Fifteen Minutes

  “Listen, bloke, I think someone wants a hug.” Cullen folded his arms, leaned back in his chair and chuckled.

  Kelly ran carefully around the table. She was wearing what looked like five-inch heels. “Let all the girls know I was the first to get a hug from Zack Dylan!”

  Zack hadn’t expected this. He had no choice but to go along with it, so he laughed and held open his arms as the two of them came together. Kelly pressed in close and whispered near his ear. “You’re a good sport. Don’t worry, I won’t do this every week.”

  The hug ended before Zack could respond. Kelly pranced back to her spot. Zack waved once more and then collected the famous red invitation to New York from Samuel J. Meier. “Congratulations, Zack.”

  “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”

  “I’m sure you will.” The show’s producer hesitated. “You’re a team player, right?”

  A team player? Zack’s heart was racing, the floor still mostly liquid. “Yeah, definitely. Of course.”

  Samuel Meier smiled. “Good. I thought so.” He nodded. “I think you’ll go far this season. I’m happy for you.” He pointed toward the back door. “Kip’ll talk to you out there.”

  Zack was almost there when an older man with an air of importance and a fancy headset stepped out from the shadows. “Hold on!” He put his hand up, clearly listening to direction through the headset. “Kip says they’re not ready for you yet.”

  Zack’s breathing came fast, and he could feel a fine layer of sweat at the top of his forehead. “Yes, sir.”

  The man listened again and nodded slightly. “I’m on it.” He took a step closer to Zack, his voice low. “This is what you need to do. You’ll burst through the door holding the red ticket, hands raised.” He seemed rushed. “You’ll let out a shout or some victory cry. Then you’ll drop down and do your best Tebow-type prayer.”

  A strange feeling came over him, starting at the back of his neck and working its way down his spine. “What?”

  “Tebow.” Impatience marked the man’s features. “You know, drop to your knee. That thing.”

  “That’s not how I pray.”

  The man raised his eyebrows half an inch. “I don’t care how you pray, kid. That’s what we want for the show.”

  Zack had seconds to make a decision. He hated when movie stars like Alec Baldwin mocked the pro football player. Zack respected Tim and everything he stood for. But to drop to one knee and do the Tebow just wasn’t him.

  “Look, kid, praying is praying.” The man pointed at the door. “You believers want people to know you’re religious. So do the Tebow. You might have a few extra weeks to talk about God.”

  There was no telling whether his anger or shock was greater in the moment, but Zack had to make a decision. And in the time it took for his heart to rattle off another few rapid beats, he decided. If Tebowing was how he could make a name for himself, the contestant with the strong faith, the Tim Tebow of Fifteen Minutes, then fine. That’s what he would do. He’d act like it was his idea, and he’d win the favor of the show’s producers.

  God, let people see this in the right light. Please . . . give me the chance to say how I feel about you. Thank you, Lord . . . thank you.

  “They’re waiting.” The man stepped back, a scowl etched onto his cheeks. “Go!”

  Zack stared at the door, held his breath and rushed for the other side. He did just as he was asked, milking the moment, the red ticket, the hands raised, the victory shout. Then he dropped to one knee and did the Tebow. He barely held the pose, and once he was back on his feet he hurried to Kip and the microphone.

  “It’s official!” Kip patted Zack on the back, congratulating him. “Our first Tebowing contestant! Zack, you’re on to New York . . . just like Tebow, by the way! So how did it go in there?”

  “God gets all the credit. I can’t believe I made it through!”

  Kip motioned to the cameraman to cut. “Hey, so thanks, Zack. Way to go.” He took a clipboard from another assistant. He didn’t look up. “You’ll receive a packet from a table at the end of the hall. Your flight to LaGuardia will take off first thing in the morning.”

  “Wow . . . so fast.”

  “It’s always like that for the last group.” Kip smiled at him again. Already he was moving toward the hallway; the female assistant was walking toward them.

