20. Chapter 20
Aura
The ranch was already bustling with activity when I slipped out.
Somehow the couple of photographers hanging around the gates didn’t even notice me driving Shayla’s truck, swimming in one of Quint’s Hollow Hills polo shirts with my hair pulled back, a baseball hat and cheap plastic sunglasses hiding my face.
It’s amazing how easy it is to slip under the radar when you subvert expectations.
She’s still not a fan of the arrangement between me and her brother.
But we’ve fallen into something of an easy peace.
I’m going to do my best to get to know her better, because I get the feeling she could use a friend.
Her brothers are great and all, and I can tell how much they love her, but they are men. And she’s their sister.
“Aurelia!”
Maggie Young has broken so much ground for women in Hollywood.
Creating her own production company when nobody was willing to adapt a bestselling romance novel into a movie, then turning that adaptation into a major box office hit.
Standing up for the rights of her female actors and ensuring equal pay for them.
Supporting BIPOC and LGBTQ+ actors, producers, and screenwriters. She’s an icon.
And that icon is currently sitting in Leonora’s little coffee shop in Balsam Grove wearing a pair of mom jeans and a yellow short-sleeved button-up shirt, with her hair piled on top of her head in a chaotic bun. I love everything about this woman.
“Maggie.”
She holds out her arms for a hug. “I’m so happy to see you. Let me get you a coffee, what do you drink?”
I shake my head. “I can get my own coffee.”
“I insist. I already told the lovely lady behind the counter to heat you up one of those amazing cranberry orange muffins for you when you got here. I’ll just pop over to pick it up and grab your coffee.”
“Thanks. I’ll take a matcha tea latte please. Nonfat. Unsweetened.”
She’s halfway across the restaurant before my butt has landed in the slightly scratched wooden chair.
Being in this place feels like going over to a friend’s house after school back in the day.
It’s homey and warm, not like the trendy coffee shops in LA with their overly styled furniture.
I’d forgotten what this kind of place could feel like.
I nod to Leonora at the counter, scanning the restaurant to see if I recognize anyone else. But no. It’s a pretty small town, but it’s not like I’ve been getting out and about too much.
I was in shock when I got the message from Clara telling me to call Maggie. I was half expecting this to be some kind of group cast meeting. I’ve been seeing posts on social while creeping the people I’ll be working with for the foreseeable future., so I know some of them arrived last night.
I’m drumming my fingers on the table, deep in thought, when Maggie comes back.
The steaming cup she hands me smells fresh and crisp.
Matcha’s not even my favorite, but there’s some connection to it that always leaves me feeling reassured, warm.
It’s what I gravitate toward to calm my anxiety, in spite of the caffeine.
“She is an absolute delight. You know she started this coffee shop after she lost her husband? A single mother in her twenties, two babies at home, and she built this herself. Remarkable.”
“Leonora?” I glance over to see the woman behind the counter rearranging the pastries in the glass case. How did Maggie find all that out in the brief time she spent waiting for drinks?
“Yes! I just love hearing people’s stories.
Especially women.” She taps an unpolished nail on her temple.
“I’ve got thousands stored up here, just waiting their turn.
Pieces of them end up in my characters. So, Aura.
Is it alright if I call you Aura? Tell me your story. ” She leans in closer, waiting.
“Of course.” As if I’d say no to her. The woman who currently holds my future of my career in her hands. “Umm, I was born in Michigan.”
She shakes her head with a laugh. “Not your biography, I can find that on Wikipedia. Tell me about you. What really happened on the Paisley set, because I know the news got it all wrong.”
Oh, that is something I don’t talk about.
Because you don’t do that in Hollywood. You don’t talk bad about directors, showrunners, or other actors.
At least not if you’re a woman. That’s a surefire way to completely tank your career.
Although, given the situation I was in before I landed this role, maybe it doesn’t really matter.
Maggie gave me a chance in spite of all the bad press.
Maybe she really doesn’t give two shits.
“Um, well, at first it was great. I landed the role within a few months of getting to Hollywood. I took a performance arts program in college but left before I even collected my diploma.”
“That must have been a big change. Was your family supportive?”
I tilt my head back and forth, weighing my words. “They were not happy about it, but they accepted my decision. They were really hoping I’d change my mind and pursue a ‘real’ career while I was at college, you know?” I put some heavy emphasis on the word real.
She nods.
“Anyway, at first it was amazing.” I search my memory for all those feelings.
It was only six years ago, but it feels like a lifetime.
Like I don’t even remember who I was back then.
“I landed this show. There was some buzz about it, but nothing major. Nothing that told us it was going to be the massive hit it turned out to be. Just another silly teenage drama.”
“But then it hit, and everything changed.”
“Right. And I knew nothing. They don’t teach you that in school. What it’s really like behind the scenes. The endless days, the early call times, and especially not the pressure from the people you’re working with.”
“The cast always seemed like they got along well. Until they didn’t. So what really happened?”
I study her face again, trying to figure out what’s behind the interest. It seems genuine. But how do I know this isn’t some Machiavellian-level showrunner shit to keep her actors in line?
“Didn’t know you were moonlighting as a therapist.”
