Jay

Quite frankly, I didn't become an actor to become a movie star. I have never dreamed about being the most famous person on the planet. I just want to do really good work – Anne Hathaway

It was not the first time one of Jay Dawson's film shoots had gone completely off the rails and it definitely wouldn't be the last. But as Jay watched one of his co-stars, Dawn Perelli, have a screaming match with the director of The Scapegoat, he knew that things were hitting an all-time low.

God, it was a miracle that the studio hadn't pulled the film yet. Or, at the very least, a shock that they hadn't fired Dawn and ordered reshoots with a new actress. To her credit, Dawn was an excellent performer when she was sober, which wouldn't have been an issue had her sobriety not been the leading source of problems during the entirety of the shoot.

The screaming match quickly became intolerable to listen to and after a moment, the assistant director quietly informed Jay that he could head to his trailer until they were ready to resume. Not one to waste such a golden ticket opportunity, Jay nearly sprinted for the soundstage exit and headed for his trailer.

As he entered his trailer, the screaming died entirely from Jay's ears, replaced by the quiet tapping of keys on a laptop.  The door shut behind Jay and his personal assistant, Wren Garcia, glanced up from where he was sitting on the couch with a laptop balanced on his legs.

"Everything okay?" Wren asked. His dark hair was dishevelled, and not the intentional kind of dishevelment that Jay's stylist often tried to replicate on Jay's head. It was the kind that came from irritation as if he'd been constantly raking his fingers through the black wavy strands while Jay had been working.

As his assistant, Wren balanced Jay's life. Juggling his schedule and monitoring the calls and messages that were important for Jay to take while discarding those that would only waste time in both of their very busy schedules.

For some celebrities, personal assistants were more like slaves who operated at their employer's every beck and call twenty-four-seven. Most of the time it wasn't pleasant work and Jay knew of several colleagues who used their assistants in more nefarious ways, like buying drugs or sexual companions. 

It wasn't how Jay operated. He liked to see Wren more as a friend. A friend that he paid a wage to but a friend nonetheless. Wren worked mostly specified hours unless there was an event or meeting to attend outside of Jay's usual workday that required his assistance.  They'd been working together long enough now that they'd developed an easy rapport.  It helped that Wren was naturally empathetic and had an uncanny talent of knowing when to speak up and when to shut up in front of his boss.

Most of the time, it was the former.

"No, things are most definitely not okay," Jay replied. He strode for the mini-fridge and pulled out a chilled bottle of water before he slumped into a chair across from Wren. He downed half the bottle and said, "The film is a disaster."

"Was that Dawn yelling again?"

"Who else would it be?"

"I don't know. Extra number seventeen, maybe. She looked like a yeller."

Jay tried not to smile. Really tried. But Wren always knew what to say to make Jay loosen up whenever the rest of the world was threatening to cave in on him. "You're hilarious, Garcia."

Wren grinned back, a crooked thing that exposed a row of pearly white teeth that were stark against the warm pallor of his skin. "Hey, I thought about doing stand-up for a while. Then I met you and realized that my talents truly lie in digging Hollywood A-listers out of their mental spirals."

"Well, you're good at it." Jay sipped again from his water and then nodded to the computer. "Anything for me?"

"Brian emailed me a few scripts he wants you to take a look at. He says if you can let him know if you're interested in any of them within the next two weeks, he'd appreciate it. A few of the studios want to bring you in to test on them ASAP so...

"So my manager wants me to sit my ass down and do some reading. Got it."

Wren added, "Other than that, you're in the clear. Okay, that's a lie. Your mother called and said she's been trying to get a hold of you all week and you haven't responded. Something about a family reunion in August. They're trying to schedule a date and want to know when you're filming and totally unavailable."

Jay cringed. "Shit, I forgot about that. Don't bother getting back to her. I'll call her tonight. No sense in both of us getting reamed out."

