Hello, Hollywood! (16 page)

“We get to push people around on paper all day. We write a scene and plop them down in it. The actors and actresses get all the glory, but in reality they’re just doing what we tell them to do. They follow the script that we write.”

I had to wonder what he was trying to get at.

“Following the script is easy when you trust the writer,” he said. “That’s kind of my philosophy about life too.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Sure. I believe that God is ultimately in control, but I know that he gives us free will.”

“Right.”

“It’s what we do with our free will that matters. Do we bow to his plan for our lives—that is, stick to the script—or bolt? Write our own lines? Does that make sense?”

“Perfect sense,” I said.

“Yeah.” He drew me so close that I could feel his breath on my cheek. “Pushing characters around on paper is fun. But sometimes I find myself waiting around for the next real-life scene, thinking I can somehow control where things are going to go, like I do when I’m writing a script for the show.”

“Really?”
Where are you headed with this?
I’d just started to ask him when the serious expression on his face shifted into a sly grin.

“Yes, really. For example, I’d be willing to bet you didn’t pencil this into the next scene.”

He wrapped his arms around my waist and leaned in to kiss me. My heart skipped into overdrive. What was happening here? For a moment I wasn’t sure what to do. How would I have written this scene? Would the heroine fight off the advances—if, in fact, these were advances—or would she succumb?

I never had a chance to complete that thought. As Stephen’s lips met mine, I melted like butter in the sun. Hmm. Too cliché. I melted like a chocolate bar on a s’more.

Enough with the food analogies. I melted. And as the kiss lingered, I melted some more. I found myself distracted, thinking about this moment in writers’ terms. How would I describe this scene in a script? I’d have to say something about tingles running down my spine, right? Nah, that was probably overused. If this happened to be one of those cheesy romance novels, I’d throw in something about Stephen’s rippling abs or his broad, manly shoulders. He did have great abs, and his shoulders were nothing to sneeze at, so I wouldn’t have to exaggerate. Then again, if this happened to be one of those really sleazy, over-the-top romance novels, I’d have to add something about heaving bosoms. They always talked about heaving bosoms.

Nah. I was woefully underqualified to write about that. Now, if we were writing about cellulite in someone’s thighs . . .
that
I could address with some degree of authority.

Focus, Athena.

Of course, if I decided to write about this, I’d have to use the word
fire
. Romance writers always equated kissing with fire, though for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why.

Stephen tightened his grip around my waist, and our kiss deepened. Now I understood why they used the word
fire
.

Okay, enough kissing.

By the time we came up for air, my eyes had filled with tears. I was a puddle. In a good way. Thankfully, we were already in a pool. I gazed into Stephen’s eyes—eyes sparkling with merriment—and sighed.

Good grief. He was right—I’d never seen this one coming. Thank goodness. Being caught off guard was so much more fun.

From one of the upstairs bedroom windows, a couple of girls let out squeals. I heard Trina’s voice as she hollered, “I
told
you they were going to kiss. You owe me a hundred dollars.”

Brooke responded by calling out, “Dad, can I borrow a hundred dollars?”

“I see she has your sense of humor,” I managed.

“Guess she does. I’ll loan it to you at 17 percent interest,” he hollered up at her. “Payable on a four-year loan. If you don’t pay it all back by the time you’re sixteen, you can’t date. Ever.”

“What? No fair!” She began to rant about his terms, and he chuckled.

“She’s definitely my child.”

Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any more embarrassing, Mama came outside. “What’s going on out here? I thought I heard shouting.”

Stephen and I put a little space between us.

“They’re kissing, Aunt Thera,” Mary shouted down from the window. “We made a bet and Trina won. A hundred dollars.”

“Kissing?” Mama looked my way and clasped her hands together at her chest. “There is a God and he loves me!”

I had a sudden, overwhelming desire to drown myself. Well, not technically drown myself, but to swim to some distant shore where no one knew I’d just been kissed. By a really handsome guy. In my family’s swimming pool.

In the Pappas household, however, everyone knew everything about everyone. And right now, it looked like everyone included Bob and Paul. By the time Stephen and I had gotten out of the pool and wrapped ourselves in towels, our fellow writers had joined us.

