Chapter 5 Santa Monica, California
Santa Monica, California
Three days later
It was shocking how quickly AJ’s life could be collapsed into a suitcase. With just six emails, she had taken leave from Turn It or Return It and found a subletter for her room in Brooklyn.
She, Dave, and Toni had arrived at Em Tyner’s lavish Spanish-style palazzo that morning. They had been promptly turned away from the main house, down a steep stone staircase to the guest terrace, a quadrangle of rooms built off a grove of fig trees with buttressed roots.
This was where AJ would be living for the duration of their shoot.
Each room came equipped with a sliding glass door, a king-size bed, and a copy of the bible, Em Tyner’s one-hundred-six-page treatise on the world of their show.
Too tired to nap, AJ nestled into the base of a shady fig tree and began to read.
Their show’s setup was similar to Astronauticals—the adventures of a space whale and her ragtag crew. But while each episode would have its own arc (to be instigated by the producers), there would also be an overarching story centered around Noah’s character, Rho.
According to Em’s notes, Rho was a crown prince who had traveled back in time in pursuit of a girl, Alara, who was the single greatest threat to his kingdom.
He knew she was part of their crew. The catch? He didn’t know who she was.
Neither, for that matter, did the cast. The bible just said Alara TBA, timing TBD.
AJ heard a glass door slide open and looked up to see Toni striding toward her, bible in hand.
“Sharpen your elbows,” she said, nodding to the entry open in AJ’s lap. “It’s going to be a fucking bloodbath until the producers pick Alara. Ala-ra. A-lara. However you say it.”
Toni sprawled out beside AJ and popped a Diet Coke.
She had been cast as the first mate, Zora, to Xiaobo’s Captain Quentin, but that didn’t necessarily equate to screen time.
Docudramas filmed first, then shaped the story after.
The first mate might be featured heavily or not at all, depending on how the shoot evolved.
Being Alara, however, would guarantee Toni a place in the show’s main arc and a lead role in a network drama. AJ wanted it for her friend almost as much as Toni wanted it for herself.
“You’ve got this,” she said firmly.
“Do I?” Toni’s eyes gleamed gold in the California sun. “I’m twenty-seven years old—”
“Okay, Charlotte Lucas,” AJ teased, hoping to prevent a doom spiral.
Too late. “That is OLD for Hollywood,” she said. “Plus, I know jack all about Astronauticals.”
“Not a prerequisite for playing Alara,” AJ pointed out.
Toni’s eyes narrowed. “And what about Anjalee?”
A product of the Disney machine, Anjalee was a multiplatinum pop star whose house-flavored bop “Jay Jay” was the undisputed anthem of 2007. She was also the most famous carryover from Em Tyner’s original prequel cast and the clear front-runner for Alara.
AJ chewed her cheek. “You never know,” she said. “Isn’t her character a robot?”
“Half robot,” said Toni in agitation. “Fuck. I’ve been on so many auditions, Age. People decide you’re wrong for a role so fucking fast. You have no idea how lucky you are to be a writer.”
“Hey,” said AJ, putting a hand on Toni’s shoulder. “You already got the part. And when they see how great you are as Zora, they’ll want you for Alara too.”
Toni sighed, then shot AJ a crooked smile. “And what about you, Miss Mousy and Unassuming?”
AJ snorted. Most of the characters in the show had been given multipage backstories within Em Tyner’s bible. AJ’s character, Ana Tar, had a single paragraph:
ANA TAR, 17, mousy and unassuming—Ana was raised on crater whale Gilamede by her grandfather; it’s the only life she’s ever known. Ana’s only distinctive features are the red circular markings on the inside of her wrists. She was born with telepathy, but using it causes her chronic pain.
That was it. Her character was the sick waif, a literal nobody—someone whose constant presence would be unremarkable and unobtrusive. The perfect profile for a plant.
“I look forward to invisibly adjusting your scenes,” AJ said.
Now Toni was genuinely smiling. Then her eyes went large. “Age—is that—”
Noah Drew was making his way down the steep stone steps from the main house into their courtyard. He wore black head to toe, a large canvas duffel slung over his shoulder.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
AJ had assumed Noah would be staying at the main house with Ian and Em, if not elsewhere in L.A.—only the poor, working comedians had been lodged on the guest terrace. AJ had known she and Noah would be in close proximity, but she hadn’t realized they’d be living together.
