Reality Check (6 page)

“Ha ha,” Charly said sarcastically. She grabbed Marlow. “I was going to say
on your way
.”

“Well, it was. Picking you up was on my way and optional. I had some stuff to handle out by your house, but I
wanted
to pick you up. Now, let's hurry to the studio before Mr. Day makes me lose it on him. If he says the wrong thing to me, you know I have to snap. It wouldn't be right if I didn't.” He winked, and Charly couldn't tell if he was serious or not.

Charly followed Sully through the parking lot to the elevator. It took only seconds for it to open and them to hop on. Automatically she reached for the ground floor button, but Sully stopped her, then pressed twelve. Charly crinkled her brows, curious about where they were going. Though he smiled a lot and was sometimes painfully honest, something was off about him, and it wasn't just his dull coloring. He walked slowly and kind of weakly.

“C'mon,” he said, pulling her bags behind him as he walked onto the twelfth floor, making a quick right.

“C'mon to where?” Charly asked, cradling Marlow and following.

“End of the hall,” he said, throwing her a quick look. Charly's face must've told him that more information was needed because he nodded and snickered a little. “You're a lot like me, Charly. A tough one, and always questioning. We need to make a quick stop. No worries though. We'll be to the studio in no time. We're only a couple of blocks from there . . . and it's not like I'm going to try to kiss you or make a move on you,” he assured her. “You're hot, but not my type.” He laughed.

Charly followed, trusting him for whatever reason. Usually she'd have been more quizzical, more demanding that he answer her immediately. But with Sully she found herself very unquestioning, and she didn't want to fight it. Ever since she'd journeyed to New York and had been burned for being too trusting, her trust factor had been null and void, and she'd mistrusted just about everyone since then even when they didn't deserve it. Now it felt good to be at ease, and she hoped it wouldn't come back to bite her. She liked the brotherly feeling he gave; plus, she'd always wondered what it would be like to have one.

“Come in,” he said, unlocking a door, then opening it for her.

When he pushed open the door she realized they were in an apartment building. “You live here?” she asked, entering and eyeing the place. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall of the living room, and a surprisingly big kitchen opened onto it.

“Yes. This is home sweet home while I'm in New York. It was a part of my contract, so it's corporate's. I just live here for free, hopefully for a long time. My dad is supposed to be here with me, but he never is. He's either home in Texas or in Cali, where he does most of his business, but it's cool. I like being on my own.” He nodded toward a sofa sectional. “You can have a seat or grab a bite from the kitchen. I just have to get a couple of things,” he said, then headed down a short hallway.

Charly smiled, still taking in Sully's space.
It must be nice to have his own place
, she thought, making her way into the living room and taking a seat. She kept Marlow on her lap, not wanting to risk her making a potty puddle on the floor. They'd been cooped up in the truck for quite a while, so she knew Marlow might need to mark her territory. “We'll be leaving soon, Marlow. Then you can potty,” she explained, looking into Marlow's eyes. She was sure her dog understood. Marlow seemed to have better comprehension than most people, as far as Charly was concerned.

“You like this?” Sully yelled. “Charly?” he called from wherever he was—his bedroom, she assumed. “Hey, Charly!”

Charly perked. Did he really expect her to come back there? she wondered. He'd just told her to take a seat.

“Charly?” he called again. Music suddenly filled the air. It was a song she'd never heard, but it was nice.

“Sounds good,” she answered. “Yes,” she said louder. “It's really hot. The bass line is heavy,” she admitted, rocking her body to the rhythm, then stopped. Her phone was vibrating in her pocket, stealing her attention. She took out her cell, then froze for a second. Mason's name was on the screen. Her focus shifted left, then right, looking for Sully and a place she could safely answer the phone without giving away her whereabouts. He'd already encountered one bad costar situation; she didn't want him to be uneasy about her being at Sully's apartment. “There,” she mumbled to Marlow, noticing a terrace outside, just off the kitchen. In seconds she was through the kitchen, opening the glass door and making her way out to answer his call.