“Something you want to tell us, kids?” Bob asked. “’Cause the girls upstairs are coming up with a whopper of a story about the two of you. Just verifying their tale to find out if it’s fact or fiction.”

I groaned. “Bob, do we have to do this? It’s humiliating enough that the girls were spying on us.”

“Oh, so it is true.” He chuckled. “I knew it. Thought maybe I’d picked up on that vibe earlier in the day.”

Aunt Melina joined the party next. “Athena, come inside and have some coffee and diples. A party isn’t a party without you. We’ll celebrate your new relationship.”

Lovely. Next they’d offer to throw an engagement party.

“Diples?” Bob glanced at my aunt. “Do you mind if I ask what that is?”

“It’s a Greek sopapilla that’s topped with honey, walnuts, and cinnamon,” she explained.

“Sounds great.” He turned and disappeared into the house, chattering about how great it was to be back in California. Paul followed behind him, turning only for a moment to give me a curious glance. I’d have to explain later that Stephen wasn’t really the threat we’d made him out to be. He was a great guy. A really great guy.

“I can’t believe she made diples.” Stephen looked my way and sighed. “Nona would have been proud. I’ve definitely landed in the right family.”

“Oh you have, have you?” I shivered and pulled the towel a little tighter.

Stephen drew close, the moonlight reflected in his eyes. “I have,” he whispered, then kissed the tip of my nose. “And just so you know, this has pretty much been the best day of my life.”

“Following my parents around and finding out what makes them tick?” I asked.

“No.” He brushed my hair off my face. “Following their daughter around and finding out what makes
her
tick.”

“Great line, Dad,” Brooke hollered from the window above.

“But I think you need to work on your delivery,” Trina threw in. “You’re a great writer, but not the best actor.”

Stephen groaned, then glanced upward. “For your information, I’m not acting.” He looked at me and shrugged. “Sorry. I forgot they were up there.”

I glanced up, noticing that all three girls were going to topple out of the upstairs window if we didn’t end this show by going inside. Still, there was one lingering thing I needed to take care of. “This was one of the best days of my life too,” I whispered as I reached up and gave Adonis—er, Stephen—a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Dad,” Brooke called down. “Just so you know, I’m pretty sure you two are at Step 9 on the plotline.”

“What?” He looked up, squinting against the light coming from the window above.

“I’ve been reading your notes during the day when you’re at work. You know, from that class you’re taking. That kissing scene was a Step 9 if I ever saw one.”

“Step 9, eh?” I grinned. “Wonder what that one is.”

“A ‘Moment of Triumph,’” he said. “It’s a pretty good place to be at. Unfortunately, it’s followed shortly thereafter by the ‘Ultimate Test’—that point in the story where you have to prove you’ve got the goods.”

“That’s the point where the hero and heroine have to jump back into the action to see if they’ve learned their lesson,” Brooke called out. “Have you?”

Good question. I really had learned a lot over the past few days. I’d learned to guard myself from judging people too quickly. I’d learned some things about myself too. Looked like the pain from my past relationship really was behind me now. I was free to move on. And who better to move on with than the man standing in front of me now?

From inside my house, I heard music playing. For a minute I thought the girls had put it on. Only when I heard the familiar Greek song did I realize the music was coming from the living room. Still wrapped in a towel, I took Stephen by the hand and led him into the house. Once inside, I rubbed the chlorine out of my eyes and found Aunt Melina and Milo dancing. Together. As a couple. They pulled Paul and Bob into their circle, followed by Mama and Babbas. Before long, Stephen and I had been ushered into the fold.

We formed a serpentine line, then wove around in circles, everyone laughing and singing. Well, Paul wasn’t exactly singing. And I guess you couldn’t really call it dancing either, but he gave it the old college try.

Brooke and the other girls showed up seconds later, their eyes wide.

“It’s the Tsamiko,” Trina said. She took Brooke by the hand and pulled her into the circle. I could tell the preteen wasn’t keen on the idea, but she stuck with it just the same. I watched as she eventually ended up in her daddy’s arms, the little princess twirling around the floor, safe in her father’s embrace. In that moment, the most amazing feeling washed over me. How safe she must feel. How cherished.

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Milo and Aunt Melina. He pulled her into his arms and spun her around the dance floor. She giggled as she lingered in his embrace.

