Famous in Love (8 page)

Jordan will barely look
at me. We’re reading together on the soundstage, and I try, again, to say hello when I get there, but he doesn’t turn around. Wyatt walks in behind me, and Jessica follows. Our producers, David Weiss and Joe Dodge, are there as well. They’re usually around, unlike our executive producer (and Rainer’s dad), Greg Devon, who came once in the beginning. Apparently it’s common practice for producers to be MIA on a movie this big. There are usually three or more producers to distribute the weight, and not all of them will be on set all the time. Some of them might never even come. David and Joe are the only ones who are in Hawaii regularly. The rest stay in L.A. to handle the business side of things. At least
that’s what Wyatt told me at the twenty-minute orientation he gave me our first day here.

“Can you guys just pick up at the top of the page?” Wyatt says. He hands us both a four-page script. It’s a flashback scene—Ed and August are on vacation before the crash, and he gives her a love letter as her birthday present. It’s a beautiful scene. One of my favorites, because it really shows what Ed and August have. And how much he loves her. It’s a romantic scene, and I’m having a hard time seeing Jordan playing it. How is he possibly going to play sweet? The guy’s a born brooder.

Jordan looks over the lines. He’s still not talking to me, but I notice he’s moved closer. There are only a few feet between us now, not a football field. His shirtsleeves are down, gone are any remnants of his tattoo, and I see that he shaved during lunch. The skin on his face is smooth now, lighter than I would have expected, too, like he took an eraser to the bottom half.

He looks over at me, catches my gaze, and smirks. I look away. Something about his gaze makes me feel exposed.

“You ready?” he asks. It’s so quiet I think I’ve heard him wrong. Or it could just be that I’m surprised to hear his voice at all. It’s deeper than it was when he was talking to Rainer this morning, softer.

“Yes.” I haven’t even glanced over the pages. I’m too nervous.

“Whenever you’re set,” Wyatt calls from his chair. Wyatt has changed this afternoon. He’s got on a new shirt, but that’s not what I mean. His tone is different with Jordan. He’s not as rough or something. Or maybe it’s just that we’re not shooting. It’s funny to not have any cameras around, and so few people. It’s completely different from when Rainer and I film. It reminds me of all those rounds of auditions in L.A., and suddenly my body is full of anxiety—the kind that paralyzes.

And then Jordan starts, and the minute he does, I feel like the world has stopped, rewound itself. There is no more fear, no more anxiety. It’s strangely calm and serene and peaceful, like we’re two travelers walking through a silent, still forest. The only ones for miles.

“I’m always going to be here to tell you.”

I set into August, and suddenly the space that has separated us, those rough edges that just didn’t line up, fade seamlessly. I actually
am
her. The one torn between her old life and a new one. I’m stuck on a desert island with a man I’m falling in love with, and someone out there is the one who I used to love. I can’t see clearly anymore. I don’t know which choice is the right one.

As we continue through the scene, I remember
something from a script I once read. It was an old version of a classic, and it had a director’s note scrawled in the margin. His note to an actor. It said:
Frank—make me believe no one else could do it
.

Standing here rehearsing with Jordan, I know, without a doubt, no one else could do this part. Because something remarkable is happening. He’s not becoming Ed, Ed is becoming him, and at the same time, August is becoming me. For the first time since I got here, I understand her perfectly. All these weeks of struggle melt away.
I
melt away. I’m losing myself in her. So much so that when Jordan stops reading, I blink to remember where we are. Like resetting my eyes might reset time, too. Bring us back here.

Everyone in the room is silent. Even Wyatt doesn’t make any noise.

Then David starts to clap, and then Camden, then Joe, and then Jessica, and it’s just four of them, so I can’t say the sound is deafening or anything, but it’s the best noise I think I’ve ever heard. Better even than the sound of Greg Devon’s voice telling me I got the part. Because for the first time since I’ve been here I think I might actually be good at my job.

I look at Jordan, and for a moment our eyes lock. I see something in them. Something that wasn’t there this morning. A flicker of light in the blackness.

