Hollywood Days with Hayes Read online

  “I repeat, do we have a deal?”

  Violet took a deep breath. “Yes!”

  CHAPTER THREE

  VIOLET STOOD OUTSIDE HAYES’S TRAILER. One thin wall separated her from her celebrity crush.

  So, you have a crush on Hayes, she told herself, trying to be reasonable. What girl doesn’t?

  Every girl wanted to date Hayes Grier. And every guy wanted to be part of his bro squad. Voices filtered through the trailer door—the squad in the flesh.

  One part of Violet wanted to rush inside and meet everyone. The other part wanted to run away and hide.

  Slowly Violet raised her hand. She forced herself to knock. No one answered. The voices had grown louder, and no one had heard. She knocked again harder. Still no answer. Finally, she swung open the door.

  Violet stood on the step, frozen in place, staring inside. There he was—the one and only Hayes Grier—sitting on a couch, directly facing her, a surprised look in his eyes.

  The room fell silent. Four guys and one dog gawked at her, waiting for her to speak.

  “Hi!” she squeaked.

  “Hello,” Hayes said, making it sound like a question.

  “I’m Violet, your new assistant.”

  “Oh, hi, Violet!” Hayes stood up. “I’m Hayes.”

  Like she didn’t know!

  “And this is Tez.” Violet knew who Tez was, too, from the YouTube videos: Hayes’s best friend. He introduced the others, Jake and Duncan.

  Violet, still standing at the door like an idiot, nodded at them all. But thankfully, Hayes led her over to Zan, his dog. “And I’d like you to meet my best bud, Zan.”

  Violet crouched to scratch the adorable black Lab behind the ears. “Oh, he’s so cute.”

  “So you like dogs?” Hayes asked.

  “Yes, I love you,” Violet said. She clapped a hand over her mouth. Did she just say she loved Hayes Grier? “I mean I love dogs! Dogs! I love dogs!” She felt her cheeks grow warm. She must be bright red. This had to be the most embarrassing thing ever.

  “Oooooh!” said Tez. “Seems like somebody in this room is in love!”

  “Yeah,” said Jake, making smooching noises. “Violet is in luuuuv with Hayes.”

  “Hayes and Violet sitting in a tree,” Duncan sang out. “K-i-s-s-i-n-g!”

  How old were these boys? Eight or nine? Violet should just ignore them, continue talking with Hayes, and nail down her duties. But it was hard. They were so loud—and annoying!

  “Let’s exchange cell phone numbers,” she told Hayes, trying to block out the oohs and aahs and comments about flirting by text. She raised her still-shaky voice. “So you can let me know if you need anything.”

  “Sure,” said Hayes. “I actually could use some help with a few errands. I already have a list.” He sounded almost apologetic as he handed her a scribbled-on piece of paper.

  This was good. Now, thank goodness, she could leave. “Thanks so much,” she said, realizing a beat too late it was a stupid thing to say. Who thanks someone for giving them chores?

  Hurriedly, she turned to go, eager to get outside and calm down and—smack! She walked right into a wall.

  All the guys broke up, laughing.

  “Hey, who put a wall in this trailer?” she tried to joke, then slipped out as quickly as she could. Outside, she raced down the street, then slumped by a fence. What a way to start her new job! Embarrassment aside, she’d come across as totally incompetent. What if she was like this—starstruck and silly—for the rest of the shoot? She’d be a terrible assistant. TJ would never read her script!

  * * *

  That afternoon, Violet once again stood outside Hayes’s trailer. She’d just gotten back from craft services with Hayes’s lunch—turkey on rye with Swiss, mayo, coleslaw, and arugula salad—along with lots of chips, pretzels, and cookies. She crossed food off Hayes’s list. Then she went through the other items, making sure she’d taken care of every request.

  Pick up tomorrow’s outfit from wardrobe.

  Check.

  She’d already put the clothes in Hayes’s closet.

  Send pictures of the trailer and cute shots of Zan to friends and family.

  Check.

  She’d used her own phone for that request, along with Hayes’s contact list.

  Organize fan mail.

  Check.

