18. Isla
ISLA
PARIS, ARKANSAS
“Holy crap,” Isla breathed to Kyle, edging closer as they approached the Springtime in Paris festival. “I thought Paris, Texas, was small.”
Kyle peered over the top of his sunglasses. “Wow.”
Like Texas, Arkansas also appeared to have an Eiffel Tower replica.
Unlike Texas, it was part of the town fountain and only about fifteen feet tall.
No wonder Davy’s smile had been so overly bright at call time that morning —forced.
“How are we supposed to get three days of content out of this?” Isla asked, watching the townspeople as they milled near the Eiffel Tower fountain. Canopy awnings had been set up all around it, along with some inflatables, cornhole games, and a dunking booth.
Close to a brick wall, a chain-link fence was covered in locks—a lovelock fence to commemorate France.
Cute. But still...not a lot to work with.
“How are we supposed to get three minutes ?” Kyle retorted.
Maybe she should have realized it would be like this when she’d shown up to her room last night at a weathered motel like the ones she’d seen in old movies but had never stayed in.
Isla glanced nervously over her shoulder at the crew, who stood in an adjoining parking lot, discussing among themselves. Tomas was still finishing hair and makeup, thankfully, which meant Isla could prepare herself mentally before he started pawing at her again.
Funny how wholly she’d moved on. Tomas...was part of a different life.
When Davy had first brought this hosting plan up, she’d thought about that life and that past with rose-colored glasses. Nostalgia about the good, fun moments.
Now, on the second week of filming, she wasn’t sure backward was what she wanted at all.
It had been so easy to forget what she didn’t love about acting.
Being touched on a film or theater set by her costars—some who were less courteous than others about the state of their breath—and the early mornings and late nights.
Hell, even the way her skin hated this amount of makeup.
Stepping back into acting was easy enough. Stepping back into the lifestyle, though?
That was entirely different.
She wasn’t that much older, but she felt older somehow. The problem was that she realized now how much she hadn’t known or understood even just a few years ago.
And she was more acutely aware than ever about how unanchored she felt now.
“No Aiden and Callum ambush this time?” Kyle asked, following the direction of her stare. “I keep waiting for them to pop out from one of the trailers.”
“Thankfully, no. At least, they haven’t warned me of an ambush.” She kept it light. Casual. Like it didn’t matter that she’d sent Aiden a text last night asking him if he was still coming.
And he’d never replied.
“Callum hasn’t, anyway,” she added quickly before Kyle could pick up on the shift in her tone. “I haven’t heard from Aiden at all.”
Kyle’s brows flicked up over his sunglasses. “Really?”
She shrugged. “He’s busy—CEO things. Too important for the likes of me.” Her joke was hollow, the words sharp in her throat.
Dammit. She could not let this keep bothering her. She knew he was busy and had been stressed about his work, but it took two seconds to send a text.
“So, you and Callum are talking at least now?” Kyle shot her a worried glance. “I was worried we would get to London for the party, and you’d still be fighting.”
“I’m not sure I would have called it fighting per se. I was mad at him, not really the other way around. He’s been trying to get on my good side ever since.”
Kyle peered at her. “Oh, I don’t know that I’d go that far. He was definitely mad at you. Mad enough to dig up an old boyfriend, get me bumped down to third wheel, and hop on a nine-hour flight.”
That’s true. She cringed. “I didn’t mean that?—”
“You know I’m on your side. What he did was much worse. If I ever did something like that to Liddy or Elle, they’d probably punch me in the face. But Callum’s. ..very protective of the people he cares about. It’s what makes him good enough for my sister.”
“Listen to you, talking like an old man instead of the spoiled youngest child.”
He snorted. “Takes one to know one.”
“Look, I’m trying to get over it. But I’m letting Callum squirm for a little bit. He should have thought about that before he forced Tomas into my orbit again.”
“Tomas seems like a nice enough guy.” Kyle shrugged.
Tomas was nice enough, but that was as far as it went. And he’d clearly felt the same way about her, considering he’d let her go just as easily.
“Yeah, he’s fine. It’s just that whatever spark was there is gone now.” She sighed, then looked back at the people gathering at the Eiffel Tower Park for the festival. “I need to find Davy—ask her what the plan is.”
“Sounds good. In the meantime, I’m going to go snag something with bacon in it.”
“Don’t say that too loudly,” Isla hissed, glancing at a local man a few feet away holding a pig.
An actual pig. What in the world?