“What's up, baby?” Mason asked with a smile in his voice.

“You,” Charly replied, looking over the edge of the patio before taking a seat on one of the chairs. The wind whipped past her lips and into the phone, then horns blared, their sounds making their way all the way up to the twelfth floor.

“What's all that noise? You outside?” Mason asked.

“Okay, Charly,” Sully said from behind, standing at the doorway to the terrace. “I got everything I need from my bedroom. I'm ready when you are.”

Charly swallowed. She hadn't heard Sully open the door, and hoped Mason didn't hear him.

“
Bedroom?
Who's that, Charly?”

“Um . . .” she replied, grasping at the air for acceptable and believable answers to Mason's questions. “Well—”

“You ready?” Sully asked, stepping all the way out onto the terrace, then grimacing. His face said he didn't realize she was on the phone. “Sorry,” he mumbled, backtracking inside.

Mason's laugh was low and filled with disgust as it traveled from his phone to her ear. “Oh. Word? I gotcha. You not answering my question just told me everything I need to know. Enjoy hanging out with your new boyfriend, or whatever he is. I guess it was what it was the other day, huh?”

The line went dead.

THE EXTREME DREAM TEAM
SCHEDULED
Show 1 itinerary

 

Recipient information:

 

Home fire victim
HARGROVES, ELISA
Fourteen-year-old female
Valedictorian, class president

Founder of RMAA (Raising Money & Awareness) for the Homeless

EXTREME DREAM TEAM Mission: Design and build Elisa a new bedroom and office for RMAA.

Locale: CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

The itinerary shook in her hands before falling to the dressing room floor. Charly's head almost exploded as her eyes zeroed in on the destination. No way, she mumbled, sure that her vision was deceiving her. Mr. Day couldn't have possibly thought it was okay to send her back to where she'd escaped from, not after she'd told him her story when they first met. Her mother had mistreated and stolen from her—her money and her dreams—and had made Charly her personal Cinderella, who she was determined to turn into a factory worker. Never mind college or stardom. Never mind love or food or stability. Charly had been deprived of all of those; then she took her life into her own hands and hopped on a bus to make a getaway to save her future before her mom could finish massacring her hopes. “No, not there again.” She grabbed both sides of her head, pressing on her temples. A headache was throbbing its way into a life-altering migraine, clearly out to match her upcoming trip. “Chicago, Marlow. You've never been there,” she said to her beloved pooch, who stood faithfully at her feet, looking up at Charly like she understood her master's pain.

“Chicago. Cool, huh?” Annison asked, popping up out of nowhere. Charly blinked slowly, then noticed a little crayon-red poodle in Annison's hands that was no bigger than a fleeting thought. “This is Doll,” Annison said, holding up the tiny dog that looked like she'd been dipped in paint. “My companion who's coming with me on the road and now Marlow's friend too. And isn't she pretty? The people we rescued her from had her dyed!” She squealed her words like a cheerleader, then followed with, “
The Extreme Dream Team
's first mission—starring Annison and Charly—saving extreme do-gooder Elisa's day and bedroom. Yay!”

Charly looked at the bright red dog, wondering if the dye chemicals would harm her, then thought better of it. Annison was very sweet to have rescued the poor thing. She brightened. Maybe the trip back to Chicago wouldn't be so bad. She'd left Illinois just another teenager on a dream mission, but would be returning as the costar with Annison—a real certified star who'd actually earned her star stripes and status, and wasn't just another falling, one-named idol who'd managed gobs of media attention for less than starlike reasons. Namely, the hoteliers' and famous attorneys' kids of the Hollywood and Hollyhood worlds—the Parises and Kims. No, Charly was being ushered in by an award-winning actor. An actor who cared, and that made all the difference. Not to mention, Marlow had a playmate in Doll. “Yes, it's cool,” Charly said, convincing them both. “And I'm ready,”
since you asked like a kazillion times via text
, she wanted to add but didn't. This time around would be great, and she wouldn't let a bad attitude change it.

