Take Two

  Stephanie smiled, and again her eyes grew watery. “That’s why I’m here.” She studied Keith and then Chase. “I believe you two can touch the world with this movie. The way Jasmine’s life, her joy and light, so deeply touched me.”

  The woman was both beautiful and poetic. Keith hoped they had lots of time together during the process — even with her busy schedule.

  They talked a little while longer, and then Stephanie had to get going. “My honey’s waiting up for me.” She held out her hand toward Keith and then laughed at herself. “What am I doing? Come around here and give me a hug. We’re already family — we have the same Father.”

  Keith and Chase moved out from behind the table and took turns hugging Stephanie good-bye. She was still smiling when she left, her steps light and full of the same energy that had come from her throughout the meeting.

  When she was gone, Keith and Chase sat back down with Kendall. Keith felt breathless from the brilliance of all that lay ahead. “She’s wonderful.”

  “Isn’t she?” Kendall grinned. “I knew you’d love her.”

  “She’s mesmerizing.” Chase leaned forward on his forearms. “Something very special’s happening here.”

  “And getting there will be the ride of a lifetime.” She pulled out a notebook. “Okay, we have a lot to cover in a short time.” She started by bringing up the idea of the three of them forming an official production team. “I wanted to talk about that sooner, but there wasn’t time.”

  “Chase and I love your enthusiasm and vision. The people you’re bringing into this.”

  “Absolutely.” Chase finished his iced tea, his eyes never leaving Kendall’s. “God put us together for a reason.”

  “I think we need a new name, at least for this film. Oak River is good — but we need something that shows the world your vision.”

  Keith appreciated how she called it their vision. She wasn’t taking over, just coming alongside them — helping out in whatever way she could. “We haven’t thought about a new name. But I’m open to the idea.”

  Chase was too, and after a few minutes they came up with a name they all liked better: Jeremiah Productions. The name came from the Scripture from Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you.“

  “The goal,” Keith said, “has always been that the world would find hope in Christ as a result of the movies we make. So the name is perfect.”

  Once they had that detail established, Kendall flipped open her planner and tapped her pen on one of the squares. “I’ve set up a meeting with Brandon Paul for this Monday morning. Ten o’clock, here at the diner. It’s an easy meeting place, and they serve a great breakfast. Legend in this town. Then I’d like you to meet his agent in Studio City the next day around four. My dad wants to catch up with you too.”

  Keith winced. They had planned to drive home in the morning, and then he and Lisa had tickets to fly to Indiana on Monday. They’d planned to spend the week with Andi and see several performances of Scrooge.

  “You’re busy?” Kendall picked up on his hesitation.

  “We aren’t, are we?” Chase turned to him. He seemed anxious to make the meetings work.

  Keith understood. In this business, a month could easily go by before everyone had a clear date on their calendars again. “We have Andi’s play this week.” He studied the calendar page. “I guess we could head out at the end of the week instead. Catch the weekend shows.”

  “Right.” Chase nodded. “That would work.”

  “You’re sure?” She looked cautious. “Family commitments are a priority. I understand that.”

  “No. It’s okay, really.” Keith was already imagining how he’d tell Lisa, and then Andi. Chase would have to talk to Kelly too. But she would understand. Everything would work out. The meetings were crucial if they were going to push ahead with the production of Unlocked. “Let’s plan it.”

  Kendall wrapped up their meeting telling them that she had a feeling things were going to get pretty crazy for them and their families. “You’ve got the film festivals and the screenings for The Last Letter. Everyone’s going to be talking about you, your vision and talent, and the fact that you snared a coup with the acquisition of Unlocked.” She paused, her expression more sober than it had been all night. “We need to pray for your families, for your faith and your sanity. For all of us, that we’ll keep our feet on the ground.”

  Agreement came from Keith and Chase, and before they parted ways, they held hands and thanked God for the amazing situation He’d placed them in, begging Him to go before them, to protect them and their families, and to keep them grounded in His truth along the way.

