CHAPTER 2
Sandy comes toward us, a whirlwind of cream and silk in the form of a slim, blond, forty-something woman. She surveys us, her hands on her hips. “Happy birthday, PG,” she says.
Sandy is Rainer’s manager and now mine, too. I hired her before we left for tour, but she’s been my acting manager practically since I got the role of August inLocked—and more than that, she’s been a mentor and friend. She’s basically acting as a mom to all of us.
“Thanks.”
“Before you guys make any plans, we have to talk about those offers that are rolling in for the two of you.” She looks at me and says, “Sorry, kid, the machine rests for no birthday. You’re lucky I didn’t show up at the airport.” She cocks her head at Rainer. “How do you feel about being a young Superman?”
He gasps. So do I. “Are you serious?”
“Dead. And you—” Sandy loops her finger in the air. “Have you read any of the scripts I gave you?”
“A few,” I say. She sent twenty: romantic comedies, a few high school dramas, and one totally amazing script calledCloser to Heavenabout a girl who leaves home at sixteen to join the circus and ends up becoming the greatest high-wire artist in the world. It’s one of the most beautiful scripts I’ve ever read, and that’s saying a lot—there was a time in my life when I read ten a week, easy.
“Closer to Heaven,” I say. “I want to talk to the writer.”
Sandy bites her bottom lip. “I was afraid you’d say that. They got Billy Zack to direct, and he thinks you’re too blockbuster. There wasn’t anything else in those twenty?”
“That’s insane,” Rainer says. “Why are you sending Paige twenty scripts? I only ever get three.”
“Because I know what you like. Anyway, Paige, you’d be better off doing something else. That one will pay nothing.”
“I don’t care,” I say. “It was the only one I read that I loved.”
“Listen,” Rainer says, reaching over and kneading one of my shoulders. “I think this is a conversation for another time. We just got home. It’s Paige’s birthday.”
Sandy nods. “But I need you to move forward with something soon,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “And I came all the way up the canyon to impress this upon you in person.”
“Hey, have you heard from Wyatt?” Rainer asks. We read online that Wyatt wasn’t directing the next movie, which I guess would explain why he left the tour after the first week. He was tough, but we loved him, and it feels weird to be moving on to the next movie without him. “He isn’t returning our calls.”
“He’s doing another movie,” she says. She looks resigned. “Ihaven’t even heard from Wyatt. But we need to get comfortable with the reality that he’s not going to be with us on the next film.” She runs a hand over her forehead, and I know there is more at work here than just business. I always suspected Wyatt and Sandy had a complicated “friendship.”
Rainer exhales. “We just want to talk to him.”
It’s almost odd seeing Rainer this attached to Wyatt—after all, they clashed for most of the movie. But by the end, Wyatt became like a dad to us. I know Rainer can’t imagine losing him now, either.
Sandy flips her wrist to look at her watch. “All right, moving on. Your father called.”
“Not this again,” Rainer says.
Sandy sticks her hands on her hips. “Look, you don’t want him to be your father? Cool. I don’t think anyone could blame you. But he’s still your producer.”
Rainer turns around and crosses his arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sandy gives her bestcome onexpression. “What do you think it means?” she says. She’s playing hardball with him, and he knows it. I see him hiccup back a laugh.
“You think I care?” he says.
Sandy shrugs. “About being replaced in this franchise? Yeah, I kinda do.”
Does Greg Devon have that kind of power? Of course he does. He hired us all; there’s no reason he couldn’t fire us.
“Hey, Rainer, can I see you for a minute?” I say.
Rainer follows me into the bedroom. When we’re alone together, I feel the quiet of the room palpably. It’s like there is someone else in here that is taking up all the space, all the air. He goes over to the window.
“She’s right, you know,” I say.
