She tilted her head as she stared at me, like she was just now realizing it was odd that I’d never gone into detail about it. And it was odd. And hard. Resisting the urge to tell her every aspect of the show was slowly giving me an ulcer. Keeping secrets sucked. The truth would come out soon enough though, and hopefully when it did, she wouldn’t be too steamed at me to listen—I was dying to tell her.
“Oh, well it’s…” I looked around the bedroom for inspiration. What would I be good at selling to the world? Condoms? Aftershave? Baby-making juice? Seeing something delicious on my dresser, I told her, “Whiskey. It’s a commercial for whiskey.” Even as a jolt of guilt knotted my stomach, I couldn’t contain my smile. That had been a well-crafted lie. Me being a whiskey spokesman was totally believable. And actually, that would be pretty awesome. If this opportunity led to that one, it would complete the circle of my epicness.
Anna gave me a bright grin that made my dick throb. If she hadn’t been holding Onnika, I would have tossed her down on the bed and given her some of my superspecial baby-making juice before I left. “That is perfect for you, babe. You’re gonna nail this! I can’t wait to tell everyone.”
Knowing she couldn’t do that yet, I firmly reminded her of something I’d said right after I told her I took the job. “Remember our plan, Anna. I need to be the one to break it to the guys, or else they’re gonna be whiny little prisses about me doing something outside of the band. They’d probably try and compare it to Kellan almost taking that solo gig last month, but it’s nothing like that. For one, this is acting, not music, so it doesn’t count…but those asses won’t see it that way, so until it’s said and done, I need you to respect the sacred pact of husband and wife, the My secrets die with you bond, and not say a word. Not even to Kiera.” I’d said that with a stern finger raised to her face. I couldn’t risk her sisterly bond trumping our marriage bond. I needed her to support me on this, even if she didn’t understand why.
Anna had rolled her eyes at me, but agreed. “Whatever, Griffin. I don’t see how they’d be upset with you doing a commercial, but if you really don’t want me to say anything, then I won’t.” Then she’d given me a fond smile and kissed my nose. “Have a safe flight and a great trip…and say hi to your parents for me.”
A tidal wave of remorse had washed over me after she’d sweetly wished me well. I’d almost told her right then and there that I was a crap-filled lying douche, and filming a commercial wasn’t really why I was flying to L.A. But I was so close to getting what I wanted; I just had to be strong for a little while longer. The look on her face had actually helped me contain the truth. She was so wonderful, so trusting. I couldn’t stomach breaking that trust by confessing what I was really doing. The words just wouldn’t come out. I knew I’d have to tell her one day, but today wasn’t that day. I’d deal with the consequences of my actions later, once the action had paid off for me. For us.
I’d rented a limo for my stay in Los Angeles, and the driver was waiting for me at the airport when I touched down. I had him take me to a five-star hotel near the studios, where I had a room waiting. I could have stayed with my parents like I’d told Anna, but it was too risky. My family would talk to Matt’s family, who would in turn talk to Matt, and if he found out what I was really doing here, I’d never hear the end of it.
My driver rang me early the next morning to take me to the set. Really early the next morning. My eyeballs stung as the air hit them, and I nearly told the fucker to come back at a decent hour. But then I remembered what was happening today and I sprang to my feet. Today was the day I became a TV star.
I practically skipped to the car I was so excited, and even though it was a ridiculously early hour, I texted Anna once we started moving. Almost showtime.
Her response was fast; she was probably up early with Onnika. It’s not even eight in the morning yet…you must be dying.
Yeah, kind of. I was so excited though that I didn’t care how early it was. I responded to her text with a winky face. She could interpret that any way she wanted to.
When we got to the gate of the studio, my heart started pounding with excitement; this was so fucking awesome. It would have been even better if Anna was here to share it with me, but there would be another time for her to come check it out, I was positive of that. The driver had my credentials, and we easily passed through the gate. Harold was waiting in the parking lot with a golf cart when we pulled up. He smiled as he waited for the driver to open my door. Once I was out of the car, he extended a hand to me. “Mr. Hancock, it is so good to see you again. How was your flight?”
