Hollywood Days with Hayes Page 5

  “Listen, I’ve been practicing every day,” Hayes said. “And it’s all on set. The whole thing is choreographed. It’s safer than my commute to the studio!”

  “You do have a history,” TJ reminded him.

  “One little accident on a dirt bike!”

  “You were in the hospital for days.”

  “Yeah, but I never want to go through that again! The boredom alone could have killed me. Trust me, TJ, I learned from that accident. I can do these stunts.”

  TJ stood. “My mind is made up.” He headed toward the door. “Concentrate on acting, Hayes, not biking, and don’t try to convince me otherwise. My decision is final.”

  Alone in TJ’s office, Hayes slumped in his chair. He knew he could handle the stunt. If they had to take something away, why couldn’t it be that big emotional scene? Why couldn’t TJ get a stuntman for that?

  * * *

  Violet was in wardrobe, picking up a pair of tattered jeans for Hayes. The pants looked like a truck had run them over, but that was probably the point, she figured. “Thanks, Tess,” she said to the assistant, then headed outside.

  “Violet!” TJ hurried over. “I need your help.”

  Violet grinned. Anything she could do for TJ would only help her chances at getting that letter. “Sure,” she said.

  “It’s simple,” TJ told her. “Just keep Hayes off motorcycles. He’s not doing any stunts in the movie, and I don’t want him riding one at all. I want him in one piece.”

  Of course you do, Violet said to herself. Hayes is the star of the movie. Her only question was, why did TJ say Hayes could ride the bike in the first place? Maybe he’d finally realized it could be dangerous, especially since Hayes liked speed. Whatever; she wasn’t going to get on his case about that now.

  TJ must have caught her expression. “What, you have a problem?”

  “No!”

  “Then just keep him off that bike. If I catch him riding, you can forget your script and your recommendation. Got it?”

  “Got it,” Violet repeated. “And I promise you will not see Hayes on a motorcycle.”

  TJ hurried away, flipping through his clipboard, muttering to himself, already on to the next problem.

  Violet shifted the jeans to the other arm. Maybe this would be a simple assignment. Maybe Hayes wanted to stay safe, too. Maybe riding a motorcycle was the last thing on his mind.

  She could always hope.

  Violet’s phone buzzed with another text from Hayes. He must have sent her a dozen already, asking her to run an errand, giving her an update on his plans, or just making a silly comment. Each time, her heart skipped a beat. Hayes Grier was texting her!

  Could you meet me in the trailer in 20? Violet read. To run lines?

  Violet grinned. Running lines was definitely going to be her favorite part of the job. Sitting with Hayes, reading over the script, and kind-of-sort-of acting right along with him. Quickly she answered with a thumbs-up emoji.

  Holding the phone, Violet couldn’t resist texting Mia: About to run lines with H! Hope I can pull it off! But this was the last time she’d fill Mia in on her Hayes duties—it wasn’t the most professional thing to do. And Violet had to take this job superseriously.

  Violet checked the time. She didn’t want to get to Hayes’s trailer too early. Still holding the jeans, she wandered around the lot, skirting a fake laboratory soundstage. Production assistants were setting up all sorts of high-tech-looking equipment and computers along shiny metal lab tables.

  She kept walking, and across the lot, she saw assistant directors testing camera angles for a school cafeteria scene. “Devon will stand right here,” one said, waving to a stand-in who looked like a high school student. The actress—the real Devon—sat in a director’s chair, watching.

  “Coco!” the assistant director called out. “This is going to take a while. You can break for a bite to eat.”

  So this is the famous Coco, Violet thought. Hayes’s costar. The actress had long, straight black hair tucked behind her ears, and was dressed in short-shorts and a tank top, a regular type of outfit, cute but not very revealing. Was that how she normally dressed? Violet wondered. Or was that in character?

  Violet had known, of course, that Coco was in the movie, too. Everyone knew sixteen-year-old Coco—just Coco. No last name. She’d been a child star, playing a lead role in the nighttime soap Family Album, about a dad and his kids forming a band.

