Home > Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(38)

Fame, Fate, and the First Kiss(38)
Author: Kasie West

It was early. Before first call. I wasn’t on the call sheet today, but I knew I couldn’t put this off. I stepped into his trailer, leaving the door open. “Third?”

“Faith, my son, and you.”

“Faith was here? Did it have to do with me?”

He waved his hand. “No. It was nothing. What can I do for you?”

“Did you read the article about me online?”

“I did.”

“They’re talking about your movie. That’s good, right?”

A toothy grin spread across his face. “No publicity is bad publicity? Is that the angle you’re going with?”

“And sticking to,” I said.

He let out a surprised laugh. “I’m remembering why we hired you. You’re spunky. I had forgotten in all your greenness.”

“I know I’m green. But I wanted to talk to you about the fact that someone is setting me up.” I hadn’t convinced myself I was going to use Amanda’s name yet. I just wanted him to know I was professional. That I hadn’t actually done all those things.

“Setting you up?”

“Someone is trying to make me look bad.”

His expression that had softened with my speech went hard again. “Lacey, I don’t need drama on my set.”

Okay, so he didn’t want to hear it; he thought I was being immature and paranoid. I would only sound more immature if I insisted I was right. That was fine. I knew who was setting me up, and I would make sure she knew I wasn’t going anywhere. “You’re right. I’m done with drama. I’m here to work. I just wanted you to know that.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

Thirty-Two

I left Remy’s trailer and headed for my own. Amanda must have seen me out her window as I walked by because she came flying out the door. “Lacey!” She gave me a hug. “Don’t you love it up here? I used to camp with my family all the time. We should have a campfire tonight in the trees and tell ghost stories.”

I stood frozen to my spot, still not sure what I wanted to say to her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing. I’m just . . . tired.”

“You have another day off though. Lucky.” She paused, seeming to realize what she just said. “Wait, if you have today off, why did you drive all the way up here?”

“I needed to talk to Remy about you, actually.” I wasn’t one to hold things in. I knew this about myself.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I know what you did. What you took. I’m still trying to figure out why though.” A thought occurred to me. “Was it for Grant? To help him out? Were you trying to get rid of me? Hoping someone better would be put in my spot?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I found what you took. You might as well come clean.” Maybe this wasn’t the place for this discussion with the security guards behind us and crew members walking by.

“Found what?”

She’d probably moved it by now, but I pointed to her trailer. “I’ll show you.”

“Okay.” She held her hand out to the side, inviting me to lead the way.

I marched up the two metal steps and to the small kitchen, where I yanked open the drawer half expecting it to be gone. She had followed behind me and stood looking over my shoulder. We both saw it at the same time, the unassuming red plastic case sitting there.

“What the—” She lifted it out of the drawer and immediately opened it as if to verify what it was. “I did not put this here.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t! Why would I put it here of all places? If I took this I would’ve put it as far away from me as possible.”

That logic tripped me up. “You might as well just admit it. I just want to know why. To help Grant? To help yourself?” Maybe she’d been worried about my effect on the movie’s reputation too.

“I didn’t do this. I swear.”

“It doesn’t matter because I’m not going anywhere. You can try all you want, but I’m here to stay. I earned this part, and I’m keeping it because I’m good.”

“I agree. You are and you should. I like you, Lacey. I thought we were friends. I would never do this.”

It was hard to fight with someone when they seemed so concerned and sincere. I crossed my arms. “I didn’t actually tell Remy, but I’m on to you,” I mumbled. I fled to my trailer, leaned back against the door and let myself cry again.

Waiting in front of someone’s house until they got home from school was not creepy behavior. Especially not after telling said person that I needed to sort things out, implying that lots of space was needed. He was obviously giving it to me. He hadn’t called, texted, or stopped by in twenty-four hours. Scratch that, twenty hours. And eight of those hours had probably been spent sleeping. Another eight he’d been at school. So that left four hours where he hadn’t called, texted, or visited me. Four hours! Okay, I was being creepy, but that thought didn’t make me turn the key in the ignition and drive away.

I checked the clock on my phone. School had gotten out thirty minutes ago. I’d been sitting here for thirty minutes. Maybe he had something after school. Paper stuff. Or maybe he worked right after school. I pulled up my messages again to make sure I hadn’t missed any. “You could just text him, Lacey, instead of being creepy.”

There was a knock at my window, and I screamed. Very loud. Then I looked over to see Donavan standing there. I powered down the window.

“Hi,” he said with a smile. “Were you talking to yourself?”

I matched his smile because I couldn’t help it, seeing him made me happy. It had been twenty and a half hours, after all. “Yes.”

“Should I leave you alone to finish that out?”

“No, I think I’d made my point to myself pretty clear.”

He patted the top of my car. “Did you want to come in?”

I nodded, and he opened the door for me.

“How was school?” I asked as we headed up his walk.

“Good. How are you?”

“Not great.”

“I’m sorry.” We stopped on the porch, and he fished out his keys and opened the door.

“Is your sister here right now?” I asked.

“No, she has volleyball.” We walked inside, where he dropped his backpack and then led me into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”

“You have a trampoline,” I said. The window over the sink had a nice view of the backyard.

“We do.”

“I haven’t been on a trampoline in years. My mom calls them bone breakers and won’t let my sister and brother have one.”

“My sister broke her wrist on it last year.”

I smiled. “Don’t tell my mom that. It will only make her think she’s right.”

I must’ve been staring at the trampoline longingly because Donavan said, “Do you want to jump on it?”

“Yes!”

He laughed like I was kidding, but I was already heading for the sliding glass door across the way. The trampoline had a net around it. I slipped off my flip-flops, unzipped the net, and rolled onto the bouncy surface. Then I stood and took several small practice bounces before I gave it my all.

“This is so fun!” I called to Donavan as he walked out of the house with two bottles of water. I bounced onto my knees and then to my feet again several times before I finally launched myself onto my back and stayed there until all was still again.

The trampoline moved as Donavan climbed through the opening and joined me. He must’ve left the water on the padded border because when he lay down next to me, his arms were free. I moved my foot over to his to see if he’d taken off his shoes. My bare foot slid over his socked one. “Just checking,” I said.

“Everyone knows you take your shoes off on a trampoline.”

I left my foot up against his, and we stared up at the clouds lazily making their way across the blue sky for several quiet minutes.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, calling me out once again.

“No.”

He reached over and took my hand.

“I talked to Remy this morning. Leah told me that directors talk to each other and I should be less worried about what the public thinks about me and more worried about what Remy thought of the article . . . about me.”

“And what did he say?”

“That I’m green . . . but spunky.”

“You are spunky.”

“I don’t know if he’d hire me again. If he’d recommend anyone else hire me. If all this on-set sabotage keeps happening, he probably won’t.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“I still have at least five more weeks of filming. I guess my plan is to make the drama on set stop and to change the online narrative of me.”

“How?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Can’t Grant write some nice things about you online? He has millions of followers. That would help the online reputation at least.”

“He won’t. I already asked him . . . twice. I’ll figure something else out. In the meantime, I’m going to jump on a trampoline, pretend everything is fine, and make out with this boy I really like.” I shifted onto my side and propped my head up with my hand so I could see his cute face. “As a well-known critic, what are your thoughts about this plan?”

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