To the Moon and Back Read online

  Carly shrugged. “Day was fine. I did amazingly well at Wheel of Fortune, and I checked the mail. It was a huge day for me, really.”

  Lauren laughed and placed a soft kiss on her lips. “I suck at Wheel of Fortune. I aspire to your heights.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t advise that.” She rolled her eyes. “Looks like you had a fantastic day.”

  “I did and I didn’t. I feel more comfortable on set now. I know where all the food is and have gotten used to where to sit. I just wish I felt more like myself.”

  “You’ll get there.”

  “Not sure about how I’m doing in the acting department, though. Everyone seems happy enough, but I wonder.”

  “If they seem happy, then you’re all good.” Carly pushed off the counter and wandered back to the living room. She should have talked it out with Lauren further, told her all about her own insecurities when she’d started out. Offered a few tips. She honestly wanted to participate in Lauren’s journey. She just also couldn’t seem to make herself engage.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Lauren followed her with a furrowed brow. She’d been shooting Carly those concerned looks ever since she’d won the film role. It was becoming almost painful to be on the receiving end of them.

  “No. There’s nothing to say, right? I’m not going to cry to you about poor little me just as you’re arriving home from a full day on set. I’m happy for you, Lauren. You are the most deserving person I could imagine. I’m just…not myself.”

  “I know.” Lauren sighed. She rolled her lips in, thoughtful. “I feel like you resent me.”

  “I know.” Carly didn’t offer a further explanation, which was a shitty thing to do.

  After a long moment, Lauren nodded and headed up the winding staircase, deflated. Carly didn’t hear anything from her for a couple of hours. Finally, she headed up. What she found surprised her: Lauren had packed her belongings.

  “Wait. What are you doing?”

  “I’m gonna get out of your hair.” She faced Carly with a watery smile.

  “What? No. That’s not necessary. You’re welcome to stay here.”

  “Welcome?” She laughed through her sadness. “That’s very hospitable of you, Carly, but I think I’d want to be more than just welcome. More than tolerated. I want you to want me here, and that’s not happening anymore.”

  A long pause. “I do want you here.” It sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. The thing was that underneath all the stuff clogging her brain, she did want Lauren by her side. Why couldn’t she fight for them?

  Lauren nodded. “I can tell.” She placed a hand on her hip and appeared to be sorting through her words. “I think you’re going through a hard time, and I’m making it worse. I’m going to grab a hotel near the studio, and we can regroup later. How does that sound?”

  “Lauren,” Carly said softly. She hated everything about the idea but, at the same time, didn’t have the emotional fortitude to wage an effective argument.

  “Hey,” Lauren said, coming around the bed and taking Carly’s hand. “It’s probably for the best. You get a chance to catch your breath from all of this without me on top of you.”

  “I like you on top of me,” Carly said, attempting to make a joke, but not fully nailing it.

  Lauren squeezed her hand, understanding the underlying meaning. “Let’s get back to that soon, okay?” Carly nodded in response. Lauren tried to smile. “That’s what I want, anyway.”

  She watched Lauren’s normally self-assured demeanor fade, showing cracks in her confidence in their possible future together. That was Carly’s fault. Maybe Lauren was right. Maybe if she got some space, she could pull herself out of this self-imposed isolation and work on being a confident person. Honestly, she’d settle for recognizing herself in the mirror again.

  “You sure about this?” Carly asked, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. “Because I’m not.”

  “We’re co-existing. Then snarking at each other. Apologizing. And repeating the whole process. I miss you so much it hurts all over, so I have to do something to fix it.”

  “I miss you, too.” Carly dropped her head. “It has been a bit of a pressure cooker. My doing.”

  Lauren walked around the bed and closed her suitcase. “Call me when you’ve had some time, okay?”

  Carly nodded and accepted the kiss Lauren placed on her forehead. She sat on her bed and watched Lauren roll her suitcase out of the bedroom. Tears pooled in her eyes. She thought she heard sniffling from down the hall. Her heart clenched. Yet she had no idea how to stop any of it.

