“R-E-S-P-E-C-T.”
The light flashed green, and he shot off the line. Poser. Like she’d want that fake-toothed pretty boy. Please. She’d eaten themfor lunch when she was a teenager. (Not really, but that sounded good, didn’t it?)
No, today was not about her past, the scandal (oh shudder), or her resumé of death and dying, but about what she wanted to accomplish. For the first time in her twenty-year career, she was asking for a part, not waiting to be called for an audition.
Yeah, you bet she’d called in a family favor. Why be the daughter of Hollywood legends—Academy Award–winning director and actress—if she didn’t call in a few favors?
Her sordid career had her dying all over stage and screen. Not in slasher flicks or horror shows but on soap operas, coming-of-age films, Broadway, and one Shakespeare in the Park.
She’d turned down at least three roles due to the dying nature of the character she was offered. Because at twenty-nine, she began to wonder if she’d cursed herself.
Dying so many times, had she made some unspoken agreement with death? She died a hundred and fifty times her year on Broadway. A hundred and fifty!
Could such a role produce an unseen effect on her life? On her soul?
Because after Broadway came the scandal. The death of her reputation. Chloe turned the music up louder, forcing the ugly ordeal to the back of her mind.
Pulling up to the Gondas’ gate, she pressed the speaker button.
“Chloe Daschle to see Mr. Gonda.”
“What? I can’t hear you.”
Chloe lowered the radio volume. “Chloe Daschle to see Mr. Gonda.”
With a click, the ornate iron gate swung open and Chloe eased up the stone driveway, following the curve to park in the shadow by the front door.
Jeremiah and Laura Gonda, another dynamic duo, were like her parents, an award-winning director married to an Oscar-winning actress.
They were one of Hollywood’s anomalies. Happily, faithfully married for twenty years and raising seven kids practically made them a sideshow.
Chloe’s parents, also happily together for thirty-five years, had never married.
Stepping out of the car, Chloe released her ponytail, fingered the knots from her hair, and reached for her bag. At the door, she rang the bell, then stood back, waiting, the thump of her heartbeat drowning her thoughts.
Hey, Jeremiah, I’ d like to read for Esther.
Surprise! Listen, I got hold of this script,Bound by Love. Have you cast Esther yet?
Please, please, please let me read for this part.
She’d heard of Jeremiah’s latest film from a friend of hers, Smitty Barone, an actor-slash-Realtor in town who popped into her life every now and then. She couldn’t even remember where she first met him. Acting class?
The breeze kicked up, and Chloe glanced toward the trees lining the gated grounds. Bel Air hosted a legend of stars in its day. Mary Pickford, Ingrid Bergman, George Reeves, Jerry Lewis, Johnny Carson. Even the Beatles during their ’65 tour.
In years to come, her parents would become part of Hollywood’s storied past. But she, Chloe Daschle, didn’t ache for immortality. She wanted to work, do something meaningful with her craft, impact hearts for good.
And if she was so blessed, break the mysterious curse of death she’d somehow enacted in her life and find personal happiness and true love. Was that too much to ask? To believe in?
The door of the angular, glass Frank Lloyd Wright–home swung open. Jeremiah stood on the other side with his newest daughter, eight-month-old Eva.
“Chloe, come in, come in.” He stepped aside, smiling. The grand marble foyer featured aGone with the Windstaircase, a high, wood-beam ceiling, and a nine-foot chandelier. “Thanks for coming tothe house. Laura’s reshooting some scenes this week, so I’m on deck all day.”
“I’d rather come here than your office.” She wrapped Eva’s little hand around her finger. “You’re so beautiful.”
“And she knows it too. Ezra?” Jer called to his oldest. “Come take your sister.” A gangly, cute blond teenager came around the corner, stuffing a piece of sandwich meat in his mouth, and reached for the baby.
“The nanny has the middle kids at gymnastics and dance.” Jer motioned for Chloe to follow him. “So we’ll have some quiet.” He entered his office, the western wall of glass framing a spectacular view of the valley. “Can I get you something to drink?”