  Coco had never gone through an awkward phase or needed braces. She’d never been photographed looking less than perfect. She sailed effortlessly through adolescence into teen stardom, and now was Hollywood’s latest “it” girl—the actress every director wanted in his movie.

  Coco walked to the craft service tables, going in the same direction as Violet. She paused in front of one table, and Violet slowed, too—almost as fascinated to see her in person as she had been to see Hayes.

  Coco bent to look over a cookie tray. “Oh!” she gasped, so loudly everyone stopped what they were doing. Quickly, she spun away from the table with a look of panicked horror.

  She placed one hand on her stomach, the other on her chest, and took dramatic deep, slow breaths, trying to calm down as everyone looked on. With one last noisy breath, she grabbed a production assistant by the arm. “Listen,” she said harshly. “There are peanut butter cookies on that table. I won’t stand for that!”

  Violet snorted. What, they didn’t have Coco’s favorite cookie? She seemed to recall it was mocha-mint macarons. Typical bratty child star behavior. I’d hate to be her assistant! Violet thought. If Hayes didn’t like a certain cookie, he’d just say, no thanks.

  “Oh, hey!” Violet, lost in thought, hadn’t realized Coco was standing in front of her.

  “I’m Coco,” the actress said, seeming to forget all about the cookie incident. “I haven’t seen you on set before.”

  “I’m Violet, Hayes’s assistant,” Violet explained. “I just started yesterday.”

  “How do you like it so far?”

  Coco sounded friendly. But what if Violet said or did something to annoy her? She’d probably have to start those breathing exercises all over again. “It’s been good,” she answered cautiously, taking a step back.

  Coco stepped forward. “Are you from LA?”

  “Um, no.” Why was Coco being so chatty? It almost seemed like she wanted to be friends.

  “Wait, let me try and guess by your accent.”

  Accent? Violet didn’t even know she had an accent!

  “Western Massachusetts?”

  “That’s not too far off,” Violet conceded as she backed farther away. “Upstate New York. Listen, I’ve got to go.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.” Coco sounded genuinely disappointed. “I hope I see you around. Maybe we can grab something to eat outside the lot sometime.” Once again, she edged closer to Violet, who noticed her hazel eyes. “I hate to say anything bad about anyone, but I don’t really trust some of these production assistants or craft service people. Did you see what just happened?”

  Violet nodded, curious to see how Coco would explain away her tantrum.

  “Well, I have a severe peanut allergy. And TJ told the whole crew about it. He said no peanuts in any food. And right there, mixed in with the chocolate chip and fudge and vanilla cookies, were peanut ones. And they looked just like the vanilla cookies! If I’d taken one bite, I would have had a reaction and could have stopped production for days.”

  “Oh!” Strangely enough, Violet had never read that Coco had any allergies. “It’s funny I didn’t know that,” she told Coco. “The tabloids put out so much information on you.”

  Coco humphed. “Wrong information you mean! They never get anything straight. Half the time they make me out to be some sort of spoiled diva.”

  Violet flushed. That was exactly what she’d thought.

  “I bet if I ended up in the hospital because of that cookie and missed shooting, it would be all over the news. But they wouldn’t ment
ion the allergy. They’d just jump to some crazy conclusion and put me in the center of a scandal. They’d say I’m refusing to go to work, heartbroken because Hayes didn’t want to date me. Or I’m having a fling with a married actor and have run off to a tropical island.”

  Violet wasn’t quite sure what to say. Should she address the media gossip or the peanut allergy? “It’s good that you’re watching out for yourself,” she said, trying to cover both.

  “Exactly!” Coco beamed. “Health is the most important thing there is.”

  Just then Violet’s phone sounded. “Oh!” she said. “I forgot about running lines! It must be Hayes. I’m supposed to be in his trailer right now!”

  “I’ll walk you.” Coco linked arms with Violet as they moved across the lot. “You know,” she confided, “I grew up in the industry. And I was always close with my TV family. But nobody was my age. And I really would love a girlfriend. It would be totally great just to have a regular type of friendship.”