  As they left the restaurant, Keith stopped cold and stared at Chase. “Did that just happen?” He uttered a disbelieving chuckle. “I mean, really? Did it seriously just happen?”

  Chase laughed too. “I have a feeling we’ll be reminding each other often — that this is really happening.”

  They talked about all that had transpired in the past hour. The meeting with Stephanie Fitzgerald and her passion for this project. Kendall’s enthusiasm, the vision she had for the future. The involvement of Brandon Paul. They decided to wait until tomorrow to call their wives, and as they reached the Georgian Hotel Keith thought again how grateful he was for the prayer at the end — that they stay grounded throughout the process.

  Because even now he could barely feel the street beneath his feet.

  Eleven

  THE SATURDAY MATINEE WAS OVER, ANOTHER memorable performance by the Scrooge cast, and Andi was about to head into the lobby to meet the audience when she saw noticed a voice-mail message from her parents. She pushed a few buttons and listened.

  “Hey, Andi, it’s Dad. We’re stuck at the Denver airport. They’re clearing ice off the runway.” He paused. “I’m sorry, baby. We’ll get there as soon as we can. Sometime tonight for sure.”

  Andi snapped her phone shut and tried not to feel hurt. Her parents could do nothing about an ice storm, but still … they were supposed to be here all week. Her dad’s LA meetings had made that impossible, so now they only had this weekend to see her show. As it was they were going to miss tonight’s performance, which meant they’d only see tomorrow’s matinee, since the night show was sold out.

  Fine, Andi thought. If her dad could make filmmaking a priority, so could she. The offer from Taz looked better all the time.

  She had a text waiting too, and she checked it. Cody’s name popped onto the screen.

  HEY, ANDI. I TOLD YOU I MIGHT BE THERE TODAY, BUT I HAVE TOO MUCH HOMEWORK. I’M SURE YOU’LL DO GREAT. SEE YOU LATER.

  Disappointment painted heavy brush strokes across her heart. Cody was pulling away, she could feel it, and she didn’t know why or what she’d done. He didn’t have to want her to be his girlfriend, but still it was nice talking to him. This past week they’d barely even done that. And now he was too busy to show up.

  “Everything okay?” Bailey sat next to her, checking her makeup.

  “My parents.” Andi slipped her phone back in her bag. “They’re stuck in an ice storm.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry.” Bailey looked like she understood. “My parents’ll be here tonight. If yours don’t make it, come over afterwards. We’re playing Pictionary.”

  “Okay.” Andi smiled. Bailey’s invitation took the edge off her loneliness. She really wanted her parents to be here, but at least she didn’t have to be by herself. She hugged her friend. “Thanks. That’d be great.”

  They walked out to the lobby with several other cast members. The director liked them to mingle with the audience for fifteen minutes before changing out of their costumes and taking their dinner break. Andi loved this part of performing, hearing the praise from complete strangers, realizing how deeply they’d been touched by the show. Mixing with the public was one of the most fun parts of being in the show.

  The local newspaper had run a review on the musical in Mond
ay’s paper, and the writer singled her out. “Andi Ellison is a breath of fresh air in this old, often stodgy, story of a grouchy man and his transformation. If Scrooge could walk away from the beautiful, talented Ellison, then he must need a serious fix.” She hadn’t told her parents about the review because she wanted them to see it in person. But they’d had one delay after another.

  Out in the lobby, people noticed them immediately. Bailey was called over by a group of kids from Cru, and Andi was called in another direction by people waving programs. She smiled and walked toward them, and for the next ten minutes she signed autographs, answered questions about the stage process, and smiled for two dozen pictures. Only then did she recognize Taz and his friend — the one she’d met on opening night. From the corner of her eye she watched the two guys discuss something, and then the friend smiled and waved and walked away, leaving Taz by himself.

  As soon as he was alone, Taz turned toward her. He hung back, watching her, aware of the people still gathered around her. When her eyes met his, he smiled at her, and the connection between them was almost physical. Andi looked back at the little girl holding out a program for her to sign. She hoped no one could see the sudden heat in her cheeks.