  Zoey was at the girl’s side, long blond hair spilling over her shoulders. She looked ahead and spotted him. “Zack!” Her eyes lit up and she pointed at his red ticket. “You’re in! I knew it!” She ran to him and threw herself into his arms. Just as quickly she drew back and clapped her hands. A squeal came from her. “I’m so happy for you!”

  “Thanks.” He could see Kip watching from his place near the cameramen. He whispered something to one of them. Zack wanted to get out of there, but he couldn’t be rude. Not now. He turned to Zoey. “You’ll be perfect. The judges are great.”

  She linked her arm through his and raked her free hand through her hair. “I’m so scared.”

  “Don’t be.” With everyone watching, Zack couldn’t remember ever feeling more uncomfortable. He sidestepped her clutches and faced her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “You belong here.”

  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kip come closer, his radar clearly up. “You two know each other?”

  “Just from auditions.” Zack’s response came quickly. Already he felt like it had been a year since he said good-bye to Reese, since he held her in his arms. “We were in line together.”

  “Hmm.” Kip stood between them. “I sense a little chemistry, am I right?”

  “No.” Zack laughed and watched how his comment made Zoey’s face fall. “I mean, I have a girlfriend. Zoey and I . . . we’re friends. That’s it.”

  “Yeah.” Zoey found her winning smile. She leaned in and kissed Zack on the cheek. “What he means is, if he didn’t have a girlfriend he’d be madly in love with me.”

  Zack laughed and took a step back. “Crazy girl.” He fist-pumped her. How had he lost control? He pointed to the door. “Go kill it.” Only as he was leaving did he notice something that dropped his heart to the floor.

  The cameras had been rolling the whole time. He had signed up for this, of course. He knew he was giving up his privacy when he drove to Atlanta yesterday. He had no control over what the cameramen caught and how they might play it on the show. Still, of all the scenarios he had imagined, if by God’s grace he made it through to New York, getting kissed on camera wasn’t one of them. He needed to be more aware, ready for whatever came next.

  Especially if Zoey made it through.

  chapter 8

  Kelly Morgan didn’t feel like herself through the next few auditions. She added a comment here and there, but she wasn’t on her game. Something about Zack Dylan stayed with her. It wasn’t his looks. That act had been for the show, for the ratings. It was something deeper. Something in his eyes.

  At the next break, she poured a cup of coffee and took it outside on the terrace just off the audition room. There, with a view of downtown Atlanta and the summer breeze blowing in her hair, she tried to figure out what she was feeling. For the first time in years she stopped reciting good thoughts and actually allowed herself to think.

  It was Zack’s genuine smile, the kindness in his eyes. He reminded her of Cal when the two of them were in high school. Yes, that was it. Cal back when their lives revolved around her father’s church and youth group every Wednesday night.

  She’d been rebellious even then, whispering during the message and sometimes ditching the group meeting for a trip to the river with the wilder kids. She’d had her first beer at the river and on one particularly daring night, her first kiss with a kid three years older. She hadn’t even known his name. Yes, she had given her parents fits, intent on breaking rules and pushing limits.

  Not Cal. He was strong and tall, a baseball player, with a wristband that read I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. She used to tease
him for being so good, for caring so much. For meaning every word of the faith that somehow came up in every conversation. She kidded him about how he should’ve been the PK, the pastor’s kid. Not her.

  Zack had the same look in his eyes, the one that had defined Cal. As if the windows to his heart were wide open and he really believed that all people, all situations were a part of God’s story. Cal had the look back then and it had drawn Kelly like a moth to a flame. She would’ve done anything to get Cal’s attention. His character and kindness were what turned her around and made her stop acting crazy.

  She remembered one Wednesday night after youth group. Cal pulled her aside and looked at her. Straight through her. “You try too hard to be bad.”

  Her heart had pounded, her breath shaky from standing so close to him. But she wouldn’t let him see that. She laughed. “What do you mean?

  “I mean your dad’s the pastor. You think you have something to prove, running with those other kids and missing group.” He put his hand on her shoulder, his eyes locked on hers. “But that’s not really you, Kelly. One day I hope you figure out who you are.” He grinned before walking away. “You might like yourself.”

