Page 106 of Cast to be Mine

“You should be proud,” I told Toby. “Seriously. This is incredible work.”

His face lit up like I’d handed him a golden statue. “Thanks, man. This whole experience has been… I don’t even have words. Best job I’ve ever had. I have learned so much.”

I wished I could share his enthusiasm.

We packed up the drone equipment and caught the last van back to the hotel. I would have loved to go to my room, rather Grace’s room, but I couldn’t. I had the wrap party. It wasn’t something I could skip.

Every production ended with a party, a chance for the cast and crew to decompress and congratulate each other on surviving another shoot.

I had zero desire to celebrate.

“You going?” Toby asked, not needing to specify where.

“I have to.” Directors didn’t get to skip wrap parties. It would be noticed. Commented on. People would assume I was hiding because of the scandal, which would only make things worse.

“I’m definitely going.” He grinned. “There’s going to be a pig roast.”

Of course there was. Nothing said Hawaii wrap party like a pig roast.

I went to my room to shower and change, taking my time. The party didn’t officially start for another two hours, but I knew people would be trickling in early. The bar would already be open. The gossip would already be flowing.

I dressed in dark jeans and a casual button-down, the unofficial uniform for these kinds of events. I checked my reflection in the mirror and saw a man who looked about ten years older than he had at the start of this production.

The sunset terrace was already packed when I arrived. Tiki torches lined the perimeter, their flames dancing in the evening breeze. A live band was set up near the pool, playing something vaguely tropical. The pig roast Toby had mentioned was indeed happening. The smell of roasted meat filled the air.

I scanned the crowd for Grace.

She wasn’t there. Or if she was, I couldn’t find her in the sea of familiar faces.

“Micah!” Someone clapped me on the shoulder. I turned to find Rick, the stunt coordinator, grinning at me with a beer in hand. “Hell of a shoot, man. Hell of a shoot.”

“Thanks, Rick. Your team did incredible work.”

“That cliff sequence is going to be talked about for years. Mark my words.”

I smiled and nodded and said all the right things. This was my job now. I needed to circulate, accept congratulations, and make sure everyone felt appreciated.

I made my way to the bar and ordered a whiskey, neat. The bartender poured generously, probably recognizing me as someone who needed it. I took a long sip and kept scanning the crowd. Still no Grace.

“There he is!” Jack’s voice boomed across the terrace. I closed my eyes briefly, summoning patience, before turning to face him.

He was already halfway drunk, his arm slung around Chantilly’s shoulders, a tropical cocktail in his free hand. Something with an umbrella and a chunk of pineapple impaled on the rim of the glass.

“The man of the hour!” Jack continued, oblivious as always. “Micah Blackwell, everybody! Give it up for our fearless leader!”

A smattering of applause from nearby crew members. I forced a smile.

“Great party,” Jack said, steering himself and Chantilly toward me. “Really great. Love the pig thing. Very authentic.”

Chantilly’s eyes met mine over the rim of her champagne glass. Unlike her husband, she was perfectly aware of the awkwardness of this interaction. She knew exactly what she’d done when she’d told Jack about Grace and me. She knew he’d blab. She’d probably counted on it.

Smart enough to avoid me now, though. I saw her tug subtly on Jack’s arm, trying to redirect him.

“We should go say hi to Buzz,” she murmured.

“In a minute, babe.” Jack waved her off and stepped closer to me. “Micah, I gotta tell you, this has been one of the best shoots of my career. And I’ve had a lot of shoots. A lot. But this one? Special. Really special.”

“I appreciate that, Jack.”