Page 97 of Beyond the Bright Lights

“Of course.” Mylan blushes. I haven’t seen Mylan blush often, but I have to say, it’s the most adorable thing in the world. Adorable to me but uncomfortable to Mylan. He turns away from Rebecca’s praise and says to me, “I have to get ready. See you in about an hour.”

He gives me a long, deep kiss that leaves me blushing as he jogs away with Bruno trailing. I spot Eloise sitting on a black and silver storage box, scrolling through her phone. She snaps up her head as Mylan approaches. He stops to say something to her, and she barks out a laugh that has me smiling.

They’re a family: Bruno, Eloise, and Mylan. I hope Mylan realizes that. He always talks about not having a family, but he does. One that is about to include me.

“You two getting serious?” Rebecca asks, sitting next to me.

I shrug.

“Yes,” Ginger answers for me.

“I think . . . I mean, I know . . .”

“She’s going to go back to L.A. with him,” Ginger blurts out, and I give her a scowl. She sticks her tongue out at me.

Rebecca leans back in shock before offering me a smile. “I think that’s great Lana. I do.” She takes one look at my face and holds up a hand. “Do not feel bad about this for my sake.”

Damn. Is my guilt face that obvious?

“I know you loved my brother deeply, and because of that, your grief will never go away. But what’s great about love is how it heals broken hearts. Love can make grief's pain bearable. If Mylan is the one to offer that to you, then you have my blessing. And my parents’ blessing. Hell, you had their blessing the day you brought that man over to their house. They adored him.”

I laugh and sob at the same time and Rebecca gracefully stands from her flimsy chair to give me a hug. It’s brief because she knows the longer she holds me, the more I'll cry. She rubs my arms and sits back down.

“I would hug you too, Lana, but if I get out of this chair, I'm never getting my fat ass back in it.” Rebecca and I burst into a fit of giggles at Ginger’s words.

Jensen walks over at that moment to a group of giggling grown women. He raises those perfectly groomed brows at us, possibly questioning our sanity, and says hi to me then Ginger.

“Becky,” Jensen grumbles, refusing to look Rebecca's way.

“Jenny,” she counters.

He curses and mumbles something about Mylan telling people about that stupid nickname. He continues to ignore Rebecca and turns back to Ginger and me. “We’re ready for you to take your place in the crowd.”

“Oh em gee, Banana,” Ginger shrieks. “I’m going to be famous!”

Jensen lets out a nervous laugh. This man strikes me as an introvert working in an extroverted field. Or maybe he’s not used to energetic personalities like Ginger’s.

Jensen nods my way. “Thank you for doing this. The fans were hoping for a cameo by the real Lana Young.” He scans the set. “All my PAs are busy wrangling the background actors, there’s a lot tonight, so I’ll take you two over to your marks if you want to follow me.”

He turns and walks away, pausing at a nearby tent to say something to a crew member.

Before following, I lean in to Rebecca. “How very sweet of him.”

She snorts and crosses her arms. “He’s nice to everyone but me.”

“I think it’s because he likes you.” I smile and wink then leave to let that sink in with her.

Rebecca's not a serial single lady like me. She’s had a few long-term relationships. She dated NFL players, actors, a politician once, and regular ole Joe’s. Why she's single now is beyond me. However, the sexual tension between her and Jensen is palpable.

Jensen weaves us through all the equipment and busy bodies. He hands us off to the person in charge of placing background actors in the stands. They sit us exactly where Jensen said we’d be.

Front and center.

I pull two battery-operated fans out of my purse and hand one to Ginger. We’re filming in the summer, but the homecoming game was played in late September when the nights start to chill, so we’re wearing long sleeves. Some people are holding light jackets, too, which I assume they’ll put on right before we start filming. I’m sweating bullets. I can’t imagine how uncomfortable they’ll be.

It takes another thirty minutes before the production team is ready. A lanky white man with his long white hair in a low ponytail stands at the bottom of the stairs and yells commands into a bullhorn.

“Clap, cheer, look excited! But don’t make any noise! That will be added in later. And don’t forget to make conversation with the people around you. Quiet conversation.”

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