“Groovy,” I said, looking around as I shook his hand. “So…where do we go first?”
“Glad you asked. I’ll give you a brief tour of the set, then it will be on to hair and makeup. After that, I’ll introduce you to the rest of the cast and we’ll do a read-through. If all goes well, filming will start tomorrow.”
As we got in the cart, Harold gave me a sidelong glance. “Did you get a chance to memorize the script?”
I scoffed as I leaned back in the stiff seat. “Of course, dude.” Mostly.
As we drove along, we passed warehouses with various costumed people milling about. I saw Roman soldiers talking with zombies, rough and tough cowboy types sipping coffee with a man in a dog costume, and more cheerleaders than I could count. I’d just entered awesometopia.
After what felt like five hours, we finally made it to the warehouse we’d be using; it was in the very back corner of the lot. Harold parked the cart, then we climbed out. “Now, we’re sharing this warehouse with a few other productions, so it’s going to feel a little cramped at first.” He gave me a bright, cheesy grin. “But as soon as we get picked up and we’re a hit, all that changes. Only the best for you.” He patted me on the back.
Smiling, I draped an arm around his shoulders. Only the best for me…now we’re talkin’.
I followed Harold through the massive building holding various sets, and when we finally got to my show, tentatively titled Acing It, my heart started beating faster. This was it! My chance at glory.
The first set we walked through was a typical bar with a stage set up for a band. It was so eerily similar to Pete’s, I almost wondered if Harold had taken notes during his visit and given them to the set designers. It just made my job that much easier; I already felt like I was home. As Harold walked us through the bar set, he said, “First, we’ll get you to wardrobe. They’ve got your outfits pretty much done, but they’ll want to test them. Then we’ll get you into rehearsal. Once the first episode is in the can, I’ll start shopping it around to networks.”
Harold looked back at me; he was still wearing a big shit-eatin’ grin on his face. “But don’t you worry about that part, Mr. Hancock. This is going to be an easy sell. Cult classic is written all over this thing.” I nodded in agreement. I’d already known that.
After checking out the bar set, we went through a living room and bedroom set. As I gazed at the thin mattress where my character—Ace Gunner—presumably slept, I wondered if he’d be gettin’ lucky on the show. With a name as fucking cool as that, he really should. Plus, he was a rock star, and I knew from experience that being a rock star meant sex, sex, and more sex. I wondered if Anna would be cool with sex scenes, then decided she would be. It’s not like I’d be penetrating anybody or anything.
I was damn near giddy when we finally got to wardrobe. Dressing up reminded me of doing music videos with the guys. It was strange to not have them here with me…but cool too. No one could hog my spotlight if it was only shining on me.
Ace’s outfit mainly consisted of weathered jeans with a studded belt, a V-neck T-shirt, and a dark brown leather jacket. As I examined myself in the full-length mirror, I got a little turned on; I was bad-assed hotness. Anna better get out her boxing gloves, ’cause chicks were gonna go nuts for me.
Damn. This was gonna be so amazing.
Once wardrobe had a bunch of pictures of me in my ovary-blowing outfit,
Harold herded me off to hair and makeup. They were experimenting with Ace’s look today. Making him even hotter, if possible. “We need to lose the blond,” the makeup girl said after inspecting me for all of five seconds.
“Excuse me?” I told her. Surely I’d misheard that. Girls dug blonds just as much as dudes.
“No blond,” she bluntly stated. “Your character is dark, your hair needs to be dark.” She tilted her head. “Not black…but deep brown.”
I looked at myself in the mirror and tried to picture me with brown hair. I couldn’t get there. “Umm, I don’t think so,” I told her.
She shrugged. “Your opinion doesn’t really matter. You signed away the rights to your looks in the contract you signed. I could give you a pink Mohawk if I wanted. But I don’t, so you should be grateful. That hairstyle does have to go though…” She made a face like she was pained just looking at me.
“Fuck that!” I exclaimed, pulling my hair into a tiny ponytail. It had taken me forever to get it that long.
Pushing her glasses up her nose, she let out a long exhale. “I’ll sedate you if I have to, but I am cutting that mop. Something fun and shaggy…Kellan Kyle–ish. He’s got great hair.”