She started toward the crew, looking for her friend, but she didn’t see her anywhere. “Any idea where Davy went?” she asked Tim as he passed her.
“I think to grab some coffee and muffins across the street.” Tim nodded at a row of shops on what appeared to be the main street. “True Grit Grounds—down that way.”
A ridiculously small main street.
Phew.
Isla saw the distant sign and then headed down the sidewalk, hurrying in case Boyd wanted her back sooner rather than later. As she drew closer, she spotted Davy sitting at a small table in front of the café, sipping on a paper cup.
Her hands trembled.
Isla drew a sharp breath, then rushed toward her. “You okay?”
Davy’s eyes were red-rimmed and shiny. She blinked at Isla distantly, then nodded, swallowing whatever she was drinking. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
Isla pulled out the chair beside her, the metal legs scraping against the sidewalk. “What happened?”
“I just...” Davy let out a slow breath from puffed cheeks, then shook her head, unable to finish.
Sliding her hand on top of Davy’s, Isla gripped it with a tight squeeze. “You can tell me anything, Dav.”
“I know.” Davy inhaled and exhaled, struggling for calm. Then she glanced at the park and back at Isla. “Is your gear on?”
Isla bit her lip. Crap—is she that nervous? And would anyone really be recording anything right now? That was a troubling thought.
Davy leaned over, then reached behind Isla. With a quick tug on her shirt, she flipped a switch on the pack tucked into Isla’s waistband, then straightened. “Boyd chewed me out,” she said at last. “Said this wasn’t what I promised—that this shouldn’t even be a stop on the tour.”
Hesitating for a few moments, Isla tried to come up with the most positive way to approach this. “It’s a small town, sure, but isn’t that the point? If every town named Paris was the same, it’d be a boring show.”
“Try telling that to Boyd,” Davy said glumly.
“It hasn’t been announced yet, but after last week, they’ve already decided to nix the episode in Virginia because they felt there wasn’t enough there.
We’re down to five. And now, after this, they might just cut their losses and cancel the whole thing altogether. ”
Scrap the whole production?
Isla wasn’t as familiar with the ins and outs of the business side of film, but Boyd had to be seriously worried if that was what they were leaning toward.
“What happens if they scrap it?” Isla asked softly.
“I lose my job,” Davy said, lifting her cup in a bitter toast. “That sort of loss would be enormous for the company. It’s a modestly-sized YouTube and cable channel, so absorbing that sort of financial penalty means job cuts, even with Aiden’s investment.”
The door to the coffee shop opened, and a woman came out, holding a box of muffins. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said with a warm smile, then set them on the table. “Hope you enjoy the visit.”
Isla watched the woman go, a visceral feeling of helplessness washing over her. Was there any way to make this better for Davy? Sure, maybe Paris, Arkansas, was small, but it was a town full of people, and people were inherently interesting with stories worth telling.
Hmm. Maybe that’s what the show needs.
Not just a travel focus. A human element, too.
“What if...what if we frame this episode a little differently?” Isla asked in a cautious tone.
“What do you mean?” Davy stood and picked up the muffin box, and Isla joined her as she headed back.
“I mean, this is basically a reality show. A travel documentary, sure, but there are three hosts on it now. What if this episode focused a bit more heavily on something like my relationship with Tomas to fill the gaps from the lack of location? Tomas is a good actor, and he and I could play something up and add some drama, which might keep people invested on a different level.”
Davy didn’t answer for a moment but studied Isla’s profile. “I don’t know. The Travelog Channel might not approve it.”
“Sure they would. They have a handful of other shows that fit the profile. And all the networks do it. Think about it—what made Fixer Upper ? Not the amazing house flips. It was Chip and Joanna Gaines. Or The Crocodile Hunter? Steve Irwin was a god. That’s why people tuned in.
To see him. ” Isla smiled confidently. “I’m not saying I’m on their level, but between Tomas and me, we could stir up enough interesting human dynamics to keep people’s interest, don’t you think? ”
Davy still looked hesitant. “Do you really think so?”
“It’s worth a shot.” Isla reached over and poked Davy in the ribs. “And I’ll even let you take all the credit. Pitch it to Boyd and see what he says. Maybe it can be something like ...Tomas and I are arguing about something, and the trip is ‘wearing on us.’ I don’t know.”
Turning toward Isla, Davy gave her a grateful expression. “Have I ever told you I love you?”
“Thank me if it works,” Isla said, then eyed the muffins in the box. “Save me one of those blueberry muffins, by the way. They look amazing.”