AJ went rigid as his boots landed in the courtyard. She could feel Toni eyeing her as Noah lowered his bag and reached down to pet a chestnut-colored dog at his ankles.
AJ’s heart constricted. Was that Bud?
At that moment, the dog sprinted for her, tugging her leash and owner. AJ’s cheeks warmed as Noah’s pace increased to keep up; he did not let the dog go free.
“Noah, hey,” said Toni, that edge back in her voice. Bud jumped up onto AJ’s shoulders to kiss her ears. She looked just like Hortense. “Aww, what a cutie.”
When Noah didn’t respond, AJ looked up to find him watching her and Bud without expression.
Toni tried again. “You staying down here?”
Noah cleared his throat. “Yep,” he said, glancing at Toni. “It’s better for the character to be away from the house and all of that.”
Away from Em and his celebrity cadre, he meant.
“Right on,” said Toni, and AJ loved her for not fawning.
As Bud trotted back to Noah’s side, Noah’s eyes flicked to AJ’s then dropped.
“I should get her settled,” he said abruptly.
They wished him well and made a show of opening their bibles as he turned to go.
The instant he was out of earshot, Toni said, “Right. I’m taking off my bra. It’s better for the character.”
AJ laughed, pretending not to watch Noah lead Bud to a door on the other side of the quad.
Right across from hers.
The next day, AJ clustered with Toni, Dave, and Xiaobo inside a dimly lit soundstage. It was freezing, cold air blasting in to keep the large three-story metal structure at the center of the room from overheating.
“So this is a space whale,” said Toni, staring at the set.
“Crale,” corrected Dave.
“Her name is Gilamede,” said Ian, stepping forward. “Wait till you see inside.”
As if on cue, a ground-level panel began to lower like a drawbridge. A cloud of steam billowed forth, and the unmistakable form of Em Tyner appeared.
He had earned his nickname: King of the Nerds. The nerd part was covered by the unassuming cargo shorts, polo shirt, and glasses. The king part was evident in the power stance, the eyes that missed nothing, and the Mephistophelian brows, ever arched, waiting to be impressed.
“All aboard,” he said dryly, then turned and walked back into the set.
Toni and AJ exchanged a look, then followed.
Noah had yet to join them. He’d barely left his room the night before, while AJ and her friends had stayed out late under the fig trees. Which somehow made AJ feel like she was winning.
Thoughts of Noah dissipated as AJ stepped into the crale’s mouth—a massive parcel-paper-brown space that doubled as the cargo bay, with metal balconies on three floors.
“Wowza,” said Dave.
AJ followed her castmates down a narrow passage, past a green holding cell, up a spiral staircase into a large golden corridor. All around them, the papery walls emitted a pulsing glow.
“We ran ten thousand Christmas lights through the set to get this effect,” said Ian. “They can do all sorts of things—flash, change color. That’s how the crale will interact with the crew.”
“Look,” Toni breathed, pointing to a small blemish in the fibrous wall—a camera.
“We’ve got over three hundred of these hidden around,” said Ian.
The cameras never turned off, he explained. Each one was synced to a central clock; these, along with their body mics, would allow the cast to move seamlessly between environments.
“This is a panopticon,” muttered AJ.
“Damn straight,” said Ian. “If you so much as sneeze, we’ll get it from four angles.”
The set was a steampunk labyrinth—wooden ladders traversing corrugated steel, equal parts nautical and new age. By the looks of it, this show was going to be Astronauticals’ gritty cousin.
Em was waiting for them in the warm ocher galley.
“Look around you,” he said. Everyone obeyed. “For the next few weeks, and maybe years to come, these are your crewmates and your family.”
He pointed at his own chest. “I am your crewmate and your family. What we’re doing here is new. It’s different. Some people won’t get it. I’m not even sure I get it. But that excites me as much as it terrifies me. Because that’s how legends are made.”
“Wowza,” whispered Dave.
Em looked around the room at each of them, passing over AJ without a glimmer of recognition.
“Am I missing anything?” he asked Ian.
Ian shook his head.
“Okay,” said Em. “Let’s make a show.”