  She’d pushed a cart full of mail to a table off to the side. Then she’d placed the letters into piles: Sweet ones. Crazy ones. Long ones. Short ones.

  No one had told her how to do it. She’d pretty much made up her own categories. She hoped she’d made the right decisions.

  Violet sighed. It was hard enough finding her way around the lot, never mind figuring out how to actually do the errands. And everything had to be done absolutely perfectly. Her recommendation letter was on the line.

  Of course, she’d already messed up, embarrassing herself in front of Hayes. If that happened again—in any way, shape, or form—she would just die.

  This time, their meeting had to go better!

  Still feeling hesitant, Violet raised her hand, ready to rap on the trailer door. When she heard Hayes’s voice, she stopped in midair. Oh no! She couldn’t go in while his friends were there. She really, really didn’t want to see them. On the other hand, she couldn’t be late with the sandwich and snacks. It was such a small thing, and seemed so silly, but she didn’t know what to do.

  Finally, she made a decision: She’d just wait a bit and hope the friends would leave. She turned away, looking for a spot to hide, when she realized only Hayes was talking. No one was answering.

  She leaned closer to the door, trying to hear his words.

  “You are such a good puppy,” Hayes was saying. “Aren’t you, boy? My best buddy, my best friend in the world. I wouldn’t trade you for a million dollars. For a jet plane. For a starring role in the biggest blockbuster of all time! You know that, don’t you, Zan?”

  Hayes was talking to his dog! And he was being so sweet, so playful. Violet’s heart melted. She smiled. Really, she couldn’t be nervous with a guy who talked to his dog—even if it was world-famous Hayes Grier. She felt herself relax.

  Violet knocked twice. This time she waited for Hayes’s “Come in!” Then she walked inside.

  “Violet!” Hayes was parked in front of the wide-screen TV, watching last night’s Lakers game. Zan was stretched out next to him, his chin on Hayes’s knee.

  The first time she’d been in the trailer, Violet had been too nervous to look around. Since then, she’d been back on her own, and she’d already noted the TV, the full kitchen and living room, and the good-sized bedroom off to the side. It seemed like a classy apartment, and once again she marveled that it was really just a trailer.

  “I’m taking a break,” Hayes told her, “watching yesterday’s game. Don’t tell me who wins! I want to watch the whole thing like it’s live. Man, I can’t stand those Celtics.”

  Violet had no idea who won, or even that there’d been a game. “Okay,” she agreed. “I won’t.”

  Suddenly, Hayes clicked off the TV. “Ah, it doesn’t matter anyway. It’s nearly over. And I want to talk to you.” He patted the couch.

  Violet slid next to him, leaving plenty of space between them, and perched on the edge of the cushion. “Should I take notes?” she asked.

  “No, it’s nothing like that.” Hayes took a deep breath. “I want to say I’m sorry. My buddies were acting like jerks before. Really, they’re nicer than they seem. But there’s no excuse. They were way out of line, and I didn’t do anything to stop them. I feel terrible.”

  Violet started to say something, but Hayes held up his hand.

  “I thought if I spoke up, it would turn into a bigger deal—you know, they’d be all like ‘Ooh, Hayes is standing up for his girlfriend. Oooooh!’ And I’d have made the whole thing worse, embarrassing you even more. But I don’t think they were funny or anything. And I do feel really bad.”

  Violet’s face turned red
just thinking about the earlier meeting. But she didn’t blame Hayes. Not at all.

  “It’s okay. And you’re right. If you’d said anything, it would have made them go on and on even more, and really, all I wanted to do was get out of this trailer.”

  “Whew!” Hayes grinned. “That’s a relief. I was worried you thought I was a jerk, too.”

  Hayes was worried about how she felt? He was just as nice in real life as he was in all of his videos. It wasn’t an act.

  “I didn’t think that at all,” she assured him. “But are those guys coming back?” She glanced at the door just as it swung open hard, banging against the wall.

  “Hayes, my handsome young star!” A woman dressed all in black, with the highest heels Violet had ever seen, strode into the trailer. She flashed a smile at Hayes, ignored Violet, and headed right for the snacks Violet had placed on the table. She dipped a chip in guacamole, popped it in her mouth, and then planted herself inches in front of Hayes.