"Nah, that only happens to you." Wren's chocolate brown eyes sparkled at Jay, warm with humour. "Your mother loves me."

It was not a lie. Wren was practically a member of the family and boundaries were not a concept that Helen Dawson was familiar with. Hell, every friend Jay had ever had growing up had been considered a member of the family.

His house in Queens had just been like that. A revolving door of people constantly coming and going. It'd changed some when Jay really got into acting – exchanging little theatre for commercials and then his show on the Disney Channel that had forced him to move to Los Angeles a few years later. His father, Mark, had come with him to L.A. while the rest of his family, comprised of his mom, his sister Candice, and his brother Grant, stayed back in New York.

Occasionally, Jay's parents alternated who was with him in California but it wasn't until he'd turned eighteen that he got a place on his own.  Once he'd migrated away from Disney and started getting cast in movies, Jay had relocated back home to New York to reunite with his entire family once more.

Jay had stayed in the city for a while, spending time with his family and childhood friends, leaving for work for weeks and months at a time before returning to Queens. It had been his pattern from nineteen until twenty-two at which point he'd decided to make Los Angeles his permanent base.

Well, at least for now. If his mother had it her way, he would have stayed in New York indefinitely but Jay had felt the need to leave. Perhaps it made him weak to be chased out of the city he'd grown up in by a girl he'd known only for one summer. Yet that was exactly what had happened.

Though if Jay were being honest with himself, it wasn't really Claire Shaffer that had sent him packing.

They had met in Central Park – a chance meeting that should have been just that. Nothing more. Except they'd met again at the grocery store where she worked and Jay had been amazed at how normal she treated him. Like he was just a regular guy who didn't have his face plastered on magazine covers or hanging as a poster in the room of his fans.

For the summer they'd known each other, Claire had been a quick and steadfast friend for him. Someone he felt he could speak to freely who didn't know the pressures of the industry. It had made Jay feel like just a regular guy which was something he had never truly experienced. Not in his teen or adult life, anyway.

But then he'd made the stupid assumption that they could be more than friends and Claire had run, leaving Jay in the dust.

He'd stayed in New York for a while after but every time he got mobbed by a group of fans or hounded for autographs and photographs on the streets that they'd walked together, he'd been reminded of the girl who hadn't given a shit about his fame.

So Jay had left for the west coast, exchanging one of his demons for another. Because Claire wasn't the first girl that had messed with his head. No, that had been Lennon McCormick.

He'd met Lennon while she was an up-and-coming musician in a band that was now an international sensation. She'd been the first person to see through his Hollywood bullshit. The first girl, person, to call him out on it and wake him up, just a bit, from the persona he'd become. To alert him that he'd become a man who was more like a character in a film than a real person. Who thought it was fun and right to tear others down for the sake of getting farther ahead in the race of life.

They weren't friends by any means. Jay had blown his chance at that rather thoroughly but he'd wanted to make amends because he understood now what Lennon meant when she'd once told him that she hoped he'd get his heart broken the way that he had done to others. Personally and professionally.

He'd met her for coffee just once – a private affair at the apartment she shared with her bandmate-slash-fiancé, Spencer. They'd talked and he'd told her about Claire and how he realized that he had a lot of growing to do as a person before he'd be worthy of someone like Claire.

Like either of them really.

It had been those women that had shaped Jay into who he was now. He'd hit therapy to work on his personal issues like an alcoholic rushing to a liquor store. Then, he'd sworn off dating and taking meaningless roles and had become more invested in his family, even if they did live halfway across the country.

And because he'd been working to be a better brother and son...Jay knew his mother would be forgiving about the fact that it had been a week and he'd forgotten to return her calls.

A knock at the door of his trailer interrupted Jay and Wren. He'd barely shouted for the person to enter when one of his other co-stars, Ahmad Faez, stuck his head inside.

"Dawn just quit," he said by way of greeting.

Jay blinked. "What?"