“Thank you, Jordan,” Wyatt says. He slides down from his chair, walks over to us, and puts a hand on my shoulder. The move makes me jump. He’s never done anything this friendly. Not remotely. And then he says, “That was pretty stellar.”

“Awesome!” Jessica pipes up. She winces and looks at David and Joe, but they’re smiling, too.

“Come here,” Wyatt says to me. “Jordan, give us a minute.”

Jordan nods his head, breaking our gaze. I feel like I’ve just run a race and I’m beaming, the effects of exhaustion and pure adrenaline pouring outward, like my efforts are somehow outside of me, visible. Like a painting or poetry. I feel like if I tried, I could touch them.

But when I turn to look at Jordan again, he’s already walking out the door.

“What do you think?” Wyatt asks me. He’s tapping a pen against his clipboard, the way he does when he’s trying to hurry our schedule along.

I think about Rainer, and how upset he was. I think about how he’s taken care of me here—how much I already owe him. I think about how I really care about him, even if I’m not yet sure what that means. And I know what I should do for him. Even though he told me not to, I should try to get Jordan as far away from this movie as possible.

I take a deep breath and gear up to tell Wyatt I’m just not sure, I think we could do better, when I catch his eye. Wyatt’s looking at me the way he does sometimes between takes. It’s a hard look, and I know he uses it to inspire fear, but it’s also a challenge. It’s a look that says
what have you got?
And because of that, I can’t lie. Not even for Rainer. The words tumble out before I can stop them. “He’s perfect,” I say.

Wyatt nods sharply. Triumphant. “The two of you together.” He stops tapping his pen and peers closer at me. “I saw something today I hadn’t seen before,” he says. “I saw you stop trying so goddamn hard.”

I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.

Wyatt looks over at Joe and David and Jessica and Camden, who all have looks on their faces like the one Cassandra had when I told her I got the part. Like they just can’t wait to scream
YES
.

So I say it first. And then they echo me, and soon even Wyatt is losing his cool, pacing the length of the soundstage, his mouth moving, his arms swinging. He goes over to David and Joe, and they huddle up, like my brothers and their friends used to do when they’d play football in our backyard on Saturdays. There is some nodding, some muffled words, and then they call Jordan back in. And I stand there as Wyatt tells him he has the part. Camden, Joe, and David come over and congratulate him.

Jordan is still hard to read. He’s smiling, lightly, but the only thing I have to compare to this scene is when I got the part, and I was, well, less composed. Hysteria comes to mind. And Jordan barely even seems to register the news. He simply says thank you politely, like Wyatt cleared his dinner plate.

Then he looks at me. Our eyes lock, for just a moment, but it’s enough to make me feel the impact. Physically. Like he’s thrown a baseball straight at my chest. It makes me waver and take a step back. There is something about him. Something that makes me feel like he could change me. That he
will
.

“Call Andrew,” Wyatt is saying. “Talk it over. But we’re saying, it’s yours.”

I learn later that Andrew is his agent and that Jordan came out to the audition overnight. That the producers had someone else in mind for the role up until the last minute, when Wyatt demanded they see Jordan read. In person. That he was his choice all along.

“Congratulations,” I say.

He doesn’t answer. Not with words, anyway. But I know he’s heard me. I see his eyes flinch, one quick blink, like a firefly in the darkness.

And that’s how it happened—how Jordan Wilder got cast.

People always say that there are a million ways to solve
a problem, that no question has a black-and-white answer. It’s not true. There are, at any moment, only two courses of action. The one that leads you toward something—stardom, love, disaster—or the one that leads you away from it. And at any moment, in any instant, you have to do your best to know which is which.

So Jordan gets the part.

And then we aren’t just moving toward something. We’re sprinting at lightning speed.

Jordan disappears back
to L.A. just in time for Cassandra and Jake to arrive. In the craziness of this week I almost forget that, come Saturday morning, I’m due at the airport to pick them up.

I talk Rainer into lending me the neon-blue car. “I thought you didn’t want to be noticed?” he teases when I ask.

He’s handling the Jordan casting news remarkably well. Not that I’m really that surprised. If Rainer had a life motto, it would probably be Keep Calm and Look Superhot Doing It.

“I need to pick Cassandra and Jake up.”