  Now Kelly took a long drink of her coffee and turned her face to the sun. How long had it been since she’d thought about that conversation? She blinked and stared at the street below. More to impress Cal than anything else, Kelly changed. She stopped trying to fit in with the kids who saw church as a joke, and allowed herself to listen to the messages, to learn and care and grow up. Cal was right. The way so often he had been right. Kelly began to like herself. Her last two years of high school, she and Cal were never apart. He was her best friend and his eyes were exactly like Zack Dylan’s. They shone with hope and a joy nothing could touch, and they told the world he was ready for tomorrow, excited about it.

  The look in Cal’s eyes didn’t change until they moved to L.A., until she got an agent and started finding opportunities to sing and perform. Cal had great intentions. He would get a job at one of the studios and develop wholesome programming, a goal he reached. Even now—despite the scandal of the paparazzi photos—Cal was widely recognized as the go-to guy for all things faith and family in the movie industry.

  But his eyes were different. He wasn’t the same, and there was no going back.

  She breathed in deep and finished her coffee. Then she tossed the cup in a nearby trash can, pulled out her cell phone and brought up Cal’s contact information. His photo was still the one she’d set many years ago. Her favorite from back in high school—the two of them sitting side by side in the back of his truck, tailgate down, tanned legs hanging off the edge, blue sky overhead.

  She willed herself to remember the truth, everything that had led to where they were today. There was no way to do that without going back to the beginning. Back when she thought she’d love Cal Whittaker till the day she died.

  THE MOVE TO L.A. came when she and Cal were just twenty-three, a year into their marriage. At first their California life seemed magical. Within a year she found a manager and a record deal and a spot on a hit Disney musical show playing one of a trio of girls who made up a fictitious teenage singing act.

  The other girls were legit teens, so the producers didn’t want anyone to know Kelly was twenty-four and married. She looked seventeen, after all. And so she removed her wedding ring and hid the fact while Cal took a job in marketing at one of the top moviemaking machines in Hollywood.

  Marriage was their secret, and that made it fun. They no longer had time for church, and the messages of youth group felt like part of another life. Quickly Kelly Morgan became the most-liked, best-known singer of the trio, a household name across the country. In addition to the show’s ratings, her music took over the charts. A poster of her from the show hung in the rooms of teenage boys everywhere.

  Cal liked to tease her when they were at home. “Every guy wants to be me.” He’d put his arms around her waist and hold her close, swaying with her in the kitchen. “We’re Hollywood’s best-kept secret,” he would tease her. “As long as you stay with me.”

  She would smile and kiss him, passionate and full-bodied. “There could never be anyone for me but you.”

  Sometimes rumors arose that Kelly was dating Cal—and people would question their age difference. But her publicity team worked to never reveal her age. If people assumed she was in her teens, so be it. Those were the days before Internet and instant access into the lives of celebrities. Secrets could be kept.

  Even so, the news came out when the show was in its last season. By then Kelly and Cal were in their late twenties and Cal had worked his way onto the marketing team for some of the biggest movies being made. Kelly’s publicist drafted a release that read simply, Teen star Kelly Morgan announces marriage to studio executive Cal Whittaker III. Details—including Kelly’s age—were sketchy and the public never knew that while Kelly was playing the part of a high school girl, she was actually married and in her twenties.

  After a few years of mediocrity and lackluster performances, Kelly decided to take a break from the world of entertainment. When she turned thirty she was pregnant with Kai, and two years later little Kinley joined them. Meanwhile Cal was finding success in the faith-and-family film industry. Kelly had a housekeeper for the laundry, chores, and cooking, but she took care of the kids. Until Kinley turned three the domestic life was enough for Kelly.

  But one day she looked in the mirror and no longer recognized her image. The media still talked about her as if she were a teenage star, but she clearly had aged far beyond that. One week the paparazzi snapped a photo of her pushing Kinley’s stroller while Kai walked alongside. She and her son held ice cream cones, and the picture showed Kelly mid-lick. Her face looked fat, a few chins marking the fact that she’d let twenty extra pounds creep onto her small frame.

