Chapter 34
Chapter thirty-four
Podcast Day
It’s funny… After everything, I am still in limbo.
Wondering when Skye will show up.
If a text from Holden will grace my phone.
An endless loop of waiting that has me perched on my bed, wrapped up from head to toe in a force field of blankets.
My necklace is devoid of any color. There is no gust of wind spontaneously throwing itself at me. Not even a jolt of pain—at least from the necklace, there isn’t.
Ever since the vigil, I came home to this dull, persistent pain pressing at my sternum. Even my lousy attempt to go for a run doesn’t shake the feeling. Running makes people happy, they say…
Fun fact, it does not. Especially when you tend to trip on air and failed gym class in ninth grade. Running is just a time to get shin splints and a wedgie.
Now, I’m just sad, sweating and SORE.
When I turn the shower knob to start the hot water, my phone buzzes. A thumping picks up in my chest as I scan the first few sentences, my stomach twists as her name jumps out at me.
“I saw your interview with Sloane the other day. I’ve never seen anything go off the rails quite like that…”
Before I could read more, I slip on the water splashed onto the tile, landing abruptly on my back. The ache spreads to my spine, knocking the air out of my lungs.
Even that doesn’t stop me from unlocking my phone and reading the rest of the message.
“I love how you put them in their place. Are you free for lunch today?” Something flutters low in my stomach as I reread it again. Nerves of all kinds—good, bad and queasy—tug at me.
Two hours and several outfit changes later, I am at a café, staring at the entrance, bracing for her arrival. I only notice her presence when another stranger reaches for her hand, joyfully.
“Audrey!!”
“Girl, I miss you.”
They double air kiss on both sides of their cheeks and tell each other they need to catch up before she locks eyes on me. Her freshly bronzed skin and blue eyes are walking toward me as her friend walks away.
A lump forms in my throat when she calls my name.
“Charlotte.”
She opens her arms for a hug and I take this as a hint to stand up to greet her. She’s taller than I remembered. More casual in blue jeans and a red tank top.
Nothing about the outfit gives any indication what my purpose is for being here today.
“Do you want to get food first?”
“To be honest, Audrey, I’d rather get to the point of why I am here,” I say nervously.
“That’s fair. I’d be wondering the same thing.”
Instead of answering my question, she pulls an iPad with a black cover wrapped around it out of her bag, tapping a few things before she slides the screen to me to show me a bunch of words.
“What’s this?”
“It’s this new movie I was talking about at the party. I just got the rights to it. A potential director is attached, but we’re sorting out the details of everything so we can start preproduction. A movie like this is going to take some time to be made if it’s done the right way.”
“Okay?”
“After I met you at the party, I asked around about who you were. Turns out, you are known for getting shit done. Seeing that interview, that blew me away.”
“It did?”
“Yeah, of course. Anyone that has balls to stick up for anyone like that and speaks their mind is someone I want on my team.”
“Your team?”
“Do you always answer people by repeating their words back to them?”
My whole body locks up, letting out a short, wheezing breath. “Only when I am trying to see if the other person is serious.”
My voice trails off as Audrey studies my every word. I can tell she is just as observant as I am as her eyes flicker to my clothing and my necklace, widening her eyes when my tone of voice dips when I am uncertain.
“I have no time to not be,” she says dryly. “Consider that viral moment as your informal interview.”
Audrey says it with such certainty. A strong conviction that blowing up my life was a good thing.
“What would I be doing?”
“You would be assisting me…”
Ahh, the word “assistant.” I can’t ever escape it. Any spark of excitement drains from my eyes.
“I don’t want to—I don’t want to assist anyone anymore…” I stammer. Audrey reaches for my hand resting on the table and wraps it under her hold.
“I need someone who can help be the other half of my brain. Someone who gives ideas that I wouldn’t think of. Putting together schedules, getting the right people on board. Think of it more like a partnership. Your title would be assistant producer, with a nice salary, I might add.”
“You do know I am in public relations, right? I know nothing about that.”
“That’s what you have me for.” She rips her hand away from mine and unwraps a piece of gum to pop into her mouth.
“Do you want—”
I shake my head no as she puts the extra stick of gum back in her purse.