“If you want me to come with you, all you have to do is ask.”

We’re in the doorway of Rainer’s condo. He’s not wearing a shirt, just low-slung pajama bottoms, and I am trying really hard not to focus on the outline of his abs or the indents of his hip bones. His hair is still messy from sleep. It’s barely six
AM
.

Unfortunately, we both have to work today. Rainer has to be on set, but I’m not scheduled to shoot until the afternoon, and Cassandra and Jake’s flight lands in an hour.

“You can’t,” I say. “You have to work.”

He leans against the doorframe and looks at me through his lashes. His face is still warm and open from sleep. “Keeping tabs on me, huh?”

“You’re second on the call sheet,” I fire back. “It’s kind of hard to miss.”

He yawns, and I try not to pay attention to the way the muscles in his jaw work. I think about this week. All our little moments. Maybe I have too many stories about costars falling in love running around in my head. Put there by Cassandra, of course.

I shake my hair out. “So can I borrow it or what?”

Rainer smirks. “Yes,” he says. “If you let me take your friends to dinner tonight.”

He looks at me, dead on, and I feel the blush rising in my cheeks. “If that’s what it takes,” I say, my heart flying fast up to my throat.

“See you on set,” he says, before unfolding his hand to reveal the keys.

It has been a while since I was behind the wheel, and as soon as I’m in that ridiculous neon car I realize how much I’ve missed driving. My dad usually stays close to home on weekends, and he’d always lend me his car—oftentimes even if Joanna needed it. I’d pick up Cassandra and Jake, and we’d blast music. Sometimes we’d just drive, if I didn’t have to be at work or Cassandra didn’t have to babysit. Jake would occasionally protest about gas, but not always. He loved it, too, I think. I sometimes wondered why he wanted to spend all that time with the two of us. He had other friends. Guy friends. Cassandra used to say it was because he wanted to be with me, but I don’t think that was totally true.

I can’t wait to see them. I need to tell Cassandra all about Rainer, about what’s happening, and the Jordan of it all. There is way too much to share, and I definitely need her advice, since I still don’t really know what’s going on with Rainer. Before they even get here, I start to feel sad they’re coming for only two days.

I asked one of the women at the front desk to secure some leis for me, and I loop them around my arm after I park at the airport. They’re plumeria, and instantly I’m
transported back to that night at dinner with Rainer. I push the thought away, though. This weekend is about Cassandra and Jake.

I wait for them downstairs, near the baggage claim. The Maui airport is small, and everyone files down the same flight of stairs.

I see Cassandra first. Red patent-leather ballet flats, then denim cutoffs, a flower-print long-sleeved camisole, and finally her blond, cherubic head. “Paige!” she calls. She waves wildly and knocks into Jake, next to her; he turns and smiles.

Cassandra plows down the stairs and straight into my arms. I catch her and hold her tight. “You look too skinny,” she says into my hair.

“Everyone eats sushi here,” I say.

I pull back, and Jake has just reached us, and for a moment we’re not sure what to do, but Cassandra rolls her eyes and pulls him in until it’s the three of us—faces pressed together, arms around one another. Just like always.

“You’re kidding me,” Cassandra says, kicking off her shoes in the condo hallway. “This is all yours?”

Jake struggles behind us with the suitcases. Cassandra confessed in the car that it took some persuading to get Jake on the plane, but she reminded him that it was going to be flying whether he was on it or not, and he relented.

“This is incredible,” Jake says. He sets the suitcases down and follows Cassandra into the living room. She yanks the sliding glass door back and waltzes out onto the lanai.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s cool.”

“One piña colada, please,” Cassandra calls. I see her pitch the front of her body over the railing, taking in the ocean breeze.

I laugh, and Jake turns to me. “It’s good to see you,” he says.

I look at him. He’s so familiar in his navy T-shirt and jeans. I’m looking at him now, but it’s like I’m seeing him as a little kid—our entire history together. I go over to him and wrap my arms around his neck. His arms close around me. He’s so much shorter than Rainer, and my head fits right on his shoulder. “I missed you, too,” he says.

I pull back and see something cross his face. Hesitation, maybe.

