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  “You speak four languages and you don’t have the words?” Sloane tried to make a joke, but it fell flatter than a punctured tire. “Where’s Jolie?”

  “She’s with Tiffany. I was waiting for Lila to get you.”

  “Not everyone is picketing. Where are—”

  “We’re done for the day, chérie.” He squeezed her shoulder than pulled his hand away. “Everyone has gone home.”

  Sloane stared at the picket line, shaking her head. “I seriously can’t believe this.”

  “I know.” Miles sighed and looked at the ground.

  “Can you please go and get Jolie?”

  “Of course. What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to call Melinda.”

  Miles looked surprised. “Not Dominic? Isn’t this more his domain?”

  “And what domain is that?”

  “Stomping it down,” he explained.

  “I’d rather understand it first. And for this, I’m betting that’s Melinda’s domain.”

  He nodded. “Good luck.”

  Miles made it two steps before Sloane was dialing Melinda.

  “There’s a picket line outside of the studio right now,” she said one-and-a-half rings later.

  Melinda sighed. “Of course there is.”

  “Of course there is, as in, you already knew that?”

  “Yes. But something like this was also inevitable. You know who we’re dealing with.”

  Sloane suddenly regretted not starting the call with video. Seeing Melinda’s expression might make her indifference a bit easier to swallow. “So, you’re saying this isn’t a big deal.”

  “It isn’t a surprise. We discussed this. Many times.”

  “It wasn’t ever supposed to happen this early.”

  “You’re right,” Melinda agreed. “Wentz was obviously onto us early. We don’t know how that happened, but it’s our bad regardless, and we will get to the bottom of it. In the meantime, believe me when I tell you that things are under control.”

  “What am I supposed to do now?” Sloane looked around the empty set, her heart suddenly the weight of a two-handed melon.

  “Enjoy a long weekend with Jolie. By the time you return to work, everything will be back on a schedule that has already accounted for an untold number of hiccups.”

  “I wish you sounded more concerned.”

  “No, you don’t,” Melinda told her. “Call if you need anything, but we both know you won’t.”

  She hung up.

  Sloane walked to the nearest chair and sat.

  Then she stared at the ground for five long minutes thinking about all the places she could maybe take Jolie and feeling like a terrible mother for not wanting to do any of them.

  She should be here, figuring whatever this was out. Not running to Santa Barbara or San Diego.

  “How do you feel about omens?”

  Sloane looked up to see the man behind the voice, already smiling because she knew who it was. “I tend to believe them more than I should.”

  Orson nodded, smiling back at her. “Me too. So, what does that say about our movie so far?”

  “I like that you think of it as our movie.”

  “That’s what it is, right?”

  “I hope so. I would love for the eventual audience to see it that way.”

  “This was an omen of good things to come,” Orson said. “The universe wants us to know each other better. Because that’s how we’ll make a great movie. The more you know me, the—”

  “And how do you suppose we do that?”

  “I just got off the phone with Elouise. A super nice lady who helped me rent a place in Malibu that I’m thinking of buying. Connor and I are staying there for the next few days while I consider it. I’d love a second opinion. Maybe you and Jolie would have a good time waiting this out at the beach with us.”

  Sloane felt many things at once.

  Of course she was delighted by the invite. But she couldn’t deny her attraction to Orson, nor avoid the inappropriate landmines looming ahead if she were to live in his place for a few days. Even if nothing happened — and nothing would — there was an air of impropriety about it. Sloane was the director, and thus had power over her actor’s career.

  Though who was she kidding? Orson Beck was bigger than anyone involved with the film. Except for the Shellys, and even that was becoming less true all the time.

  Besides, Melinda’s hand was obviously behind this invitation. He was being polite, keeping her distracted on the Shelly’s behalf. Orson was one of the few true movie stars left in the world, but only because they had the foresight to bet on him.

  “So … do you and Jolie want to have a good time at the beach with me and Connor? Or would you rather stick around here and feel miserable for the next few days?”

  Sloane was almost for sure making a blockbuster mistake.

  But at least she’d be making it with a movie star.

  She finally stood and looked Orson Beck right in the eyes. “I want to have a good time at the beach with you and Connor.”

  “How about a great one?” He smiled and started walking toward Tiffany’s trailer.

  Sloane followed. “Even better.”

  But something wasn’t right.

  And Malibu wouldn’t be able to solve it.

  Chapter Seven

  Sloane

  Malibu was solving everything.

  At least that was its promise, midway through what would surely be an unforgettable day.

  Sloane didn’t know if it was the handsome cottage, the constant crashing of waves, or the fact that she was enjoying it all while watching her daughter playing and talking to one of her favorite movie stars. Or more specifically, that one of her favorite movie stars seemed to be showing definite interest in her.

  Orson glanced at Connor as his son added yet another level of sand to what was already an extremely top-heavy castle.

  “Admiring his ambition?” Sloane asked.