On the third day of preproduction, Em gathered the full cast in his “Time Pagoda,” a full-scale replica of the three-story octagonal Anraku-ji temple in Ueda, Japan, which Em had reconstructed on the north side of his property for “retreats of the mind.”
Today, the cast were using it for a show bible Q and A.
Everyone was there, including the actors AJ hadn’t met yet—Leah Lopez, who played the doctor, Andy Mulligan, aka the killer brute, and Elmore Aldrich, the grandfather to AJ’s character.
Even Anjalee had called in. Now and again, one of the interns would interrupt with a question the pop star had put in via text.
Noah had also broken his isolation to attend. As Em fielded a series of increasingly detailed questions, AJ tried not to stare at him across the round cherrywood table.
“There are no aliens,” Em was saying, “but we’re taking the concept of weaving from the original and making it into a foundational part of the world. With actual special effects. No more streamers.”
“Sorry,” said Toni. “Can we back up for those of us who aren’t Nauticals? What’s weaving?”
Em stiffened.
Ian jumped in. “Weavers are mutants, basically—they’re humans who have evolved to manipulate base elements: earth, water, fire, air. Water weavers control the galaxy with their Navy. Fire weavers, like Rho and Bill, are outlaws. Actually, you are all Naval outlaws.”
“So, water weavers: bad,” said Dave.
Toni pursed her lips. “Isn’t Alara a water weaver?”
“Yes,” said Ian. “But she’s from far in the future. She’s actually the last surviving water weaver.”
“Which is why I’m hunting her,” said Noah.
AJ fidgeted. Her body could not metabolize that she was six feet from Noah Drew. Yet there he was, his large hand resting on a dog-eared bible printout.
Even from this distance, his dark, familiar scent lapped at AJ’s consciousness like a subwoofer. And it was making her strange. That scent conjured good things, like safety, and home, and love…
Not love, AJ admonished herself. Sexual attraction. Which was why she could know everything she knew about him and still sit here with her heart rate elevated like a fucking idiot.
It was a little sad how age and experience could at once provide the names for certain feelings and rob them of their poetry. There had been so much about that summer AJ had been too young to understand. Even so, they’d never really crossed the line. That kiss—
AJ blinked.
Right or wrong, she had never wanted anyone to touch her more.
And it had only happened once. Sometimes, AJ wasn’t sure it had happened at all.
They had been friends, though. Even the hardest part of AJ could not deny the sheer number of hours they’d spent together.
Nor could it excuse the way he had left her to wonder. That wasn’t how friends treated each other. That wasn’t how a kind or a respectful person treated any other human being.
AJ could feel Noah studying her from across the table. She refused to look over, though her skin warmed reflexively under his gaze. She knew he could easily ignore her, given that he was a celebrity and she was a normal—and the fact that he didn’t showed a modicum of decency.
But what good was that? It did nothing to change the empty folding chair, or the ten pounds she’d dropped senior year, or the sleepless months she’d spent after September 11, terrified he had been deployed to Afghanistan.
Humiliatingly, AJ had wept when she read his name on a Juilliard revue flyer the following fall; then she’d avoided Lincoln Center for three years.
This would be the worst of it, AJ told herself. Noah was going to be one of the show’s principals, and there was no reason for their two characters to ever interact. Once they began filming, they’d hardly see each other and—
“Excuse me,” said a red-faced intern. “Anjalee would like to know if Navi is a weaver.”
“She’s a robot,” muttered Xiaobo.
“Half robot,” added Toni.
All eyes were on Em now, waiting for any hint that Anjalee might be a weaver—or Alara. But Em turned to Ian and asked, “What was the name of the original episode that introduced weaving?”
“ ‘Fire & Water,’ ” said AJ and Noah at once.
Their eyes snapped together, and AJ’s pulse surged at the intensity of his stare. That was the episode they’d been watching when she first admitted her dad had a drinking problem. She had trusted him more than anyone, and he’d fucking vanished—
“You two are nerds,” said Dave, and AJ yanked her eyes back to her own bible printout.
Across the table, Noah’s hand fisted on top of his.
“That’s a good one to watch, if you haven’t seen Astronauticals,” said Em.
He doesn’t know, AJ reminded herself. He doesn’t actually know what you’re thinking.
But just to be safe, she kept her eyes down for the rest of the discussion.