Chapter 41 KELSEY RISKS IT ALL
Chapter 41
K ELSEY R ISKS I T A LL
I take my time getting to LA. I’m not sure I’m ready for Zachery’s “I told you so.” At least Desdemona is safely away.
I hole up in a cheap hotel in Utah partway through the first day, gathering material to convince the director of Limited Fate that Jason is our guy. Jason has already gotten the script I sent him from the homestead and told his agent he better let him read for it.
During the Utah stop, I eat, sleep, and breathe Jason’s social media feeds, chasing footage that’ll prove he’s perfect for the sensitive sculptor. Not just for the director, but for Jason himself to live up to the role as I know he can.
I need him the way I saw him at the party, not his tire commercial or even what I can find from the set of Darkness Gathers II . It’s in the gestures, the flash of his eyes. I don’t want him to attempt a self-tape until I’m there to help.
I finally find what I’m looking for on the feed of a friend of a friend, who films Jason dancing with a young woman on a basketball court in a gritty neighborhood. I sit back, my eyes smarting. That’s it. That’s how he’ll be.
Now to set it all in motion.
It’s work I need. I don’t want to think about the meet-cutes, the tree farm, or what I set out to do almost two weeks ago.
And I definitely can’t think about Zachery Carter. But the farther I get from Wyoming, the more I wonder how I can work with him and not think about what happened in Colorado.
Drake Underwood calls me the next day, while I’m driving through Nevada. I pull over by a ramshackle gas station that reads sixty-seven cents a gallon on a long-dry pump.
“I expected to hear from Desdemona,” he says. “Weren’t you the one who sent me the other two?”
I don’t bother trying to blame that miscast on my boss. I’m not her. “I had misgivings about my previous choices, even though they’re both accomplished actors on their own.”
“I’m looking at the headshot of a tire boy. You think this Jason Venetian fellow is the right guy?”
“I have a clip for you. Let me send it.” I’m praying the clarity of the call means there’s a cell tower close enough to patch it through.
I forward the dancing video via text, closing my eyes and crossing my fingers that he’ll see what I do. I had hoped I would have a carefully prepared self-tape, but I don’t. I’m spending too much time driving across the country to fast-track an audition tape.
There’s a pause, then I can hear the background noise of the video. He got it. He’s probably in his office and looking at it on a different screen.
The silence is long. Nobody passes me on this stretch of road in the desert. I’m in the literal middle of nowhere, alone, trying to convince a veteran director that a twenty-five-year-old casting assistant with no credits to her name is right about her choice for this film with possible Oscar potential.
I can’t think of a less auspicious way to present something that matters so much.
I wish Zachery were here, silently holding my hand. He’d squeeze it at just the right moment, passing comfort and strength from himself to me.
Finally, Drake speaks. “Okay, I see it. So, all we have on him is a commercial and this action sequel that’s still in editing?”
“I saw some dailies. I can send them, but it’s a very different look.”
“I bet.”
Another pause.
What would Reese do? Be plucky and positive.
That’s good, but maybe I need to think—what would Zachery do?
He’d close the deal, make Drake feel like it was all his idea. His brilliant vision.
I grip the steering wheel and pretend it’s Zachery’s hand. “When you chose Limited Fate as a project, I could immediately see its potential. If the central message of the movie is going to come into play as you put your team together, then you have to believe that Caleb and Salena being unavailable was a sign. Fate. I really, truly believe that all the pieces will come together with Jason and Gayle in place.”
Another pause, then Drake says, “If this Jason kid can act the way he behaved in that video, I believe you. And I’m very familiar with Gayle. My eight-year-old daughter is huge into horses and has watched that Netflix series from start to finish more times than I can count.”
“Do you see how she fits with him? It’s in how she gazes up, how she holds herself.”
“You like body language.”
I laugh. “I think it’s everything, and it can’t always be taught.”
“Can you get them together for a screen test? I’d like to see what they’ve got in person.”
Oh, wow. “Absolutely. What timeline are you looking at?”
“I want the package put together by end of June. Can we do it inside of two weeks?”
“Let me get with the agents and make it happen.” And now a page from Desdemona’s book. Act like you’re the center of everything. “I saw Jason at a party, so he’ll be easy to track down. Gayle is likely taking a well-deserved break after six seasons, but I’ll get her in.”
“Excellent. Shoot to get it done before the nineteenth, before I have to leave LA for a while. Send my assistant the details as soon as you have them.”
Then it’s over.
I’ve done it. I’ve gotten Jason and Gayle their chance.
Fate will determine if they can make it to this reading. It’s like I’ve always known, casting is half talent, half availability.
But this is the biggest, most beautiful opportunity I’ve ever put together.
Not a mall cop with two lines. Not a random waitress with sass.
And not a leading role under Desdemona’s shadow.
This is me.
My legacy.
My perfect pairing of a couple who will light up the screen.
And it’s going to have to be enough, because that same magic is simply not happening for me in real life.
I reach LA Thursday evening. I’m too tired to even tell Jester I’m back. Tomorrow will be soon enough.
I text Zachery as I fall asleep, letting him know I have Jason back in, but when I wake up the next morning, he hasn’t replied.
Maybe he needs more space. That was a brutal last day we had. I’m not over it, either.
But I long to tell him about what happened. That he was right. The whole idea of running a romance on a movie timeline was insane. And things weren’t quite right with the Hanover clan. And I know now that I’m too big-city for a small-town love affair.
I’m different. It’s something I learned in Wyoming, and that’s what the best journeys do.
In addition to finding out that Zachery Carter is the full package.
A really full package.
I put on my favorite Hollywood clothes. High heels (secondhand Louboutins, $125, full price $1,100.) A khaki linen Yves Saint Laurent dress (also secondhand, $250, originally $2,400).