  * * *

  “Picture’s up. Roll camera. Roll sound. And…action.”

  Lauren took her cue and slowly raised her gaze to the actor playing the prosecutor. “That’s exactly why I’m here.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. You’re here to make sure that Victor goes to jail.”

  “Yes.” She glared at the defendant, lacing her gaze with menace as she trembled. She blinked back tears, keeping them at bay momentarily, then losing the battle. This was their ninth take and Lauren’s close-up shot. That meant she had to bring it.

  “And you want him to go to jail because he killed your child,” the prosecutor boomed.

  “Yes,” she said, eyes still trained on Victor. She blinked out of it and looked to the prosecutor. “No. I mean no.”

  “But you said yes. Is it true that you hate Victor for getting away with killing your child, and you’ve now framed him for the murder of Amy Trinidad, his own wife.”

  She opened her mouth and closed it again, looking around the courtroom in emotional unravel. “Killed my child,” she mumbled.

  “What did you say?”

  “Victor killed my child and he’s not getting away with it.” Lauren let the angry tears fall.

  “And…cut.” Rick moved toward her and leaned over the witness stand. “I think that one was it. Let me check the picture and we’ll see if we’ve got it.”

  “Sounds great,” Lauren said, accepting a tissue from a production assistant and hoping her makeup wasn’t a screaming mess, which, of course, production might have preferred. “Thank you.” She dabbed her eyes and stood, waiting on word.

  “And we’re good,” Rick said. “That was our martini shot. Thanks, everyone. That’s a wrap for Lauren Prescott.” The cast and crew on set immediately broke into applause for the work she’d done.

  She high-fived Ben, the sound guy she’d nicknamed Benjamin Button because he was forty-four but looked thirty. Once she was clear of the set, she located her phone and anxiously checked her messages, looking for one name in particular. She’d texted Carly the night before to see how she was doing. It had taken everything in her not to text earlier, but she wanted the ball to be in Carly’s court. Unfortunately, the ball remained there, as she’d heard nothing from her in the three days since she’d checked into the hotel, which left her surprised and hurt. Lauren wasn’t sleeping or eating very much, and the film shoot had been a lot of tedious waiting around, which was hard on someone who thrived on action.

  “You okay?” Cal Parks, who played the prosecutor, asked as he passed. “You look like someone just stole your puppy.”

  She forced herself to brighten. “Nothing that awful. Just hanging on to my character a bit too tightly.” He laughed and headed out. Alone, her spirits plummeted. She missed her dog. She missed Trip. Above all, she missed Carly more than words could ever do justice. None of this Hollywood stuff mattered under the personal circumstances of her life. How dissatisfying it was to be given so much, only to realize that the one thing you wanted was the one thing you couldn’t have. Life didn’t mess around in its masterful delivery of mixed messages, elevating her professional life while trashing her personal one.

  Her time on the film had originally been scheduled for five days, which had turned into seven, scattered over a two-week period due to the schedules of other actors. When the job ended, she’d planned to stick around, pick up Rocky IV
, and see where the Los Angeles journey took her. The events of the last week weighed heavy on her plans.

  She fired off another text to Carly. Hey, you. If you’re dodging my messages, just say so. I’m a big girl, Carly. Just talk to me one way or another.

  That night as she sat cross-legged in her hotel room watching The Subdivision for a bit of research on the part she’d committed to, she kept one eye on her phone. She knew Carly was in a rough spot, so she cut her a certain amount of slack. It had been too long, though. Deciding to be the bigger person, she placed a call, waiting patiently as it rang and rang. When Carly’s recorded voice came on the line, Lauren closed her eyes, absorbing the familiar sound. “Okay, so I guess you’re too busy to pick up. Or if I’m being realistic, you’re choosing not to, which speaks volumes. Have a nice night.” A pause. “I miss you.”

