12. Emmett
I’m in a great mood this morning.
It is my birthday, after all. Max, Tyler, Lane, and Marcy are coming over later. That could contribute to my mood.
Although, that’s not the primary reason for my happiness.
Images from last night flash in my mind, and I can practically feel Cassie in front of me if I close my eyes and think hard enough.
I like Cassie. More than a friend. I would have asked her on a proper date if I knew it wouldn’t complicate things between us. I would have said “fuck it,” she’s worth it, I can try to date again. Except, she doesn’t want to.
Well, after last night, I don’t exactly know if that’s true. Still, I can’t cross the line yet, it’s too soon. Plus, I wouldn’t want to risk the foundation we’ve built. It’s already thin as it is, and I wouldn’t want her out of my life already if something happened.
I’m falling fast. I need to hold myself together for a little longer. Or at least figure out a way together to make something work, if she likes me as much as I like her. I can’t be the reason she loses her job.
What if she doesn’t like me? What if she doesn’t want to pursue anything? Where will I put these feelings? There is no invisible rug to shove them under or trash bin to toss them in.
Before I have time to rabbit hole down that thought, my phone buzzes. Then it buzzes again. Then it starts ringing.
I finish pouring a cup of coffee and take my phone out of my pocket to find multiple unread messages and a missed call from my publicist. Before I have the chance to look into what they want, my phone starts ringing again, but this time it’s someone I’d rather not talk to this early in the morning.
Ugh.
“Hi, Dad,” I answer.
“I see you had fun last night.”
Oh boy.
“I did,” I answer with suspicion in my tone.
“I’m sure you did.”
“Dad, just get to the point. What’s up?” I ask, tired of the vagueness of his words.
“An article was published.”
That’s it? I’m not surprised. There were a lot of cameras there last night. The party was bound to be posted in some places, but I was hoping to avoid the limelight.
“You”re photographed with some girl and you two look…” he pauses, “cozy.”
Ah, it’s a photo with Cassie.
“She’s just a friend, Dad.”
He sighs. “You know how I feel about this type of press, Emmett.”
Yes, I do. I know my dad hates any type of press that brings negativity to the Davis name. If he finds an article about him and he doesn’t approve, he knows the right person to make sure it’s shut down.
He’s always been hard on me for any press I receive. Even when it’s not anything bad. It’s never good enough for him. My movie could hit record numbers and he’d still tell me I could do better next time. He has never once given me congratulations or told me he was proud.
Instead, I get berated anytime the press mentions my name. This isn’t anything different. He’s just mad it’s not some girl he wanted to set me up with. Someone he knows and can control how they contribute to the family. At the end of the day, it’s a transaction for him. It doesn’t matter that I’m his son or that I’m old enough to make my own decisions.
Shit, do I have family issues, or what? I’m glad to be spending time with my chosen family today.
“Today’s news is tomorrow’s history. Isn’t that what you always say?”
“Better be. I don’t enjoy seeing the Davis name dragged down for miniscule reasons.”
Dragged downis a bit of an exaggeration, but okay.
“I know. Listen, I’d love to chat for longer, but someone is at the door and I need to answer it,” I lie.
“Alright, Emmett. Happy birthday, by the way. Call your mother when you get a chance.”
“Thanks. Okay, will do. Bye, Dad.”
I hang up the phone and set it on the island. I can’t ignore him because he’d just show up at my apartment, but I’m tired of having these toxic conversations with him.
I tap at my phone to open the texts from my publicist. In addition to multiple “call me” messages, I find the link for this article. I click it open and sure enough, I’m holding Cassie’s hand, smiling down at her. Only the back of her head is showing, which is good. No one will knock at her apartment trying to ask her follow-up questions because she’s anonymous.
A message appears on the top of the screen, a text from Cassie.
Cassie
Happy birthday, Hotshot.
I smile and slide open the text to message her my thanks and also ask if she’s having a good day. I want the conversation to continue, not end. I don’t want to mention the article over text, I’d rather have that chat in person since it’s not a big deal.
It’s easy to fall into a conversation with Cassie. We’re always asking questions to find out more about one another, or simply to show interest in whatever topic we’re talking about. She frequently asks me about my writing. The first time she asked what I was working on, I didn’t know how to respond. No one asks me about my writing. Not even Tyler, who sticks his nose in everything.
Also, how do I say I’m not writing something but I want to? That I have so many ideas floating in my head and written on random sheets of paper, but whenever I sit to actually turn my thoughts and ideas into coherent sentences, I can’t form any. None. It’s as if I’ve lost the ability to create.
I told her the truth. If anyone else would have asked me, I would have lied and said I was working on some script. If I can act in a movie, I can certainly pretend to be active with my hobby.
Ever since then, she’s been checking in and encouraging me to journal. She thinks that maybe if I write my thoughts without some perceived stress around making my idea perfect, then I will at least be writing some words down.
So, that’s what I’ve been doing. Except, I may have changed her request a bit.
