New Orleans had become quite the Mecca for movie hosting in the years since Hurricane
Katrina had bored down on one of the South’s most treasured cities. The city welcomed
the business and the free publicity the big Hollywood studios infused into the local
economy. Reporters flocked to the movie sets trying to garner personal interviews
usually only captured by national magazines and entertainment news shows.
Evan emerged from one of the talent trailers, and from a distance, I thought I saw
him throw me a little wave. I waved back, just in case, and settled into my seat to
watch the next scene between him and Emmy Harper, the actress playing Josette. I pulled
my sunglasses down low, trying to shield my face from the intense afternoon sun, and
retrieved a fan from my bag. I doubt anyone would know that fan wasn’t in my bag five
minutes ago. This ardent heat was forcing me to dip into my magic bag of tricks that
I usually reserved for private appearances.
Evan smoothly strolled to the front sidewalk of the house and waited for the director
to shout, “Action.” One of the makeup artists powdered the front of his nose, and
brushed the tops of his Navy uniform’s shoulders with a lint brush. I giggled at the
face he made during the makeup attack. Looking satisfied with her presentation, she
returned the brushes to her oversized apron belt, and stepped back to let Evan and
Emmy start their lines. My wrist rocked back and forth with the fan as I listened
to the words the actors exchanged only a few feet in front of me.
“Josette, I’m leaving. Come with me.” Evan stretched his hand out to Emmy. His face
was pained. Her back was turned to him, and she was at the top of the stairs, leaning
against one of the formidable plantation columns.
“Just go, Luke. You know Papa will never let us be together. Just go.” She buried
her head in her hands and started weeping. I watched as Evan made the short climb
up the wide stone steps, and placed his hands on the back of her shoulders. I waited
for Emmy to lean into him, but instead, she stayed firmly attached to the pillar.
“I’m not leaving without you. Leave your father. Leave all of this. We can make it
together, just you and me.”
I stopped fanning myself and stretched forward to hear his whispers into her ear.
I knew the sound girls were all-too-happy to be close to Evan during this scene. But
he was too quiet; I couldn’t hear what he said next.
“Cut! Cut! Cut! What is this crap? Come on! Give me something! I’m not feeling it,
Evan. Break. Everyone take five,” Archie Preston groaned into his megaphone, “again.”
The wiry director had his hands in the air as he dismounted from his floating chair.
I was surprised when Gina told me Archie would be the director for this film. He was
known for his high action and adventure blockbusters, not dramatic, love story, period
pieces. He walked over to Evan, put his arm around the Texan’s shoulder, and they
disappeared around the corner of the house, their heads leaned toward the other in
intense conversation.
I turned back to the pages in my lap and studied the dialogue. Was the director unhappy
with the script or the delivery? The conversion of Josette’s and Luke’s compelling
love story from my novel to the screenplay was more challenging than I anticipated.
The team of writers on the set was clamoring for more action that I assumed came from
Archie’s long-standing association with high adventure movies. I wondered if they
knew this was overall a love story, not a cops and robbers, shoot-out, high-chase,
car explosion, kind of storyline. I groaned, remembering the scene I saw inserted
into the script. There was a gun show on the horizon—ugh! Why couldn’t they just see
the beauty in what Josette and Luke had?
I scribbled in a few changes in the margins when the vibrations from my pocket interrupted
my train of thought. I reached in and retrieved my phone. I recognized the main number
for Raven Publishing flashing on the screen. My heart skipped a beat or two, hoping
it was Jack.
If it weren't for the Foresight I had in Las Vegas, we would be together now. I pushed
out the feelings of hope, giddiness, and downright want that always surfaced when
I thought about him. It wasn’t safe.
My stomach lurched when I remembered the three days Jack had broken his rigid business-only
rules. We had been caught up in an evil scheme, targeted by a Proxy who wanted my
Time Spell
and magic. Proxies would stop at nothing to suck the magical life force from other
magical beings. It was their only route to having any magic of their own. Helen, the
Proxy, had threatened our families and our lives. Jack had helped me defeat her, and
during those three days, he had completely let his guard down. So had I. Only, it
didn’t last; it couldn’t.
