15. Griffin
GRIFFIN
“ I sn’t this just cozy?” my father asks over the loud music, his full schmooze mode on.
The lighting in the restaurant is dim, with dark navy walls and brown leather booths.
A large chandelier illuminates our circular table.
Dad and Wesley Rhodes slide into the booth on the opposite side of Scarlet and me.
She’s wearing a fitted red dress with a slit to high heaven.
The scrap of fabric leaves little to the imagination, and it’s just the attention-grabber she’s hoped for.
We’re at Ember’s, a local haunt for Hollywood A-listers where paps lurk outside to see who shows up.
The photo op is half the reason we’re here, though I don’t see how Scarlet’s get-up is supposed to sell her devoted girlfriend routine.
So much for settling down with her steady boyfriend.
The look is a bit too desperate for attention.
I appreciate a woman who’s confident in simple, casual attire. Like Ashton.
Just the thought of her brings a smile to my lips.
She texted earlier today saying she’s ready to move forward with the social media suggestion and wants my help.
I’d told her I had a meeting tonight, but we’d brainstorm ideas later.
Which is the reason I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand so I can actually spend time doing something I want to do with someone I want to do it with.
Scarlet squeezes my thigh and flips her curled hair over her shoulders. “Do you like my dress?”
Even though I know there is only one right answer here, I can’t bring myself to compliment her and create more confusion between us. I give her the next best thing I can offer. Honesty. “It’s quite the statement.”
She beams at the comment. “Thank you. I picked it out just for you.”
The way she looks about the room to see who else has noticed her makes me question this.
A waiter comes to take our drink order.
“We’ll take a bottle of your house wine.” Wesley orders without even asking anyone at the table.
The bottle’s probably over a thousand dollars and will likely end up on my tab as I’m the one who wants this relationship the most. Wesley’s one of the leading producers in film right now.
All his projects have been big box sellers, and I want a piece of the pie.
I’m determined to show him I’m dedicated to this fake relationship, and therefore, holding up my end of the contract.
I also want to ensure Wesley does the same.
My father and Wesley carry on a conversation across the table, and suddenly, I feel like I’m a kid at the adult table.
The music is louder than necessary for a restaurant, but it houses a full-service bar.
It’s overly crowded tonight. My button-up collar is too tight, and I’m anxious to get back home and check on Roxy.
This particular kind of scene—with all the contrived interactions among the leading entertainment power players—makes me miss Ashton.
I miss the easiness of our relationship.
While I saw her just yesterday, I’m eager to see her again.
I’ve texted a few pictures of Roxy lying in her dog bed indoors and again when she ate from her dog bowl inside.
She texted simple, but cheerful, positive replies.
I shot her a picture this morning of Roxy and me sitting on the back porch while I drank coffee.
She replied, saying, “ Looks heavenly.” I responded with, “ It’d be better if you and Teddy were here .
” Instead of responding, she sent a smiley face emoji.
It was an idiot move on my part. Too fast. Too soon. And to her knowledge, I have a girlfriend. Plus, I promised I’d keep things professional between us. It wasn’t fair of me.
I pull out my phone to check the time, hoping by some miracle an hour has magically passed.
“Expecting a call?” Scarlet leans toward me, her lips near my ear.
Her proximity makes my body twitch. “No. Just checking.” To tone down my defensiveness, I add, “Luke’s watching Roxy for me. Just nervous, I guess.”
“Aw, Papa Bear worried about his cub. That’s sweet. Welcome to pet ownership.” She rubs my back. “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
I nod and take a swig of water from the table.
My phone vibrates in my pants pocket. I immediately pull it out and see Ashton’s name. I swipe to open it, turning away from Scarlet.
Ashton
What’s your favorite kind of cookie?
A smile tugs on my lips.
Griffin
Why? You gonna make me some?
Ashton
Perhaps.
Griffin
I never met a cookie I didn’t like.
Ashton
Griffin WHATEVER YOUR MIDDLE NAME IS Ford. Answer the question!
Now I’m beaming at my phone imagining her attempt at a stern tone.
“Griffin, are you paying attention, son?” Dad’s voice is slightly growly, which tells me he’s trying hard to hide his irritation.
I click my phone off. “Yes, sorry, what was that?”