“Look, I was previously in a role where I was promised I’d have more agency and nothing panned out. I’m not looking for something unless it’s guaranteed I am not going to be just fetching things for someone. I want to make an impact with my work.”
A slow smile stretches across her face as she pops her gums.
“I would say the same if I worked for Chris too. All I can do is give you my word and hope you trust it. Plus, public relations and producing are the same thing. We are orchestrating what people never see. From what I can tell, you have been doing that for a long time.”
Audrey slides a business card and a blue ballpoint pen from her purse, scribbling a few things before she stands back up. Promptly ending her meeting.
“Totally get your reservations. I just see potential and could use someone like you,” she says, sliding her business card in front of me.
444-5673—I’m available even in the middle of the night if you change your mind. A smiley face is attached to her words.
By the time I finish reading, she has already walked away from the table and slipped out the door.
“Assistant producer. Not an assistant, but producing.” I mumble this repeatedly to myself as I stare at the thick cardstock. The card is tied to the woman who has produced some of my favorite movies in cinema.
What is going on in my life?
The ride home from the café becomes one giant daydream as I stare out the car window. What would life look like as an assistant producer? Would I just be running errands for her? Would people even listen to me? There’s nothing I can do in the world about summoning Skye at this very moment.
The rest of the afternoon I spend deep-diving on Audrey’s projects and the people she has worked with. One thing I pride myself on is my meticulous research. This consumes me until the clock above my kitchen island stops me in my tracks.
It is eight p.m.
My body springs for the mediocre bottle of champagne waiting to be poured.
It’s been four days and I honestly thought he would message me.
Instead, I’m pouring a glass from the bottle I thought we would share and holding my breath.
Watching the countdown on the screen as the Wilder theme song plays. The host’s voice projects over it.
“The man. The myth. The legend. We have Holden Strauss here today. From short films to a popular teen drama. Up to his most recent work starring in Whiplash with Annie McPhee… We have the pleasure of being in the presence of Mr. Strauss.”
The fake applause ensues. Holden is carrying a smile that remains permanent on his face, holding it long enough to make it hurt anyone.
He is wearing a fitted sage-green button-down and dark blue jeans. Simple. The team opted for casual, relatable and something that complemented his eyes. He combs through his hair and stares right down the barrel of the camera.
Holden: Thank you, Harvey. Happy to be here today.
Wilder: Happy to have! Let’s just get right into it, shall we?
Wilder takes a beat to let the viewers prepare themselves before he dives in.
Wilder: Let’s take it back to your childhood. Tell me a little bit about your upbringing.
Holden shifts in his seat and clears his throat as Wilder slowly eases him in. His typical way to disarm his guests at first.
Holden: Well, I was born and raised in Weston, Missouri. I have two older brothers and was raised by my mom.
Wilder: How did you go from Missouri to LA? I’m sure most people there aren’t actors.
Okay, cool. We’re prepared for this one. As long as he doesn’t give a brooding answer, we should be fine.
Holden: Not at all. Uhh, I think after my parents’ divorce, my mom wanted to reinvent herself. She was always intrigued by California. When I took an interest in community theater in my small town, it just felt like the right move. We moved here right before my twelfth birthday.
Holden’s shoulders loosen, listening intently to Wilder’s questions. Just captivating the camera with his easy eyes and soft smile.
I hate how I notice everything.
Wilder: How did you feel about being in show business so young?
Holden: I adapted. At first, I was excited to be able to be out of school for it. Everything seemed so new and exciting. Running lines always felt natural. When the first season got greenlit, it felt like I was finally achieving the dream we were reaching for. That all the auditions worked out.
This sparks a rapid-fire series of questions between the two of them. Holden is still smiling, and Harvey cracks a few jokes in between. They are both playing a game. Except it’s just another day for Harvey.
Wilder: Your mother played a huge role in your career, it seems. What was your dynamic like then versus now?
Holden: We’re good.
Wilder: That’s it?
Holden: She is a passionate person. A real motivator when I was younger.
Wilder: Right… What does she do now?
Holden: She does real estate. She has a knack for charming people into picturing themselves where they should be. Definitely a skill.
Wilder: Couldn’t she have just stayed your manager? I mean, it sounds like she pushed you in the right direction?
Holden: I guess…
Wilder: A stage mom?