I was the reason we couldn’t be together. By sharing my magic with Jack, I had made
him vulnerable to more evil forces than I could imagine or protect him from. The only
way to shield him and to prevent the Foresight from coming to fruition was to undo
those three days together in Las Vegas.
The only way to put Jack back in the safe zone was to make sure he knew nothing about
my magical abilities, the existence of witches or Proxies, and the words glowing orbs,
spells, or the seam. My cousin and best friend, Holly, is an Eraser. She has the ability
to remove parts of people’s memory. In my moment of utter crisis, she helped me erase
those three incredible days from Jack’s recall. Making Jack let go of me one memory
at a time was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made.
A few weeks after our return from Las Vegas, Gina, the persistent marketing guru at
Raven Publishing, insisted I temporarily abandon writing a new book in exchange for
dedicating time to the
Masquerade
screenplay. As much as I wanted to be around Jack, to hear him growl or brood over
some of my misplaced words, the timing couldn’t have been more perfect to get away.
My attempt to act normal around him failed miserably the first time I saw him in his
office after Holly had performed her
Eraser Spell
. I smiled too much, giggled too much, and dropped too many hints. I wanted the faintest
sign that part of what we shared was buried somewhere in his mind or, more importantly,
in his heart. Instead of a smiling, warm Jack, he focused on work. He returned my
flirts with editing questions, the laughs with a furrowed brow, and the hints with
a puzzled look. There was no doubt I needed to escape from my insanely brilliant,
book-loving, outdoorsy, and always well-dressed editor. I needed to regroup. I needed
to mend my broken heart. New Orleans and the set of
Masquerade
would be the perfect distractions.
I ran my finger along the slide on my screen. “Hello?” I sucked in my breath, waiting
for Jack’s husky voice on the other end of the phone. I remembered how it sounded
in my ear when his lips nuzzled my neck.
“Ivy, it’s Gina. How’s it going? How’s our little Sullen’s Grove super star doing?”
I could hear her smacking on her gum between words.
My heart sank. “Oh, hey, Gina.” I started breathing again. “It’s going. It’s a little
harder than I thought it would be. It’s different than
Vegas Star
. I’m a lot more involved in the writing. And it’s hot. Y’all should enjoy the cool
weather in North Carolina.” I tried to sound sweet and not so disappointed. Weather
conversation was always a good fail-safe topic.
“Great. Great. I’m just checking in with you. You have a few publicity events next
week, and I didn’t hear back on the email list I sent to you yesterday.” The smacking
sounds lingered on the line. “Can you do the book signing? Are you going to be back
in town by then?”
I mentally rolled through the spreadsheet Gina had sent me. Book signings and promos
for
Vegas Star
and
Masquerade
were the last thing on my mind right now. “Oh yeah, I’ll be there. I saw the list
you sent last night. It’s just been hectic here. There are so many rewrites they want
me to do. I’m starting to think they should have just made the movie from scratch.
They did know this is a love story, right?”
I saw Evan and the irritated director emerge from the opposite corner of the house.
They were smiling, and Archie gave Evan a few attaboy pats on the on the back.
“Ivy, we have total faith in you. Don’t even think that. Jack was just saying this
morning—”
I cut her off. I didn’t want to hear what Jack said. “Gina, gotta go. We’re starting
up again. Tell everyone I said ‘hey.’” I ended the call and wiggled the phone back
in my pocket.
Gina probably thought I had a bee in my bonnet after that call, but her constant texts,
emails, and calls weren’t helping my efforts to distract myself from Jack. Every time
we talked, she mentioned him. “Jack thinks you should add a few lines to just this
scene, or Jack said not to touch anything in that chapter, or Jack said to send him
an outline of the rewrites.” I sighed. I had no plans to leave Raven Publishing or
to change editors, but every time I heard Jack’s name or worse, his voice, it was
like tiny pinpricks piercing every inch of my heart.