  What was she feeling? An attraction to Taz? She blinked, fighting a sudden weakness in her knees. Taz’s offer of a starring role had caught her attention, of course. She was anxious to talk to him about the dates for shooting his independent film. But until now she hadn’t felt a connection between them. She tried to focus, but it was impossible. From twenty feet away, she could feel his eyes on her as strongly as if he were touching her.

  When the audience goers had moved on, Taz slowly walked up, his confidence a tangible force around him. He smiled, and again she felt his eyes looking deep into her soul. “Can we talk?”

  She felt flustered, and it bothered her. She smoothed out the layers of her blue dress and gathered her composure. “I have to change. And we have another show in a few hours.”

  “I’ll get you a coffee. We can talk outside when you’re ready.”

  Andi’s heart picked up speed. He wasn’t exactly asking, and that bugged her too. But a thrill of attraction ran through her veins at breakneck speed. An attraction like she’d never felt before. She heard herself telling him that she’d take a grande soy latte and that she’d be out in fifteen minutes.

  His grin was slow and lazy, and his eyes danced. “I’ll be waiting.”

  Back in the dressing room, the director spent ten minutes talking to the cast about the towns people scenes. “You’re getting a little out of control.” He frowned. “Too much milling about and animated conversations. It’s distracting us from the main characters.”

  When the director was finished, Bailey came up to her, brows raised. “I saw you.”

  “What?” Andi didn’t want to answer for what she was about to do. She hadn’t done anything wrong, and Taz was different, interesting.

  “You know what.” Her tone wasn’t condemning or unkind, but she sounded worried. “The film student. I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

  “He’s fine.” Andi busied herself with her costume, unbuttoning the back and slipping out of the dress. What did Bailey know about meeting guys at school? She had Tim. And now that Cody was losing interest … “I like him.” Andi tossed her hair. “We have a lot in common. Besides, we need to talk about the movie.”

  Instant disappointment colored Bailey’s expression. “Andi, no. You’re not taking the role.”

  “I might.” She worked to sound confident and controlled. Like she had thought through this.

  Bailey’s face mirrored her skepticism.

  “I know — the partial nudity.” Andi lifted her hands and let them fall back to her sides. “The way I see it, sacrifices need to be made for the sake of art.” She thought about her parents’ trip delay. “That’s true with everyone in filmmaking.”

  “Don’t compromise.” Bailey released an exasperated sigh. “Please, Andi. Be smart. You don’t even know this guy.”

  “I don’t need to. It’s not like I’m interested in him,” she lied. “He wants me to star in his film. He’s intriguing. It’s that simple.”

  Bailey hesitated, like she wanted to say more. “Tim’s waiting for me. We’re getting lunch and sitting on the wall out back. You should join us.”

  “Maybe later.” Andi hung up her dress, removed her character dance shoes, and slipped into her jeans and turtleneck sweater. “Taz is getting me a coffee.”

  Another sigh. “Be careful.”

  “Thanks.” Andi looked up long enough to give Bailey a hurried smile. “I will.”

  With Bailey gone, Andi slowed her frenzied pace. Just once she wished her roommate could be a little adventurous. They were in college, after all. What other time of their lives would an offer like this come along, the chance to star in a student film? This was what college was about.

  She regained the calm she’d lost in the last five minutes. She wasn’t going to sit in her dorm fearing the world or the God who’d made it. Life was nothing but an accumulation of experiences, and this would be one she remembered always.

  She fixed her hair and checked her makeup. It was a little heavy, but she didn’t want to reapply it before the next show. She put her jacket on, snatched her purse from the floor, and made sure she had her phone. Then, with a final look at herself, she walked back into the lobby. She wasn’t sure Taz was serious, or — if he was — that he’d be back yet. But he was there, leaning against the door frame of the main entrance, a coffee cup in each hand. He locked eyes with her from the moment he saw her, and didn’t break the connection once as she walked up.

