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His text has me rolling with laughter as I read it over twice before responding.
ME: You have a valid point. I guess I’ll bore you with the details of my father’s death tomorrow night. Your trailer? After shooting?
ELI: I like when you see things my way, but how about you come here where we can have a little privacy? I’d hate for the wrong person to hear our conversation.
ME: Good idea. See you in the morning.
ELI: Sweet dreams, Taylor.
But my dreams aren’t sweet. Not even close. They’re pure torture and my father is the star.
He’s hoisting a younger version of me on his shoulders, running around the yard. Tucking me in at night and reading me a bedtime story. Him cheering me on in the stands at my track meets in high school. He’s standing at the bottom of the stairs when as I make my grand entrance to my sweet sixteen party.
Then he’s walking me down the aisle at my wedding. He’s about to give me away when my alarm goes off, startling me. I shoot upright in bed, my room cloaked in darkness. My T-shirt is soaked with sweat, as if I’d just finished running a marathon and not spent the last seven hours in deep sleep.
Which means I need to take another shower before I head to meet my boss, my father’s former best friend. The man who walked away after my father died. Or rather when my mother gave him a hard enough shove in the right direction.
The driveto the studio feels like it passes in the blink of an eye. One second, I was staring in my rearview mirror as I carefully backed out of the garage, the next I was pulling through the gates of Spotlight Studios, flashing my badge at the security guard.
Steve’s expecting me to meet him in his trailer in ten minutes on the far side of the backlot. After parking, I gather my things, shoving everything in my messenger bag. With my bag slung over my chest, coffee in one hand and phone in the other, I make the trek across the studio.
As the early morning light slowly shines on the surrounding buildings, a renewed sense of hope washes over me. Maybe this won’t be so bad. I can be professional. Nothing has to change. Maybe someday we can even be friends.
Steve’s trailer comes in sight as I round the final building. My phone chimes in my hand, and when I look down, I’m surprised to see a waiting text from Hayden. It’s early for her to be awake which means she hasn’t gone to bed yet. One of the downfalls of living in the City of Sin.
HAYDEN: Glad you made it home safe. Stay strong, Tay, and remember we’re never more than a phone call away.
ME: Thanks. I love you guys and I can’t wait to see you in a few weeks. I’m going to hug you extra tight.
I’m not surprised when Austin chimes in. Of the three of us, she’s always been the early bird. Hayden was the night owl and I fell somewhere in between. I don’t mind staying up late or getting up early, once in a while anyway. I prefer to mix it up, though. Routine is boring. I let life dictate what my hours are. Right now, I’m both a night owl and an early riser unfortunately.
AUSTIN: Morning, ladies. I’m looking forward to that hug but there’s a little hiccup in our plans. The suite I’ve been living in was sold last night so I’m going to be in the process of moving when you girls are here. It sucks but it also means you can pick where I live next. I’ll send you a list of available suites I get to choose from, and you let me know which one I should choose.
ME: Fun! I love that your boss lets you hop from place to place. Variety is the spice of life.
HAYDEN: Yes, yes it is.
AUSTIN: We weren’t talking about sex.
HAYDEN: If the shoe fits … speaking of which. Are you getting any yet, Tay?
ME: And that’s my cue. I have a meeting with Steve in two minutes. I gotta run. Love you girls. Hayden, get some sleep. Alone.
AUSTIN: Love you.
HAYDEN: Fine. Love you, too.
I’m still giggling at the conversation as I approach Steve’s trailer. The door is wide open. I can smell coffee and the sweet melodies of Frank Sinatra are softly playing on the breeze.
“You can come in, Taylor.” I hear him say as I stare at the steps, willing my feet to move.
Sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I force one foot in front of the other. As I step across the threshold into the brightly lit open space, I’m surprised to find not only Steve sitting in the breakfast nook but also the head of Spotlight Studios and my former boss, Nolan York.