I feel good.
It’s warm, and the light sweat that breaks out on the back of my neck is like a welcome home. I choose the Hollywood Boulevard path as I walk from my car to the office.
The foot traffic is light this early, and only a few Barbies and a SpongeBob are out trolling for picture tips among the tourists.
I fairly skip along the stars, considering my plan.
I’ll get Jester to call Zachery in, and we can brainstorm how to spin this change in the game plan for Limited Fate . Desdemona will have to see she’s locked in, that it’ll do more damage to disrupt it than to go for the ride.
Drake Underwood is flying in to see this pair. My pair. Even Desdemona knows better than to anger a director, and I already have a connection to this one. She isn’t the messenger.
I am.
When I walk up to the tiny office lot, I stop short. Zachery’s Jag isn’t there, but that’s not unusual. We can call him in. And Jester doesn’t drive.
But Desdemona’s black Mercedes is in her spot.
That can’t be. She’s in Europe. I saw pictures the day I left Glass.
Even if she decided to come to the soccer shoot, that isn’t until next week.
I need to prepare myself before going in. She could be back for a lot of reasons, but one of them could possibly be that Drake Underwood’s assistant called Desdemona instead of me. Or it could have been Jason’s agent. Or Gayle’s.
Or someone tipped her off.
I should have known that would happen.
I swiftly walk a block away and sit on a bus bench out of view of the office windows.
First, I text Jester.
Desdemona’s back?
Dang it, I should have done that before I left my apartment. Or when I got to LA yesterday, even though it was late.
I should have given him a heads-up about the movie, but no, I only texted Zachery, not that he got the message. He never wrote back.
I thought I would be coordinating everything myself, and I would have time to break it to her.
I steady my breath. Calm down. She could be here for anything. Play it cool.
My phone buzzes.
Jester: Oh, darling. I’m not going to be able to help you.
What does that mean?
The next text is from Desdemona.
Get in here.
Okay. It’s gone south.
Even though she told me to come right now, I take a moment to text Zachery.
Everything’s going down. Desdemona must have found out I recast Limited Fate. Are you coming in?
I watch for the dots that tell me he’s replying, but none come.
Where is he?
In a flash, I realize how much I’ve leaned on him. At work. In off-hours. He even went along on a trip to find a husband.
There is no better friend than him.
No better lover.
No better anything.
And I need him. I want him. Maybe all I’ll ever get is scraps of him between his red-carpet girls, but I think there’s something more there. I caught a whiff of it, like the smell of his soap lingering in the bathroom.
I can’t wait any longer. I’m desperate, so I put through a call as I stand and slowly head to the office.
It rolls to voicemail instantly. He has it off? Or out of service? Or let the battery die? Where is he? He’s never been out of touch like this before.
A voice nags at me that maybe he’s blocked me. That maybe he doesn’t want to know me anymore.
This can’t be happening. I can’t lose everything. The flannel husband. My job. My best and most important friend.
It’s too much. All the losses stacking up. I can’t face it. I don’t want to go in that office and set my downfall in motion.
I hold my phone up, as if all it needs to get Zachery to respond is open air.
But there’s nothing.
The scene comes to me unbidden, like I’ve done it too many times lately and my mental scriptwriter has a life of its own.
INT. CASTING OFFICE—DAY
KELSEY, 25, looks grim as she walks up to the door of the casting office where she works. She hesitates outside to draw in a deep breath and steel herself.
She enters to greet her coworker, her good friend JESTER, 55, who is wearing a pale-orange-and-white ensemble, like a Creamsicle.
He looks up, his face in a lament. Outside, the thunder cracks, and the rain starts to pour ...
I’m not far off as I walk inside the office.
Jester looks ready to cry.
And my desk is empty, the entire surface cleared of everything.
A box sits at the foot, my books and mugs and the glass unicorns my mother bought for me tossed inside.
I gasp, rushing forward to check on them. One of the unicorns has a chipped horn. “How could you?” I say to Jester.
“My love, I’m so sorry. Desdemona was in a rage. She did it before I got here.”
My anger is white hot. “There is no reason to break my things. These are important!” I pull out the photo of me and my mother. The corner of the glass is cracked.
“Oh, boo-hoo,” Desdemona says, standing in the doorway to her office. “The backstabbing bitch is worried about her doodads when she ought to be concerned about who the hell will ever hire her again after this stunt? I’ve already made all the calls. You sure took your pretty little time coming back here. You needed a couple of days off? Or you only do your dirty work from home?”
She walks into the room like an oversize crow, black pants with a black shawl over a black short-sleeved shirt.
I wish she would fly away, but I’ll stand up for myself and Limited Fate .
“It was a smart move, Desdemona. You were out of the country.” I tug Kleenex from a box to wrap my unicorns before they get any more damaged.
“It was an attack of my status and authority.” She advances on my desk, leaning on both hands to peer down at me like a vulture. “You were aware I took Jason Venetian off my roster after his agent was so dismissive, and yet here we are, scheduling a live camera test with him for Drake Underwood.”
I gather all my gumption. This is definitely what Reese would do. “He expects me to be there. I chose the scene for the test. I contacted the agents. I spoke to him in person!”
“So did I. And I explained that I had an impertinent know-it-all who got too big for her britches, and she is no longer employed here.” She kicks at the box, and I gasp again, trying to keep it from flying across the floor. “Now get out.”
Jester kneels beside me to pick up the papers that flew out of the box, real tears flowing. I can practically hear him saying I’m so sorry , even though his mouth isn’t moving.
There isn’t much else to do. I check my drawers, refusing to be pushed out of here without anything that’s mine, but they’re all empty.
Then I take my box and go home.