  Violet smiled. She’d been way off base about Coco. She seemed really nice. And it would be good to have someone else to hang around with besides Mia. “I’d like that, too,” she told Coco.

  * * *

  Just as Violet approached Hayes’s trailer a few minutes later, the door swung open. “I’ve been waiting for you!” Hayes said, beckoning her inside.

  Uh-oh. She must be late. She’d lost track of time talking with Coco. Hayes didn’t seem like he’d be a stickler for punctuality but you never knew. Maybe TJ was rubbing off on him.

  “I’m so sorry!” Violet rushed inside, placed his jeans on the dresser, and reached for her own copy of the script. “Let’s start quickly then.”

  Zan bounded over, wagging his tail happily. One of Violet’s duties was to walk Zan when Hayes wasn’t around, and the two had developed a connection. She leaned down, scratching him behind the ear.

  “No, no, it’s okay. We don’t have to rush.” Hayes walked right past his own script to kneel next to Zan and scratch his other ear. Zan, in heaven, thumped his tail loudly on the floor.

  Violet’s and Hayes’s fingers were so close, if Violet moved her pinky a quarter of an inch, they’d be touching. Their eyes met over Zan’s head, and for a moment Violet forgot where she was and what she was supposed to be doing.

  “I guess I just wanted someone to talk to,” Hayes admitted, leaning back.

  The spell was broken.

  “Why?” Violet managed to say.

  Hayes frowned. “TJ just told me I can’t do my own motorcycle stunts. I’m pissed; it really stinks.”

  “That’s too bad,” Violet said carefully. She couldn’t lose sight of her own assignment: keeping Hayes off that bike.

  “But let’s talk about something else.” Hayes took Violet’s script out of her hand and put it on the table. “It will take my mind off everything here and help me focus later.”

  “Okay,” Violet said slowly. “What do you want to talk about?” She bit her lip. She probably sounded like some sort of therapist.

  Hayes shrugged. “Whatever. Why don’t you start? Tell me about your family.”

  Violet told him about her parents back east, Mia, and Uncle Forrest.

  “So you’re far from home, too,” Hayes said sympathetically. “Sometimes it makes me sad that I’m here, and my family isn’t.” He busied himself pouring two strawberry smoothies from a pitcher, and Violet sensed he didn’t want to meet her eyes while he talked about his feelings.

  Hayes carried over the drinks, then sat next to Violet on the couch.

  “I mean, I love the entertainment industry. But every once in a while it hits me that I haven’t seen my family in ages.”

  “That must be tough,” Violet agreed.

  “And LA is great and everything, but back home I’m outdoors practically 24/7, on my family’s ranch. Thank God for Zan here. Otherwise, I’d hardly see any animals at all. On the ranch, there are all these different animals just hanging around, and there’s always something that needs to be done to take care of them.”

  Hayes leaned closer to Violet now, finally gazing right at her. “Nobody knows this, but one time I even swam with a horse, crossing this major river. His name was Dallas, and I’ll never forget it. But stuff like that isn’t easy to do around here.”

  Hayes looked at her even more intently. Violet felt her face grow hot. She had to get past this celebrity crush feeling. Hayes was a real person.

  “But that sounds like I’m not grateful for everything I have here. And that’s not true at all! That would be crazy!”

  “But you can’t help how you feel,” Violet put in. “I’m kind of in the same boat. I’m here in LA, and have this amazing opportunity on set, to learn all about movies … I want to write screenplays … but I keep thinking about this one ice-cream place back home and how my parents and I walk there almost every night after dinner. I always see someone I know, a friend from school or just someone from the neighborhood, and we usually wind up doing something afterward. I miss home,” Violet said softly. Now she was the one not meeting Hayes’s eyes. “My parents have been great about all this. They really want to support me. But I miss them. I miss my friends. I miss that ice cream. I even miss my mom pulling off my blanket in the morning to wake me up. LA is so different. I really miss looking at the sky at night and seeing stars. Here…” she trailed off, shrugging.

  “It’s hard to see the stars through all that smog,” Hayes finished for her.