  * * *

  Carly could barely hear the message above the loud music. “I miss you.” She lowered the phone, her heart tugging. She missed Lauren, too.

  It was just before midnight, and Carly only paused her dancing for a quick drink. It felt good to get out of the house, which had been eating her alive. She needed an escape, a reset button, a lifeline. Dancing her ass off, while keeping her alcohol level to a minimum so as not to get too crazy, was doing the trick.

  “From the guy down the bar,” the blond bartender with the spiky hair said and pointed at a gentleman who nodded in her direction.

  “Thank you, but no,” she mouthed and slid the shot back. She had zero plans to get sloppy drunk and show up on TMZ all over again. The Hollywood Reporter article that afternoon had been enough.

  You’re gonna want to see this, the text from Fallon had said earlier that day. But remember, it’ll be in people’s trash folders by tomorrow so don’t get hung up.

  When she opened the short article and read the headline, “Daniel bested for Hennessy role by McAllister co-star,” her first reaction was an eye roll. After all, it had only been a matter of time before Lauren showed up on their radar, and her connection to Carly only sweetened the appeal. The media did their research and seemed to have sources everywhere these days. She just wasn’t expecting it to be so soon. “Really?” she asked her empty kitchen. “Have you not put us through enough?” And she did include Lauren in that because she’d been unfairly punished in all this. Carly was working on putting things right, but she hadn’t yet found the words that would absolve and explain her unattractive behavior. She certainly wasn’t proud of it and was doing what she could to learn about her own weaknesses, and how they manifested and affected others. She owed Lauren a sit-down conversation, and they would get themselves back on track.

  The article had saddened her, though, and she’d decided enough was enough. It was time. She needed to take control of her own life before she lost everything, including Lauren. She refused to consider the possibility that she already had. She would face that problem tomorrow. It was a new day and would be a new leaf. For now, letting loose felt like a cool glass of water on a hot day. The music infiltrated her system, fueling her. The dim lighting and the constantly moving strobes offered a much needed feeling of anonymity that allowed Carly to escape. The aerobic exercise released her endorphins. She headed back to the dance floor where she danced with anyone and everyone.

  She could not, would not be stopped.

  * * *

  Lauren squinted at the clock in the darkness of her hotel room. The angry green numbers told her it was after two and she’d yet to fall asleep. She fell back against the pillow with a petulant sigh. Her brain wouldn’t stop running through all the possible options. She touched the lonely pillow next to hers. She’d met success in Hollywood, yes, but she hadn’t found happiness. She’d been infinitely happier back home, and never so happy as when she’d had Carly with her.

  Just the thought of her made Lauren’s heart hurt. Understanding that sleep was outside of her grasp, she sat up in bed and took out her phone. Because she was apparently a glutton for punishment, she googled Carly’s name, partially because she wanted to see her face, and also because she wondered if there’d been any casting news.

  When she saw an article on The Hollywood Reporter’s website about her taking the Hennessy job from Carly, she went still. Scanning the short piece left her hands shaking and her stomach nauseous. It was bad enough that Carly didn’t get the role she’d so badly hoped for—it was worse that she’d lost it to Lauren, and exponentially unfair to have her nose shoved in it by the press. She wanted nothing more than to talk to Carly, but she’d been shut out. She shook her head and scrolled, pausing on a photo of Carly posted by a fan to Instagram. Lauren squinted and clicked on the photo, blowing it up larger, only to see Carly dancing that very night at a club in West Hollywood.

  She fell back against the pillow, trying to understand.

  That’s when she got it. The resentment, the unreturned messages, the late night excursion. It was what she’d feared all along.

  Carly was more important to her than she was to Carly.

  She’d simply refused to accept it until now.

  Lauren stared into the quiet of her hotel room and focused on the lights of LA just outside her window. What was she doing here? Chasing an old dream from when she was too young to know any better? Whatever gratification she got from her recent successes wouldn’t last and shattered in the face of what she’d lost in Carly.

  She didn’t want it under these circumstances. Any of it.

