Chapter Four
I made my excuses as soon as I could do so without seeming rude, then slipped outside to wait down the block for the cab I'd called in secret. Once I was safely outside, I finally relaxed. That had quite possibly been the most awkward meal I'd ever been invited to.
"Olivia!"
Tyler was waving at me from the front door of the restaurant. When I waved back, he started walking towards me.
"Did I forget something in the restaurant?" I asked.
"What?" Tyler replied. "No. I just wanted to tell you that I thought you were pretty brave in there. Not too many women have the cajones to do what you did."
"Thanks, that's nice of you," I said warily. What I'd done didn't feel very brave after the fact. It felt stupid.
I held my hand out to say goodbye, and Tyler raised my knuckles to his lips. The brush of lips on skin made me feel all sorts of things that were inappropriate to feel about a stranger on a public sidewalk. I swallowed, trying to wet my dry throat. Tyler followed the movement of my throat and the corners of his eyes crinkled. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. Instead of letting go of my hand, he stroked the palm lightly with one finger, smiling down at me with mischievous eyes.
Luckily for my pride, my cab arrived at the right time to prevent me from jumping Tyler's bones right there on the street. The yellow car pulled up to the curb beside us, and I bounced back, releasing Tyler's hand.
"This is me," I said. "Bye now!" I got into the cab before I could do something insane like kiss Tyler. I waved at his slightly confused face through the window. He waved back halfheartedly, tilted his head, then walked back to the restaurant.
I turned to the driver. "Hotel Monaco, please."
The driver stared at my flushed cheeks curiously and visibly cringed when he heard the name of my destination. He drove without further comment, though, to my relief. He pulled up to the curb of the hotel and only stayed long enough to accept my money before peeling off to a better part of town.
I fanned my cheeks and took deep breaths, trying to put my body back to normal before I saw Kat again. She had an uncanny ability to figure out exactly what I was thinking- and right now, I was having some very naughty thoughts that I wasn't comfortable with Kat knowing about.
I walked through the lobby, waved at the unresponsive desk clerk, bounded up the stairs two at a time, waved at the junkie on the third-floor stairwell, then pulled open the door to the sixth floor and exited into the hallway.
Kat was standing outside our room, holding a bottle of soda in one hand, a box of doughnuts in the other, and a bag of chips in her teeth as she tried to unlock our door. She looked over at me with wild eyes.
"Rillyewelpmee?" she said, her question muffled by the chip bag, which was dangling precariously from her lips. I rushed forward to help, pulling the bag from her mouth and swiping my hotel key in the door. "Thanks," she said, leading the way in.
"You could've just put something on the floor to make life easier on yourself, you know," I said.
"Then I would've lost." Kat grinned at me. She took in my face, her eyes widening, and she pointed at me accusatorily. "Judging by the crazed look in your eyes and the flushed state of your cheeks, I take it lunch went well. What was Channing like? Did he ask about me?"
"He was too focused on me to ask about you. So sad you couldn't be there." I pouted sarcastically and sat straight up on the edge of the bed, tossing the chips back to Kat. She ripped open the bag and offered me one, but I shook my head, too full from earlier to even think about eating. She shrugged and started crunching.
"For real though, how was it? Super official and Hollywoody? What were the actors like? Were they pretentious? What are their names?" Kat said quickly. "Tell me everything. Don't leave anything out."
I thought about the feeling deep in the pit of my stomach when Tyler had brushed his lips against my fingertips. I thought about the warm way Tyler's eyes had taken me in when he'd realized he was flustering me. "Not pretentious. At least, Tyler wasn't. I didn't get a chance to talk with Brittany. She wasn't very friendly. And it was… weird. I don't know if all Hollywood meetings are like that. I'd be surprised if they were."
"Tyler? Brittany?" Kat asked excitedly.
"Tyler Sutton and Brittany Campbell. I only vaguely recognized them, but they seem nice. At least Tyler does. He's a total flirt, but nice." I hoped Kat couldn't tell how much I'd been affected by Tyler.
"Tyler SUTTON?" Kat exclaimed. "Have you been living under a rock? How do you not know who Tyler Sutton is?"
I shrugged. "I don't watch as many chick flicks as you?"
"He's a giant movie star, you nerd. And he was in my favorite soap opera Passions of our Lives for like six years before he made it big in romantic comedies. He's been in every romantic comedy for the past three years, how has he flown under your radar?" Kat was incredulous.
"I knew his face was familiar. My mom watches Passions of our Lives religiously. I bet that's where I knew his name from," I said.
