Her best friend, Fallon, sat cross-legged on the floor of Carly’s enormous walk-in closet, one of her favorite rooms in all the world. “I think you look great in plaid, and isn’t Minnesota where Little House on the Prairie took place? Plaid worked for Walnut Grove, though I think they’ve industrialized quite a bit since then.” She said it with a semisarcastic grin and turned another page of the Cosmo she’d found on Carly’s bedside table. “Did you know that blueberries are a superfood? I feel like my day just made progress.”
“I did know. I have some in my fridge if you’re hungry.” She was struggling with what to pack for this unplanned jaunt across the country. “What about sweaters? I feel like sweaters are making a strong comeback.”
“I didn’t know they’d been banished.”
“The heavier ones certainly were. Chunky heels were also temporarily on the no-fly list. I never know who decides such things, but I wish they’d slow down a little bit with all the shifts.”
“I kinda feel like you and your fellow starlets do.” Fallon shook her head. “Leave it to me to be on the wrong side of fashion for the twenty-ninth year in a row. I’m five years behind at all times. It’s almost a badge now.”
“You always look great, Fal. I’m serious. I love your sense of style.”
Her friend looked up with a soft, genuine smile. “Thanks, Car. I appreciate that.”
Carly and her best friend Fallon Mendez met once upon a time on the set of an early indie film that had helped put Carly on the map. Fallon had been a production assistant and Carly had a small but memorable role in the film, that had come with a dramatic death scene, blood packets and all. They’d bonded at the craft services table over their mutual nervousness about possibly losing their jobs. A friendship blossomed, and they’d never looked back. Other than her mother, who was less than reliable, Carly didn’t have too many people she would consider close to her. A million acquaintances? Sure. But she tended to keep people in that category on purpose. Fallon was different, and she treasured their friendship.
Fallon set the magazine aside and blinked at Carly. She had her jet black hair pulled back in a ponytail which accentuated the earnestness in her eyes.
“It looks like you have something on your mind,” Carly said. “I may be crazy, but I’ve known you a while.”
“I’m worried about you,” Fallon said simply.
Carly tossed the plaid shirt into her open suitcase, deciding if nothing else, she could always tie it around her waist. “That I’ll be in Minnesota when autumn hits? Oh, me, too. I’m not built for extreme cold. I’m a cabana in the summer kind of girl. Maybe you can send me igloo building instructions.”
Fallon inclined her head to the side as if waiting for a loud noise to cease. “I know that it’s your instinct to joke your way through most anything serious, but that’s part of the problem. I love you, so let me say this.”
Carly paused midfold, with an ache in the pit of her stomach. If anyone could make her shut up for a moment and listen, it was her best friend. Fallon was grounded, kind, and intelligent. Because her thoughts were important, Carly took a seat on the plush beige bench in her closet. “Okay. Sure, Fal. I’m listening.”
“Don’t screw this up. I know you think that Hollywood sidelining you is temporary, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re on The Tonight Show again, but it’s not.” Fallon now read scripts for a major studio and was in a good spot to have her ear to the ground. She would know, which Carly found sobering. “You need to get your act together and show the world that you are a wise investment again.”
Carly smiled. “I get that. But, Fallon, this is some little stage production that no one is going to see or talk about. How hard could it be?”
Fallon pointed at her. “I love you, and you have a kinder heart than most people realize, but it’s that kind of thinking that’s going to bite you in the ass and have you doing informercials to pay the mortgage on a house that could fit in a tiny corner of this one.” Fallon pushed herself up and placed her hands on Carly’s knees. “Take this very seriously, and do the best work of your life.”
Carly offered a mock salute and a smile. Her goal was to reassure Fallon, but honestly, she wasn’t concerned. This play should be a cakewalk, and then she’d get back to the business of her real life. She gave Fallon’s hair an affectionate ruffle. “You got it. My best behavior.”
Fallon sighed. “You’re doing very little to convince me.”
* * *
“Wow, so you’re doing the show,” Trip said, sliding in next to Lauren on the first day of rehearsal. “I was shocked when I heard. Twizzler?”
“No, thanks.” She sighed, then reconsidered and snatched a rope. “I put my entire vacation on hold. Can you believe I did that? I still can’t. I’m in mourning and still tanless.” She made a circle in the air with her Twizzler. “It’s a whole thing.”
“Noted.” Trip, who’d make a great PSM someday, grinned. His mop of brown curls seemed to contribute to his enjoyment. In fact, his hair had a way of communicating emotion in the most rare sense. Lauren had never seen anything like it. When he was happy, his hair bounced. When he felt depressed, it fell softly against his forehead. When he partied, it stood straight up. She wasn’t sure how in the world he managed to personify emotion so perfectly.
He gestured back with his Twizzler. “Must have made you quite the deal because you were dead set on getting out of here for a while. Still can’t believe anything was able to keep you from the beach. You’ve been talking about it for a year. Not that I’m cataloging you.”
“You have no idea how badly this hurts.” She shrugged. “But I’m human, and I saw the dollar signs and leaped. I could use that cash, and now I’m an official whore in stage manager’s clothing, and you should feel free to call me such.” She pointed with her Twizzler. “Daily.” Lauren shook her head as she reflected on the large bonus Wilks had tacked on to her normal paycheck. He must have had a rainy day fund stashed away somewhere. She grinned at Trip and did her best to shift gears. “But—and I say that with an exclamation point—happy to have you on board for this one. Didn’t mean to gloss over that very important fact because I adore you forever.”
“Thanks, Lala. I plan to do you proud.” Trip would be the perfect assistant stage manager for the show, and because the production was not a musical and had fewer moving parts, he’d be the only ASM, aided by a band of production assistants. Trip could anticipate her moods like no one else, and that made him incredibly valuable. He’d come up from the stage management program at University of Michigan and hit the ground running from a young age. He was professional, fun loving, and kind, a hard to find combination, so she planned to keep him. If she could just get him to be a little more organized, and turn the lust meter to low, he’d be the full package.
Lauren stapled the last of the Starry Nights company contact sheets and dropped them in the pile that contained the rest of her paperwork. With their first rehearsal underway in just a few minutes, she now had all her ducks in a perfectly assembled and well-behaved row. Nothing gave her more satisfaction than order and structure. She lived by it. Now she was ready to get this show on the road.