“Everything okay?”

Jake nods. “Yeah, listen, I wanted to talk to you about something.” He glances out to where Cassandra is still standing in the sunlight, her head thrown back.

“What’s up?” I ask. I hop up onto a stool at the counter and gesture for him to do the same, but he stays standing, his hands in his pockets.

“Since you left…” He looks at me, and I see his right eye twitch. It always does when he’s nervous.

“Hey, it’s me,” I say. “Jake, you can tell me anything.” I have a feeling he might be about to tell me what I’ve thought—that since I’ve gone he hasn’t seen Cassandra much. That things aren’t the way they used to be, and I feel the guilt begin to bloom in my stomach.

He nods. “I know,” he says. “I just—”

The condo buzzer goes off. I blow some air out through my lips. “Sorry,” I tell him. “One sec.”

I go to the door and find Jessica there. She looks frantic. She’s talking even before I open it all the way. “You’re late,” she says.

I look at the clock: 11
AM
. “I’m not supposed to be on set until two,” I say.

She shoves a paper into my face. “Schedule changed. You must have missed it. You gotta move. Now.”

I’ve never been late. Ever. And my stomach lurches as I think about Wyatt’s reaction.

I look back. “My friends are here,” I say. “Can you—”

“Yes,” Jessica says, pushing past me. “Just get down to Lillianna.”

She jams a script in my hand and hip-butts me out the door. “Tell them to come,” I say, but she is already shutting me outside.

Lillianna rushes, cursing a lot, and I’m on set in
forty-five minutes. We’re filming on our soundstage, and I sneak in to see Wyatt, predictably, fuming.

“Are we interrupting your vacation?” he bellows, rounding on me. “You’re an hour late. Do you have any idea how much an hour costs?”

I’m shaking. I open my mouth to apologize, explain, when Rainer steps in.

“Her friends are here,” he says. “She was working off the old call sheet. She didn’t know.” He looks at me, and I feel a windfall of gratitude so big I think I might just throw my arms around him right then and there. But I don’t. My feet are stuck to the spot.

“I see our little talk really had an impact on you,” Wyatt says. He ignores Rainer. “Should we get to work? Or will we be interrupting a massage appointment?”

“No.” My voice sounds small and fragile in my ears.

“Good.”

As we get miked, Rainer glances at me. “Sorry,” he mouths. I shake my head. Today we’re filming the scene where August wakes up in bed and Noah tells her where they are.

I’m supposed to be naked under the covers. I’m wearing a nude strapless bra and boxer shorts. I climb into bed. It’s really just a few pieces of plywood covered in old woven blankets. Still, the blankets are soft cotton, and they feel good as I slide underneath.

We rehearse. Noah comes and kneels down on the bed. We do our dialogue. He tells August that they’re on this island. That no one knows where they are because it is magically protected from outside interruption. It’s locked. We do it a few different ways. In one, August is hesitant and a little afraid of and angry at Noah. In another, she’s imploring. I put my hands on the sides of Rainer’s face. He looks into my eyes. August is so in love with Noah. So painfully, deeply in love. She’s committed to his best friend, who might now be dead, and yet she wants nothing more than to just fall into him, into Noah. She knows she can’t. They both do.

We start shooting. I take a deep breath and focus my mind, the way I always do. I’ll make up for lost time. I’ll nail this.

“Why don’t we reschedule the whole fucking shoot for when it’s
convenient
for you to
act
?” Wyatt screams.

I bite my bottom lip hard. So hard I taste blood. I know Cassandra and Jake are here somewhere, and the humiliation is overwhelming. It sets my blood boiling. I want to scream at Wyatt to shut up, but I don’t have to. Rainer does it for me.

“Why don’t you go a little easier on her, man?” His tone is steady but pointed. “Cut her some slack once in a while.”

Wyatt’s eyes flash. I can feel the crew cower around us.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, his tone icy. “For me to make your
girlfriend’s
job a little easier? Maybe I could just leave and you guys could get back to whatever you were doing.”

Rainer’s hands clench and release. I can see the blood climb up into his face, making his normally calm, even features come to life.