  “It’s like he’s trying to use the entire beach to build his estate.”

  “He must get that from his father.”

  “Hardly.” Orson laughed.

  “Are you kidding?” Sloane still didn’t understand this part of him. He acted so humble about everything, but for one of the planet’s biggest stars, that had to be an act. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not ambitious?”

  “I’m not saying that.” He shook his head. “But I’m not nearly as ambitious as you think.”

  “Right. Because superstardom happens by accident.”

  “It happened to me because the Shellys made it happen.”

  “Oh, because Dominic and Melinda are totally random about everything and they picked your name out of a hat.”

  “I’m not saying I have zero ambition. Of course I’m driven. I just think Connor gets the relentlessness from his mother.”

  Sloane didn’t want her smile to show, so she grabbed her glass of Mexican lemonade — the adorable nickname Orson had given to their margaritas to make her feel better about drinking so early. She was dying to know more about his ex, especially since most of what she knew had come from either the tabloids, or throwaway comments made by the Shellys.

  “Do the two of you still get along?”

  “Me and Alexa?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded.

  Alexis Belle was gorgeous and rich. Her dad owned a few Los Angeles restaurants, all of them famous, and her mom was a B-list actress. She played Orson’s mom in his first role, a web series called F the 90s that had blown up about a decade ago.

  He shrugged. “We actually get along great these days.”

  “These days?”

  “We’ve had our moments for sure. But the last few years have been great. It helps that Alexa’s remarried now, and that I’m not working at Provisions for a few bucks an hour above minimum wage, still living in The Brick, and constantly stressing about whether or not I’ll be able to pay my child support.”

  “Wha
t’s The Brick?”

  “The shithole building where I was living when I made the Onyx List. Connor was five years old and we were fighting all the time.” Orson shook his head, obviously bothered by the memory. “About everything. These days we really only have one argument.”

  “And what’s that?” Sloane asked.

  Orson chewed on his thought, clearly considering his answer before speaking ill of his ex-wife. “We disagree about what it means to give our son a great childhood without spoiling him.”

  “Is that possible? For our children to grow up without being at least a little bit spoiled?” She was careful to say our children, because it wasn’t just him.

  “Well, sure. But we can still be aware.” He drew a breath then explained. “Anyone growing up in the United States in the twentieth century is by definition a bit spoiled. And with access to a life like this” — Orson waved a hand to indicate the private beach and the long row of multi-million-dollar mansions — “the little things become even more important. That’s the kind of stuff we argue about.”

  “Do you think Connor will be in the industry?”

  “I hope not,” Orson admitted with another shrug, eyes on his son who was still adding to the top of what appeared to be a very shaky sandcastle. “I mean, if that’s what makes him happy, then of course I’ll support him. But a lot of people get into this business for all the wrong reasons, and those reasons are already taken care of.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Money, fame, opportunity. Connor has those things already.”

  “You have those things already,” she corrected him.

  “What’s mine is his.”

  Sloane shook her head. “Sorry, but it doesn’t work that way. Connor’s going to want his own accomplishments, and that means ones that have little or nothing to do with you.”

  “Of course. But I can still open the door for—”

  “It’s not the same thing.” She laughed with another little shake of her head.

  “So, he shouldn’t have access to my hard-won advantages?”

  “Sure he should, but not at the expense of his own growth,” Sloane said, then explained. “It’s like with the Shellys. I could have asked for their help a few years ago, but I never did. Yes, they would have been happy to open a few doors for me, even if they didn’t fund my projects themselves, but I needed to prove myself first. Knowing I could make a movie without Dominic and Melinda gave me the confidence I needed to do it with them.”

  “I respect that, for sure. But I would argue that you could have asked for the Shellys help earlier, and that there wouldn’t have been anything wrong with doing so. I don’t want Connor to be spoiled with things, but I do want him to have a lot of great experiences and to appreciate what he has. My doors are his doors, especially when it comes to the Shellys. I imagine the same will be true for you.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Look. Dominic and Melinda might as well be my family. They’ve done everything for me, and I really do love them. But part of our deal is that we’re always honest with each other. That’s my number one condition, and for the last five years, they’ve respected it.”

  “What happened before then?” Sloane asked, sensing a story that few people would understand. One Orson might want to tell.

  He offered her a thoughtful smile but redirected their exchange. “Before then … I had to find my voice.”

  Sloane glanced at her daughter, happily playing with Orson’s son, and took a chance. “You can do better than that. I’m sure we both have our Dominic and Melinda stories. I’ll gladly tell you all of mine if you’ll tell me the best one or two of yours.”

  He laughed then gave her a well-earned smile. “Do you remember Hadley Witt?”

  She looked him square in the eyes as if about to ask a very serious question. “You do know we get tabloids in London, right? Or maybe you forgot that I’ve known Dominic and Melinda since I was ten years old.”

  “Sorry. Of course.” Another laugh, this one sounding slightly embarrassed. “Well, Hadley and I were never really a couple.”

