Chapter Eight
Eight
I wake up the next morning to the sound of a text dinging in, and it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am and why. Grand’s guest room is small enough to be cozy, and the wood shutters have kept out the morning sun, which is a very good thing. By the time I’ve stretched and convinced myself to get out of bed, it’s 10:00 a.m.
The text is from Kyra asking whether Grand and I would like to come downtown to see the progress on the YMCA reno and then maybe grab lunch.
I pad downstairs to the kitchen, where Grand is already dressed and sipping a cup of coffee. Sunlight pours in from the wall of sliders and the kitchen windows. I yawn and blink the rest of the way awake.
“Did you sleep okay?” she asks.
“It was heavenly.” I yawn. “How about you?”
“I’ll be glad when I have my own things around me and my own bed underneath me,” Grand says. “But overall, I slept just fine.”
We sip our coffee in a companionable silence before Grand gets up and puts muffins on a plate, hands me two small bowls of fruit, and motions me to the dining room table. “It’s a bit chilly to sit out on the balcony just now, but at least here we can still enjoy the view.”
“It is gorgeous,” I say as I settle in a chair facing the water and take a sip of coffee. As if on cue, boats begin to motor and sail by. Then I take a big bite out of my chocolate muffin because not dieting is still the only positive that’s come out of getting booted off Murder 101.
“Would you like to go downtown and see what’s happening with the reno of the Y?” I ask after another sip of coffee. “It’s apparently near restaurants and shops and the Dalí Museum. We could make a day of it.”
Grand polishes off half of her muffin then takes a long sip of coffee. “I’d love to, Sydney, but Brian texted a little while ago to see if I’d like to walk over to check out the par 3.”
She blushes and I draw on every ounce of self-control I possess not to giggle.
“No worries,” I say. “That’s great. But should we come up with a signal, so I’ll know if you don’t want to be disturbed? You know, like a candle in the window. Or the shutters closed at a specific angle?”
Grand blushes again and I get a weird twinge in the pit of my stomach imagining Grand in bed, or even out of one, with a man who’s not Grandpa Henry. But she seems so much happier than I’ve seen her in ages that I keep the twinge to myself.
“We’ll regroup later,” Grand says. “I can make us a reservation for dinner out if you like. And maybe you could pick up some smoked fish spread from Ted Peters on your way back. I already have the saltines and hot sauce. Here’s some cash—they don’t take credit cards there.”
“Sounds like a plan.” I take another sip of coffee then polish off the last of my muffin. “But if Brian doesn’t behave like a gentleman or there’s drugs or alcohol, you call me right away and I’ll come get you,” I say, offering the same parting words my parents always said to me before I left for a party or went out on a date.
“Yes, I’ll keep that in mind,” she says with a mostly straight face. “You can’t be too careful these days.”
· · ·
I find a parking spot just a block from the Y, where there’s been no effort to disguise the fact that renovation is in progress. Dumpsters sit on the sidewalk pushed close to the thick pockmarked walls. “Watch out below!” Someone leans out a second-floor window and drops pieces of wood trim into a dumpster.
Kyra and Troy Matthews, former nemesis now boyfriend, are setting up lighting and placing video equipment just outside the huge front doors while Avery and Chase argue in a way that feels a lot more like flirting than their original conflicts back when they were leading the restoration of Bella Flora.
Bitsy Baynard, who owns the historic building, and Nicole Grant Giraldi, with whom she’s planning to open a vintage clothing shop once the reno is done, come out to say hi. Madeline Singer, Kyra’s mother and Dustin’s grandmother, is right behind them. There are hugs all around.
“It’s so good to see you,” Maddie says. “How are you doing?”
“I’m hanging in there. I saw you and Will in People magazine,” I reply, referring to Maddie’s fiancé, William Hightower, the rock star formerly known as “Wild Will.” “Is he in town?”
“Nope. I left him back on Mermaid Point locked in his recording studio working on a new song. Not fit for company of any kind.”
“Ask her if she’s learned to fly-fish yet,” Nikki says.
Maddie rolls her eyes. “That would be a hard no. The fish just kept laughing at me.” She smiles. “Happily, I’ve come to terms with the fact that you don’t have to share everything with the person you love. And that includes fishing, which frankly feels a bit like watching paint dry. Only don’t ever tell him I said that.”
“My lips are sealed,” I promise.
“Kyra told us you took down two oversized bad guys single-handedly at Harley’s,” Maddie says.
“Yeah, sorry I missed it,” Troy adds with a grin. “Wouldn’t mind having some video of that.”
