued to pop up alerts, but she turned it off and set it down. There was no reason to dwell on things that she couldn’t change. All of her focus needed to be on the movie that she’d worked her ass off to get made.
When Shayne had optioned the script it had been a huge risk. She’d spent every dime she’d made on the first season of Mindy and taken out a loan against her second season salary. But instead of looking at it as the gamble it was, she saw it as an investment in herself. Shayne was Josephine Norris. She knew that she was born to play this role.
Taking a deep breath, she put in her earphones and pushed play on her phone. They had a two hour drive up to Hope Falls and she didn’t want to waste the precious time arguing with Chester.
She leaned back against the headrest as a lovely computerized voice with a British accent came through the tiny speakers tucked in her ears. It was a dictation program that read her scripts aloud.
“Interior hospital room. Day. Josephine lies in bed looking out the window. Carter stands beside her bed.
Please, Joey. Talk to me.
There’s nothing left to say.
Do you think this was your fault? This was not your fault. Do you hear me? This is not your fault.
I’m tired, Carter.
I don’t care if you’re tired. I’m tired, Joey. I’m tired of you shutting me out. I’m tired of you carrying the weight of this on your shoulders. I’m tired of you acting like you were the only one out there with Hopper. I was there, too. Manny and Pete and Robbie were all there too, Joey.
Get. Out.
No.
Josephine closes her eyes. Exhausted.
I’m not leaving, Joey. Not now. Not ever.”
Shayne listened as her mind went blank to allow the dialogue to seep into her consciousness. It was the quickest way for her to memorize her lines. And not just her lines, but also all of her costar’s lines, scene headings, and direction. She needed to have the script memorized by the time she sat down for the table read, otherwise she would be lost.
When the recording ended, she started it again and glanced up to see if Chester was paying attention. He wasn’t.
The only people that knew about her dyslexia were Ruby and Nolan, her makeup artist and personal stylist. Nolan, who she’d met on her first day of shooting Mindy Reader and who she’d hired as her personal stylist and makeup artist when the show wrapped. He’d been with her for every commercial, every photoshoot, and every red-carpet since she started Mindy Reader.
They were the only ones that knew her secret. Rationally, she knew that it wouldn’t matter. A lot of people struggled with the same disorder. It wasn’t a big deal. Except to her it was. There was so much shame, confusion, and frustration attached to it from the years that she’d struggled in school that it was hard for her to separate logic from emotion.
School had always been a struggle for Shayne. Her teachers had written her difficulties off as a byproduct of being in the system. She wasn’t diagnosed until eleventh grade and that had been by her drama teacher when he saw her struggling to read a play she’d been cast in.
She didn’t blame the educational system for missing her condition since she’d never been at the same school for more than one grade. When she was six, her maternal grandmother, who had custody of both Shayne and her younger brother Benjamin who was one, passed away. When no relatives claimed the siblings, they both became wards of the state. They were separated. She was placed in foster care, and from what she’d been able to find out from a social worker when she was ten, Benji, had been adopted almost immediately.
Opening her eyes, she looked out the window and watched as green, lush pine trees flashed by. She wondered if Benji lived in the mountains. When she saw the ocean, she wondered the same thing. Every city, every state, every country she visited, it was the first thing she would think, is he here?
It had been eighteen years since she’d held him. Since she’d heard his infectious laugh. Since she’d seen his blue eyes look up at her with complete trust and love.
And yet, sometimes it felt like it was just yesterday that she was sitting in her grandmother’s rocker with him on her lap singing him his favorite lullaby.
Her chest began to ache with an all too familiar emptiness, and she shoved all memories, good and bad, out of her mind. She decided to concentrate her energy, instead, on making this movie the best it could possibly be. It could be a game changer. She needed to stay focused entirely on it. No distractions. No matter what.