I pour another glass of champagne.
Holden: I don’t know, maybe. She knew what was best for me for a long time. Now, we get to go back to the core of our relationship, which is mother and son.
Wilder leans into the mic, sinking in his teeth now.
Wilder: Sounds like you had a tough time with her and fired her? Every young actor I speak to always ends up telling me some version of that.
Holden: She’s my mom, and I was a rebellious teen. It was an amplified dynamic. Imagine you’re figuring out what’s best for yourself while the entire world is watching.
Wilder: Do you feel like you didn’t have a childhood?
Holden: I think that’s a lot of what-ifs. I try to stay present, because ultimately, acting gave me the thing I love most…
It’s quicker than lighting, but as soon as he said childhood, I could see the knee-jerk reaction. His smile dropped for a millisecond, before returning back to his face.
Wilder: This is your first interview in years, right?
Holden: Yes.
Holden gives a nervous chuckle.
Wilder: Recent pictures came out of you at an acting class. Are you preparing for any big roles?
Holden: Nothing solidified yet. Just sharpening skills.
He runs his hands through his hair again while staring directly at the camera. A kind of stare that is straight through your soul. I down the glass in one sip.
Wilder: I’m fascinated by your journey. Did you ever fall out of love with acting?
Holden: I think it piqued my interest when I was young, but I didn’t truly enjoy it until years later, when I knew the real meaning behind the craft. When I could understand the psychology of the characters I was playing.
Wilder: Everyone says you are difficult on set. Do you think that’s true?
Holden: I think I had a few bad days that got documented. I am not proud of how I acted. When I see those videos, it makes me feel ashamed of myself.
Wilder says nothing, just moves on again.
Wilder: Why do you think your latest movie, Whiplash, failed at the box office with record low numbers?
Of course they would try to focus on the bad. I suck in my breath, watching and waiting for his answer.
Holden: Timing… We had some strong opponents that same box-office weekend. I truly believe in the project and what came of it.
Wilder: Does it make you want to quit at all?
Holden: All the time.
They both laugh toward the camera.
Wilder: You mentioned the meaning of the craft for you—
Wilder is cut off by Holden’s words for the first time this whole interview.
Holden: I love… I love shaping a character from the pages. My mannerisms. My tone. My expressions. They all matter when bringing something to life. Seeing the end result—it makes me so happy when people spend their free time watching something I am in.
Wilder: Speaking of love, a recent video went viral at the premiere of LoveSick. Did you see it?
Holden: Yes.
He avoids Wilder’s eyes. I grip my chair.
Wilder: What’s the girl’s name again?
Holden: Charlotte.
I curl my hand into a fist, biting down hard enough onto my knuckles to leave indents. My name has just been broadcasted on a livestream with a hundred thousand viewers watching.
Wilder: What did you think of it?
Holden: I think she was kind enough to take that stand for me…
If I could roll my eyes further behind my sockets, I would.
Wilder: Come on now… nobody makes that big of a public spectacle if they aren’t in love?
Holden nervously laughs before a pink undertone appears on his cheeks.
Holden: She could be standing in a corner in a crowded room, and I couldn’t not notice her. She is honest and kind. A little unorthodox, but…
He drifts off in thought.
Wilder: But?
Holden: But anyone would be lucky to be with her.
Wilder: Aren’t you?
My eyes dart back and forth between the both of them on the screen. Holden rubs his left arm up and down and Wilder is leaning into the microphone with anticipation.
Holden: I am saying that she has qualities anyone would want in a partner. I’m lucky to have her in my life.
Harvey Wilder turns to the camera, talking directly to the viewers.
Harvey: You heard it here first, folks. A love confession on air. Charlotte Tate, I hope you’re listening at home.
Holden lays a thick smile in the direction of the camera. A surge of rage floods my chest. That wasn’t a love confession, but—
I don’t know what he was doing. A few days ago, I might’ve believed his words were genuine.
Now? I am expendable. A scene partner for him, and this was our final dialogue to end us cleanly in the public eye. I can’t watch this podcast a second longer, where all he does is smile like nothing happened.
The energy inside me is enough to trip over air a million times and keep going. Ignoring the sharp, stabbing pain in my shins, I slip out the door and sprint toward the entrance of my apartment building.