Crazy. If I’d been writing this scene, I would have added . . . Actually, nothing. I would have added absolutely nothing.

Oh, we could have penciled all of this into a workable script, but it wouldn’t have had the same punch. Some moments were simply divine. God-breathed. You couldn’t plan or predict them. And, frankly, those moments suddenly held far more appeal than all of the scripted ones in the world.

Aunt Melina picked up the pace, leading us into another variation of the dance. Milo followed suit, a broad smile on his face. The two of them put on quite a show as they shouted “opa!” and lifted handkerchiefs in the air.

I wanted to shout too. For in that instant, with the people I loved dancing around me, I found myself in a near-perfect moment. A holy moment. And as Stephen glanced my way, his beautiful brown eyes locking firmly onto mine, I realized the yeast had done its work. Looked like our feelings were definitely on the rise.

The rest of the weekend was spent floating on a cloud. After years of being a happy single, I suddenly found myself caught up in a whirlwind of romantic bliss. Opa! Of course, I realized that my relationship with Stephen came with an extra surprise package—an eleven-year-old. How would Brooke feel about having a twenty-eight-year-old as a potential mother figure?

Am I a potential mother figure? Wow.

How quickly my feelings seemed to be growing. However, I realized in that moment what all of this must be like for Brooke. I didn’t exactly fit the mold, did I? Sure, I played with the nieces and nephew. I’d spent a lot of time around kids. But what would Brooke think about me?

By the time Monday rolled around, I’d settled the issue in my mind. Instead of rushing ahead, I would take one day at a time. Wasn’t that what the Bible said I should do? Sure. I’d ease my way into this relationship, and God would take care of the details. They were his to deal with anyway.

As I pulled into the studio parking lot on Monday morning, I did my best to push my personal life to the background and focus only on events related to
Stars Collide
. The Snidely Whiplash episode would be shot this week, and we were already hard at work on new material for next week’s show. My parents had given us lots of fodder, especially that stuff about ending up in prison. No telling what would end up in our next script.

I’d no sooner parked my car than Rex and Lenora pulled into the spot next to me in her pink convertible.

“G’morning, princess!” Lenora called out. She gave me a queenly wave.

I watched as Rex got out of the car and went around to open her door for her. What would that feel like, to have a man care enough about you to open your door? Did I need that? Well, I might not need it, but as I watched the smile on Lenora’s face, I realized suddenly that I wanted it.

Lenora pointed to her gown. “Can you guess who I am today, Athena? C’mon. Guess!”

“Hmm.” I squinted against the morning sunlight, trying to figure it out. Only when she began to hum the melody to “Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious” did I get it. “Mary Poppins?”

“That’s right!” She pointed to her dress. “This is the gown Julie Andrews wore when she flew into town on her umbrella.” Lenora giggled and extended her hand in Rex’s direction. “My parasol, young man.”

He handed her a frilly umbrella, which she opened. Holding it above her head, she closed her eyes. Moments later, when nothing happened, she sighed. “Guess I’ve lost the magic.”

“Oh no, sweet girl.” Rex drew her close and kissed her cheek. “You’ll never lose the magic. Not in my book, anyway.”

Ah, love. How wonderful it made you feel. You really could rise above the circumstances when love swept in. Grab hold of the umbrella and fly away together—over the horizon.

These thoughts, of course, led right back to thoughts about Stephen. I scolded myself and tried to focus on my work, not my love life.

I followed Rex and Lenora into the studio, where we all stumbled upon Kat and Scott in a lip-lock. Wow. Was everyone feeling romantic this morning?

Obviously not. Tia and Jason stood off in the distance, arguing about something to do with camera angles. Nothing new there. They were always bickering about this or that. Still, there seemed to be a certain romantic spark in the air. I couldn’t deny it, even when I listened to the bantering between director and cameraman. And when I made it to our office and saw Stephen for the first time—
Be still my heart! He looks amazing in those jeans!—
it was all I could do to keep my thoughts in line.

He whispered a playful, “Good morning,” and I responded with a smile. I could feel Paul’s eyes on us but did my best to ignore him. No doubt this had to be confusing to him. One minute I couldn’t stand the new writer, the next I was dating him.