Narrowing my eyes, I grabbed a pair of scissors off her counter. “If you give me Kellan’s ’do, I’ll cut you.”
She didn’t look too intimidated by my threat. “It probably wouldn’t work on you anyway. Not everyone can pull off that style. Now sit.” She indicated her chair and I pouted in refusal. Snapping her fingers, she repeated, “Sit!”
I did what she said that time, but I made sure she knew I wasn’t happy about it.
Two hours later I had brown fucking hair. She’d chopped it too. It was longer than Matt’s, shorter than Kellan’s, somewhere in between like…Denny. Fuck. I looked like Denny now. Anna was gonna flip when she saw this.
After my hair was completely fucked, Harold took me to meet the rest of the cast. As I shook hands with the two girls and two guys who would be my bandmates, a sense of rightness flooded through me. The four of them looked at me like I was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen. I already felt like a star, and we hadn’t even recorded anything yet.
After a few practice run-throughs, we began filming. It was a lot more difficult than I thought it would be, but with the help of the director and my castmates, I got through it, and a few days later, the pilot was in the can and I was flying back home to my wife.
Even though I told her I would hire a car, she picked me up at the airport. She was a sight to behold when I spotted her in baggage claim, but knowing what I’d done behind her back instantly made a knot form in my stomach. When Anna saw me, she did a double take and her jaw dropped. She was grinning when she walked over to me though. “Oh my God…your hair…”
With a sigh, I told her, “I know…I look like Denny, right?”
Biting her lip, she shook her head. “No…you still look like you…the sexiest man on earth, but it does give you a little…edginess. Like you’re a badass.”
“I am a badass,” I told her, my lip curling into a grin. And I truly felt like a badass under her praise, but then the knot in my stomach tightened, sending a jolt of guilt and remorse through me. My smile dropped. Maybe I should just tell her now and get it over with. She’d be crushed though, and she was so happy to see me. Later. I’d tell her later.
Misinterpreting my expression, Anna tossed her arms around me. “Aw, babe, don’t worry. I like it! In fact, I think you should keep it that way for a while.” Grabbing my cheeks, she told me, “I am so proud of you, Griffin.” Then she smothered me with kisses. Good thing too, because if she’d stared at me a moment longer, those big, trusting green eyes would have broken me. But she ended up unintentionally distracting me with sex appeal, and I was able to firmly lock away the guilt. It was over and done with anyway, and it was all going to be okay. I was sure of it.
I knew Harold was busy shopping the show around to networks, but waiting for him to call and tell me it was sold was making me antsy. Anna thought my jitters were for the new D-Bag album releasing in the spring, and because I wasn’t ready to fess up to her, I let her think that. But the minute Harold gave me the green light, I’d have to break the news to Anna and the guys, and the thought of what I might tell them was chewing up my insides.
Every day, I mulled over things I could potentially say, but none of them sounded all that great. As it was, all I’d told the guys about my jaunt to L.A. was that I’d gotten a bug up my ass to cut and dye my hair. They’d rolled their eyes and made some joke about blondes not having more fun after all. I didn’t react to their jibes, because I knew when they found out the truth it was going to be a shitstorm. On both fronts—home and work. While I hated the fact that I’d purposely kept Anna out of the loop, I was glad I’d gone through with it. I was making new dreams for myself, since Matt and the guys had smashed my old ones into the ground.
Before I knew it, it was February, and I still hadn’t heard anything from Harold. I didn’t know what that meant, and a trace amount of doubt started to dull the shiny hope surrounding my new dream. I couldn’t imagine no one wanted the pilot though, so there must be a bidding war for it. Yeah, that had to be what was happening. He would call me anytime to tell me the good news, I just had to be patient. Luckily, I had something time-consuming to take my mind off it.
The D-Bags were ready to start promoting the first single off the new album. It was some romantic, fluffy piece of crap that I could have played with my eyes closed. The beat was infectious though, and I had a feeling it would go viral soon. We were debuting it live in Seattle at a local radio station that frequently promoted us. Then we were doing a media blast, hitting every major metropolis in every time zone, all in the span of a few weeks. It was short, fun, and frantic, and just the four of us. The fiancées stayed behind at their jobs, and the wives stayed home with the kids, since they wouldn’t handle the hustle well.