She told me to write about my days: what happens at work, how I’m feeling, who I talk to, what my favorite moments are. What she doesn’t know is my journaling just happens to be about her: when I see her at work, what we talk about, how I feel about her, what my favorite things about her are.
It’s working too. I’ve written a few beginnings to some of my ideas and it’s been freeing to be this creative again. All thanks to Cassie.
“What’s got you down, birthday boy?” A voice comes from behind me.
I jump, spilling coffee all over the counter.
“Shit!” I grab a towel and start wiping it up as it drips on the floor.
I look to my left to find Tyler standing by the island, watching me clean up the mess that he caused.
“Your fault you didn’t hear the door. I could have been a robber.” Tyler smirks. He takes a seat at the island, still not offering to help.
“You’re early.”
“It’s nice to see you too, lover-boy.”
“The nickname is sticking, huh?” I glance at Tyler as I turn to the island and rinse off the towel in the sink to get the coffee out of it.
“Mhm. Sure is. Is she coming over today?”
“Who? Cassie?”
It’s Tyler’s turn to roll his eyes at me. “Yes,” he says, exaggerating the ‘s’ like a snake. “I thought you two made it official or something based on the article I saw this morning.”
I give him my best side-eye and choose to ignore the comment. He knows I’m not allowed to be with Cassie, and he’s trying to annoy me. I also don’t want to talk about the article just yet. I’d rather it get buried in the rest of the news from today.
“I haven’t thought to ask her,” I respond instead. It’s the truth, after all.
“Well, you should text her and ask. Lucy told me they have to work at the diner tonight, but I’m sure they would stop by before then,” Tyler says with ease, as if he and Lucy are best friends after last night.
“Lucy, huh?”
“Nothing happened, before you ask me that.” He points a finger at me in a warning. “We just talked and when I asked her what she was doing today, that’s what she told me.”
“Hmm.” I nod. “Sure. Well, if you wanted something to happen, at least it could. With Cassie, I can’t cross that line.”
“Was it not crossing the line when you were grinding her ass?” Tyler smirks, grabbing a donut from a box I hadn’t noticed. He must have brought it with him.
“I’m not answering that question.” I grab a glazed donut and take a bite. “But I’ll text her and ask.” I’d use any reason as an excuse to see Cassie today.
I pull out my phone to text Cassie when the front door opens. I quickly type my message and hit send and when I look up, Max and Lane are walking toward the island holding a giant pizza. Tyler and I both wave hello.
I glance at my phone again and am surprised to see it’s already time to eat lunch.
Max sets the pizza on the island and sits on a stool next to Tyler, who has not moved once since being here. Lane walks past the island and goes straight for the fridge, grabs a drink, and moves to lean on the counter behind me.
“So, Emmett, did papa Davis call you about the article?” Max asks, taking a bite of the pizza.
I groan. “You saw it too?”
“Dude, it’s everywhere. People are obsessed with you.” Tyler glances up from his phone to interject before quickly refocusing on his screen, the sound of an irrelevant video playing on.
I bring my hand up to my face and rub my temple, closing my eyes for a quick moment while I let out a big sigh. When I open my eyes, my phone buzzes, but before I have the chance to look at it, Lane decides to add to the current conversation.
“Wait, I didn’t see it!” I wait a few seconds for Lane to look it up. “Oh shit, man!” he says to me. Then, looking at Max, he adds, “He definitely called about this photo. Look!” He holds his phone out, pointing to Cassie and I’s interlocked hands. “They’re holding hands! Definitely screams relationship.” He pulls his phone back, zooming in and out, laughing.
“Are you done?” I ask, shaking my head back and forth in annoyance.
“Come on.” Lane flashes me his phone screen, which is still showing the photo from the article. “You look happy.”
I roll my eyes, but he’s right. I am happy.
“Well, we’re just friends. I’m not allowed to date anyone at the studio, remember?”
I look from Max to Lane, and then to Tyler to ensure they all heard me. I find them all nodding and muttering under their breath.
“Good. No one better bring this up when Cassie comes over.”
“But—” Tyler starts to talk, returning his attention to the group.
I hold up a hand in front of his face. “Nope. I’m shutting this down now.”
Wrinkles appear in Tyler’s forehead as he squints his eyes and lets out a small groan. “You’re no fun.”
“At least I’m rich, eh?” I smile and hold both hands out in a look at me fashion.
A donut hits me in the face. I twist quickly to my left to find Marcy laughing at me.
“Hi to you too, Marce. Just come in, why don’t you?” I walk over to the sink to grab a towel, running it under the water so I can wipe the glaze off of my face.
“Door was unlocked.” Marcy takes the last seat at the island, sitting next to Lane on a barstool. Max has since moved to sit on the couch and is now flipping through movies available to watch.
“And the donut?”
“For the article, of course, you dumbass.” Marcy grabs her own donut, jelly filled, and takes a bite. The jelly spills out of the opposite end, dripping onto the counter. I’m still holding the wet towel from wiping up my donut mess, so I toss it over for her to clean up her mess before I start stress cleaning.
“I promise, Marce, it’s nothing. Don’t look into it,” I warn, keeping a straight face.