Ahmad trotted up the steps, the door slamming shut behind him. He leaned against the frame of the kitchenette counter and brushed a hand through his shoulder-length silky night-dark hair. "Dawn quit the movie. She got in her car and screamed at her driver to leave the set. Marco's on the phone with her representatives yelling at the top of his lungs on Stage Two."

"God, this shoot is a nightmare."

"You can say that again." Ahmad shook his head. "I was all excited for this one, too. Come on, a heist movie where the Arab guy doesn't play a villain. I thought it would be great. Then...Dawn."

Even Wren nodded and said, "Freaking Dawn."

Jay didn't even want to know how this was going to impact the shoot. Though comparatively speaking, it honestly didn't seem like it could get much worse. "Man, I just want a vacation. To get away from L.A. and all of this crap for just a few days."

"You might get your chance," Ahmad said. His green eyes were thoughtful as he scratched his chin with a brown-skinned hand. "If they can't convince Dawn to come back then they'll either have to recast the role which could take a few weeks to hammer out the details before we get into reshoots or the studio will drop the film. Either way, we still have at least another month left of filming so maybe you'll get your wish."

"Never thought I'd say this, but I'd love for them to recast and reshoot what we've already done if it means I wouldn't have to keep working with Dawn," Jay admitted.

Ahmad nodded in solidarity. "I wonder how long until—" His phone beeped in his pocket at the same time that Jay's vibrated on the table. He glanced at it and said, "Not long at all. The A.D. is telling us to take off. They're going to shut down production until they get this figured out."

Jay read the message on his own phone and felt a rush of pleasure. "Guess we're done work for the day."

"Guess so," Ahmad laughed. "I'm going to head home but I'll see you later."

"Hopefully next time it will be on a set without Dawn. But if it seems like it'll be a while before we're back working, I'll call you and we can meet at a Dodgers game or something."

Ahmad's eyes lit up. He was a die-hard L.A. Dodgers fan. "I'm going to hold you to that, Dawson," he said as he sauntered out the door.

When the door clicked shut, Wren turned to Jay. "So...Are we sticking around for a bit or heading out?"

"Nah, let's get out of here."

Wren drove them back to Jay's apartment where he deposited Jay on the sidewalk and then sped off down the street to take advantage of the half-day off of work Jay had offered him. By the time the purr of the engine had disappeared, Jay was already inside the elevator on the way to his apartment on the twenty-seventh floor.

The inside of his apartment looked like a bomb had gone off. Jay paused in the doorway, taking in the clothes strewn about and the dishevelled pillows and throw blankets on the floor. To the kitchen where utensils had been cast across the counter and then to the single shoe that was sitting on the floor three feet away.

Jay wondered if he'd been robbed. "Uh, Brock? Are you home?"

A thud from the direction of the bedrooms followed by a muffled curse. And then Brock was trotting through the hallway, his face red from exertion, blond hair was a tousled mess about his head. There was a bead of sweat on his brow and a half-empty duffle bag on his shoulder. "Hey, man. I didn't think you'd be back here until late tonight."

"Dawn quit the movie and everything is a mess so we're shutting down temporarily. You mind telling me what the hell is happening here? Doing some cleaning?"

Brock had the good notion to look abashed as he reached for the lone discarded shoe on the floor and shoved it into his bag. "Packing, actually."

"You're moving out?" Jay was surprised. They hadn't had any issues living with each other and Brock had mentioned any malcontent about their shared situation.

"God, no." Brock shook his head and a pulse of relief shot through Jay. "My new label execs want me to go record a single with one of their other artists. Bailey Grant. Do you know her?"

Jay shook his head. "Heard the name a few times but never met her personally."

"Well, she's got a new album coming out the end of this year and since she's their best-selling artist and my life is a shitshow, they want to present us together."

"So you're heading to Nashville?"

"Oklahoma, actually. Bailey built a recording studio out of her house in this little hick town called Tishomingo. I Googled it and there are only three-thousand people who live there."