  “Exactly! And without the stars, I lose something. I don’t know … I don’t have that sense of connection with the universe.” Violet gave a half-laugh, embarrassed to be talking like that. But Hayes gave an understanding nod. So she kept going.

  “You know, the peacefulness of knowing you’re not alone and that the universe, so breathtakingly beautiful, goes on forever. And you get the sense that anything can happen because there’s just so much … so much life … out there.”

  Oh God, she really went too far. But this was something she felt deeply about, staring at the stars, thinking she could write. She had the potential, she just had to reach for the stars and believe it. And she had an idea that Hayes would understand it all—the homesickness, the longing.

  Finally, she lifted her eyes. Hayes was gazing at her with such compassion, she reached out her hand toward him. He moved closer and—

  Bang! The door swung open with a crash and Tez flung himself inside. “Shove over,” he said to Hayes, plopping down between the two.

  Violet shrank back, remembering yesterday’s embarrassment. Tez nodded at her briefly but thankfully didn’t bring up that crazy “I love you” or walking into walls.

  “Just brought over your motorcycle, bro,” he told Hayes. “Got the engine checked. Now she’s riding like a dream.”

  Hayes scowled. “Well, you’re going to have to ride it right back out of here. TJ just ordered me to stay away from bikes.”

  Violet breathed a sigh of relief. Hayes understood. He was going to listen to TJ without any involvement from her. That made it all so much easier.

  “What do you mean?” Tez cried. “How are you going to do the big chase scene? On a tricycle?”

  “That’s off. I mean, I’m off. The stunt goes on without me.”

  “That’s whack.” Tez jumped up as if he were going to run right over to TJ and tell him what he thought.

  “I know.” Hayes sounded miserable. “But what can I do?”

  “Well, nothing, I guess.”

  Yes! Violet gave a little fist pump, so small a movement, no one could even notice.

  “Nothing as far as the movie goes,” Tez went on. “But you also have a whole other life, and you can do what you want. Besides, you’ve been practicing like crazy. You know what you’re doing on that scooter.”

  Uh-oh. Tez was taking it in the wrong direction now.

  “You told me you just mastered the sickest wheelie of all time, man—the cliff-hanger!”

  Violet groaned quietly. That definitely di
dn’t sound good. If Tez kept talking like that, she’d have to build up her courage and say something.

  “And you haven’t even shown it to me.” Tez paced back and forth. “Come on, Grier! Show me right now.”

  “Ahem.” Violet blushed. She sounded like her old chemistry teacher. But she plowed ahead, saying, “Hayes, that’s not a good idea. TJ knows what he’s doing. If he doesn’t want you on that bike, you shouldn’t get on it.”

  There, she spoke up. Hayes turned to her and smiled. “I won’t get on,” he told her.

  She smiled back.

  “After today,” he finished. “I just want to show Tez these moves, and then he’ll drive it off the lot. I swear I won’t ride again until after filming. No one will see me; no one will know.”

  Be assertive, Violet told herself. Put your foot down. Come right out and say he can’t ride at all.

  “Hayes,” she began.

  But then her phone beeped, then beeped again and again, vibrating noisily in her bag. “One sec,” she said, pausing to check it.

  Message after message filled the screen. At first, she didn’t understand. Who were all these people trying to get in touch with her? Hayesluvr. Vinestarfollower. Griergirl?

  Then she read more carefully.

  Crazy about ur story, said one message. Write more—quickly! said another. Luv ur FF.

  Then it hit her. These were messages from the fanfic site. Mia must have linked her phone. Please, please, please! read the next. You have to give us more Hayes. When’s the next story? WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?

  Violet scrolled through each one, her heart racing. People were begging HollywoodWriter310 to keep going. They liked her writing! The reviews were glowing!

  A loud revving sound suddenly filled the trailer. “Hayes?” she said, finally pulling her eyes from the phone. “What’s going on?”

  “Hayes?” She did a quick 360 around the room, then checked the rest of the trailer, searching for Hayes. It was empty. He and Tez had left without her even realizing it.