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He raises his hands in a placating gesture. “I’ll keep my mouth shut then.”
“Good.”
* * *
A week later,I pull up to the gate that protects my new director’s mansion from the real world and press the button. This isn’t my first time in Calabasas—I’ve been to a few parties out this way over the past few years—but this is the first time I’ve been to Scott Franco’s house.
From what my agent tells me, he likes to have the cast and some of the crew over before shooting begins to help establish comradery before filming. He has a reputation for being a fair director who doesn’t deal well with drama on his sets. As horrible as it is, I’m not sure I can invite Lilah to the set. I can’t blow this.
“Can I help you?” a voice says.
“Yes, I’m James Crawford. I’m here for the party.”
“Yes, Mr. Crawford, we’re expecting you. Come on through.”
A loud buzz sounds, and slowly, the metal gates open with a groan. I drive down the winding driveway to a two-story Mediterranean-style mansion that’s well over ten thousand square feet. I park behind a Rolls Royce and pull my keys from the ignition. Even after a decade, I’m still in awe of the wealth people have in this town. Never in my wildest dreams growing up did I think I’d see the inside of a place like this. For most of my life, all I thought about was survival. Both mine and Lilah’s.
I step out of the car and pocket my keys to head up toward the house. Scott stands in the open doorway, a huge smile on his face.
“You found me,” Scott says and pulls me in for a bro hug.
“A satellite could find this place.” I gesture to the enormity of the property.
He chuckles. “True enough. Honestly, I’d be happy with a small place down in Malibu, but the missus needs something to show off to her friends.” He smiles, and I don’t know him well enough to know if it’s a joke or not.
He leads me inside, and after a twenty-minute tour of the main floor, he leaves me with his wife in a bustling kitchen. Scott’s wife, Melody, is about his age—in her mid-fifties—but is one of the most sincere, down-to-earth people I’ve met in this town.
“Do you think you’re ready for what this film is going to do with your life?” Melody leads me onto a massive covered patio that stretches the length of the house.
“Everyone keeps saying stuff like that, but I think I can handle it.”
A bunch of A-listers and crew are already farther out, lingering around the pool, drinks in hand. I follow Melody to the far end of the patio, past a table that fits twelve people on each side, to the makeshift bar.
“Success has a way of changing people.” She looks thoughtful for a moment. “But I hope, as you said, that you can handle it.” She smiles before she gestures to the bottles of booze. “Now, what will you have?”
“Just a beer is fine. I have to drive home later.”
The bartender reaches in the cooler and pulls me out a cold bottle of Stella.
“Thank you,” I say, accepting the open bottle.
Scott joins us again while I’m taking a swig of my beer. “Why don’t you go mingle while we check on a few things with the chef?”
I nod. “Will do, and thanks again for having me over. And for the opportunity to play the part of The Regulator.”
He clasps my shoulder. “You’re the right guy for the part. I have no doubt about that.”
I smile before taking a short cut across the lawn to reach the people gathered near the pool. Recognizing a couple of producers I’ve worked with before, I join their small group and chat with them for a while. It didn’t take me long after arriving in Hollywood to figure out that relationships are what make you what you’ll be in this town. It truly is “who you know” in the entertainment industry.
I mingle and make small talk until there’s a soft tap on my shoulder. I spin around to see a cute brunette who’s about a foot shorter than me. We met briefly during her casting tryout for my love interest, Destiny.
“I wanted to introduce myself,” she says, her hand outstretched. “I’m Adelaide.”
I place my hand in hers. “James.”
“Nice to officially meet you.” She timidly smiles.
“Same.”