“Well, it wasn’t pretty, but I did manage to subdue them—”
“Yeah, and some people actually believe she’s Cassie Everheart,” Kyra breaks in.
“Strange but true,” I admit. “A shocking number of people want to hold me responsible for my character’s actions and get upset if they see me drinking.”
Troy snorts.
“Hey,” Avery says. “Maybe we should invite Sydney to do a cameo on Do Over . We’d get a ratings bump for sure, and then she could explain that she doesn’t really have an issue with alcohol and therefore never went into rehab. She could tell her side of the whole thing.”
“There are no ‘sides,’?” I point out. “I got fired from a role I created because I pissed off Tonja Kay. And I really don’t think pissing her off again would be a good move.”
“She’s right,” Chase says to Avery. “You’ve got to learn not to go looking for trouble.”
“I have never once ‘looked’ for trouble,” she fires back. “It just keeps finding me.”
“How long are you in town for?” Nikki asks.
“As long as Grand needs me.” I do not mention that I have nowhere else to go or any sign of acting work in my future.
“Well, we need to get back to figuring out our space. We hope to be able to open the shop within the next few weeks,” Nikki says. “But don’t be a stranger.”
“Seriously,” Maddie adds as she, Nikki, and Bitsy head back inside. “Stop by anytime. And we’re still doing sunset toasts—we alternate between Bella Flora and the Sunshine—come join us whenever you can.”
“Will do.”
I move to stand behind Kyra and Troy as they roll tape for a Do Over promo.
“Good grief, Chase, you’re standing in my light,” Avery complains.
“I am not.”
“Are too.”
“We’re rolling, you know!” Troy shouts.
“And we need both of you in the shot,” Kyra adds more gently. “Lighting is perfect on both of you, Avery. I swear.”
But Chase and Avery continue to argue about everything from trim colors to completion dates, to whether or not to remove the basement pool that’s been there since the Y was built in the twenties.
“Cut. That’s a wrap,” Kyra shouts.
“Wow,” I say to Avery and Chase. “That whole arguing-on-camera thing was very convincing. I had no idea you two could act.”
Avery snorts. Chase folds his arms across his chest.
“Who’s acting?” They say this in unison, and neither of them is smiling.
· · ·
Kyra, Troy, and I stroll over to Ferg’s for lunch then say our goodbyes. On my way back to Grand’s, I stop off at Ted Peters as promised. When I get back to Grand’s, there’s a note on the kitchen counter— Out with Brian. Back between 4 and 5 —so I retrieve my laptop and head out onto the balcony, where I stare at the water and breathe deeply before calling my agent.
“Oh, hi, Sydney. How are you doing?” Elise, his assistant, asks.
“Great.” I try not to let even a hint of sarcasm into my voice.
“Oh, that’s…that’s good.”
I’ve learned over the years to be careful not to whine or, God forbid, cry. Because that’s how calls “accidentally” get dropped.
“I need to speak to Marty.”
“Oh, he’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”
“When do you expect him back?”
“It’s, um, I’m not sure.”
This, of course, is a big fat lie because an agent’s assistant is always required to know where the boss is at all times. So chances are Marty is standing there motioning for her to say he’s out or tied up.
But being a good liar is a prerequisite for gatekeepers in Hollywood. It could cost Elise her job if she put anyone through without permission, and that goes double for clients who’ve been dropped from their ongoing starring role without warning and are persona non grata in Tinsel Town. What I don’t know is whether the non grata part is nationwide and extends into much smaller markets or barrier islands off the west coast of Florida…well, you get my drift.
“I’m sorry, Sydney, I don’t have a way of reaching him right now. But I promise I’ll make sure he knows that you called.”
“I’ll hold you to that. And you might mention that as far as I know, he’s still representing me, and the very least he needs to do is call me back and let me know what’s going on.”
“Absolutely. Will do, Sydney. Have a nice day.”
Since I need to do something , I go to backstage.com, pull up casting calls “near me,” and am reassured to see that there’s a lot of production going on in the area. What I don’t know is whether the local casting directors have an attitude about Cassie Everheart, her struggle with alcohol, or the actress who played her.
If I don’t hear back from Marty today, I may have to go this alone. I haven’t had to audition for anything in a long time, and while rejection is a huge part of being in the entertainment industry, I’m not sure how much more of it I can take. I mean, hanging out with Grand and not putting myself out there—or anywhere—would be a lot safer.
But since my personal mantra has always been “Never give up, never surrender,” that’s not really an option.
So in the end I make a list of open auditions within a forty-mile radius and shut down my laptop. I’ve done enough for one day. Maybe I’ll feel more able to face rejection tomorrow. Or the day after that.