Jay watched as Brock began to gather up some of the crap that he'd scattered across the floor. He stuffed a few items of clothing into the duffle and then tossed a pillow that had somehow landed in the kitchen sink back onto the couch.

"How long will you be gone?"

Brock shrugged as he shove the utensils back into their homes. From one drawer he paused and said, "There you are," as he yanked out a spare phone charging cable and added it to his bag. "Not sure.  Maybe a week or two?  Apparently, Bailey is an expert songwriter so they want me to learn a bit about that side of the business while I'm there since my former label kept me firmly out of that process."

The seed of an idea planted itself in Jay's head. "Mind if I tag along?"

"Seriously?" Brock stopped his packing to stare at Jay as if his friend had gone insane.  There was a ladle in his hand but it didn't seem like he had any idea where in the chaos of this apartment it belonged.

Jay only nodded. "I was just saying to Wren that I needed a vacation and honestly even a little hick town in Oklahoma sounds like an improvement over L.A. right now. Maybe I could find someone there to teach me how to ride a damned horse."

Brock laughed. "I thought the studio had arranged for someone here to teach you."

"They did – but if I can get a two-week crash course by some Oklahoma professionals before coming back here then I am really into that.  Maybe I can save myself from some really embarrassing paparazzi photos in the process."

"How long is your shoot going to be shut down for?"

Jay shrugged. "At least a week while they try to figure out what the shit they're going to do about Dawn. If they manage to get her back on board then we could be in business pretty soon but if not, they'll need to recast the role. If the film miraculously doesn't get scrapped and they need me back sooner I'll just catch a flight home. Otherwise, the only work I have to do over the next two weeks is reading a few scripts and I can do that here or in Oklahoma."

Brock grinned, his whole face lighting up. The sea-green eyes were bright as the sun glinting off the ocean. "If you want to come, I won't say no to the company. Can you be ready to go in an hour? That's when I've got to head to the airport. I'm meeting Bailey tomorrow."

"Yup."

As it were, Jay always had a bag half-packed and ready to go. He chalked it up to the fact that he was constantly flying across the country for appearances and talk shows and film promotions. He added a few extra things to his suitcase like his laptop and his toiletries, removed his suit to make room for a few extra pairs of jeans and t-shirts, and then he was ready to go.

Jay had fifteen minutes to spare – time Brock spent rushing around the apartment – so he called Wren and extended his assistant's afternoon off to a paid two weeks' worth. The only caveat being that he had to check his email twice a day, in the morning and again in the evening, and forward to Jay any relevant notices. Jay had already contacted the assistant director of The Scapegoat to let him know directly if he was needed back on set so he didn't expect any urgent news to come through in his absence.

That only took five minutes so with his remaining ten he called his mother, updating her on his unexpected trip to Oklahoma and making plans for a family reunion at the end of August. She was relieved to hear that her son was taking a break. Helen always thought that he worked too hard.

He was also glad to hear the barking of his dog, Scout, in the background. Though the dog was technically Jay's, his job was so inconsistent and many of his recent film projects had required him to shoot overseas for months at a time.  That wasn't even counting all of the travelling for press junkets he'd been doing. He'd tried having Scout with him for a while when he'd first moved to L.A. but felt guilty for all of the time the dog spent with sitters and walkers.  

Luckily, his parents had been more than willing to take in his pup on an indeterminate basis. While he missed Scout, there was no denying that his parents coddled the dog and gave him more consistency and personal care than Jay could during these busy periods of his life.  Still, he was extremely excited to see Scout, and the rest of his family, again soon.

By the time he'd hung up the phone, Brock was finally ready to go with a small suitcase, his guitar, and a duffle bag. Jay followed him out of the apartment, pausing only long enough to lock the door as they went.

A vacation, Jay thought. Low stress, low key, and in a place where I doubt paparazzi presence is very high. It's just what I need. Oklahoma, here I come.