Someone to Stay Read online

  Someone to Stay Copyright © 2017 B. M. Sandy.

  All rights reserved.

  This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means —electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Paper & Sage Design

  paperandsage.com

  Table of Contents

  1.

  2.

  3.

  4.

  5.

  6.

  7.

  8.

  9.

  10.

  11.

  12.

  13.

  14.

  15.

  16.

  17.

  18.

  Epilogue.

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  For Brett.

  Till we’re dead.

  1.

  When Cassie awoke that morning, it was to three missed calls and twelve text messages.

  Briefly, she wondered if someone had died. The sudden thought sprung her out of bed, phone in hand, heart beginning to uncomfortably thump in her chest. She tried to force herself to take a deep breath, her finger slightly shaking over the screen as she swiped it open.

  Her finger was hovering over the messages button, trying to steel herself for what would be there. As she was just about to press, her phone began to ring, revealing the caller to be her best friend, Sam.

  “Hello?” she said, clearing her throat. She glanced at her bedside clock. 8:09 AM.

  “Cassie! Did I wake you? I’ve been texting you all morning!”

  Cassie sighed, trying to hold it back so Sam couldn’t hear. Her voice was too chipper for bad news, which was a relief, but Cassie’s body was still in flight or fight mode. She sat down on her bed, the hand not holding her phone gripping a tight fistful of comforter.

  “You didn’t wake me. I was just about to check my messages when you called. What’s up? Did something happen?”

  “Oh my God! You haven’t heard?”

  The pitch and excitement in Sam’s voice was almost enough to make Cassie want to pull the phone away from her ear.

  “I guess I haven’t. Tell me.”

  Sam took a breath into the phone, and Cassie again mentally prepared herself for Sam’s typical over-excitement. But when she began to speak, her words were quiet and precise.

  “Jake Mason is here, Cassie. In Kittanning.”

  Cassie was silent, wracking her brain. “Jake Mason” was familiar, but there was no face to go with the name. Her eyes darted around her room, landing on her sketchbook poking out from under her pillow. She rubbed the back of her neck, realizing she had forgotten to take it out again last night.

  “Uh, I’m sorry, Sam... maybe refresh my memory? Who is Jake Mason?”

  “Oh my God - shut up! He’s only the hottest actor alive right now. We saw him together in Hope’s Fall last year.”

  Cassie struggled to remember. She wasn’t exactly a movie buff, but she knew this was important to Sam. She put the phone on speaker.

  “I’m looking him up right now. I want to see if he’s who I’m thinking.”

  After a few taps of the screen, she had his name typed out in the search bar. She pressed enter and clicked his Wiki link.

  She was immediately greeted with a photo of Jake, his smile wide, eyes looking beyond the camera. She recognized him immediately as the pained hero in Hope’s Fall. He was certainly an attractive man; he was maybe early- to mid-thirties, brown hair, and striking blue eyes. She closed the browser and went back to her call, turning the speaker off.

  “Yeah, I know who he is. He’s cute,” she said once the phone had touched her ear again, its glass warm from use.

  “Tell me about it. They’re saying he’ll be in town for eight weeks - that’s two months, Cassie! He’s filming a new movie here. The paparazzi have been scoping Water Street out all morning. I’m pretty sure one of them took a picture of me walking Scott.”

  “Are you serious? Why are you up so early, anyway?”

  Sam laughed. “My phone woke me up at six this morning. Madison knew about Jake being here before me. I couldn’t get back to sleep!”

  At the mention of Madison, Cassie frowned. Madison was Sam’s friend - but Cassie and she had never seen eye to eye.

  “Oh, I see.”

  “Do you work tonight?” Sam asked. “I heard that some of the actors and crew are staying in the hotel for the first couple nights, until the trailers and stuff are set up. You might get to see him! I’m so jealous...I might come for dinner just as an excuse to hang around.”

  Cassie laughed at Sam’s eagerness. She glanced out the window facing her bed, taking in the bright morning.

  “Yeah. I’m on at four.”

  “Awesome! If you see him, call me immediately. I won’t bug him too much, but I would love a pic and an autograph!”

  “Alright, sure. I’ll let you know,” Cassie replied, chuckling. “I’m going to get going. I want to see if I can catch up on some more sleep.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Cassie ended the call. She cleared her notifications, going through her messages in case there were any involving anything other than Jake Mason. Sam had messaged her six of the twelve. There were four more from other friends and acquaintances, each about Jake Mason coming into town. The last two were from her boss, Rick, asking her if she could come in at two instead of four. He had also called a couple times, which Cassie found strange. Rick was explicitly only a texter; when she was hired she recalled him saying that in the interview.

  Since he had called her first, she assumed it was safe to call him back. She took a deep breath, wondering why he needed help so early before opening time. He answered on the second ring.

  “Cassie! Thanks for calling me back.”

  His chipper tone of his voice was highly reminiscent of Sam’s, causing her to crack a slight smile. Cassie stood from her bed, resigning herself to the fact that going back to sleep was probably not in the cards today.

