Inhalt
Textauszug
Chapter One
"There she is," my favorite security guard says Monday morning as I pull up to the gate at CBS's Radford Studios. "Ms. Fenny Fein, director. Look out."
"Big day," I tell Rockwell, reaching through my car's open window to fist-bump him, like I do every morning. Only this morning, nothing feels ordinary. Everything feels new.
It's a plumeria-scented, turquoise-skyed, warm September day in Los Angeles, an auspicious forecast to kick off the next phase of my career.
Rockwell leans forward, scrutinizing me. He gestures at my air-dried, wavy, above-the-shoulder blond bob, then at my unglossed, still-a-little-sunburned-from-last-weekend lips. "Did you do something different with your . . . ?"
"Indeed I did, Rockwell," I say. "I did something very different."
"You've got that boss glow, Fenny. Go in there and get what's yours!"
He opens the gate, and I wave as I drive through.
Rockwell is partly right: I am here this morning to get what's mine, to finally fulfill my long-held dream of directing my very first episode of Zombie Hospital, the TV show whose rungs I've been climbing for the past seven years.
Today's the day I officially move out of the writers' room and into the director's chair. I've loved writing on Zombie Hospital, but once a script is complete, a writer must let go of all she's done, surrendering her pages' destiny to the actual shoot-which can change everything about a scene. To direct is to be the show's vision, to make its destiny, to call the shots that add up to its soul.
Is Zombie Hospital campy and absurd? Hell yes, and that's why we love it. Is it also hilarious and arch and occasionally resonant with the big question of why we're all here on Earth? It is, and that's what gets me up in the morning. That's what makes Zombie Hospital my home.
After seven years, one hundred fifty-four episodes, three agents, much schmoozing, and a lot of late-night prayer, I finally get to direct. I feel a little apprehensive, a lot validated, and three hundred percent ready to step into my new role. But the glow that Rockwell mentioned back at the studio gate? I believe that comes from somewhere else. . . .
Have you ever had an orgasm so powerful it rattled the marrow of your bones?
It's one of those if-you-know-you-know experiences, and seventy-two hours ago, I had no idea. I would have face-palmed at such hyperbolic language, because I take language seriously.
Cut to now, when I'm attempting to operate a vehicle with actual rattled bone marrow. As I wind my way through Radford's forty-acre lot, my mind slips back in time to this past weekend. I know that, technically, I'm here in Studio City, driving this familiar route to my familiar trailer . . . but inside? A part of me is also still there.
In a cabin at the edge of the world. Draped in magic. Fireside. With Sam.
Sam. Who I met this weekend at the beach. A giddy smile lights me up as I slam on the brakes in the middle of the lot. I can't remember the last time it was this much fun to think about a guy. I bust out my phone and open a new browser window to see when I can catch the next ferry back to Catalina Island. Back to his cabin, his arms. If I leave after work tonight . . . There's no ferry that could get me back in time for call tomorrow. But then, what even is time in the face of that crinkly thing Sam's eyes do when he smiles?
A car horn honks.
"Hey, lady!" a male voice calls from the car I've trapped behind me. "Important people back here, trying to get to important places!"
In my rearview mirror, I see that my car is blocking Jake Glasswell's Lucid Air and I laugh. Jake is the host of The Jake Night Show and engaged to one of my best friends, Olivia Dusk. And he is clearly fucking with me.
"Sorry, Glasswell!" I call out my window, putting my Kia EV9 back in Drive, shelving my erotic wanderlust for another time. "I'm
Beschreibung
From #1 New York Times bestselling author Lauren Kate comes a magical time-slip love triangle about a man split into two one version young and carefree, the other suave but jaded and one woman s quest to reunite his broken pieces.
Two loves. One soul. One choice.
Fenny s got that boss glow. Not only did she just have the best sex of her life, but she s finally about to direct the TV show she s been a screenwriter on for ten years. Only one thing could floor her finding out she s been replaced by a hotshot director named Jude. Wait, no. Two things. Jude looks exactly like the guy who just turned her bones to jelly. Same dimples, same eyes, but he looks older and has a sadness Fenny wants to fix.
Last weekend, Fenny met Sam when he movie-style rescued her from a storm on Catalina Island. Here he is again, just different. Can Sam and Jude be the same man? And if they are, will Fenny s love be enough to put him back together?