  “Have you met my new assistant, Violet?” Hayes asked.

  “Hello, dear,” the woman said, not turning her head. “Now, Hayes, how did the first day of shooting go?”

  Hayes jumped to his feet, excited to talk about it. “Everyone crushed it! The entire cast and crew! I mean, we had to wait a long time to get going. And we did about a hundred takes of that scene between my mom and me. But I think we got some really good stuff.”

  He waved his arm to include Violet in the conversation. “This is Selena Young, the movie’s publicist.”

  “Nice to meet—”

  “Now, Hayes,” Selena went on as if Violet hadn’t spoken at all. “I have a new call sheet for you. We’ve reordered tomorrow’s schedule to accommodate your trip.”

  Violet knew publicists arrange celebrity appearances. Their job was to get good press for their clients. Just being in on a conversation like this was amazing!

  “The Children’s Hospital is expecting you first thing in the morning,” Selena finished.

  “Oh, that’s great. Thanks, Selena. I’ve already been in touch with these kids, and I can’t wait to meet them. Some of them have been in the hospital for weeks. I’m wondering if I should bring them anything. You know, books or movies or—”

  “Hmmm,” Selena said, going through her phone. “It seems Harris Gold from YMT will get to the hospital a little late.”

  YMT was short for Your Movie Ticket, a major film magazine. Violet read it religiously.

  “No matter,” Selena continued. “There will be plenty of other reporters to cover your visit.”

  “Cover my visit?” Hayes repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “Why, Hayes, sweetie, I thought you realized. I’ve invited tons of reporters to be there. It’s an event! Just think! ‘Hayes Grier Brings His Own Special Medicine to Sick Children,’ or some sort of fluff like that. Readers will eat it up. You’ll have to bring posters of The Midnight Hawk to autograph. That would really get the word out.

  “Now let’s figure out what you should wear—something casual or a little more dressy? Or maybe you should go in character. That would promote the movie big time.”

  Selena reached for another chip, but Hayes closed the bag. “Selena! You invited reporters? I thought you were just helping me out, to make the filming schedule go smoother for everyone. I didn’t know you were turning this into a huge promotion!”

  Selena moved breezily on to the pretzels. “Well, that’s just how things work, Hayes.”

  “Not for me,” Hayes said firmly. “I’ve never had reporters trailing me when I’m trying to help people. And I don’t want to start now. I just want to meet these kids. They follow me on Twitter and Instagram and feel like they know me. I don’t want a bunch of reporters getting in the way.”

  “But think of the positive press!” Selena persisted. “The photo ops! How about I just tip off one of the paparazzi—maybe Greta Gleason. She’s only five feet tall. No one will even notice her! And if they do, she can say she’s visiting a patient. Nobody will know we invited her. It’s perfect!” She tapped her phone, making some notes.

  Hayes closed the pretzel bag. Violet jumped up and put all the snacks in the kitchen cabinets. Hayes shot her a grateful look.

  “I said no, Selena,” Hayes said, sounding annoyed. “And I meant it. I don’t feel comfortable with an ‘entourage’”—he put the word in air quotes—“especially when I’m trying to make a difference. Real charity is what happens when no one is watching. This is not a photo op, a media story, or anything image-related. It’s me and some fans. And if there’s just one picture or story—even a single line—in a paper, magazine, or online, I’m done. I mean it, Selena. I’ll walk away from this movie.”

  He paused, catching his breath.

  “It may not always seem that way, but I like my privacy. Parts of my life need to stay private.”

  Violet, still in the kitchen, tried to make herself as small as possible. She didn’t want to get in the way. What if Selena didn’t back down and Hayes really quit? She never thought a celebrity would be so casual with fame and starring roles. But apparently, Hayes was.

  He stood up for what he believed was right.

  Violet snuck an admiring glance at him. He wasn’t only funny and personable and adorable. Far from it. He was strong and honorable. A good person.

  Hayes walked over to the door and held it open for Selena. “So what do you say?” he asked.

