Chapter 2
Cal
Cal Campbell strode down the narrow hallway toward the producers’ offices, nodding and smiling in greeting at the familiar faces he passed.
He was not a nervous person by nature, but for some reason he had himself a little worked up over the upcoming conversation.
He’d known Ezra Allen for years. He trusted them.
They were one of his closest friends in the business.
And yet…this conversation was going to require some amount of vulnerability, which was not one of Cal’s strong suits.
He ran a hand down the front of his three piece suit, set his shoulders, took a deep breath, and walked into Ezra’s office suite. Their secretary beamed at him as he entered.
“They’re ready for you, Mr. Campbell.”
He thanked her and let himself in.
Ezra Allen was one of the savviest producers in Hollywood.
Some said it was because their mother had been a glamorous star in the silent movies and they’d been born knowing about what made a film good.
Others speculated that the producer had spies all over the city who told them what scripts were being picked up where so that Ezra always knew to stay ahead of the curve.
But Cal had long suspected that the truth lay in Ezra’s magic.
The producer had always been tight-lipped about it, but Cal had a feeling that Ezra’s magic helped them to know things.
After years of working in movies, it was the only theory that made sense.
Ezra glanced up at Cal as he walked in and nodded at one of the seats in front of their desk. “Be right with you.”
Cal took a seat, unbothered by the delay; he had never been troubled with impatience.
Ezra shuffled some papers around, muttering under their breath.
“Everything okay?” Cal asked.
“This is what I get for leaving town on a press tour. Everything is a mess.”
“Miss Prescott—?”
“No, no. Best secretary I’ve ever had. It’s just that things kept piling up.”
“Ah,” Cal said with a smile as he leaned back in his seat. “That tends to happen when you’re successful.”
Ezra grumbled. “You don’t need to remind me.” They sighed and stacked the papers in their hand into a pile, tapping the edges with precision. Then they folded their hands on the desk. “What can I do you for? Your message this morning surprised me.”
“Sorry. I know how much you hate those.”
Ezra lifted an eyebrow.
Cal heaved a sigh. “I don’t know how to explain it, Ez. I’m…something’s wrong with me.”
Ezra frowned. “You sick or something?”
“No, not like that. It’s just…I think I need a change.”
“Change?”
“Of scenery? Perhaps? I don’t know. A temporary leave or something.”
Ezra cocked their head. “What’s wrong, Cal?”
“I’m so damn tired, Ez,” Cal said, his voice hushed.
“Tired of—” he gestured vaguely around the office, “everything. Tired of the movies I’m doing, tired of the roles I’m playing, tired of…
tired of myself.” The last word came out like a whisper.
“I’m not ready to quit or anything. I just need a change. ”
Ezra gave him a long look. Many people found their gaze to be intimidating, but Cal had always appreciated their frankness and honesty. He needed it, especially right now. “Okay,” they said at last.
“Okay? You mean you understand?”
The corner of Ezra’s mouth ticked up and they began leafing through the pile on their desk. “Sure. Change of scenery? Tired of the roles you’re playing? As it happens, I have just the solution for that. And it’ll help me with a little problem of my own.”
Before Cal could murmur a word of gratitude, Ezra tossed a script into his lap. Cal frowned down at it. “What’s this?”
“Your change of scenery.”
“This isn’t what I—” He looked closer at the title. “Is this a musical?”
“Yep.”
Cal tossed the script onto the desk. “I don’t do musicals. You know that.”
“You don’t have to be good at them to do them.”
“I thought you were in the habit of producing movies that sold tickets.”
The producer chuckled. “I am. I’m not making this suggestion lightly. I have a new talent I picked up on tour. Southern kid. Good dancer. Good looking. He can dance around you and all you’ve got to do is, well, what you do best.”
“You’re pairing me with someone new? Wouldn’t Monty or Clive be better suited for this kind of thing?”
“Clive is on loan to Brooksdale Studios. He won’t be back for another few months. And Monty needs to learn a few things, I think.”
“Oh, I see,” Cal said, grinning. “You were on tour with him, weren’t you? Did he drive you batty?”
Ezra gave him a disapproving look. “You could say that.”
“He means well.”
“Sometimes, yes.”
Cal’s amusement evaporated with a sudden realization. “Wait a minute. Are you casting me in this thing in order to punish Monty?”
“Nope. I’m casting you in this thing because you need a change, I need someone to teach this new kid the ropes, and Monty needs to learn a few things. It’ll be good for everyone.”
