When Stars Fall by Wendy Million

Chapter Four

Ellie

Thirteen Years Ago

The rat-a-tat-tat on my trailer door stops me in my tracks, and I grin. Isaac knocks the same way every time. It’s late, but filming just wrapped for the day. Isaac must have been in one of the final shots.

“Come in.” No matter the time, I’d answer for him. I drop my phone into my purse and check the rest of the trailer for anything I’ll need overnight.

When Isaac enters, he shoves his hands into his pockets. His grin splits his face. “Hey, Ellie. We’re heading out to Club Cobra tonight. You in?” His almost-too-white teeth glow next to his brown skin.

One of the most notorious clubs in LA. I’ve never been, but if the tabloids can be believed, anyone who’s even remotely famous parties there. From the studio, it’ll take at least an hour to get to it. LA traffic is horrendous. “What’s your call time tomorrow?”

“Six.”

“At night?” I throw the last couple of things in my bag. A late night is a bad idea for me; I’m on set at eight in the morning.

“Nope. In the morning. You in, Short Stuff, or what?”

He was a child star and can ride on his name recognition. Isaac Sharma is beautiful and rich, and he has a wicked sense of humor. Everyone loves him.

This movie is my big break. Screwing up isn’t an option. I bite the tip of a manicured nail.

“You’re twenty-one, not sixty-one. Come out. I’ll cover your ass if we’re tired.”

We’re only two weeks into filming, and I’ve heard enough about my costars to realize there’s a good chance they won’t sleep tonight.

“Last week in Cali before we leave for Spain. Live a little,” he says.

“Oh, fine.” With a small shake of my head, I loop my arm through his and vow to keep my wits. Should be easy enough. In the two weeks that I’ve known Isaac, we’ve become good friends, and he won’t lead me astray.

As we wander to where he requested a limo meet us, he maintains a running stream of inappropriate but hilarious jokes. Up ahead, a gaggle of models, extras, and crew stand at the edge of the lot.

“Where’s everyone going?” I whisper into Isaac’s ear.

“Oh, Ellie. We’re going out. We’re gonna make it rain money.” He throws his hands up flamboyantly. I suspect he’s already high on something.

The money from this movie pays my rent until I get another job. There is no guarantee for me that there will be another film role. I slow my pace beside him.

“Isaac!” Wyatt jogs up behind us, emerging from the darkness and into the streetlights like a myth come to life. “Man, I thought you were going to leave without me.” He slaps Isaac on the shoulder.

“Would have, but I had to convince Ellie.” Isaac steps to the side so Wyatt’s view of me is clear.

Was I hiding from him? I think I was hiding. Heat fills my cheeks, and I let my long blond-brown hair swing forward to partially conceal my face. On a film set I can hold my own, but when the mask of a character is removed, I’m tongue-tied.

“Ellie Cooper is finally coming out?” Wyatt sweeps me into a giant hug.

My heart thuds at the warmth of his embrace. If Isaac is beautiful and classy, Wyatt is dark and dangerous. He’s a storm thundering off over the ocean. Everything about him makes me anxious when we aren’t acting together. He’s too unpredictable when someone isn’t directing him.

My laugh sounds nervous to my ears, and I ease away from him, shifting my purse higher on my arm. He was making me sound like a prude. Finally coming out?

Wyatt deftly rolls a joint, the paper crinkling in the surrounding stillness. He lights it, takes a deep drag, and then passes it to me. Without hesitating, I accept it, inhale for a full second, and grin at him before passing it to Isaac. See? I’m fun.

Isaac waves me off. “Nah, man, I got better stuff.”

Wyatt’s brow furrows, and he gives Isaac a dark look. “You keep that away from her.”

“You’re one to talk.” Isaac laughs. “I bet you’re loaded to the gills.” Isaac howls, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

Wyatt takes the joint back. “We don’t want her ruined on the first night out. They could still fire her ass.” He peruses me, amusement dancing across his features. “And I like working with her.”

Thank God it’s nighttime and he can’t see the full impact of his words. I’m like a schoolgirl desperate for a compliment from a cool kid. “Gee, thanks.”

Wyatt tips his chin at me in challenge. “What have you done?”

“Like, acting?” I pluck the joint from him again and take a deep drag. Maybe this will help suffocate my nerves.

“No, like, drugs.” His tone is mocking. I don’t know why he always unnerves me so much. He must find me so ridiculously boring.

“Weed, that’s it.” No point in lying. My mother is a doctor specializing in addiction treatment, and so my parents would have murdered me when I was younger for even touching marijuana. Even when I was no longer living under their roof, I didn’t stray far from their guidance.

Wyatt’s eyebrows lift in silent communication with Isaac.

“Point taken.” Isaac’s expression turns rueful.

“Well, what have you two done, then? If you’re both so hard?” I take another puff from the joint.

Isaac loops his arm around my neck and tugs me to him as smoke billows out of my mouth into the midnight sky. “Name anything and I bet we’ve tried it. Wyatt and I go way back to the Petalateers days.”

“You weren’t doing drugs when you were on a Daisy Network show.” Adults wouldn’t have allowed that to happen.

They both burst into laughter. “How do you think we survived Daisy?” Wyatt asks.

“What about your parents?” Someone had to be looking out for them.

