Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
ALEC
“Of course he gave you the greenlight—he’d be stupid not to,” Vee huffed, popping another grape in her mouth. I grinned at her as she lounged, stretched long across a chaise next to my pool, not a care in the world except how soon she’d hit the bottom of that bowl.
Exactly how I wanted it to be.
Time had been passing in a blur lately, just a whirlwind of chaos, increased stakes on the show, script changes, and media negativity. These little moments Vanessa and I managed to carve out for ourselves were the only reprieve from… everything.
“You been writing?”
All the eager energy Vee had held about the topic at hand dissipated—she dropped her oversized shades back down over her eyes and turned away, taking a pointed sip from her drink.
“Noooope.” I laughed, grabbing her by the legs to turn her back in my direction. “You were all gung-ho to talk about my thing, don’t get shy now. Talk to me. What’s going on?”
Somehow, I’d managed to convince her to give me a look at the unfinished script—even in my head, where I got to be completely honest with myself, her romantic comedy was truly good stuff. Funny, sexy, compelling, all the things actors looked for in a memorable role, and all the things audiences wanted to see.
It needed polishing, of course, but so did every script.
For her to have not produced, or even held a major acting role before, it was lowkey impressive.
And yet, she always got like this about it.
“ Whaaat ?” she whined. “I’m trying to relax, and here you go.”
“We are relaxing,” I argued, going as far as to grab her hands to urge her from sitting in her own lounger to joining me on mine.
She obliged.
“It’s not relaxing for you to be asking me about imaginary scripts.”
I laughed as she settled between my legs, laying back on my chest. “Oh, it’s imaginary now?”
“Yes, because I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I frowned.
Now I was starting to actually get a little concerned—we played like this, sure, but it was hitting me that this might not be her normal reticence.
“Hey,” I said, shifting my tone away from amusement to genuine curiosity. “Did something happen?”
“Outside of my complete and utter existential crisis at the thought of presenting this to Charlotte?” she asked, looking back at me with a grin.
I shook my head, resting my hands on her stomach. “I think Charlotte would love this,” I told her. “And she might even be able to help you get past any roadblocks you’ve got going on.”
She sucked her teeth. “Now see, this is how I know you’re playing—Charlotte is an award-winning screenwriter. I’m sure she has way too many of her own projects going on right now to be picking things up with an amateur. Her schedule is probably already good and full after she finishes Kinfolk , with the reception it’s had.”
“I think you’re really selling yourself short,” I told her.
“You kind of have to think that,” she said, sitting up so she could face me, and offering a grape. “Whoever I’m fucking has to have complete and utter, delusional levels of belief in me. I wouldn’t accept anything less, and you’re very good at it, Mr. Everett.”
I chuckled. “The only delusional person here is you,” I insisted, planting a quick kiss on her lips. “That’s why I’m campaigning so hard to get you to let somebody else read your script. You think I’m just hyping you up because we’re together ,” I said, correcting her insinuation that we were just having sex. “So it seems to me like you need a neutral party.”
“But Charlotte is not a neutral party.” She giggled. “She loves me—which means she might say yes just to avoid hurting my feelings.”
“Unlike Nolan, maybe?”
She shook her head. “If I showed it to Nolan first, that might hurt Charlotte’s feelings, because she might feel like oh man why didn't she feel like she could come to me ?”
“Why would she have to know that you went to Nolan first?” I asked.
Her face pulled into a skeptical frown. “Do you really think that if this actually turned into something Nolan would not be front and center taking credit? Making sure everybody for miles and miles knew he saw it first? Especially if he knew it was going to get under Charlotte’s skin?” Vee sighed. “I mean…you see how he’s been about the script changes, right?”
I nodded.
The man was a known asshole, so it wasn’t exactly surprising that he enjoyed getting on Charlotte’s nerves. But now that we were coming to the end of the show, wanting to wrap things up and close all the loose ends, the network was starting to demand changes based on audience reception, which I knew was an explicit annoyance for Charlotte.
And so did Nolan.
Which did make it a little more callous that he seemed to revel in getting to pick apart and manipulate the script in favor of the network’s money-seeking changes.
Was it maybe a little unfair to categorize it that way, when WAWG had long been one of the few true avenues for Black creators to get their work on the main stage?
Maybe.
Since new owners had taken over a few years back, there had been decidedly less of that bullshit money-over-everything attitude. But somewhere along the way, somebody had to have gotten hired that didn’t seem to fully understand the network philosophy. Who exactly that was, I wasn’t privy to, but things seemed to be going back to the same way they’d been before, when the network lost a lot of Black talent to pettiness and corruption.
I was willing to hang in there—from a distance—at least for a little while. After all, I wasn’t necessarily tied to WAWG outside of Kinfolk and the show I’d pitched to Nolan. I was an actor—I could go anywhere.
But for people like Charlotte, who had a deal with them for a certain number of projects, it felt a little more obvious that some things were going to have to change.
A buzzing on my wrist pulled me from my thoughts—a buzzing I’d been ignoring in favor of being fully tuned in with Vee. This time, I actually gave it a moment of attention—which proved to be the best thing I could’ve done, since it was coming from my security system.
My front door had been unlocked and opened.
