A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) (31 page)

“How are you, Las Vegas?” I shout from yet another stage two weeks later. The lights blind me for a moment as the crowd roars in reply. It’s not as huge of a crowd as I’m used to, but I’ll take it. “This one goes out to my friend Shelly, who I met this morning. She’s fighting a brain tumor, and she can use all the support she can get.” I launch into the song
Without You
, a love song. I can picture Shelly’s parents standing by her bedside as I sing:

Without you, the world’s a darker place.

Without you, my soul can find no rest.

Don’t give up on us. I don’t want to live without you.

I am
shocked
to hear the crowd singing along. The single’s only been available on iTunes for two days, but I hear them yelling the lyrics as I belt them out into the microphone.

“Okay,” I shout once the song is over. “How many of you are Veronica Pryce fans here to see how I’m doin’?”

The cheers are deafening.

“Hey,” I call out. “I appreciate you guys. It’s good to see you all again!” They won’t be around forever, I know. Fewer and fewer will show up each time I perform in this town, but for now they’re here, and I’m grateful.

Being on tour still means going back to a lonely hotel room though. That’s always been how it’s worked, even when I was mega famous. That night, I call Cleo, who I still have on a part-time arrangement, so she can’t be with me the entire tour.

“Help me,” I say. “I have a confession to make.”

“Hmm?” she replies.

“I want to log into Facebook again, but it’s still a bad idea.”

“How come?”

So I tell her about Devon, about how he was the guy I was pictured kissing and how I still wonder how he is. “He’s in Montana with the woman he loves,” I say. “Stop me from seeing pictures of them please.”

“Here, I’ll check his page for you. Hang on. His name is?”

“Devon. Only Devon I’m friends with.” That dull ache in my heart is still there when I say his name.

“I am seeing…nothing. No updates for months. Not since you posted that Veronica Pryce meme on his Wall.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. Okay, his location has changed. It says he’s in Billings, and that’s it.”

“Oh.”

“So you want your Facebook login?”

“Um…no. But thanks for checking for me.”

“Want me to keep an eye on his account?”

“No. I need to get over him. He’s gone.”

“Well, just let me know… Wait a minute. His last name is Schaller?”

“Yeah.”

“So he’s—”

“Yep.”

“Oh.”

“Anyway…”

“Girl, you need anything, you call me.”

“Thanks,” I say. I know she’s sincere and that I’m lucky to have her and Kyra. Friends are no substitute for family, but they are all I have right now.

We sign off and I take a deep breath, open my web browser, and search for the image of me and Devon kissing. I’ve managed to avoid seeing it this entire time, and I just can’t keep up the strength anymore.

The shot was from across the street at the airport, and it’s a little blurry. I have my arms around Devon’s neck and he has his arms around my waist, looking for all the world like he wants that kiss. The muscles of his back and shoulders bulge under his tight T-shirt, and his eyes are closed.

I bite my lip so hard that I taste blood. That picture represents everything I wanted with him, and he is even more gorgeous than I remember. Touring was always a lonely business for me, but right now, I feel like I’m on my own in the middle of an endless desert. No matter how far I travel, I’ll still be all by myself.

When I get home from my six-week tour, Angie, my acting agent, sits me down and says, “I’ve got to be honest. I can get you auditions. No roles are on offer. You’ve got the voice work for that video game, and that’s all.”

The video game is no small project and I’ll make good money off it. This is what I keep in mind when I say, “Fine. That’s great. What auditions do you have lined up?”

She gives me a genuine smile and pulls out a pile of scripts. “First one is a film lead. But there’s a lot of television too.”

“Okay.”

“And I’ve been in talks with Bud. He just doesn’t have a lead role for you now, but he’s looking into it. Maybe he’ll find a project that’s a good fit for you.”

“That’d be cool.”

“He does feel bad, you know, about how
Clues
went. And he still thinks you can be a star.”

I shrug. “So it goes. Okay, what’s my schedule?”

“Well, here’s a show I want you to consider. The lead is a tough-as-nails lawyer who works with juvenile offenders. She’s got a curmudgeon of a boss and a fitness instructor best friend—”

“So the best friend?” I say.