My parents insisted I get an education—anything useful—before moving to Los Angeles. Massage therapy has proven to be a good choice. Until I landed the leading role in this drama, Love Letters from Spain, opposite Wyatt, I gathered massage clients in between auditions for movies, TV, and commercials, while taking some smaller parts in whatever I could get. Massage offered a flexible schedule and decent money. At the end of this film, I might have to rebuild my clientele, but this role and paycheck could be the start of something. My agent is convinced this will be my big break. Massage was always plan B.

“My parents tried, I think. Sooo long ago. Too many other people around me saying yes for their voices to matter much.” Isaac waves a dismissive hand. “I’m fine.”

A layer of dark stubble covers Wyatt’s jawline, and the urge to run my hand along his cheek seizes me. He catches me staring at him and winks. Another blush rises in me. At this point, he’s going to think my natural complexion is deep pink and that I’m a terrible actress, but embarrassment is a tough emotion to fight or fake.

“My parents tried to get me into rehab. I had myself emancipated. Wanted to take my younger sister with me, but that didn’t work out.” Wyatt raises his hand to the limo entering the lot.

“Oh.” The ground vibrates under my feet. Loopy—I’m feeling loopy. Not quite right. I’m familiar with weed but I’ve never done so much of it. “Emancipation seems . . . excessive.”

Wyatt glowers. “Drugs or my parents—choice seemed easy. One of those things was always there for me when I needed it.” He ducks into the vehicle, followed by Isaac.

I hesitate at the door, scanning the others still waiting. The limo is big. “What about everyone else?”

“Cabs,” Isaac says. “They don’t have enough money for rain.”

Something about that doesn’t seem right to me, but I’m not in the frame of mind to argue. I give a self-conscious wave to everyone before the limo driver closes the door behind me. I think I might be an asshole for leaving them standing there.

“Is that normal?” We streak out of the parking lot.

“No.” Wyatt fishes a small vial out of his pocket. “Normally we would have piled a bunch of those models in here too. Some hot extras. I resisted. You’re welcome.” He gives me a sideways glance as he opens the bottle. He taps out and divides the white powder. With a finger covering one nostril, he snorts a row and then Isaac does too. Isaac stares in silent question at Wyatt, but he shakes his head.

“Nah, man. Buzzed, not annihilated. I told you, I don’t want Ellie getting fired.” He shuts down Isaac’s unspoken suggestion.

“Why would you doing drugs get me fired?” I clutch my purse in my lap. They seem to be fine. Maybe I would be too. I should try a line to shock them. Except I need this job. I’m not sure what’ll happen to me if I try cocaine and my brain goes wrong. Isaac said he’d cover for me, but I’m not sure how much he’s prepared to hide if I go off the rails.

Isaac laughs—a deep, hearty, drug-fueled sound. “Why would drugs get you fired? ’Cause Wyatt is a beast and comes up with all kinds of bad ideas when he’s lit.”

The intensity of Wyatt’s blue-green eyes when they meet mine makes Isaac’s comment ring true. He hasn’t asked me to do anything, and I already think I’d do everything he asked. Those eyes. They make my dark brown ones seem dull and boring in comparison.

“They’re real.” Wyatt winks.

“They’re such an odd color.” Something in them tugs at me, yanks me under. I am so focused on figuring out his allure that I don’t notice how much closer we’ve gotten. We haven’t filmed any scenes together yet, only had table reads and walk-throughs.

His lips quirk up, and my gaze is drawn down. They’re the perfect mix of firm and full. A little closer and I could touch mine to his. A taste.

Isaac clears his throat. “You two will be practicing your love scenes off camera before you know it.” Another flash of bright-white teeth.

The bubble bursts, and I sit back. “You have to admit, his eyes are amazing.”

“You should see his other body parts.” Isaac puts on a falsetto voice. “He’s simply to die for.” From the cooler in the armrest, he removes a beer.

There’s a cooler stocked with beer in the armrest.The opulence is astounding.

“Sexiest Man Alive last year. Who crowns a twenty-five-year-old the sexiest man? They must have been desperate,” Isaac teases.

Wyatt swipes the beer from Isaac’s hand and downs half of it. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

Isaac digs out a second bottle without missing a beat. His dark brown eyes meet mine, and they sparkle with amusement. “The three of us are going to light this town on fire. You’ll see, Ellie. You’ll see.” He passes me the opened beer.

I take it with an answering flare of delight. As long as we aren’t literally lighting the town on fire, that sounds amazing. Pictures and gossip columns of their exploits, the people they’ve dated, the famous friends they have, float to the surface of my memory.

“A beer drinker?” Wyatt gives me an appreciative glance.

“Not too much I won’t drink.” I take a long gulp.

“Remember she said that.” He points his bottle across the limo at Isaac.

“So you’ll get me drunk but not high?” I ask.

“The shoot is months—months, Ellie. You gotta learn to pace yourself.” Wyatt bumps his shoulder with mine, and this time his smile reaches his eyes.

My breath catches at the close contact and how handsome he is. He zeroes in on my mouth. In the space between us, electricity zips.

From across the limo, Isaac calls out in a singsong voice, “Pace yourself, Wyatt.”

Without breaking eye contact with me, Wyatt jerks his beer bottle, sending a brief spray in Isaac’s direction. We burst into laughter, and I chug the rest of my beer. A fire ignites inside me, warming me, threatening to rage out of control.

Being around them is going to be a lot of fun.