Annison wrapped one arm around Charly in a half hug. “I'm excited, Charls. It's going to be nice to have someone to help . . . you know, with the show,” she said, her eyes were void of feeling again, like someone had just died. She pasted on another phony smile. “I feel good about this, Charls,” she cut Charly's name in half for the second time, making Charly wince. It was bad enough people mistook her name for a guy's almost all the time, but to have it shortened to Charls—which was way too similar to Charles—made it worse.

“Just call me Charly, Annison. Just
Charly
, and nothing else.
'Kay
?” she said with emphasis, trying to be as friendly as she could, patting Annison's back. But she knew the words came out raw, without a hint of easiness. She didn't like
Charls
. Point blank and period, and she wouldn't pretend to. “And I'm excited too,” she admitted, finally shaking the ill feelings about traveling back to her hometown. “So excited.” She stepped back, grinning. “So we're leaving in a few. I can't wait to see our bus.” She brightened even more when Liam, Mr. Beautiful-Accent Guy himself, walked into the dressing room after announcing himself with a knock.

“Our bus . . .” Annison nodded very slowly. Her eyes widened at the sight of Liam. “Charls, could you be a doll and hold Doll for me?” Her laugh was slow and deliberate as she bobbed her head, the laugh sounding more like
uh-huh, uh-huh
than genuine laughter.

“Charly, Annison.
Charly
. Remember?” Charly corrected, rolling her eyes.

Annison just kept on talking as if Charly hadn't spoken. “Pun intended. Doll and doll, get it? Hold her for me, please. I just gotta go take care of something really quick,” she said, still ignoring Charly's request to call her Charly. “Liam, are you coming with?”

Liam looked at his phone in his hand, which had begun to vibrate. He shook his head. “No, but I do have to run. I just wanted to wish you girls luck, and let you know I look forward to working with you,” he said, making his way past them both.

Charly just looked at him with wide eyes. He was so gorgeous she couldn't help staring at him, but she tried the best she could. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel like she was stalking him. Suddenly he turned and winked, then disappeared out the trailer's door. Charly gasped. Had he really winked at her, or had she imagined it? She shook her head, then heard Annison clearing her throat. “Oh,” Charly said, taking Doll and carefully balancing her in her arms like a newborn baby. The dog was so tiny she felt as if she'd break if not handled with the utmost care. “How old is she?” she asked Annison, who'd begun to make her way toward the door until something more important snatched her attention—her reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall. She stopped then centered herself in front of it, whipped out a lip-gloss tube, then glossed her lips. She fixed her hair next.

Sully walked in with a scowl on his face and a different ring through his eyebrow. “Hey, what's up?” he asked, his tone contradicting his glare. He threw an iffy glance back Liam's way, and Charly figured out what—rather,
who
—Sully's underlying problem was.

“Sully, you're a scrooge,” Charly said, then gave him a knowing look. “Don't be so transparent,” she advised, then turned her attention. “So, Annison. How old is Doll?” she repeated.

Annison shrugged, then looked over her shoulder at Charly. “A year or so, I think, but I can't be sure since Doll's a rescue. I'd never
buy
a puppy—not when so many need homes.” She smiled, then walked past Sully on her way out the door.

Sully rolled his eyes mockingly. “Yeah, right,” he said, making his way over to Charly. “She'd buy anything—rather, she'd have her handlers buy anything—if it made her look better, including the title of dog rescuer.”

Charly wasn't going to touch his accusation. For some reason, Sully didn't seem like too much of a fan of Annison's, and if she remembered correctly, her stylist team, especially Ramone, didn't seem like a cheerleader for Charly's costar either. She shrugged. Everybody wouldn't like everybody; that was the way of the world. But she wasn't here to get caught up in other people's messes. She just wouldn't. Who needed real-life drama when they were after television drama? Not her. “What's up, Sully? You ready to hit the road?”

He shrugged. “I don't know. Ready might not be the right word, but I'm going if that's what you're asking. Work is work, right?” He tilted his head toward the door. “And working with her is going to be overtime.”

