Page 96 of Honest With You

Ava rolls her eyes. “Genius. The bridge on a bridge. Any more great ideas?”

Uncle Luke takes her sarcasm in stride and I mask my chuckle by clearing my throat before she glares at me.

“Ava honey, I’m not trying to step on your toes here. All I’m saying is what better way to appeal to her target audience than to have her video feature America’s finest city? Instead of a city girl, let’s give her that all-American look. The complete opposite of that whole vibe she had in her first music video.”

I mean, Uncle Luke isn’t wrong. I saw Mickayla’s first music video. In it, she was singing on top of a double decker bus riding down the streets of London then partying in a club after.

Our original concept was pretty much an exact replica of it.

He rounds the desk, curling an arm around her shoulder. “Ava, honey.. let me have this one before I retire?”

Ava's face softens and she hugs her dad back. As she sits back down, I can see the wheels turning in her head and I know just as well as her dad, who is now grinning from ear to ear, that she has accepted defeat and is now conceptualizing it in her head.

After Jesse excused himself, Dad and I sat down and worked on the storyboard.

I had to admit he had a point. I was playing it safe by pretty much just replicating my original concept.

This made sense. It matched Mickayla’s sunny personality and it was the perfect juxtaposition for the pop-py breakup song Jesse wrote for her.

Jesse.

San Diego.

I haven’t set foot in that city in years. Not since I decided to move to LA with dad and Reese after high school. There was a lot of heartbreak in that city and it seems terribly ironic that now that I finally do, it’s to film a music video for a song written by the very same guy who broke my heart there.

But Mickayla is the very first artist I signed and scouted myself, so her success is important to me and failure is not an option. If I have to suck it up and play nice with Jesse for a week while we shoot, that is what I’m going to do.

* * *

“What do you mean I can’t stay at the compound?”

Dad pauses before responding and I swear he almost sounds guilty. “I’ve got set designers there for pre-production right now. We’re trying to cut back on costs on the new Granger movie so we can pay our lead actress what she’s worth. Since we never use the house, I figured I’d loan it for the movie.”

I grip my phone tighter in frustration. “So where am I going to stay for a week, Dad? It’s a week-long shoot. I can’t drive four to five hours everyday when half the time we’re shooting before dawn.” I struggle against the urge to throw my phone or stomp on it. My anxiety has been unbearable lately, knowing I’m in a place where a lot of painful things happened, stuck with the person who caused them. “I can’t use the plane everyday either. Not exactly eco-friendly.”

“Did you not get the email with your itinerary? I had Felicity book you all at a hotel downtown.”

No, I didn’t see the email. I was too busy having panic attacks.

I hear Dad yawn and nowIfeel guilty for waking him up when he should be sleeping.

Jesse looks over his shoulder at me from where he’s standing with Chuck and Andrew, the director at the craft table. We’re waiting on Mickayla, who is still currently in the hair and makeup trailer, and the crew is setting up the first shot of the day. I turn away, running a hand through my hair while I stare out into the harbor. We’re standing by the Coronado Ferry Landing, and sunrise is in less than an hour, so we’re pressed for time.

I hear my dad yawn again.

“I’m sorry, Dad. Go back to sleep and don’t you dare go into the office until lunch time. I’ll shoot Felicity an email to hold your calls until then. Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Night, sweetheart.”

I hang up just as Jesse strides over to me, holding two cups in his hand.

I’m about to open my mouth to tell him I don’t drink coffee when he says, “It’s hot chocolate.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, taking a sip as I wrap my jacket tighter around myself. Checking my watch, I note we now only have forty minutes to get our shots timed out.

I start getting antsy, thinking about what to move around to stay on schedule, should we fail to get the shot today.

Jesse clears his throat, interrupting my panic flow. “Mickayla should be out in five minutes. We’re doing a crane shot of her walking the pier at sunrise, and then a close up shot of her singing the first verse against the skyline. We have enough time.”

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