  “You’re even better this weekend than last.” He handed her a hot white cup. “One soy latte.”

  “Thank you.” Her heart was doing it again, pounding like crazy, and she wished she’d asked for something without caffeine. This was crazy, this breathless way he made her feel. She’d seen him in her science class every day since school started. Why the attraction now? She stared at her coffee and tried not to look flustered. “Where should we go?”

  “There’s a bench out there a little ways. It’s more private than staying here.” He held open the door and walked beside her as they headed down the path. The cold air hit them like a freezing wall and took her breath away. At least she hoped it was the cold air.

  Taz wore a nice jacket, something from Abercrombie, and mixed with the ice cold air she could smell his cologne. His pace was slow and easy, like his smile. “Do you always have the biggest crowd after a show?”

  “No.” She giggled and felt the compliment to her core. Especially today, with Cody canceling on her and her parents delayed in Denver. “Tim Reed barely has enough time to sign all the programs that come his way. He’s been brilliant as Scrooge.”

  “Because his greatest regret was losing you.” He looked down, and their eyes met again. “That would make any guy crazy.”

  Andi didn’t know what to say, so she smiled at him and then faced straight ahead again. Snow was gathered a foot high on either side of the path, but the cement was cleared. They reached the bench and she sat down first. He took the opposite side, leaving ample space between them. Andi felt herself relax. Bailey didn’t have to worry. The guy wasn’t making a move on her. He was making a movie. There was a difference.

  They sat in silence for nearly a minute, sipping their coffee and watching their breath make wispy shapes in the air between them. Finally he lowered his drink and narrowed his eyes, looking into hers with a kindness and depth she hadn’t noticed before. “I’ve wanted to make movies as far back as I can remember.”

  He didn’t seem to be looking for a response, so she stayed with her drink, watching him, waiting.

  “Film is a special medium, powerful, encompassing.” He shifted his look to the barren trees not far from where they sat. “Only through film can a person vicariously experience the thrill of espionage or the pain of prison bars, the satisfactio
n of revenge or the power of taking another life.” He paused and his eyes found hers again. “Film can make a person know what love should be, what sexual love feels like. The experience can be that real.” He drew a slow breath. “It’s a medium bigger than ourselves.”

  Andi wanted to feel embarrassed by his blunt description, but she was drawn by it instead. He was right in many ways. Wasn’t that why people went to the movies? So they could live the lives of the actors on screen, if only for a few hours from the dark privacy of their theater seats? She lowered her coffee to her lap. “Acting’s that way too. Crawling into someone else’s skin and bringing something to life you otherwise wouldn’t have known.”

  He seemed pleasantly surprised by her description. “Hmmm. A girl who’s as deep as she is beautiful.” He tipped his head in her direction, and his eyes flirted mercilessly with her. “You’re a rare find, Andi Ellison. How come some guy hasn’t snatched you up and made you his?”

  “I don’t know.” Her cheeks were hot again. “I’ve been out of the country most of my life.”

  “Tell me.” He was in no hurry. It was a part of his charm.

  For the first time she wished her story was more exotic, that she’d been the daughter of a great and powerful archaeologist and together her family had spent more than a decade on the site of a world-famous dig in Africa somewhere. But she had to be honest. No matter what his belief system, she was what she was. “My parents were missionaries.” She gave him a weak smile. “I grew up in Indonesia.”

  “Christian missionaries?” He seemed interested, if maybe slightly amused. “I admire missionaries.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes. They are committed to their dreams and beliefs. To live a life of ser vice toward another people is admirable. Like anything else that resonates in the soul.”

  “Resonates in the soul?” Yes, that was it. The new ideas and thoughts she’d been feeling were ones that resonated in her soul. Andi felt her head begin to spin. This was the sort of conversation she’d longed to have with Bailey or Cody — anyone who would talk to her. But whenever the conversation veered out of the box of biblical truth, her friends took a hard stance. Things were either right or wrong. Andi had a feeling that wasn’t the case for Taz.