  Without giving it another moment of consideration, she flipped on the light, retrieved her suitcase, and set to packing for the third time in two months. She found a reasonable fare home on the internet, if she didn’t mind traveling early. She definitely didn’t. She needed to get the hell home.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Carly rolled her shoulders as she walked through the lobby of the Hilton. She smiled at a few of the tourists who’d turned immediately in her direction the second she walked by. She posed for a selfie with a teenager waiting alongside her at the elevator bay. As she rode to the fourteenth floor, her nerves fired. She had what she wanted to say prepared in her head. She’d spent the morning at her kitchen table getting her thoughts in order, even taking notes on one of Lauren’s Post-it pads.

  At Carly’s request, Alika had booked her on both Celebrity Game Night and Pyramid, for which she would begin practicing soon. She decided to shed her stupid ego and now looked at them as a truly fun opportunity. Why not enjoy herself a little? Maybe reminding the world that she was out there would jump-start her career. Maybe not. That part mattered less.

  She knocked on the door to room 1422—Lauren’s room. Lauren had texted her the room number the night she’d checked in. She waited, realizing she should have called first, given that Lauren clearly wasn’t in. Behind her, a housekeeper arrived with a cart. He was an older gentleman and smiled at her like they were best friends.

  “At first I thought, I know you, but nah, you’re a movie star.”

  “Yes, hi. I’m Carly. Nice to meet you.”

  “I’m Henry. Pleased to make your acquaintance, as well.” He smiled some more as he turned and opened the door to Lauren’s room. He gestured toward it. “You were knocking on this one?”

  She nodded. “But my friend is out, so I’ll give her a call and come back later. Thank you.” She turned to go.

  “She checked out.” He headed inside, but the cart propped open the door.

  Carly frowned and peeked her head around the door into the hotel room. “Checked out? Are you sure?”

  “Yep.” He pointed at his clipboard sitting on top of the cart. “This morning.”

  “Do you know where she went?” It was a dumb question.

  “Sorry. I just get a list of vacated rooms to turn around.”

  “Thank you,” Carly called over her shoulder and left in confusion. Maybe Lauren had returned to her place, which would be ideal, because it was what she wanted anyway. As Carly waited for the valet to return with her car, she turned
to the doorman on a whim.

  “Did you see this woman leave earlier?” She turned her phone around and showed him a photo.

  He pointed at the screen. “Ah, yep. She had trouble getting her Uber driver to pick her up in the right spot. Had me talk to him for directions.”

  She crouched in excitement. A lead. “Any idea where he was taking her?”

  “Yep. The airport. That was a few hours ago.”

  “No.”

  He winced apologetically, sensing it was not the answer she wanted. “Yes.”

  Carly’s spirits fell from her chest to the pavement. How was that possible? She took out her phone and called Lauren, something she now felt like an idiot for not doing over the last few days. No answer, which made sense. She was likely on a flight. She looked to the doorman again, whose name tag read Mike. “So what am I supposed to do now?” She had no idea why she thought Mike would know.

  “I always find a nice breakfast cheers me up. I’m a flapjacks guy.”

  That’s the sentence her brain decided to play for her over and over as she returned home, directionless. I’m a flapjacks guy. I’m a flapjacks guy. It was not at all helpful, but maybe what she deserved, to be haunted by one of the lowest moments in her life, reminded of it over and over. She poured a cup of coffee she didn’t have the stomach to drink. I’m a flapjacks guy.

  She sat outside next to her pool without a coat because she needed to let the cold pelt her in punishment. The empty hotel room had been a wake-up call. She saw the parallel now between her behavior over the last few years and her behavior toward Lauren. She seemed to think everyone would wait for her. Lauren most certainly had not, and why should she have? She’d never let Carly get away with her bullshit. It was one of the many things that was so great about her.

  Carly called again. Nothing. She walked through each room in her home, alone with her thoughts that she sorted through one at a time. She needed a sounding board, and she knew the one person who would give it to her straight.