No matter what Holly had seized from Jack’s memory, I knew it wasn’t possible for
me to forget what his strong hands felt like, or how the sound of his heart beating
in his broad chest echoed in my ears when we curled up on the couch. I loved how he
towered over me even when I was in my highest of heels, and how, in one of our heated
arguments, he could turn from a raging bull into the man I couldn’t stop kissing.
My trip down Jack-memory-lane was interrupted by the loud voices of Evan and Josette,
err I mean, Emmy. I saw her petite hands waving wildly in the air, and her left foot
stomped on the brick porch. Then she stormed into the house and slammed the door behind
her. Evan turned around to face the crew who had gathered to witness the costars’
squabble. He gave a sheepish grin and shrugged his shoulders. I heard some of the
men huddled around the lights laugh, and tell Evan not to worry about her. One tech
even muttered, “That’s female talent for you.”
I wrinkled my nose when I heard the guys talking about Emmy like that. She seemed
so sweet and friendly. An allure of innocence floated around her. Whatever she and
Evan were arguing about, I didn’t think she deserved the crap she was getting from
them.
Evan spotted my fake paper shuffle and threw me a half-wave. Hesitantly, I waved back.
I didn’t know why Emmy had stormed off the set in front of the entire production crew,
and I didn’t want to join in with the on-going speculation.
It didn’t take long for me to realize the movie set was worse than any high school
rumor mill. My first day in New Orleans I heard whispers that two production assistants
were pregnant, the engineer was leaving his wife for one of the actresses, and the
producers refused to drink out of plastic bottles. I learned growing up in Sullen’s
Grove that there’s only about ten percent truth to anything coming out of the grapevine.
The rest is just sour grapes.
“Emmy! Where is Emmy? Has anyone seen our lead actress? People, come on. We’re on
a tight schedule.” Archie Preston resumed his perched position, and was canvassing
the front lawn for Emmy Harper.
“She’s back in her trailer,” one of the sound girls called from across the lawn. “I
think she’s in makeup again. It will probably be another thirty minutes before she’s
ready.” The girl threw a look at Evan. Evan ignored the implication and stood at his
cue mark.
“Dammit! Makeup? What is going on here? I’m calling it a day. We can’t get anything
accomplished like this. Listen up! We’re getting back on schedule tomorrow, and I
don’t care who you are, if you derail this production for even two minutes, you’re
off the set. Everyone here is replaceable. That goes for you too, Evan and Emmy. Give
her that message, will you?”
The director pushed the mechanical lever forward and landed on the ground with a thud.
A train of assistants hustled after him as he barreled through the set and off the
grounds of Magnolia Plantation. He never gave Evan a chance to respond.
The crew around me started breaking down the set for the day. Teams in white T-shirts
shoved electrical cords in big black cases. The sound girls wrapped wire around their
arms and strategically placed microphones in protective sleeves like they were Faberge
eggs. My mouth watered as I saw the drink cart wheeled off into the back of a van.
I should have grabbed another Diet Coke for the road. Without the constant fanning,
the air was stifling. I shuffled all of my script sheets together and started shoving
them in the outer flap of my bag.
As I packed to leave the set for the day, I felt a gradual repeated poking sensation
just over my right shoulder blade. I turned around to see Evan Carlson smiling. His
head blocked the sun, and the rays floated around his silhouette, giving him a total
Hollywood look. “Hey, again.”
“Hey.” I pulled the strap over my shoulder and returned his warm gaze.
“Since it’s an early day, some of the crew are getting together for drinks at Easy
Eddies on Bourbon Street. I thought I’d see if you’d like to come with us or meet
us there or something.”
He shoved both hands in his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. I noticed
he had already changed out of his 1945 Navy Uniform, and into cowboy boots and jeans.
Jeans that fit like nothing I had ever seen on a man.