Fall

“Who says she wants that life?”

“Doesn’t every girl?”

“Do you even know her?” I all but yelled. “The last thing she wants is to be home rubbing some bastard’s feet!”

“Leave it.” Smith’s voice was hard, unyielding. “How long are you even here for? A few weeks? A month? And then you’ll be… where? Across the world shooting a movie?

“And where will Pris be? Here.” A satisfied grin slid over his face. “With me. So sure, if you want to throw your chips in, give it a shot. Go ahead and try, just know that when you leave, I’ll still be here. When you’re off making your millions, I’ll have the one thing you want.

“Her. In. My. Bed.”

My body shook with anger. “I should kill you.”

“Do it. It wouldn’t change things, Jaymeson. She’d still hate you. Regardless of the choice you make… I win.”

“She isn’t a damn prize!” I shouted. “She’s—”

“—mine.” He clipped. “Not yours.”

The bell to the store chimed. Pris walked in wearing a long black cardigan with leggings and boots. “You guys look all flustered. Everything okay?”

“Brilliant.” I stormed away from both of them and nearly sent the back door flying off its hinges as I made my way outside and sat on the steps.

Now would be a good time to start smoking.

But I hated the smell.

And drinking — not really an option on the job, plus I guessed Peter wouldn’t be thrilled. It wouldn’t exactly help my image.

As if I needed reminding of why I was really in Seaside, the phone went off. “Jaymeson?”

“What’s up, Peter?”

“He wants you.”

“What?” I whispered, my heart racing. “Who does?”

“Danny Erickson. Pre-production starts in two weeks, but he wants you to do a casting video.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” I could practically hear Peter’s smile on the other end. “I found it hilarious as hell.”

“Notice I’m not laughing.”

“Hey, you want the part? You do the video. I’m e-mailing you the section of the script he wants you to recite. Don’t screw up. Send it back as soon as you can.”

“Fine.”

“Hey, sound happier. If all goes well, you’ve just gotten another huge break, Jay.”

“Right.”

We hung up.

Within seconds, I received the e-mail.

Cringing, I opened up the attachment and almost threw up.

Scene: Harley wants Zach, but he’s afraid of what it will mean for their relationship if he crosses the line — there’s no going back. He’s afraid his darkness will consume her. He’s from the wrong side of the train tracks — and she has everything. A bright future, a rich family, a college scholarship. He would just drag her down. He goes to her house to tell her he can’t see her anymore. His heart is breaking.

Harley: Zach? What are you doing here! (Harley’s surprised but excited to see Zach)

Zach: (Doesn’t make eye contact) I needed to talk to you. Do you have a minute?

Harley: (opens door and lets him in) Sure. Come on, my parents aren’t home so we can talk in the living room.

Zach: (follows Harley, his face contorting with sadness as he takes in her house one last time) We can’t see each other anymore.

Harley: (confused) What do you mean?

Zach: I can’t be your friend.

Harley: (steps closer to Zach and reaches out to touch his arm) Why? I don’t understand.

Zach: (laugh without humor, look around the room, look at everything but her) You wouldn’t. How could you?

Harley: What’s that supposed to mean?

I quickly exited out of the script and looked down at my shaking hands. Was this some cruel joke? I had never read the books, but I’d had no idea how familiar that particular script would sound to my own life.

“Jaymeson?” Smith called from inside.

Reluctantly, I walked back into the building to face the firing squad. “Yes?”

“We’re off to lunch. Think you can handle things while I’m gone?” Yeah, probably not. So far there had only been ten or fifteen fans that had come in asking for autographs. For the most part, people stayed away, which I can only assume was because they’d gotten their fill of me when I filmed the webisodes earlier that year.

“I’m sure I can manage.” I smiled at Pris. “Good day today?”

She nodded, but was quickly shielded by Smith. “Later.”

“Asshole,” I muttered then walked over to the cash register and pulled out my phone. At least I had Jamie Hudson. Smith might not know it, but I’d been on every date he’d had with her. And I wasn’t about to back off.

Especially now that I knew his ex was the Spawn of Satan.

An idea — a terrible one came to mind.

I shouldn’t.

I really shouldn’t involve myself.

Cursing, I quickly dialed the number I’d come to memorize for self preservation.

It rung twice. “Hello?” I swear my body full on trembled then threatened to puke up all contents of my stomach at the sound of that woman’s voice. I wondered if it was similar to the reaction people had when getting audited.

“Angelica.”

“Asshole!” she greeted. “What’s up?”