The other notifications I’d missed quickly solved the brief mystery of how the hell that might be happening.
“Oh, shit ,” I hissed, my wide-eyed gaze going straight to Vee.
“What?” she asked, peering at me over her shades.
“My parents just walked in.”
Her mouth dropped open, and immediately she was up, the bowl of grapes discarded next to the chaise. “ Where is my cover-up ?!” she shrieked, and despite myself, I stopped to admire the sight of her in the barely there bikini she’d arrived in—wrapped in the decidedly more modest cover-up she was looking for now.
She spotted it and had it over her head just as voices reached my ears.
I looked up to see my parents heading for the back patio door, waving through the glass just before they stepped out.
There was exactly zero chance they hadn’t seen her.
Not that they cared much.
Which was a fact about their personalities I was privy to by virtue of having grown up with them—Vee, not so much. Probably why she looked a bit shell-shocked as she approached to greet them and didn’t seem even a little calmed by my quick admonition in her ear to relax.
“Alec is like…a perfect blend of the two of you, so I have to assume you’re his parents,” she stammered, nervously pushing her shades up on her head as she stopped in front of them. “I’m so sorry I’m not appropriately dressed—I didn’t know you were coming.”
“That’s my fault,” I interjected, grabbing her hand to squeeze. “I knew y’all were planning to come up, but let the days get away from me. Busy,” I explained.
“We can tell.” My father smirked, extending his hand to Vee’s. “Jonathan Everett, Alec’s father. And this is my lovely wife, Priscilla.”
“A pleasure to meet you both,” she answered, shaking his hand, and then my mother’s. “Vanessa Kirkland. Um…Alec’s…”
“Girlfriend, right?” my mother said, giving me a knowing smile before she looked back to Vee. “I already know all about you, Ms. Vanity ,” she teased. “I’m a big fan, honey—come on and talk to me, I want some details about that bikini you didn’t want us to see,” she said, looping an arm through Vanessa’s to take her away from me.
“I—I’m—” Vanessa looked to me, eyes wide, but there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about that—not once Priscilla Everett had decided something.
“I don’t bite, honey,” my mother assured, already pulling her back toward the house. “We brought food, and I’ve seen the ass and hips on you girl—I know you eat!” She laughed.
Vanessa glanced back again, one more desperate plea in her eyes, but I just smiled at her.
I already knew she was in good hands.
The meeting the parents element probably hand her a little freaked out, and…rightfully. It was often a nerve-wracking thing. But my parents weren’t the stereotype that prevailed so often, of the snooty folks who didn’t think anybody was good enough for their son.
Which, with the personality that had been ascribed to me, wouldn’t have been surprising.
It just wasn’t the case.
My mother had actually been to several Vanity concerts with her group of friends—all of whom had kids grown enough to be in attendance too. She’d actually been more excited than I was to find out that Vanessa was going to be on the show with me. She wasn’t just saying she was a fan to make Vee feel good—she actually was.
And when the romance rumors started circulating, she’d been one of the first people to call me.
And she was one of the first people I called when it wasn’t a rumor anymore.
Obviously, I hadn’t shared anything about our sex life, because that would just be weird, but my parents knew better than damn near anyone that I was more than a little serious about us being the real thing.
“So I see exactly why you couldn’t greet your old man at the door this time,” my father teased after we’d watched my mom walk Vanessa back into the house. “That’s one hell of a distraction from that phone.”
I chuckled. “Yes, she is, but still—my bad. I should’ve been more on top of my schedule. The days are starting to run into each other.”
“You’re young—that’s how it should be.” He nodded, taking a seat at the patio table. “Me and your mom don’t have to hang around, if you’re?—”
“No, it’s not like that,” I quickly assured, dropping to a seat across from him. “Neither of us was filming today, so we were getting some time in. But I know you and Mom need a driving break, so I insist—stay.”
My parents weren’t typically road-trip kinda people, though they did like to travel. For some reason, they’d decided it was a good idea to do a cross-country trek. They’d actually flown to South Carolina to visit family, and instead of simply hopping a plane back, had been intent on “seeing the country.” For weeks now, they’d been on the open road, stopping to random stuff like the largest ball of string, a big-ass chair, and a mosaic of other pictures they’d shown me.
Arriving in Vegas brought them close to home, finally—the home they’d raised me in, in Los Angeles, was just another several hours’ drive away.
“We picked up Beauchamp’s from the strip on the way in—your lady friend doesn’t have any food allergies or anything, does she? You know your mama is about to try to fatten her up for a grandbaby?”
My eyes went wide. “ Huh ?” I laughed. “It’s not like… that . Not yet.”
“Not yet , exactly,” my father chuckled. “But she’s already making her preparations.”
Like we’d talked them up, the back door opened, and my mother stepped out, followed by Vee. She didn’t look as worried and nervous as she had going in—my mother’s welcoming energy had already worked, apparently. They were both all smiles as they headed toward us with containers of food, drinks, and plates.
I couldn’t front…it felt… right.
Especially once we were all seated, plates fixed, and had fallen into a natural conversation. I caught Vee’s gaze and raised an eyebrow at her, hoping she’d pick up on what I was asking.
You cool?
A moment later, her hand found mine under the table and squeezed, giving me the answer I was seeking.
Yeah.