Good Boy... Bad Man: The All-American Boy

“Cut!” Stefon screams. I swear the man only has two volumes, scream and shout.

“Thank God,” I whisper, shifting my feet. My calves are screaming at me, which means I need to hit the gym more, but I probably won’t. I am referred to as the “chubby one,” whereas my sister, Jenna, is the “hot one” despite us being fourteen and fifteen, respectively. While I hate being called the chubby one, I know it could be so much worse— they could not refer to me at all.

“We’ll break here for lunch. When is the next call time?” he asks impatiently. He’s a creative genius, but he’s a dick. People put up with him because he wins awards. He knows it too.

“Two,” someone answers. I can’t see who it is, but it sounds like Tessa, the assistant director.

“Let’s make it four, and by God, if we don’t get this scene in the can today, I’m going to lose my shit.” Stefon is shouting as he walks off the set. We are on location in the Valley. It’s a real family’s house, not something that was built for this movie, The Floodgates. I’m trying to be considerate, but I know the family has been put up at the Four Seasons in addition to a large location fee. Exhausted, I stop by the craft table and grab some lunch before going to my trailer. Even though I know I’ll regret it, I scarf down the sandwich and lie down on the couch. My assistant, Maise, will wake me when I need to go back on set. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend, but let’s be honest, she only hangs around because I pay her. Friends aren’t forever in Hollywood. As much as we love each other, I think my own sister would throw me over for a role.

Just as I am about to drift off, I think of the future and what it will hold. Normally, fourteen is too young to worry about that, but I am far from normal. Everything I do is contrived and for show. Just once, I’d like to do something unpredictable and out of the question for a Dexter…

One day, I’ll marry the most seemingly depraved man in Hollywood and be truly happy.

Chapter One

Present Day

It’s happening. I’ve almost managed to do what I’ve set out to do, and I couldn’t be happier. I finish the rewrites on the script and get it sent over to Betsy, my script supervisor. As a first-time director, I am relying on my team to help make this picture a success. There’s no “I” in team, after all. I’ve gathered a world-class cast and crew for my directorial debut.

Speaking of the cast, I run my fingers over the packet of papers reverently, knowing she touched these papers. There is even a faint whiff of her perfume coming off of them. With the signed contract in my hands, I realize that everything I’ve been working toward for eleven years has come to fruition. Eleven years of acting classes, community theatre, Broadway, two TV shows, a boatload of action films, and numerous bad deeds have brought me to this moment. Evie Dexter is going to be in the movie I wrote, specifically for her. Somehow, Worldwide Pictures and Amazon are letting a twenty-two-year-old actor write and direct a major motion picture with a hundred and ten million dollar budget, including distribution and marketing. It’s going to be a huge undertaking, but I know my gamble will pay off because of her. Once I was greenlit, I had the casting director contact her manager and offer the role; no audition was required. She accepted within two hours of receiving the script. Once her name was attached to the project, things moved quickly.

Pre-Production is already underway in my hometown of Deacon, Texas, but filming doesn’t start until next week. I’m flying home tomorrow. I have rented out The Abernathy Bed & Breakfast for myself and the cast. The crew lodgings are in a Hilton closer to San Marcos. It was the best I could do with such a small town, but I knew we had to film there. Queen of Clubs is a historical romance about a girl who is sold to a wealthy ranch owner by her parents in 1868. I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote it, but I wanted her to accept it. I had read somewhere that she wanted to do a historical romance, and I took it to heart.

In all my years out here, I’ve never met her. Our paths never crossed. I don’t go to parties, and I leave award shows after my category is announced, win or lose. I don’t do any of the things a young actor might do, but that doesn’t keep the press from speculating. They are all lying vultures, and I avoid them like the plague. That just makes them come at me harder, though.