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In film school, Ivy had had a hard time coming up with story ideas. She had writer’s block, and everything she wrote was a copy of a copy. Her professor kept pushing her to write what she knew, what she felt. What she knew best was her love for Nick and the loss of love she felt after the breakup. All the other scripts she wrote weren’t real.Do I have only one story in me?she fretted. They say there are eight million people in New York City, eight million stories. And there are eight million people in LA but only one story. Had she written anything good sinceWhen Joseph Met Mary? Was Geneva her hometown muse?
Does home mean Nick? Does Nick mean home? Where does Drew fit into all of this?She would talk to Drew. That’s why she was going to the Belhurst Castle, hoping she could catch him before he left for New York City for hisCaptain Midnightmeetings. Drew would be gone for the weekend, and she hoped to finally talk about something real with him. Except Drew wasn’t there. She had missed him by five minutes. She knew she should have driven there.
Ivy walked away, defeated. On her way back home, she stopped at Monaco. On the glass front door, there was a newspaper article about Amari working at the coffee shop. Ivy recognized her own arm in the accompanying photo. Inside, there were now autographed pictures from Amari thanking everyone.
Ivy got her latte and sat in her favorite spot in the corner. She remembered this was the place where she’d worked on her film school application. Ivy checked her email. There was a message from Drew:Marketing people are demanding a new title. ASAP. Let me know what you have. See you Monday.Ivy opened up the notes app on her phone and began typing down new titles for the movie. By the time she had finished the latte, she had come up with some pretty bad titles.The Christmas Creep! Christmas Sucks! Christmas Mistake!All it did was cause her to think about Nick. She had to talk to someone.
Ivy walked home. When she opened the front door she heardbang! Kaboom!She followed the sounds to find her dad playing video games with Griffin. Her dad wasn’t the surprise. He had convinced his school that they needed to teach a class on “video game narratives.” It was Griffin. He was really settling in, bonding with her family. The Griffineers had not found him. Ivy smiled at the alt-version of Nick. But that wasn’t fair to Griffin, Ivy thought. He was his own person, someone who had gone through a lot in his life. So it was not surprising when Griffin said: “You look like you need someone to talk to.” Ivy loved that Griffin understood what she needed. They went upstairs to her pink bedroom.
Ivy and Griffin sat on her bed. They both recognized their relationship as brother/sister. There was never an inkling of any attraction. And there never would be. All they knew was that both would become good friends.
“So, let’s get to it.” Griffin started it. “Is it going to be Team Drew or Team Nick? I will have you know, Ivy, that your little love triangle has split everyone on the set into two factions.” He jumped off the bed and went into a warrior pose and proclaimed, “On one side we have Team Drew, the super stud from Malibu, powerful, great dresser, sweats success, but can we trust him? He’s from LA.” Griffin now struck a mountain pose. Standing strong. “And on the other side, Team Nick, the winemaker, the hometown honey, captain of his own boat, the original Joseph, and still rocking his high school football bod.”
“Nick ran track.”
“The fastest man in Geneva, the winemaker with a broken heart and a bottle of Poison Ivy. Is Amari playing Nick to get into character? Or is Nick conning Amari to make you jealous and win you back?”
“This is what people are talking about on the set? No wonder no one talks to me.”
“Will Ivy wind up with Team Nick or Team Drew? Find out tonight at Eddie O’Brien’s.”
Ivy looked confused. “What does Eddie O’Brien’s have to do with this?”
“It’s where the cast and crew hang out each night. We kind of took it over.”
“You hang out? What about the Griffineers?”
Griffin smiled. “The Teamsters are running security. I buy them dinner.”
“It used to be a dive.”
“It’s authentic.”
Ivy thought back to what Griffin had said. “Why tonight? Why will we find out tonight at Eddie O’Brien’s?”
He looked her in the eyes.
“Because Nick will be there with Amari. And Drew’s out of town. I should also tell you there’s a betting pool going on.”
Ivy was shocked. “People are betting on my love life?”
“Olivia and Ella from hair and makeup set it up.”
“How much is it up to?”
“About two grand.”
“Two thousand dollars?”
“And there’s all these side bets. When will you decide? Where will you decide? Public or private declaration. Olivia and Ella are really good with numbers.”
“What if I pick neither?”
Griffin checked his phone. Signaled to wait as he scrutinized the digital spreadsheet on his phone. “That’s the long shot now. About five hundred to one.”
Ivy was taken aback and embarrassed and upset with herself for not being more professional. She still needed advice. “Who are you betting on, Griffin?”
He was quiet again. Then softly: “I’m betting on love, Ivy. I always will bet on love. I had someone I loved and I let them get away. Broke up with them to protect them. I always regretted it. We are similar in so many ways, Ivy. So, I am betting on you and Nick.”
“Can I ask you why?”
“Because,” Griffin whispered sincerely, “if you have a second chance at love, then maybe I do too.”