“Mhm.” She shrugs, not impressed with my explanation.
“Anyway, Cassie and Lucy are coming over tonight before their shift at the diner, so you better cool it. I already warned the guys.”
“I’m not scared of you,” Marcy says. She hops down from the stool and moves over by Max, plopping next to him on the couch.
If I wasn’t nervous about tonight, I am now. Marcy has a way of shoving her thoughts and opinions into my business, and normally I’m grateful for her help with obsessive fans, but I don’t need her to protect me.
I walk over to sit on the armchair to the right of the couch.
“I’ll be good, I promise.” I look up to see Marcy looking at me, eyes softened. I nod and return a small smile.
It’s moments like these that I wish my parents were kind and loving and wanted to be in my life. I have these great people around me, supporting me, not asking for anything in return, yet I can’t help but feel empty. Alone. I wish my parents would ask me about my day or find an interest in my hobbies. Except, that’s never been their story.
It’s always about where I’m going or how much I can accomplish. I’d like to say my mom’s better, but she’s not. She supports my acting but always agrees and sides with my dad. I couldn’t tell them about writing, they wouldn’t understand.
Not that I’ve opened up to my friends either, besides the basics. They know I like to write and that I do it sometimes during my time off between contracts, but they don’t know that I love writing.
Looking around the room, I want to tell them. I know they’d be supportive of whatever I wanted to do, but I can’t help but question it. They have known me as Emmett, the actor, for too long. What would they think of Emmett, the writer? Just plain Emmett?
It’s ridiculous, I know. To put these perceived opinions on them, but it’s the circumstances of our friendships. Marcy is most likely stuck with me for life, as my adopted little sister, but we don’t talk about our careers much besides surface-level things. Tyler is busy with his catering, and I love that for him, but we also don’t talk about life things.
I talk to Max and Lane about writing the most. Since they started the casting business, I’ve been curious about the logistics and how they have made it successful. It’s given me a lot of insight on what to look out for if I were to go off on my own and pursue my writing. I’ve told them I like to write screenplays, but that was a random point in time that feels like ancient history.
Cassie is the only person who’s read my writing and has somehow turned into my own personal muse. That’s gotta mean something, right? I mean, I can’t explain the pull I get when I’m around her. It’s magical. I see her and thoughts immediately start piling up in my head, overflowing and nagging at me to write them down.
It’s both terrifying and exhilarating. A chain reaction that I can’t stop or tame. That’s how my brain feels when I’m around Cassie.
I’m pulled out of my thoughts by my phone ringing. I sigh and groan, slinking into my chair deeper.
Lane walks over from the kitchen, peering over my shoulder. “Mommy troubles?”
I grab the pillow next to me and toss it up into his face. I stand up to answer the call, and Lane takes the advantage to steal my spot.
“I’m taking that back.” I point to the chair. Lane nods, then swiftly turns to watch whatever is on television. I didn’t pay attention enough to figure out what they turned on.
I walk down the hall toward my bedroom, shutting the door before I hit the accept button on my phone.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. Happy birthday.” It’s almost as if I can hear her smile and it makes me sad again. Not sad that they aren’t here, more so sad that I don’t think she realizes she’s no longer a close figure in my life.
“Thanks, Mom. Staying busy today?” I ask.
“Mhm, mhm. The growth in my garden has been astonishing. You wouldn’t believe it, sweetie. I mean, cucumbers, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes… I could keep going on, but I wouldn’t want to bore you with the details.” She adds an innocent chuckle.
“Not a bother. Happy to hear the garden is going well. Dad around?” Not that I want to talk to him, but I always ask. It’s the same script every time we talk.
“No, he’s out with some friends. Golfing, I believe. He told me you two talked though and informed me about your little friend,” she says in a motherly tone. I can hear clashing tools and a bit of muttering. I can only assume she’s trying to carry things and talk on the phone at the same time.
“Just a friend, yes. No need to worry. Dad already talked to me about it.” I’m wondering why I bother to answer her calls anymore. They tend to just be a reminder of my dad’s call. To push my buttons a little further until I’m about to pop.
“Okay, sweetie. I know. We trust you. We just want the best for you, you know?” I hum in response. “I hate to cut this short, but I think it might just rain. Dang weather. We’ll talk later this week, okay? Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.” I remove the phone from my ear and hang up with one last sigh.
Greetings from outside the room reach me, so Cassie must be here. I should get out there before the guys gang up on her for something or the article gets mentioned. Both of which I don’t want to happen. I will say that Cassie seems to blend in with our group seamlessly, minus Marcy, who is still a little apprehensive.
I stand up from the bed and walk out of the room, shutting the door behind me. When I get to the living room, I’m hit with the smell of lavender and citrus. A scent I’ve familiarized myself with. Cassie is sitting in the other chair to the left of the couch talking to Marcy, who moved to the other side. Lucy is sitting at the island with Tyler. My gaze meets Cassie’s, and she waves while giving me a small smile. I continue walking toward her and for once I have hope that maybe she’s feeling the same way.