“Hey.” Paul shook his head, a sour look on his face. “Where’s the food?”

“Huh?”

“The leftovers from Super-Gyros. It’s Monday. You always bring food on Monday. For as long as I can remember.”

“Ah.” I paused. “Well, we were together all weekend, so I figured . . .”

“You didn’t bring food?” He shook his head. “Has the whole world gone crazy? Nothing is as it should be.”

No, nothing is as it should be—and yet everything is as it should be.
Only, I couldn’t say that to Paul, now could I? He settled in at his desk, grumbling about his empty stomach. I looked around the room—that crazy, mixed-up room—and settled onto the spot on the divan next to Stephen. Talk about inspirational.

While the actors met for their roundtable reading of the Snidely Whiplash script, Paul, Stephen, and I pounded out our ideas for next week’s show. I could tell Paul’s heart wasn’t really in it. Until Stephen mentioned something that got us all excited.

“Did you realize that Milo has done some acting?”

“No way.” I looked up from my laptop. “He has?”

“In Greece. He was on a soap opera in the sixties.”

“That’s crazy. I had no idea.”

“Yes, apparently he was quite a handsome fellow back in the day. I did a little research online, and he had a real following with the ladies.”

“Wow. Who knew.”

“It got me to thinking that we should use him in the next episode. And maybe . . .” Stephen grinned. “Maybe we could use your aunt Melina too.”

“Aunt Melina?”
Yikes.
“I don’t know about that, Stephen. Sounds a little risky. She’s got a few . . . problems.”

“I know, but they’ve got great chemistry. I think it would translate to the screen. Besides, it would be fun to add more seniors to the episode where Angie reveals her pregnancy, don’t you think? The older women would have a lot to say about it.”

“True.” I thought about that. “So, is that where we are in the plotline? Are we ready for Angie to break the news about the baby?”

“Sure. Why not?”

“It’s about time.” Paul grinned. He reached into the toy box and came out with the soccer ball. “I’ve missed Little Ricky. Can’t wait to add him back into the script.”

The next several minutes were spent laughing and talking about the “Angie’s Having a Baby” episode. Thankfully, Stephen went along with all of our earlier plans, which made for smooth sailing in the writing room.

“I love that Cuban bandleader idea,” he said. “Hope we can get George Lopez on board. I think viewers will make the connection to the old
I Love Lucy
episode.”

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great,” Paul said. He rose and began to pace the room. “Can’t you see it now? Angie tries a hundred different ways to tell Jack, but he doesn’t get it. In the end, he gets the news in a public setting. Crazy.”

“That’s the last place I’d want to share something that personal,” I said.

“Which is what makes it so perfect.” Stephen grinned. “Comedy is supposed to make you squirm. That’s half the fun.” He wiggled his eyebrows and I laughed, realizing just how much I’d squirmed in the swimming pool the other night, especially with Brooke and the other girls watching our every move.

On and on we went, talking about how perfect the upcoming scene would be. All the while, I kept thinking about how perfect the here-and-now scene in my own life was turning out to be. Brooke was right. Stephen and I were at Step 9 on the plotline. I was experiencing a long-overdue moment of triumph in my life and loving every minute of it.

We’d just pounded out the final line to the new episode when a knock sounded at the door. Kat stuck her head inside and smiled.

“Hey, you guys.”

“Hey, yourself.” I rose and joined her at the door, seeing Lenora standing next to her.

“Tia wants to know if you guys want to join us in the studio for our walk-through.”

“Oh wow. You guys never do the walk-through till Tuesday. What’s up with that?”

“You worked a lot of physical comedy into this episode,” Kat said. “So Tia feels like we’ll need to go ahead and map things out. That’s why she wants you in there, so you can help with the blocking. She wants to get a feel for what you had in mind. What do you think?”

“Cool.” Paul rose and joined us. “Sounds like fun.”

I nodded. “Yeah. I’m okay with that. It’s great to be included, and we’ve already gotten a lot done today anyway.”

“Well, c’mon then,” Paul said, leading the way. “Let’s round up the usual suspects.”

“Ooo.” Lenora grinned. “
Casablanca
. 1942. Claude Rains.”

Stephen looked her way, clearly impressed.