  “No problem, Rick. How are you? You still need me in early?”

  “I’m good, I’m good. And yes. But only if you keep this kind of quiet.”

  “Er, ‘this’?”

  There was a brief pause, a rustling of some kind. Cassie imagined him sitting in his office next to the kitchen in the hotel, his dark hair slicked back as always, not a thing out of place. She had always liked Rick - he was a good manager and incredibly predictable - but this was on the edge of feeling strange.

  “Yes, this. I’m sure you’ve heard by now what’s going on, who’s in town?”

  It clicked in her mind then, and Cassie actually had to fight not to roll her eyes, making her way to her dresser, toying with some of the knick-knacks displayed. A small stuffed animal from the state fair, a sea shell from her trip to Florida two years ago.

  “Not you too, Rick?”

  He laughed, a booming sound. “I couldn’t give two shits about Jake Mason, but one of the producers requested a private plated dinner at the hotel, featuring him and some of the other actors and crew members, which we are more than happy to give them. But we need a couple servers who aren’t going to lose their heads being in close proximity to this guy. Do you think you can handle that, or should I ask someone else?”

  Cassie thought about it for a moment. Not that she was particularly worried she’d lose her head over Jake Mason, but the situation
was high pressure. She knew Rick wanted to impress these people, despite what he said. The crew could just have easily made the drive to Pittsburgh, where the choices for dinner would have been overwhelming and probably more impressive than what the hotel restaurant could offer, but they were choosing to stay in Kittanning instead. Her desire for the extra pay won out in the end. She had a feeling the tips would be worth the stress.

  “Well, considering I didn’t even know the face to the name until about twenty minutes ago, I think I’ll do okay.”

  “I figured as much,” Rick said, obviously pleased. “I’ll see you at two, then.”

  He ended the call, and Cassie let out a sigh. She shrugged her shoulders, accepting her fate. She left her bedroom and quietly padded into the bathroom, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard in case her mom was still asleep.

  Jake’s eyes snapped open, his head pounding as he took in the morning light.

  The knocking on the door was what woke him, and he briefly considered the merit of telling whoever was there to shove off. He rolled over on the too-stiff bed, curiosity and decency getting the better of him. He got up, bent over for the crumpled shirt from the night before on the floor and threw it on, wincing all the way - his headache, he supposed, was from a combination of poor sleep and jet lag.

  He made his way to the hotel door, trying to remember if he had placed the Do Not Disturb sign on it when he got in last night. He passed the small kitchenette, riddled with several empty peanut wrappers from the airplane on the counter. A glass sat near the sink with half an inch of melted ice, glinting in the daylight.

  The knocking grew louder, and he reached the door, unbolting it and opening it a bit more forcefully than he would have liked.

  “Oh, sorry, door is a bit lighter than I -”

  His voice cut off when he realized that it was Alexa Thompson at his door, looking vastly out of place in the dim hall, two days before schedule. He forced a smile to cross his face, in that moment regretting terribly his decision to sign onto this movie.

  “Jake! How are you?” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him in greeting, squeezing far too tightly for comfort. His head throbbed anew at her shout, and he had to overcome the overwhelming desire to shush her.

  “Oh, Alexa, hullo,” he said stiffly. “How did you know I was here?” Jake knew he was doing quite a poor job of playing the part of nice guy, but when it came to people like her, it was hard to remind himself why he stuck around in this industry. He managed to untangle himself from her grip, stepping back.

  “Dan told me which room you were in. I got into town early! I thought it’d be nice to catch up.”

  “Of course,” he replied quickly. He regarded her briefly, taking in her thin frame, her shiny black hair, dark brown eyes. He used to think she was the epitome of perfection. For a short time, they had something going on, he supposed, without anything actually going on. That was three years ago, on the last movie they were cast in together. All throughout shooting, they were practically nailed together. Never apart. And then at the wrap party, she had shown up half drunk, eyes glazed over. Jake had suspected at the time that she was more than just drunk. She had stumbled into his arms, her body pressed against his, dancing to a song much too slowly. He still remembered the feel of her hair in his fingers, the flush of his face as her hands gripped his shoulders. She had kissed him, hurriedly and possessively.

  He would have liked it, if she had been sober.

  He had pushed her away, lightly. He had whispered to her that perhaps it was time for her to get going, to clear her head. That they could talk in the morning. He called her driver and waited until she was in the car before going back inside.

  Outside of promoting and the premiere, she’d never spoken to him again. Never a call, never a word outside of the decency the industry required.

  Looking at her now was too difficult to bear - he swallowed, looking down at her feet, before flicking his eyes back up, looking but not really seeing.

  “Hurry up and get ready. Let’s get breakfast somewhere. Pittsburgh isn’t too far from here,” she said.

  “Alexa, I would, but I’m afraid I’m feeling a bit under the weather at the moment.”

  Her eyes narrowed at his response momentarily, as if trying to decipher whether or not he was rejecting her offer.

