Page 77 of Nothing Like the Movies

“I can’t figure out the mathematics of this—I just know I love you.”

—The Holiday

Wes

“Knock, knock.”

I stood at Ross’s office door, clueless as to why he’d asked me to see him after practice. I’d thrown well and had been on top of my shit during PFPs, so unless he wanted to kiss my ass for being awesome (which Ross did not normally do), something was probably wrong.

“Bennett.” He was sitting behind his desk, looking annoyed. “Come in.”

I stepped inside, and when I did, I noticed the blonde.

She was probably in her early thirties, LA beautiful, wearing smart-girl glasses and shiny black high heels that you could see your reflection in. She was sitting in one of the chairs by his desk, smiling like she knew me, while Ross glared like he didn’t want to know her.

Interesting.

“What’s up?”

“This is Lilith Grossman,” he said, looking pissed about it. “She’s a film—”

“We’ve met, though not in person,” she interrupted, standing and coming over, holding out her hand. “You’ve been kind enoughnotto tell me to go to hell when I sensed you’ve wanted to.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand and giving in to a laugh because I liked her honesty. “And you’re welcome…?”

That made her laugh, and she said, “I’d like to talk to you for a second—”

“She’d like topitchsomething to you, is what she means,” Ross said.

She gave a little shrug. “He’s actually not wrong for once. Do you have five minutes?”

Before the interview the other day, I would’ve said no. I would’ve treated her exactly the way Ross was treating her. But it hadn’t been too bad, and she’d sent a thank-you email afterward that was really sweet. Apparently she’d lost her dad when she was in high school, so she said a lot of things hit really close to home.

Add that to the fact that Liz worshipped her and Ross seemed to hate her, and she was definitely the most interesting person in the building.

“Sure,” I said, following her over to the chairs.

“Before she pressures you,” Ross said, “feel free to say no. I fully support your no on this.”

“Thank you for that, Ross,” she said with a smile.

“Anytime,Lil,” he drawled, and I was dying to know what was up with those two.

“Y’know, if you want to go throw some balls or guzzle protein powder, I can let you know when we’re done with your office,” she said, and her smile was deadly this time. “No need for you to stick around.”

“It’s okay. I’m happy to do it,” he said.

“Okay. Wes.” She turned her chair toward mine and scooted a little closer. “You gave such a fantastic interview the other day, giving us a peek into your inspirational journey back to UCLA. I was blown away by the picture you painted of your life back home, juxtaposed against your college baseball life here. I can almost picture it. So when I heard from Clark that you’re going home to help your mom close everything out, I had an idea.”

“Buckle up, Bennett,” Ross growled.

She rolled her eyes. “Now, I promise you I’m not trying to capitalize or throw a camera on your tragedy, but as a filmmaker, I know that getting some shots of the house that you grew up in—and the high school field where you pitched a no-hitter—could really add to the human side of your story. You repeating what you already told us, while walking through your empty house, would add such a lovely detail to the story.”

My stomach sank as I listened, not necessarily because of what she was trying to sell, but because she reminded me that it was almost time for me to walk through the house for the very last time.

“Now,” she continued, holding up a hand like she was expecting my immediate refusal. “I absolutely understand if you don’twant us there. Frankly, I’m expecting you to say no. But I would be remiss if I didn’t throw it out there, just on the off chance that you don’t mind having Liz get a little film while you’re in town.”

Liz.

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