Kat was already on her cell phone, looking up Tyler's Wikipedia page so she could inform me about his life story. "‘Tyler Sutton, thirty-two years old, was born in Boise, Idaho, to parents Mary Sutton, a homemaker, and Ed Sutton, a teacher.’ Oh Lord, I love a corn-fed all-American boy." Kat winked at me, then continued reading. "‘Tyler was all-state in high school football and went on to play college football for the University of Idaho before dropping out to pursue his acting career, eventually landing a starring role in Passions of our Lives after being discovered by a talent scout at a college play.'"
"Poor guy. Must've been awful to go through such hardship," I said.
Kat swatted my arm, scanning the rest of the page. "Dates a new supermodel every month, donates to charities. Aw, here he is surrounded by a litter of puppies that he rescued from a drainage ditch." She held up the picture for me to see, and I looked at it curiously. Why had Tyler been shirtless when he was rescuing those puppies?
Kat continued to scroll through photo after photo of Tyler with supermodels, actresses, socialites, and the occasional puppy. My heart sank slightly at every picture of the beautiful women. I was so clearly not Tyler's type. Tyler was just a flirt. It wasn't personal. I'd read too much into a handshake and friendly banter. Why did I feel so disappointed? I pulled a smile on my face before Kat looked back up.
"Looks like he's perfect for the role of womanizer Rafe Daniels," I said.
"He's only a womanizer until he meets his true love," Kat pointed out. "Wouldn't it be nice if it worked out that way in real life?"
Yes, it would. I sighed. "We'd better get our stuff packed away if we want to get to the airport on time," I said, changing the subject by gesturing at the belongings that had somehow scattered across our room despite us only being here for two days.
Three hours later, we were checked out of our hotel and back on a plane to Maryland. Our trip to Los Angeles had been short but sweet. I couldn't stop smiling about my victory over Pierre, but I was troubled by my unsettling reaction to Tyler Sutton, womanizer. To be fair, every woman probably had that same response to him and the way he flirted. Thank goodness I wouldn't have to be around him again until the movie premiere.
∞∞∞
Once the excitement of our trip died down, I settled back into my old routine in Maryland. My mom had predictably pestered me for every single detail of everything I'd seen and done during my two days in California. She had almost fainted when I told her that I'd met Tyler, and asked if he'd mentioned coming back to Passions of our Lives. She was disappointed that he hadn't disclosed his career plans with a total stranger but quickly went back to being excited about the movie. Dad had given me a handshake and said "Good job," before puttering off to play with his model airplanes. Coming from my dad, that was the equivalent of balloons being released into the sky and a ticker-tape parade.
I spent less time Facebook stalking Dave and Fiona than I used to, which I counted as a personal growth victory. I figured having something inspiring in my life lessened the urge to wallow in self-pity. Unfortunately, I spent a lot of time suppressing thoughts of a particularly cocky, charming, sexy actor who was so far out of my league that we weren't even playing the same sport.
I decided not to be that girl who spent all of her time obsessing over one man or another, and I took to obsessing over a fictional man- Rafe Daniels. I was always brainstorming how to end the series in a way that would stay true to who Rafe was while still pleasing everyone. Nothing was coming to me. I had a wicked case of writer's block.
When I got tired of staring at blank pages on my computer screen, I threw my headphones on and went for a run. Jamming out to boy bands and bubblegum pop from the early aughts, I pounded the pavement, clearing my head in a way that only JT and Christina could inspire. Plus, I was running so much that I could eat a lot more. Pizza and burritos always boosted my mental state, which was good for writing. It was a cycle.
I had just gotten back home from a particularly long and satisfying run and was pulling my earbuds out when the house phone rang. Weird. No one ever called my landline except for telemarketers and bill collectors. I looked at the caller ID. Unknown caller, but I recognized the 310 area code as Los Angeles. I took a chance on it not being a bill collector and picked up the phone.
"Hello?" I asked breathlessly.
"Hold, please," a woman answered politely.
"Hold? You're the one that called me," I said, but the Muzak was already playing in the background. "Okay, then," I said under my breath. I gave it two minutes before I seriously considered hanging up, but before I hung up, Doug's booming voice came over the receiver.
"Olivia Holman, just the woman I wanted to talk to! How are you?" Doug said jovially.
"I'm good, you?" I replied, confused. Doug knew he'd called me, right?
"Good, good." Doug cleared his throat. "Listen, Miss Holman. I have good news for you." He paused, leaving me in painful suspense. "We've decided to go in a different direction with the movie. We're going to use your screenplay."
My jaw dropped. That was good news. "What changed?"
"Well, to be honest, we didn't have much of a choice, though we're thrilled to use your script, of course. Pierre did not take too kindly to the changes we made to his 'masterpiece.' He gave me an ultimatum- either he gets full control over the script, or he walks. I let him walk," Doug said. "I don't do ultimatums."
I sat with my legs crisscrossed on the floor, processing this. "So Smooth Operator is going to be faithful to the book? No crazy changes like aliens or whatever?"