  “Jake, you can’t spend another shoot holed up in your hotel room. There were rumors flying around when you were in Toronto in the fall.”

  Her voice was gentle, pleading. Jake crossed his arms, not allowing her to sway him. He knew exactly what rumors she was talking about; at the shoot for Broken Stone he had made it a point to stay at home, so to speak, every night after wrap. He refused to get involved in the club scene, to go to bars. That only got actors into trouble.

  “Alexa, why are you here? I haven’t heard a word from you in three years.”

  Her face changed completely. Gone was her warm, yielding expression, and in its wake was borne something quite unfriendly.

  “I thought we weren’t going to talk about that?” she said, her tone of voice acidic, raw. Jake’s eyes widened, and he broke eye contact to look at the door to his room, the number plaque faded: no longer bronze, but some sort of grayish yellow, a sad reminder of what it once was.

  “I never knew what I even did wrong,” Jake said then, regretting it instantly.

  Alexa straightened up, and he met her eye again. Her stance was all defense, and Jake stepped back a bit.

  “Alexa, it’s fine. Really. I’m here to work, and so are you. We don’t have to mention it ever again, if that’s what you’d like.”

  The fight in her eyes died. Her head tilted, her eyes raking his frame. He could feel her gaze on his skin.

  “Fine. That’s fine with me. Sorry to bother you, I guess.”

  She turned and walked down the hall, fumbling in her oversized bag all the way. She stopped several doors down, withdrawing her hand bearing her room key. She slid it and went inside, the door slamming shut behind her.

  Jake sighed, shutting his door. He rested his head against it, the curl of sleep enveloping him, swimming under closed lids.

  After a moment of this, he opened his eyes, making his way over to the kitchenette, draining the glass next to the sink and filling it with water from the tap. He turned, looking at the rumpled bed, looking toward the window, fresh, bright sunlight seeping through, asking himself if he had gone about this the wrong way, if he should have taken Alexa up on her offer. Looking at her ripped him back to three years ago, to late nights talking and laughing and tea breaks and museums; his mind fixated on a moment when he had reached out to grasp her hand, the look of stunned surprise on her face when he did so.

  It was the past. Alexa was the past. That she was his costar and he was forced to work with her again was something he had agreed to, something he’d accepted. But he would not repeat the same mistakes again - he would not forget himself.

  His phone ringing startled him out of his thoughts, and he made his way to his bedside, picking up his phone from the nightstand, a slight smile on his face when he answered.

  “Hullo, mum.”

  “Hullo, dear. How is America?”

  His mum’s voice in his ear brought him home, momentarily. He imagined that she was sitting in her garden, a cup of tea cooling on the table in front of her. A sudden, irrational pang of homesickness hit him - he’d only just left.

  “Honestly, I haven’t seen that much of it yet. How’s London?”

  “The same as you left it, I expect. I’ve just received a rather large biscuit order, though, so I’ll be keeping busy this week.”

  Jake chuckled before asking, “How’s dad?”

  “Oh - he’s fine. He sends his apologies he couldn’t see you off, and of course, we both look forward to seeing you back.”

  The distance in his mum’s voice spoke volumes - his dad probably hadn’t said any such thing.

  “Of course. Tell him not to worry.”

  Th
ey chatted for a few minutes, ending the call with promises to talk again soon. Jake hung up the phone, placing it on his nightstand, and crawled back into bed, his glass of water forgotten.

  It was no time at all before he felt himself falling asleep - he drifted off, the sunlight warming him, his thoughts muddled until he thought no more.

  The humidity was a living thing that clung to Cassie as she walked to the hotel. The smell of the river wafted up, hovering over the streets, her footsteps hurried. She often chose to walk to work because it was only a couple of blocks away, a half mile at most. But days like this made her wish she had driven.

  She wondered what to expect tonight - she had studiously refused to research Jake Mason any more than that quick blip for Sam, but she couldn’t help but wonder about the rest of the crew. Who else would be there? Would they be nice?

  Would they be nice? She mocked herself. Who cares? A dinner like this is your opportunity to make money.

  She arrived at her hotel; the parking lot was abnormally full. Rental cars, shining in the sun, too bright to look directly at, rested in the parking lot. She steeled herself and walked in the side entrance, where the employees tended use to avoid the lobby.

  Originally named Hotel Perdu, and re-branded Rivers Hotel, it was quite old, maybe one of the oldest hotels still functioning as hotels in the county; it also doubled as one of the nicest places to eat in Kittanning. It had been remodeled recently - the mild scent of paint still lingered relentlessly in the air, prickling her nose.

  Tying her apron securely around her waist, Cassie bumped open the Employees Only door into the kitchen. She was greeted by even hotter air than outside; she could feel her hair giving up and limping against her neck.

  “Cassie! Get over here,” Muhammad, the sous chef, shouted at her. She peered across the kitchen where he stood at the grill, crisp white apron contrasting against his black uniform.

  Chuckling, she went to him, careful not to get too close to the grill. Its heat brandished across her bare arms; she gave it further berth.