“You don’t have to be such a dick about it, is all I’m saying.”

Wyatt stands there, staring at him. I can see something pass between them—some unspoken agreement—almost like they’re calling up the same memory. But then Wyatt turns away, swears under his breath, and calls to start rolling again.

Rainer squeezes my hand under the covers. “You okay?” he whispers.

From the corner of my eye, I catch Cassandra and Jake, pressed shoulder to shoulder, sipping from coffee cups.

I don’t answer. I push the emotions down. I want to be better. I want Cassandra and Jake to see I didn’t leave for nothing. That there was a reason I was chosen. That I belong here.

Wyatt eases up, and we shoot the scene and one other. We work quickly, efficiently. Wyatt doesn’t yell. I can’t tell if it’s because I am focusing superhard or because of his altercation with Rainer—maybe both. I don’t even care.
I just care that we’re getting through things. I care that Cassandra and Jake are seeing me work.

Despite my schedule snag, we finish nearly on time. Wyatt walks off with Camden, and Rainer and I go over to where Jake and Cassandra are. Cassandra grabs Jake’s elbow as we approach, and I know she’s excited about meeting Rainer. The embarrassment I felt at Wyatt’s words is nearly gone. At least I have this to offer her.

“Cass, this is Rainer. Rainer, Cassandra.”

Rainer puts on a dizzying smile and extends his hand. “It’s so nice to meet you,” he says. “I feel like I know you guys already.” He turns to Jake and for a second my heart leaps into my chest—how are they going to interact?—but Jake looks like he’s just as happy to see Rainer as Cassandra is.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Jake says.

“I heard you’re a stellar activist,” Rainer says. “We should discuss at dinner. My dad started Environment Now.”

Jake’s face lights up. “Wow,” he says. “He’s doing some amazing stuff.”

Rainer throws me a light smile as if to say
see, no problem
. “His board is,” he says to Jake. “C’mon, let’s get food.”

We go back to the condos and change. I have on a new slip-dress I bought at the shops, and I feel Rainer’s gaze
on me when he picks us up at my door. “You guys ready?” he asks, his eyes scanning my bare shoulders.

Despite the warm night, I shiver. “Yeah,” I say. “Just about.”

Jake appears in the doorway. “What time is sunset here?”

Rainer flips his watch over. “Whenever these girls get out the door.”

Jake goes back inside and returns with a shoeless Cassandra, who says, “I’m not ready—” But Jake pushes her outside.

She giggles, which is weird. Cassandra usually doesn’t like to be interrupted when she’s putting an outfit together.

“Shoes,” Jake says, setting down some of my flip-flops.

Cassandra slides them on, and the four of us leave.

Rainer drives us to a sushi restaurant. We haven’t left Wailea a lot, and it’s nice to be back in the car, top down, the sun setting around us as we head into town.

I give Jake the front seat, and Cassandra and I sit in back. She grabs on to my knee and squeezes so tightly she leaves marks. I know what that squeeze means. It means she cannot believe she is in a car with Rainer Devon. I squeeze back and hope it communicates what I can’t right now:
I have so much to tell you
.

Rainer opens the door for us and offers me his hand as we get out. I take it. Then, all at once, he leans in.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says. “In case it wasn’t obvious.” It’s low, practically in my ear, but I know Cassandra hears. I know because when Rainer walks ahead with Jake, she grabs me by the elbow, hard, and turns me around.

“Bullshit,” she says. “Bullshit that nothing is going on with you two.”

“Cass,” I say, but I know my face is giving me away. It feels on fire. “Nothing has happened,” I tell her. “Yet.”

Cassandra’s eyes go wide.

“I know,” I say. “Can you keep it together?”

She laughs. “I don’t think that’s the question. I think the question is, can you?”

Rainer is entertaining and charming at dinner. He lets Jake grill him about his dad’s foundations and answers Cassandra’s endless stream of questions about young Hollywood.

“Who is your favorite costar?” Cassandra asks. She’s all elbows on the table, peering at Rainer like he’s some kind of equation she’s trying to solve.

Jake has his arm over the back of her chair, and he laughs. “This was definitely the price of admission for this trip,” he says.