  “I say you win, Hayes darling,” Selena said as she swept out. “No press at the Children’s Hospital. But just think about taking those movie posters with you!”

  Hayes closed the door, then smiled at Violet. “And what do you say, Violet dahling?” He stretched out the word like a phony-sounding celebrity. Then he switched to his normal voice. “Want to bring out those snacks again and watch the rest of the game with me?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  LATE THAT AFTERNOON, Hayes insisted Violet take a cab back to Venice, on him. When she walked up the steps to the house, Mia flung open the door. “I’ve been waiting for you!” she cried, pulling Violet inside. “You didn’t answer any of my texts. How was it? What did the director say? Did you get a glimpse of Hayes Grier?”

  “Slow down!” Violet plopped onto the living room couch. She kicked off her shoes. “I’ll tell you everything. Just give me a minute.”

  “No! Now!” Mia demanded. “You know it’s only because I love you! I care about you!”

  “Okay, okay. It’s all about me. You don’t care about Hayes Grier at all.” Violet laughed, then quickly filled Mia in on the day: the bad news about TJ and her script. The good news about the second chance he’d give if she could write another, better one. Then the deal: take on the job of Hayes’s assistant, keeping him in line, on time, and safe and sound.

  For a moment, Mia was shocked into silence. Her mouth actually hung open, like someone who’d just walked in to a surprise party.

  “You’re acting so weird,” Violet said to her. “Like you’re freaked out about Hayes. I thought you didn’t care about celebrity stuff.”

  Mia was Venice Beach–cool, into art and design, not gossip or blockbuster movies with billion-dollar budgets and the newest “it” stars. She went to small, intimate films shown in out-of-the-way theaters. Violet had seen her walk past teen idols without giving them a second look.

  “For your information, I’m acting perfectly normal,” Mia told her haughtily. “I just want to ask a few questions, if you don’t mind. What was he wearing? What were his first words to you? Did he seem like the same person from the videos? Did he say anything about Dancing with the Stars?”

  An hour later, Violet had answered all of Mia’s questions and filled her in on the Hayes and Selena standoff. Now she was truly exhausted. And hungry, too, she realized. Those chips and pretzels could only keep a person going for so long.

  “Any plan for dinner?” she asked Mia.

  “Well, there is a little something planned,” Mia said with a grin. “How would yo
u like to have a picnic on the beach with Jay and some of his friends?”

  Jay? It took a few seconds for Violet to put it together. The guy from this morning, the neighbor who’d helped her up when she’d tripped. It seemed like it happened a lifetime ago.

  Violet stretched. She felt like she’d run a marathon. How many times had she raced from one end of the lot to the other today? Maybe she had run a marathon!

  “I don’t know,” she told Mia. “It’s been a long day, and I still have plenty to do.”

  “Come on, it will be fun. Dad is out, and this way you won’t have to think about dinner.”

  “Let me see what’s in the fridge.” Violet walked into the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door and peered inside. There was hummus and arugula and kale and not much else.

  “People will be bringing sandwiches and watermelon,” Mia offered.

  “Hmmm.” Violet was almost convinced. But then she opened the freezer. “Look! A frozen pizza! It’s perfect.”

  “A frozen pizza?” Mia humphed. “You should still come. Jay didn’t want me to tell you, but he thinks you’re really cute. Remember how you were this morning? Falling all over the place, forgetting your backpack, and stressed out? Guess he likes the frazzled, out-of-control type!”

  Violet had too much on her mind to consider what she thought of Jay—if she liked the type who liked the frazzled, out-of-control type.

  “I’m tempted,” she told Mia. “And normally I’d go. I’d be thrilled to go! But I really need to get going on this script for TJ. I want it to be really good, and I’m going to have to work harder than I’ve ever worked before. I don’t have much time to write.”

  She closed the freezer, the pizza box in hand. “Besides, this is sausage pizza! In a house full of health nuts. If I don’t eat it, nobody will.”

  * * *

  Violet sat in front of the laptop, the half-eaten pizza and a glass of water on her bedroom desk. She’d already chosen a font for the document and titled it My Great Big Life-Changing Movie Script. Now she stared at the blank screen.