Reel (Hollywood Renaissance 1)

We can.

And I know I have Neevah to thank for that, at least in part.

That moment in the bedroom was a close call. Not that I came close to doing anything about the attraction, which is growing and—I suspect—mutual. But I almost showed my hand.

Shit.

Did I hide it?

It’s her heightened sensitivity that fuels her brilliance as an actor. She’s emotionally astute, which puts her in touch with not only how she feels, but how others are feeling, too.

I’m not a conceited guy. Many of the women who approach me see a role, an opportunity, a chance to get ahead. It’s part of the game, but Neevah . . . I haven’t known her long, but already I can tell that with her, there are no games. There’s a sincerity to her—a humility and realness that the more I see, the more I admire, especially in a business like ours powered by ego and artifice.

Surely Neevah knows anything more than a professional relationship between us would spell trouble, so she’s fighting this pull. So am I, but if Verity picked up on it, Evan will. And the last thing I want is a daily lecture from that dude about keeping my dick in my pants.

“Welcome home,” Evan says, walking into my office sipping on his smoothie. “How’d it go?”

I look away from the colored cards of the storyboard on my wall to Evan.

“Great trip.” I tip back in my chair and prop my feet on the desk. “We have a whole other story we didn’t know existed.”

Over the next twenty minutes, I share all the things we learned about Dessi and Tilda. Evan sits across from me, his eyes lighting up as he realizes this story is even better than we first thought.

“And the daughter is okay with us putting all this in?” he asks.

“She is. Neevah talked to her to make sure.” I shuffle a deck of multi-colored index cards. “They really hit it off.”

“Sounds like Neevah will be an asset in more ways than one.” Evan casts a cautious look at me from under a slight frown. “Which brings me to something we need to discuss.”

“Shoot.” I keep my tone casual, but I know that look. I’ve met that frown before. This is some shit I don’t want to hear.

“Lawson Stone called,” Evan says.

“And?”

“And Galaxy is not happy about you casting Neevah.”

I shrug, belying the tension in my shoulders. “Not surprising. We knew they would take some convincing.”

“Lots of convincing.” Evan looks me square in the eye. “And some compromise.”

I lower my feet and swivel in the office chair. “My least favorite word. Well, one of them. What kind of compromise?”

“If you get to keep Neevah as Dessi—”

“And I do,” I say, my voice unyielding.

“Then they get to choose the guy. They have someone in mind for Cal Hampton.”

“Who?”

“Trey Scott.”

“He’s a pop singer,” I say, not bothering to disguise my distaste. “He’s on Nick at Nite.”

“Those are reruns and that was years ago. He’s all grown up now. Plenty of big-name stars begin as child actors. Hillary Duff, Miley Cyrus, Zac Ephron, Selena Gomez. The list goes on and on. The cache of this film will bring in the over-thirty crowd. Trey will draw a younger audience, even though he’s now over thirty himself. He still has that fandom.”

These are not the things I wanted to consider when casting my movie, but I do recognize Galaxy is taking an enormous risk with Neevah.

“You got tape of him?” I ask curtly. “He still has to audition like everybody else, and if he’s trash—”

“I do have tape, and he’s actually really good. Don’t let the Disney fool you.”

“Send it to me.” I turn back to my storyboard. “We done?”

“Well, I know you wanted to shoot in New York.”

I whip around to face him again. “Of course, I do. Most of the story takes place there.”

“Yeah, but Trey will be doing double duty in the fall when we need to shoot.”

“Double duty?”

“He’ll shoot with us during the day, and we can be strategic about his scenes for night shoots,” Evan says, lowering his eyes and toying with his keys, a sure sign he doesn’t want to tell me the rest. “He’ll be hosting a live game show here in LA three nights a week.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? They think I’m shooting my movie in LA instead of New York because he’s hosting Family Feud?”

“It’s not. It’s—”

“I don’t give a damn what it is.” I stand and pace from my desk to the windows overlooking the city. “You outta your damn mind, Evan. His game show won’t dictate our locations.”

“Not all of them and not all the time. We’re still forming the location list, but I think it could work.”

“How? How could it work?”

“We could use Galaxy’s back lots. Most of the scenes will be interior and we can grab pick-up shots in New York. Also keep in mind a lot of those buildings from Harlem in the thirties are either demolished or look really different. We’d have to create our own with models and other tricks anyway. We have to recreate the Savoy Ballroom, a massive undertaking. A back lot is ideal for that. That’s not to say no shots in New York. Just from October to January, we need to—”