Her eyes crinkle up when she laughs. You don’t see that too often in LA. Too much filler to show emotion.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to push. Kind of a hazard of the job, I guess.
Wrangling all the stars and their own emotions and stories can be a challenge.
I’ve learned to listen and ask questions.
Helps me connect to you and get you all connected to your characters too.
There’s not enough authenticity in our biz, is there? ”
Guilt twists my guts up in knots. She really does seem genuine. And here I am, lying to her face. About my riding experience, about dating Quint. I’m lying to the world right now.
“It was great, until it wasn’t. I thought we were all friends.
The cast. We used to hang out—Jenny, Clay, Sarah, and of course, Brad.
You know, we were all around the same age, our first big jobs.
It was surreal. At first I was hesitant to go out with Brad, but the feelings were all there.
They were real. So, we started dating and it seemed great.
But then in season four, I found out he’d been cheating on me the entire time we were dating.
I could have dealt with that. Could have acted on, and I did.
For an entire season I pretended things were fine, but after Ana got ousted and they brought in a new show runner for season five, things were… different.”
“Right, the show was still popular, but I’ll never understand why they replaced her as show runner—well, that’s not true. I’ve seen it happen far too many times. A woman gets too successful, and they can’t take it.”
“Yeah, she had a vision for the show. The producers and network disagreed. When she wouldn’t go along with it, well, you know. The show was never the same in that last season.”
“I get it. So, between the breakup and Josh Knox taking over, you were done with the show. Was there anything else?” Her faded blue eyes are narrowed as if she can tell I’ve got something to hide.
It’s unsettling, but not enough to make me spill the entire story.
The toxicity on the set after Josh took over.
Mostly toward the female actors, of course.
Berating us when we missed our lines even though he was constantly changing things last minute, criticizing our weight and our looks, deliberately trying to drive us apart.
With some distance and perspective, I recognize how bad it was, but it happened so slowly along the way, I thought it was just me for the longest time.
That’s when the panic attacks first started, but even with the show behind me, they linger in my periphery, following me like an unwelcome shadow.
“That’s about it,” I hedge, taking another sip of my drink and glancing around the café. My eyes automatically go to the big front window, searching for stray photographers or gawking fans. But the only people passing by don’t even glance inside.
“Okay, well, feel free to come to me if anything happens on the set or if you disagree with the direction of the show. I’ve got a solid vision in mind, but I’m always willing to listen.
Some of the best moments I’ve directed have been unexpected pivots suggested by actors.
In fact, do you know that scene in Long Haul that turned into a meme? ”
I laugh, picturing it in my head. The asshole dad getting tossed out of the trailer on his ass in a pair of saggy boxers. “Of course.”
“A dolly grip suggested the boxers. We had him in greasy old sweatpants, but the boxers were perfection.” She brings her fingers to her lips in a chef’s kiss gesture.
“That’s wild.” That grip would have found themself out of a job if they’d suggested something like that to Josh, union rules or not.
“It is, but I find it’s the best way to work. Some directors believe that fear is the only way to get a good performance out of their cast. Not me.”
“I love that.” I nod. “I’m curious, though. Is that why you brought me here? To talk about your directing style? I was kind of expecting a principal cast meeting or something.”
“Yes, and I wanted to get to know you, find out your story. And let you know my door, so to speak, is always open, and if you ever need to talk to me about something, I’m here.
I’m looking forward to working with you, Aurelia.
You’ve done some great work, and I know you’re going to shine in Sterling Hearts. ”
“Thank you.” But there’s still confusion clouding up the pride expanding my chest. “And for the record, you’re my dream director and show runner. I’ve wanted to work with you in a leading role for years, but the timing was never right.”
“Isn’t that how it works sometimes? Right person, wrong time?”
The image of Quint in my bed last night flashes through my head, and it takes a moment to shake it off.
It was fantastic sex, but that’s all it was.
Maybe he can be something of a friend. But nothing more than that.
I don’t have the time or headspace for a relationship right now, and even if I did, the two of us are an impossibility.
Hollywood and a rural ranch in Canada were never meant to meet like this.
And no matter how sweet he is, or how obedient, or how different from every guy I’ve ever dated before, it would never work.
The knowledge doesn’t prevent the slight ache of regret in my chest, but it does help keep my feelings in check.
“Yeah.”
“Have you checked in at Chicory Crossing? Eden mentioned you hadn’t been staying there.”
“Uh, no. Not yet.” The way she’s looking at me, I can tell she’s waiting for me to expand. But I don’t really need to complicate things any further. “I’ll get to it.”
She nods, waiting a beat before she offers her hand.
“Well, I’m meeting up with Savannah soon, so I’ll let you get on your way.
You should have already received your shooting schedule for the next few days, but tomorrow make sure you’re ready at eight sharp for our trail ride.
I thought it might be more fun than a full day of table reads. ”
“Sure.”
My stomach is back to churning. I’m sure I can handle a little walk around a trail, but I haven’t been out of the ring yet. Maybe I should ask Quint to take me on a ride tonight? No, better to just suck it up. I’m sure I’m going to have to film lots of scenes out of the safety of the rings.
Plus, I’ve got a busy afternoon ahead of me.