Our last stop on the tour was in New York City. Aside from Seattle and L.A., I think New York was my favorite place on earth. There was just so much going on here. The constant commotion, the hustle and bustle, the always having somewhere to go, no matter the time of day—it was a dream come true for an overactive type like me. I didn’t even need coffee in this town. The chaotic surge of life was enough to keep me energized.
As our car took us to our hotel, Matt laid out the plans for the day. “Okay, we’ve got two radio gigs today, then Live with Johnny tonight.” I puffed out an irritated breath at hearing that last one and Matt tossed me a glare. “Get over it, Griffin. It’s a big show with a big audience, and we need to be on it.”
“Dude’s an asshole. I don’t see why we need to do anything for him,” I muttered.
Matt ran a hand through his short hair. I swear he had less of it now. The stress of running the band and planning his wedding was getting to him. I might have felt sorry, but he was the one who’d had Denny line up this gig, so I didn’t. I hoped all his hair fell out. He should have known better than to go back to Johnny’s. The guy was famous for being an ass to his “guests.” He was like the evil love child of Ricky Gervais and Simon Cowell. Nobody who went on that show came out unscathed, but we were all supposed to be okay with being insulted. It was “part of the act” as Denny frequently told me. Whatever. Guy was a douche; the last time we’d gone on the show, he’d basically ignored the rest of the guys and ragged on me the entire time, insulting me in odd ways that I weren’t even sure were insults, but I was sure I didn’t like it. Smart-ass, pansy-loving jerkwad.
“I know he’s not the nicest host…but we’re not doing the show for him, we’re doing it for us. He has a very loyal, almost cultlike following, and if he says, ‘Buy their album,’ then that’s what they’ll do.”
Rolling my eyes, I countered with “And if he says, ‘These guys are tools, don’t give them the time of day,’ that’s what they’ll do. We should just ignore him. There are plenty of other late-night talk shows out there
.”
Matt leaned back in his seat. “You don’t have to talk to him. Just sit back and let us do the work. You’re good at that.” The last part was really quiet, but I still heard it. Matt was starting to sound just like Johnny. Assholes.
After a brief rest at the hotel, we headed out for radio gigs. Like always, Kellan stole the show. All the questions were directed at him, and all the answers came from him. Occasionally, I would try to interject something, but more often than not, I was ignored. Or given a polite, dismissive laugh that clearly said, Cute, but please be quiet and let us talk to the real star. After the second gig, I was sick of interviews. Interviews about Kellan, that was. I was more than ready to talk about me and my still-secret upcoming project. Nobody asked though, and I couldn’t volunteer the information yet. God, I hoped Harold had good news soon.
Anna called me that night while we were driving to Johnny’s studio. “So, how’s it going?”
“Same old, same old,” I said. “All Kellan, all the time…” Kellan was talking on the phone too, probably to Kiera, so he didn’t hear me. He was smiling, laughing, and looking genuinely pleased with every aspect of his life. Maybe he got a high from keeping me under his thumb.
Anna sighed. She hated it when I said stuff like that. “You’re a star too, babe. The brightest in my sky.” She sighed again. “Hurry home. The girls and I miss you.”
The thought of my three girls at home, all missing me, made a brightness flare up inside me. Even if Kellan stole the show at work, I was the center of their world, and that was really comforting. “Yeah, I miss you guys too. Make sure you all watch Johnny’s show tonight, especially Gibson. I want her to see her dad rock the house.”
Anna laughed. “We wouldn’t miss it. But if he spends the entire interview slamming you again, I might have to reach through the TV and strangle him.”
My wife was so fucking awesome. “Please do. I hate that cocksucker.” After Anna agreed with my sentiment, I told her to give the girls a kiss for me. She said she would, then we hung up. With Anna having my back, I felt a little better about this upcoming performance and interview. Let that fucker try and make me look stupid. I dared him to.