Angie blinks at me. “No, the lead is what you’d audition for.”

“Can I read some? Because I’m thinking I should go for the best friend.”

My agent doesn’t shut me down. She tilts her head, considering this, and says, “Well… Okay, let’s talk about that.”

I show up to the audition in pigtails, a pink leotard, and leg warmers. The series creator is a younger guy, thirty at the oldest, in jeans and a T-shirt. He looks me up and down when I walk in. Next to him sits one of the producers, who looks awfully familiar. Great. Someone from
Clues
. Why didn’t Angie warn me?

“Hi,” I greet them.

“You ready?” the series creator asks.

“Yep.” I square my shoulders.

He looks me up and down again, blinks a few times, and then turns his attention to the script. “I’ve had the worst day,” he recites.

“Pilates or spin class kind of day?” I respond.

“No, a really bad day. I don’t want to exercise.”

“Well…then what do you want? For me to talk to you or something?”

“Could you?”

“I’d rather get you a kale smoothie.” Not a line from the script.

The series creator stops me and says, “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

“Make people laugh,” I admit. “It’s a heavy show. I’m thinking this character could be a little comic relief. I can be serious. Tough scenes, I can do those, but otherwise I’m thinking I want to portray someone who helps lighten things up now and then.”

“Are you trying to be Veronica Pryce?”

“You know that’s how everyone who sees me thinks of me. I could fight it, or I could make good use of it.” I shrug. “A comic relief character can pull off a lot of lines that a serious one can’t.”

“Interesting,” he says.

“I respect that you probably have a different vision,” I say. “For what it’s worth, that’s mine.”

He nods, confers with the producer a moment, then says, “We’ll be in touch.”

I got to say three lines, so it’s obvious that I will not get this part. I thank them and turn to leave.

“Not gonna win an Emmy,” I overhear the producer say. “But she keeps a dead-even keel and is as reliable as you can get. Knows the business. You could do a whole lot worse.”

Well, that’s something at least.
I comfort myself with that as I make my way past the loooong line of other people auditioning for the role.

One week later, my agent calls me at home.

“You got the part in
Injunction
,” she says. “Congratulations.”

“Huh?”

“As the fitness instructor best friend.”

“Wait, what?” I say. “They barely let me audition. I didn’t get a callback. Is this a joke?”

“I guess you didn’t need any of that. Word is, the creator was trying to decide between you and Heather Waterman, and you won out. My guess is they talked to crews who’d worked with you guys. She’s a nightmare. You’re a dream.”

“Well,” I say. “All right. When do we shoot the pilot?”

“In a month, so you’ll have time to do this video game project, no problem.”

“And then, fingers crossed.”

“Right.”

Not every pilot gets picked up by a network.

I hang up and notice I’ve got a text from Delia.

Delia:
Waiting to Get Over You is in the Billboard Top 100! As #100.

The first time I’ve
ever
charted with a single. My heart is light. I’m surviving in this strange netherworld between acting projects.

A knock on the apartment door followed by the key in the lock makes me look up.

Zach peers in. “Kyra around?”

“No,” I say. “She’s at work.” My roommate has spent the summer interning at an entertainment magazine.

“You look happy,” he says.

Well, that puts a damper on my mood. Zach still hasn’t cut an album or finalized a contract with a label, and the more time that passes, the weaker his position gets.

“Um, yeah,” I say. “One of my songs is 100
th
on the Billboard charts…so…you know, technically charting but…nothing fabulous.”

At that, he chuckles. “Lizzie, I
know
how many sales and spins you need to get there. Congratulations.”

“Thanks.”

“No, really,” he says. “I mean it. You’ve worked hard and you deserve this.”

“I’m just sorry—”

“How about we not talk about the elephant in the room that is my former career?”

“Not former.”

“Not listening.” He smiles as he ducks out though.

The following afternoon, I meet Cleo for lunch at an Italian restaurant we’ve decided to try. When I step into the private room we’ve booked, though, I see that she isn’t alone. Next to her sits a young woman with brown hair, a full figure, and a winning smile.