“It’s a gift,” I whispered. “She can’t remember what she had for lunch today, but she can remember almost any line from any movie.”

“No joke?”

“No joke.”

I tagged along on Lenora’s heels to the studio, feeling Stephen’s hand on my back as we made our way down the hallway. Funny how something as simple as a hand on the back could give you such confidence. I entered the studio feeling like a million bucks. And as I settled into a director’s chair—at Tia’s bidding—the world was my oyster.

Oh, what joy the next hour turned out to be. Every funny word we’d written danced across the lips of those delivering the lines. It all felt . . . magical. Like I’d waited my whole life for this moment.

I watched as Tia worked with the actors and cameramen. Seeing her in action intimidated me a little. And the few times she veered from the script, I did my best not to let it hurt my feelings. Who would cross her? Not me!

Sometimes I looked at Tia—beautiful, petite Tia—and wondered why some fellow hadn’t snatched her up and married her. Other times I listened to her bark commands at people and knew exactly why some fellow hadn’t snatched her up and married her. The woman—though tiny—was a force to be reckoned with. It would take some kind of man to stand up to all five-foot-two of her. I had to wonder if such a man existed.

Jason manned one of the cameras, focused as usual. At one point, though, I happened to catch a glimpse of him looking at Tia. I couldn’t quite gauge his expression. In that moment, the strangest thought occurred to me. Perhaps his so-called angst toward her was just a ploy to get attention. Maybe what he wanted was something altogether different. Interesting.

“So what do you think about how things are going?” Kat asked. “Is it like you envisioned it?”

I startled to attention. “Oh, even better.”

“Good.” She grinned. “Because I think this is your funniest script ever, Athena. It’s . . . amazing. Everyone agrees. I wish you could have heard us laughing at the roundtable reading this morning. I thought Grandma was going to bust her buttons.”

“Or take off flying with that umbrella of hers?” I asked.

Kat grinned. “Something like that. It’s really great when we’ve got amazing material to work with. Makes our job as actors so much easier. You have no idea.”

“Aw, thanks.”

“It’s funny because you’re funny.”

“You think?”

“Of course. You’re one of the funniest people I know. In a natural, God-given sort of way. Not contrived funny, if that makes sense.”

“It makes sense.”

“I really had a blast with you at the shop on Saturday,” Kat said. “It was fun building heroes with you.”

“Ha! I had fun too.” I leaned in to whisper, “And I have
so
much to tell you.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, after we got back to the house, things, well . . .” I felt my cheeks grow warm. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to you later too.”

Tia called everyone back to attention, and before long the Snidely Whiplash scene was fully under way, physical gags and all. I managed to interject a few ideas along the way, adding more humor to the scenes. What a joy to listen to the laughter that rang out as the lines were delivered. Nothing could top that feeling for a writer.

Not that everything went according to schedule. In the middle of the rehearsal, a voice rang out. “Stop the presses, we’ve lost one of the kids!”

I turned, recognizing the children’s teacher.

Tia brought the rehearsal to an immediate halt. “Who is it?”

“Toby.” The teacher paled. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Toby?” I turned to Paul. “He’s only five.” A thousand awful thoughts went through my head. Had he been kidnapped? Maybe someone was holding him for ransom?

Seconds later, he popped up from behind the sofa on the set and hollered, “Boo!” Scared the daylights out of Tia and even distracted Jason, who jerked away from the camera.

The whole thing was a little scary, but somewhat typical of the kid. He was always up to tricks. Then again, they all were. That’s what made the show work, after all. Having the kids aboard added all sorts of possibility for conflict—on and off the set.

Tia, ever the professional, got right back to work. Within minutes, everyone was laughing again. And when they finished, even the crew members cheered. I couldn’t remember this kind of enthusiasm on the set of
Stars Collide
since Jack and Angie’s wedding scene last season.

An undercurrent of energy laced Rex’s words as he turned my way with hand extended. “Let’s give our writers a hand.”

I gave a little curtsy as the cast and crew applauded our efforts. Paul gave a deep, kingly bow, and Stephen . . . well, Stephen just blushed. He gestured to me, giving me the credit. Seriously? We’d done this together. And we’d write many, many more scenes together, if things went the way I hoped they would.