Charly couldn't take it. She'd just told herself not to meddle, but Sully was making it incredibly hard. “So what's the deal, Sully? Do you just not like everyone?”

Sully reared back his head, then scooped up Marlow from the floor, where she'd begun to whine. “I never said I didn't like Annison.”

Charly laughed because Sully had just told on himself. She'd never accused him of not liking anyone by name. “So it's just Annison you don't like?”

He laughed, petting Marlow. “Charly, you got me all wrong. Believe it or not, I do like Annison. I may not always like to be around her or agree with her, but I can deal with her. She's unhappy, unpleasant, insecure and sometimes she's even underhanded, but at least she doesn't hide it. I can deal with anyone who's honest about who they are. But the other one—the dude from “across the pond”—he's a different story. He's fiction. I don't do make-believe very well. It goes against my beliefs.”

Charly gasped. So he could also see that Annison wasn't happy. But he was also unpleasant, just like he was pessimistic and unfriendly and maybe even a little jealous, which was why he wasn't a favorite of many on the set, she decided. But he was cool with her, and that's all that mattered. She nodded, agreeing with him. “I'm like that too, Sully. As long as I know who someone is, I can deal with them too.” She cradled Doll. “And I'm ready to hit the road and deal with the show,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “So, again, are you ready? To work?” she added.

“Yes, and it seems Marlow is too. I think she's sad that you're holding another dog.” He turned his body sideways, sticking his rear her way. “There's a note for you in my pocket,” he explained.

Charly shifted Doll to one arm and took the note.

Charly crinkled her nose. How did Lola know her itinerary just minutes after she'd found out herself? “Mr. Day, I assume?” she said aloud.

Sully shrugged. “I got that from one of the studio runners who saw me and stopped me on my way here.” Charly raised her brows, indicating she didn't know what a studio runner was. “You know, one of the people who run around the studio, and we don't quite know what they do or who they are. Pay attention. There are a lot of them—the ones who you don't really
really
know who they are, and not necessarily studio runners either, and you know who I'm talking about too. Be careful with
him
. Now let's switch pups. I'll give Annison's to her people.”

“Okay. You got it, Sully. I'm paying attention,” she said to appease him and to acknowledge his warning about Liam. She didn't feel the same way about Liam as Sully. To her, Liam seemed genuine, but she decided not to get into that with Sully. “Here.” She swapped out Doll for Marlow, then paused.

Sully began to walk away, holding Doll. “Well, c'mon, Charly. It's time to go. The tour bus awaits.”

 

It wasn't Greyhound or any other type of bus she'd ever seen, Charly noted, holding Marlow. The tour bus was the Air Force One of all passenger carriers on the road with wheels and axles, she decided as soon as she boarded. Two plush leather loveseats and chairs, mounted flat-screen televisions, and a mini gourmet kitchen she could see tucked in the back through theater-like curtains, met her eyes and spread her lips into a smile. Charly's eyes darted back and forth, looking for where she was to lay her head. The space was elegant, not palatial, so there were no designated bedrooms.

“Back there, through the curtains, is what you're looking for.” Sully's deep voice came from behind, almost making her jump out of her skin. Before she'd boarded the bus, Sully had walked to the bus behind the one she was on, so she didn't expect to see or hear him until they reached Illinois.

Charly turned, drawing her brows together.

Sully pointed his tattoo-covered hand. “You're looking for your bunk, right? Well, you can't see it from here. The curtains are hiding them, but trust me, they're there. Two on each wall—two too-narrow ones, if you ask me. You'd think the studio would've done better, with all the money we're going to make 'em.”

Charly stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Sully's unfounded complaint. How was the studio supposed to do better, widen the bus? “Impossible,” she muttered as her shoulders relaxed. At least she'd be comfortable. With four bunks, two on either side, she and Annison and their dogs would have plenty of room. “Cool. That gives me and Marlow our own bunks. I guess Annison and Doll have theirs too. I wonder if Annison will want a particular side.”