"If your script doesn't include aliens, then there won't be aliens in the movie," Doug assured me. "I did finally get around to reading it, by the way. You surprised me, kid. For someone who's never written a screenplay before, you nailed it. You've got chops." Doug didn't realize how condescending he was, but I was too thrilled about getting my way to point it out to him.
"This is amazing," I said. "Thank you for considering my script before going to another writer after Pierre quit."
"We didn't have time to draft another one, so we used the one we had," Doug said.
"I'm still going to count it as a win," I said.
Doug chuckled. "There's one more thing I have to ask you. I like to have my writers on set at all times during rehearsals and filming to help with dialogue and last-minute script changes." Doug paused, waiting for my reaction.
"Wait, what? You want me to visit the set?" I asked, confused. I stood up, shaking out my legs, which had fallen asleep in my seated position.
"No. I want you to work full-time on set for the duration of the process. We'll fly you out to L.A., set you up in the hotel that the cast and crew are staying in, give you a per diem for meals, the whole nine yards. You won't want for anything," Doug said. "You will, of course, be paid handsomely for your time."
I sat back down. "Wow. Doug, this is a generous offer, but I have a whole life in Maryland and another book to write. I can't just pack up and leave." Liar. You can write anywhere, and your life in Maryland isn't so exciting that it can't wait a few months.
"Sweetheart, I hate to do this to you, but it's the only way I'm going to accept your script. As I said, I have my writers on set with me at all times to help me, and I'm a man who is accustomed to getting what he wants. If you say no, I'll have no choice but to move on to the next person who will say yes," Doug said threateningly.
I bet you will, Doug. I exhaled sharply. "I have to think about it. I do have things here that I need to take care of, and I'll need to set things up if I'm even considering just up and leaving."
"You have until the end of the day," Doug said. "After that, I'll look elsewhere for someone more accommodating." With that, he hung up.
I sat in silence in my living room, thinking. There was only one thing to do, and I knew it. Doug had essentially given me no choice. He had already passed on my script once, and I knew he would be true to his word about this being a one-time-only deal. If I wanted Smooth Operator to go the way I wanted it to go, I needed to go to Los Angeles.
The more I thought about this option, the more the idea began to excite me. All I had going on in Maryland was unemployment, writer's block, and pathological Facebook stalking. Los Angeles held endless potential for adventure and growth, and the best way to cure writer's block was to stop trying so hard to force something. Besides, if I hated Los Angeles, I would only have to stick it out for a few months. How long could shooting a movie take, anyway? I'd be back home in no time with a once-in-a-lifetime experience under my belt. It took me about two minutes to make my decision. I didn't call Doug back immediately because I didn't want to seem too eager, so I called Kat to tell her the good news instead.
"Hello, best frannnnd," she answered on the first ring.
"Hey there, hot stuff," I replied. "Why are you breathing so hard?"
"I'm on the stair climber. You know I like to keep the buns tight," Kat panted.
"I need to tell you something. You may want to get off the stair climber for this," I warned.
"No need. I am a beast, incapable of distraction," Kat proclaimed.
"I'm going back out to Los Angeles," I said.
"Ooh, can I come?" Kat asked excitedly.
"I doubt it. I'm going to be gone for a few months." I winced at the sound of something crashing on the other line. "Are you okay?"
"Just a cut elbow," Kat said casually. "I'm fine, just tripped on the stair climber a bit. Why are you moving across the country? Did you catch the acting bug in our two days over there?"
"No." I laughed. "Doug Wiseman just called me. Pierre threw a bitch fit and quit when things weren't going exactly the way he wanted them, so Doug called me to step in. Apparently, when Doug directs a movie, he likes the writer to be on set for the duration. I'm going to call him and accept the offer as soon as I get off the phone with you."
"He's producing the film and directing? That dude is a control freak," Kat said. "This is great, though! I'm so happy for you, babe. You have to let me come visit you on set."
"Thanks. Of course I will." I beamed. I'd known Kat would be supportive, but hearing the words gave me all the courage I needed to go through with this insane idea. "I need to call Doug now before he changes his mind."
"Bye!" Kat started panting again before the line went dead.
I called Doug back at his office and waited on hold for five minutes. When he picked up, I simply said, "I'm in."
I could hear the smile in his voice. "Great. I'll have my lawyers draw up the paperwork and overnight it to you. I'll get a car to take you to the airport tomorrow morning and get you on my private jet. Bring the paperwork with you on the plane. I want you to get settled into the hotel before rehearsals start."
"Tomorrow?" That didn't leave me much time to pack or say goodbye to everyone.
"Rehearsals start in two days. Tomorrow's the only day this will work." Doug's voice brooked no arguments.
"Tomorrow it is," I said.
"Excellent, see you then," Doug said, then hung up.
I threw my phone on the couch and squealed. I was going on the adventure of a lifetime.