  And that was that. She hired a nanny and a trainer and a dietician. Six months later, she looked a decade younger and made headlines by publicly daring the paparazzi to capture an unflattering picture of her. They never did.

  The memories stopped for a moment. Yoga and strength training were a regular part of her life now, the weight long gone. She was in better shape than she’d been in high school. Definitely better than when she’d been her most famous, during the run of the hit show.

  A year later Kelly knew her marriage was in trouble. By then Cal regularly criticized her for the changes she’d made. “You’re not the same person,” he would tell her. “I don’t recognize you.” He preferred the happy, domestic Kelly over the glamour girl she’d become.

  Her father felt the same way. “You’re selling out, Kelly. Don’t let fame become an addiction.”

  Kelly would only laugh at their concerns. Of course Cal and her father preferred the old her. Back when she had been a homebody, playing with the kids and having dinner on the table when Cal came home. Even if she didn’t cook it. That Kelly lived for the moment when he walked through the door. The changes had turned her into an in-demand actress, one associated with a different leading man every few months.

  Another year passed before a story ran in People magazine and USA Today, declaring that Kelly couldn’t act. “But she looks like a million bucks,” the reporter wrote. “Even if she’s playing scenes that are a little scandalous, she’s still America’s sweetheart.”

  The article also questioned whether Cal Whittaker III—America’s premier faith-and-family filmmaker—could be happy about his wife’s choices. Maybe to silence the critics or to keep an eye on her, Cal had asked her to be in one of his bigger films. Kelly turned down the offer. Another decision questioned by the media.

  She remembered the night she tried to explain her decision to him. “I don’t need your audience scrutinizing me. Church people will hang me up and throw darts at me.” She kissed him. “Try to understand, okay?”

  What he did next would forever stand as the first blow, the first battle in a war they’d eventually lose.

  To pay her ba
ck—at least it seemed that way at the time—Cal hired an actress who had publicly hit on him. The woman made a spectacle of herself by talking with reporters about the crush she had on Cal Whittaker. “Star Actress Hot for Kelly Morgan’s Guy,” the headlines read in that week’s tabloids. Kelly was asked about her husband’s decision in a dozen interviews over the next few months, especially when she landed her biggest role of all—the lead in a movie about a singer trying to hold on to her fame.

  That year the paparazzi were ruthless. “Is Cal having an affair?” they would shout at her as she left the studio. “Has he walked away from his faith?”

  Kelly ignored them, but she and Cal fought about the situation constantly. He swore that the executive producers had made the decision to hire the actress, but she believed he had a hand in the matter. “You wanted to get back at me,” she would insist.

  Around and around the argument went. Kai and Kinley spent more time with their nanny, and Kelly took parts in three films back to back, each of which took her away from L.A. for months at a time.

  It was while she was on the set of the third movie that she first saw pictures of Cal and the European model. The girl was stunning, just twenty-four years old. In the photo Cal had his arm around her as they ran from a Hollywood restaurant to a cab in the pouring rain.

  More fighting and unhappiness followed. More insistence from Cal that nothing was happening, that there was an explanation for the photo. He was a producer. Of course he spent time with possible leading ladies, looking for the right fit for his next film. Kelly quickly grew tired of the fighting. She had always resisted the sort of roles that put her in bed with her costar. But in light of Cal’s public antics and the way he had humiliated her in front of the world, she took a guest role on a racy hit vampire show. Her role recurred for three weeks and over that time she had several steamy sex scenes.

  The show filmed in North Carolina, and a couple times local photographers caught her with her costar at a café or coffee shop. She had barely flown home when Michael Manning direct-messaged her on Twitter. She remembered the tweet word for word. Heard about the steamy vampire scenes, love. You still married? I’m next in line. She didn’t respond but his message did strange things to her heart and made her feel twenty again. Every girl was in love with Michael Manning. He couldn’t be serious, right? She was a decade older than him. But the situation presented a possibility Kelly hadn’t really considered since her wedding day.