Chapter 1
Chapter One
Two months later
At this moment, I feel almost normal again. The sun feels good on my face. My pores open to hungrily soak in the warmth and lap up the vitamin D. A light breeze plays in my hair and with the ruffles of my top, making me believe there may be a day when I’ll feel happy and flirty again.
If it wasn’t for that little, tiny ache, which reminds me twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, that life sucks rotten eggs.
Okay, the never-ending ache is far from tiny or little, which I realize is redundant, but sometimes when I’m distracted enough or caught up in something, the ache seems to shrink to a more manageable size.
It’s better than last month, at least. Another thing that gives me a glimmer of hope.
“Ari, look at that bird!”
I glance to where my bestie points and bark out a laugh. “Poor thing looks like it has the mange.”
Glory leans forward in her chair, knocking into the little café table between us and causing our drinks to slosh in their cups. “Wait. Are you saying he doesn’t?”
“No, dork. He just has strange coloring. He’s a spotted pigeon.” I say the last bit in my best and most proper English accent.
“Wait. Is that a thing? Is he really a spotted pigeon?” Her phone is already in her hand so that she can look it up.
“I mean, he’s a pigeon. With spots.” My phone vibrates and I frown at it. “Weird. Someone’s calling me.”
Glory pauses her search to look aghast. “Like a real phone call?”
“Yeah.” I continue to stare. The display says Gorman Talent Agency.
“It’s probably spam.” Glory continues her search for spotted pigeons on her phone. “They want to sell you auto insurance for the car you don’t have.”
I hold up a finger and put the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Oh, wow,” a female voice responds. “Someone answered. That’s so rare these days.”
I like this woman’s candor and decide to return it. “Well, the words 'Talent Agency' got my attention.”
Glory’s head snaps up with an exaggerated quizzical look morphing her features.
The woman laughs. “Oh, good. My name is Carly Shapiro, and I’m looking for Arabella Quill, please.”
“It’s Arabelle, and this is she.”
“I’m so sorry. I even thought how unusual it was for you not to have the “a” at the end, and I put it on anyway.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Arabelle, as you saw, I’m calling from the Gorman Talent Agency.
We are tasked with the responsibility of filling the open roles on an upcoming movie production.
A couple of the main players have already been cast, and we’re looking for someone to play the younger daughter role. I think you would be perfect.”
I hold the phone away from my face to check the display again. I don’t know what I expect. For it to now read, “You’ve been punked.” Or for the image of a diabolical laughing clown face to be silently laughing at me. However, it still reads Gorman Talent Agency. I hear a distant, “Hello? Arabelle?”
I smoosh my phone to my ear again. “I’m sorry, you caught me off guard. How exactly did you conclude that I would be good for this role?”
“Oh, right. Probably feels very obscure to you. Me, calling out of the blue like this. You don’t have an agent, right?”
I hear her clicking on a keyboard. “No, I’m not even interested in acting.”
“Oh.” She sounds so disappointed. “You’re so good though.”
“Whaa..a…” I stutter. “How would you know that?”
“Well, three hundred and fifty thousand followers agree with me.”
“Oh, you’ve seen my channel.”
“Yes. My daughter discovered you originally. But since I’m in the movie industry, she shared it with me. We both watch you now. My condolences, by the way, on the loss of your father.”
Tears immediately spring to my eyes. “Thank you.” I reach across the table and open and close my hand in a beseeching fashion.
When Glory frowns at me, I point to her phone.
I look up the Gorman Talent Agency, and it comes right up.
They have the headshots of some recognizable actors displayed on the front page of their site.
The phone number on the contact page has the same area code and first three numbers as the one I’m speaking to. I think this is legit.
“I’m not currently at will to say who has already been cast,” Carly says. “But I can say that you resemble the two female actors enough to be cast as the youngest daughter. And let’s face it, you have mad acting skills.”
“Thank you,” I repeat. I click to the page that displays the headshots of the talent scouts, and there is a woman named Carly Shapiro. Oh, she looks so kind. “Tell me, Ms. Shapiro, what color hair do you have?”
She pauses. “Um, I recently went back to my brunette roots.”
“And what were you before that?”
“Strange questions, but I was a redhead before that.”
That tracks. I hand Glory her phone again and point to the screen and then to my phone. She reads the name of the agency, and her eyes grow wide. “So, Ms. Shapiro, let’s say I’m interested in this very random possibility. What do we do next?”
“Well, it’s hard to judge your age, but I’m guessing you’re still a minor?” Carly asks.
“Yes.”
“Then we would arrange for a video meeting with you, your mother or guardian, and me. I would explain more about the film and what your part in it might look like so that you two could make a decision from there.”
“And if Mom and I are both on board?”
“Then we would likely fly you out here – to Los Angeles – to do a reading. They don’t want a lot of choices for this role, so if your reading goes well and we decide to put you forward for consideration, you will only be up against our top two choices.”
“This is rather unbelievable.”
“You put yourself out there when you started your BellyLaughs channel. It shouldn’t be too surprising.”
“I didn’t do it with this in mind. It was just something…” I swallow the burst of sorrow that hits. “Fun.”
“You’re very talented, Arabelle. I think you’ll be a natural. I’ll text you an invite for a video call. What time would be best for you and your…?”
“Mom. Evening or weekends. She works during the day.” That is, if she doesn’t lose her job from missing so much work.
“Okay, and you are in Indianapolis?”
“Yeah, close to there.”
“So, a three-hour difference.” I hear more clicking keyboard noises. “How about I send three choices and see if any work for you and your mother?”
“Okay.”
“And your mother’s name?”
I pause, unsure if giving her name can somehow make me more vulnerable if this is some elaborate scam. I hear my dad’s voice in my head warning me to never engage with strangers online with personal information. Is this that? “Um. We’ll let you know.”
There is only the slightest of hesitations before she agrees and tells me to keep a lookout for the meeting links.
When we wrap the conversation up, I end the call and stare at my phone. Did that really happen? Was it real? It seemed like it. But I don’t always feel part of the real world these days.
Glory gapes at me. “Did you just get discovered?”
I look up at her with doubt clouding my features. “I think so.”
“Garcon!” she yells, pumping her hand into the air. A young waiter looks at her askance from a couple tables down. “We need sparkling cider.”
The guy shrugs. “I’ll tell your server.”
She beams at him. “Thank you.”
“We don’t have anything to celebrate yet,” I grumble.
“Come on, Ari. You know you have to celebrate…”
“All the things.” I finish with her.
“And girl, you’re overdue for a little celebration.” Glory grins at me while her gaze is gentle and understanding.
I nod. She has a valid point.
When we have our flutes of sparkling cider, we raise them into the air, and Glory says, “To becoming a famous movie star, finding love with a Hollywood hunk, and forgetting this year ever happened.”
I clink my glass against hers, knowing that not one of those things is likely to happen.