“Mr. Rhodes was asking you if you have any other scheduling conflicts if production starts in the next six months. I assured him you don’t.” His eyes are nailing my back into the cushioned seat.
“No, no. That shouldn’t be a problem.” Which we both know, seeing as I have no other film options on the table.
That’s part of my problem. It’s why I have to make this scenario work.
There’s a real possibility I won’t land any other future contracts.
And I refuse to backslide into a TV series again.
“Excellent. I’m glad to hear that.”
The waiter returns with the wine and glasses and begins uncorking the bottle.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to use the restroom.”
Scarlet slips out of the booth so I can exit. “Hurry back, lover!” she hollers across the restaurant.
I weave through the crowd toward the hallway where the restrooms are and whip out my phone to see another text from Ashton.
Ashton
Sorry, I didn’t mean to use that strong of a tone with you.
Ashton
Yes, the cookies are for you. A gift to show my appreciation for your help.
I smile like an idiot. Gosh, she’s cute.
Griffin
Calvin. My middle name is Calvin. After my grandfather. And you can’t go wrong with a classic chocolate chip, please. And thank you. Though, what you’re doing for Roxy is payment enough.
Ashton
Hardly! I think you underestimate the work you have cut out for you. The camera doesn’t love me either.
Griffin
Now that is absolute garbage.
I shoot her a clip from the session Luke sent me. Ashton’s proudly beaming at Roxy as she obediently follows her commands like she hung the moon. I understand the sentiment.
Ashton
Okay, well, that clip isn’t awful. I’ll give you that.
Griffin
I have loads more where that came from. You just wait.
Ashton
Looking forward to our chat later tonight.
Griffin
Me too.
More than she knows.
Ashton
Good luck with your meeting. I’m sure you’ll do great!
I’m like a dehydrated man in the middle of the desert, soaking up her tiny compliment like a sponge and welling with happiness. So much so, that I’m smiling like an idiot at my phone screen when I bump into someone’s shoulder as I’m walking down the hall toward the dining area.
“Sorry about that.”
An older man—seventies, plaid shirt, khaki pants, a sort of grandpa you might visit at his lake house—says, “That’s my fault, kid. The music’s so loud in here, I can barely walk straight.”
The statement makes me chuckle. “I feel the same way.”
I’m about to carry on walking when he points at me, “Hey, you’re the Malibu Shores guy.”
I hold up my hands. “Guilty.” The guy’s definitely not my typical audience, so his knowledge about the show makes me more than curious. I hold out my hand. “Griffin Ford.”
His weathered hand slips into mine. “Nice to meet you, Griffin Ford. I’m Jack Mathis.”
Shock ripples through me. “Jack Mathis? As in the Jack Mathis, five-time Emmy Award winner, multi-winner of both the Producers Guild of America Awards and Academy Awards?”
He smiles, his wrinkles deepening. “Guilty.”
I shake his hand rapidly, like the super nerd I am. “I loved The Heroes Guild and the Wake Up, Winfield TV series as a kid. You’ve produced some great stuff.” And it’s true. He was a star in his day, maybe twenty years ago. I’m not sure if he’s worked on any recent projects.
He waves me off. “Those were my younger days, before I lost my Dotty. I was a lot more fun then.” He looks pointedly down at my hand, still shaking his. “Can I have my appendage back, please?”
I release his hand. “Sorry about that. It’s so great to meet you. What are you doing here?”
He shrugs. “Moonstruck Cinemas is trying to weasel their way back into my good graces and get me to produce another film for them.”
“That’s great!”
“Eh, I’ve been looking to hang up my hat. Not sure I’m still willing to play the game anymore. You know what I mean, kid?”
His eyes are genuine, sincere, and a bit weary. “I think I do.” We stare at each other for a meaningful beat before he lightly pats my arm in the most fatherly gesture I’ve felt in years.
“Hang in there, kid. There’s some good stuff, too. Just focus on the good.”
And without a “ goodbye ” or a “ nice to meet you ,” he turns down the hall and disappears into the bathroom.
I hope when I look back on my career, I’ll see that I’ve done some good too. And that chance starts soon. This film project has the potential to change my life and legacy forever. So long as I don’t screw it up.