“I’m not so sure—”
“I’ve already made up my mind. If it really starts to go sideways, you can always use your magic to ease things up a bit.”
“My magic is not that much of a miracle.”
“You’d be surprised. Speaking of which, I’d like you to take this kid under your wing, if you would. Show him around, let him know how things are done. Seems like a bright young fella, so I don’t expect any problems.”
“Ez—”
“I’ll admit I was skeptical. But he did a screen test and he’s a natural on camera. Barely any nerves. He’ll look great next to you. I’ve arranged for you to take him out to dinner tonight, get to know each other better.”
“Ez—”
They paused and looked at him expectantly. “Problem?”
“This isn’t what I meant.”
They shrugged. “I expect it’ll be better than a leave of absence. I’m sending Walt from Publicity with you so he can brief the kid on how to behave. He’ll also be able to give you the address. Miss Prescott made reservations for you both at the Pink Peacock tonight at eight.”
“I really don’t think—”
The door sprang open and Monty Kincaid barreled into the room. “Is it true?”
Ezra looked up at him coolly. “Yes.”
Monty’s face went pale. “You’re pulling me from the picture? What did I do? I can make it up to you. I swear—”
Ezra held up a hand. “It’s not something you did. I just think a change will do you good. Do you both good.”
Monty seemed to notice Cal for the first time. His cheeks pinked up as he saw the script on the desk. “You’re giving it to him?”
“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t,” Ezra challenged, leaning back in their seat.
“I’ll give you one,” Cal said, raising his hand. “I can’t do musicals.”
Ezra cut him an annoyed glance.
Monty waved his hand dismissively. “You can do anything. That’s what makes you so damn annoying. But this was supposed to be my picture. Hell, I even picked out my partner!”
Cal had barely registered the insult-slash-compliment that Monty had casually tossed out, but he was surprised by the last bit of information. “You picked out the new kid?”
“Yes! I danced with him and everything. We looked great together. Ezra, you can’t say we didn’t look great together.” Monty’s voice took on a pleading tone.
“You looked great together,” they agreed softly. “But I’ve already made up my mind. You’re going to be in a comedy. It’s a holiday flick.”
“A holiday—”
“Yes, with Hilliard. Won’t that be fun? I’m surprised I never thought of putting you in a movie together before. Now, if you two don’t mind, I have a lot of catching up to do.”
Cal stood and tried to give Monty an apologetic look. The attempt was marred by Ezra saying, “Don’t forget this, Cal.” He turned to see them holding up the script, their expression smug.
He plucked the script out of their hand, resigned.
Monty gave him a glare before stomping out of the office.
Cal clicked the door shut behind him and followed the younger man into the hallway.
He felt a tangle of emotions that he knew he’d have to sort out later: his frustration with Ezra, his dread about attempting a musical, the responsibility of leading another person around—well, that was something he could handle, but all the same, it wasn’t what he’d wanted. He’d wanted a vacation, damn it.
But he had time to filter through that mess. First he wanted to make sure Monty was okay. He didn’t know him extremely well, but he liked him. He put a hand on the other man’s shoulder to slow him down but Monty jerked his shoulder away.
“Monty—”
Monty whirled around and stepped close. “It was supposed to be mine,” he said, his voice low and trembling with barely restrained emotion.
“I know.” Cal took a deep breath, feeling his chest get warm with magic. He gently pushed some out, not too much, not enough for Monty to notice, but enough to get the trembling out of his voice, hopefully.
Monty ran a hand through his hair and slumped his back against the wall. “It was going to get me out of B movies fucking finally.”
Cal gave the other man an assessing glance. He didn’t entirely understand his impatience. Monty had made a name for himself starring in fluffy musicals. They hadn’t been the high budget ones, sure. But they’d been successful, enough to make him a recognizable face all over the country.
“You’re, what, two years into a five year contract with Powell?”
Monty gave him a baleful look. “Three.”
Cal leaned against the wall next to Monty and crossed his arms, carefully pushing more magic out, pleased that it seemed to be working and Monty already seemed to be calmer. “You know, comedies can be fun. It’ll probably show your range, and then—”
“I’m not particularly interested in career advice from you right now. And you can stop pushing your magic onto me. The last thing I want is for you to calm me down.”
“Sorry,” Cal said, although he didn’t stop the magic from flowing out of him. “I promise I didn’t ask for this.”
“Oh, even better,” Monty replied in a mock cheerful voice. “My dream role was given to someone who doesn’t need it and doesn’t want it!”
“Why don’t you come out to the Pink Peacock with me and…the new kid. You can introduce me and—”