  “You sure looked like a couple.”

  “We absolutely did. The Shellys made sure of it.”

  “So, what? They made you go out with her?”

  “Not exactly.” Now he looked even more embarrassed than before. “But they definitely let me know it was in my best interests. Hadley was on the Onyx List a couple of years before me. The Shellys were … well, I suppose they were consolidating our career trajectories.”

  “Double dipping with their promotional opportunities,” Sloane said, to prove her understanding.

  “Yeah. Exactly.”

  “Was it just for the pictures … or did you actually have sex with her?”

  Orson raised his eyebrows. “That’s a bold question.”

  Her heart was beating a little too hard. “This is a bold conversation.”

  “They wanted Hadley to keep me in line. I didn’t exactly know the score at first and was dumb enough to think she was genuinely into me. After seeing things for what they were, I felt entitled to my side of the transaction.”

  “That’s fair,” Sloane said, imagining Orson Beck in bed with Hadley Witt.

  He didn’t respond.

  And she had to ask. “Have you been asked to handle me? Is that why we’re here right now? This is you keeping me in line for the Shellys?”

  Her question clearly bothered him, but the patience never left his face. “I might be one of the Shellys’ properties, but I’m not property and I don’t work for them like so many other people do. Our relationship is different. We’re here right now because I want to help you.”

  She swallowed. “And how do you want to help me?”

  “Your relationship with the Shellys is also different. You should never be afraid to use that.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ve known them all your life. Since before Dominic and Melinda were The Shellys. Since before Shellter Productions. They’re morally gray, but as loyal as they come.” He shook his head. “I just don’t want you to wrongly think that they have all the power in your relationship. You need to talk about things with them. Even if you just need a shoulder to cry on or lean on, or whatever, please know that I’m here.”

  His words were a symphony of warmth, but Sloane couldn’t help but think that they sounded like some sort of a setup. “Why do you care?”

  Orson took another moment to think before answering. “The last few years, it’s gotten harder and harder to trust the people around me. In a way, that fake relationship with Hadley helped to open my eyes. It happened early and fast. Part of me can’t help but think that was at least part of the point, that Dominic and Melinda did that on purpose to teach me. But then again, I might be giving them too much credit. Point is, I can trust you.”

  “But we barely know each other.” Why was she arguing against him?

  “I know that you have a long road ahead of you. And I also know a slightly more detailed version of the same story everyone knows about what happened to you after The Good Daughter.”

  “Which part?” She instantly regretted sounding so bitter.

  “All of it. Specifically, how you supposedly tanked your own career by leveling false accusations against Liam Wentz while also trying to ruin your costar, Nicole Cavalli. But it’s an open secret in Hollywood that Wentz is a sexual predator with a thing for child actors, even if the media has kept mum on that truth. I’ve seen the way this town works, and I know the Shellys well enough to have zero doubt that your story is true.”

  Orson hadn’t even finished being kind and understanding, but she still found herself in the middle of an impossibly improper response.

  Sloane didn’t want to be talking about any of this. She didn’t want to discuss the monster or Nicole or any of what had happened to her. Such conversations were for therapy, not Malibu. She wanted to go back inside Orson’s little three-bedroom cottage that he was now “almo
st for sure” going to buy. A half hour ago her trip to the beach had felt like a godsend, but now that trauma she could never get rid of was back to drag her into its depths.

  Orson had no right to be talking about any of this.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, obviously but belatedly catching her expression. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She could practically hear him thinking, You sure don’t sound like it.

  Why was this so hard?

  Why couldn’t the past stay where it belonged?

  Why did she have to doubt herself, even when good things were happening?

  Like right now, she couldn’t stop wondering if Orson had only invited her to Malibu because he felt sorry for her. Or because he was trying to satisfy his curiosity and get the real story the media had missed.

  Sloane was hot for him but kept feeling chills thinking he might only be feigning his attraction for reasons she didn’t understand. Even if none of that was true and Orson really did think he liked her, the star would be wrong.

  He couldn’t really like Sloane because he didn’t really know her.

  The things he did know all came from the stories that made her want to scream.

  They shared silence for nearly a minute. Sloane had cycled through a dozen things to maybe say, but they were all so thoroughly stupid that she spent the entire time chewing on her bottom lip instead of opening her mouth.

  “Everything will be okay.” Orson looked at her, his eyes still patient, his voice still kind, and his smile still there. “The movie and you.”

  She looked back, wanting to believe him, but still not knowing what to say.

  “What are you most worried about?” Orson asked.

  “Falling apart.” The words left her mouth before she could stop them.

  He nodded, appearing to appreciate her honesty. “What would help you the most right now?”

  “Getting back to work,” she answered immediately.

  He gave her a knowing smile. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Why is that?”

  Orson smiled wider. “Because I’m sure the Shellys have that handled. I can picture Dominic yelling at someone right this second. Can’t you?”