Page 7 of Mister Mom

Oh, good, she realizes I’m here.

Jagger tucks the piece of paper into the front pocket of his shirt and pats his chest. “Safekeeping.” He winks and I let out an exasperated sigh, earning both their glares.

She leaves and Jagger’s gaze follows her to the bar. “I’m an ass man. What about you?”

“Jagger,” I say, but his attention is still focused on the waitress.

He turns back to me and smiles that ‘okay, okay, give me a break’ smile. “The investor wants the leading lady to be Layla Andrews.”

I swear everything around me disappears and I look upon my friend with tunnel vision. It took me until right now to realize why he’s stranded me at the fish taco place outside of the city—I can’t go anywhere. He’s my ride back, although if I could surf, I might just paddle out into the ocean.

“She won’t do it.”

The waitress, whose name is Heidi based on the name tag pinned on her stretched t-shirt, drops the Heinekens on the table and I down half of mine before placing it back on the table. I draw in a deep breath and stare out to the abyss of the ocean.

“She will,” Jagger says with more confidence than he should given the situation.

I look back and Heidi is gone and to my surprise Jagger isn’t wearing a smug look on his face. Instead he’s serious.

“Fuck, Jagger. Why on earth would she do me a favor? I fucked her over on that job, or have you forgotten?”

He leans forward, his hands clasped over his beer. “She only knows Ryder Stone and she has no idea what you look like.”

He points out the one good thing about being behind the scenes in this industry. If I fuck you over, there’s a good chance you wouldn’t know me if you just walked past me in a coffee shop.

“So you want me to lie to her?”

He shrugs. “Just don’t volunteer the information. It’s more like… creative information engineering. Your script is written under your real name. Plus, once it’s a million-dollar box office success she won’t care that you screwed her out of that other role.”

I bring my beer to my lips, contemplating his words.

“Not to mention, she’s on some big set working right now. She probably doesn’t even care anymore.”

“What set?” I ask. She should have had a recurring role on Abandoned, the TV show I was fired from, but I convinced the casting director that she was just a glorified child actress and that audiences would never buy her in the serious role the script dictated.

“She’s with Chris Pratt on that new movie of his.”

“Fuck!” I down the rest of my beer.

“It’s not opposite him. It’s a small role. There’s a good chance she’ll end up on the cutting-room floor.” Jagger takes a sip of his own beer. “I tried to get a hold of her this morning, but her agent’s assistant, told me she’s filming this entire week. Her agent is at the Sundance Film Festival and isn’t returning my calls. I spoke with Layla briefly. You need to go to set to pitch the idea to her.”

“Can’t it wait until after she’s done filming or her agent gets back?”

Heidi comes over and places two plates of fish tacos in front of us. Yeah, we’re probably here too much. She eyes Jagger, licks her lips and then lets her finger run up his arm as she walks away.

“No. The investor wants it done this week. She wants to film scenes in Chicago while the weather is nice. Which means we’re on the clock to have a crew out there this summer.”

“Who is this investor, by the way?”

“All you need to know is that her name is Hannah and she has money.”

I blow out a stream of air, resting my fork on my plate. “This is all going so fast.”

Jagger laughs. “Isn’t this what you wanted? If all goes well, you’ll be a celebrity script writer inside of two years.” He chomps down on his taco, his tie tossed over his shoulder, his jacket resting on the chair next to him. Totally out of place among the beach bums and surfers who really made this place famous.

“I don’t much care for the deception factor.”

Jagger swallows his mouthful. “Grow up, Vance. This is Hollywood. The whole industry was built on selling lies to the public. You want your movie or not?”

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