Pinch Hit Page 4

  When the shouting subsided, Trevor signaled the makeup artist to stop. He swept away the cape and got up, walked along the back of the set, and peeked around into the orange light. His mother spoke in a low tone to the director. Everyone else gave them a wide space. McKenna rounded the corner and almost knocked him down.

  “What happened?” he asked her in a hushed voice.

  McKenna bit into her lower lip and shook her head. “Nothing. Your mom fired the stand-in.”

  “Sam?”

  McKenna nodded and pointed to the hairnet Sam had dropped on the set.

  “Why?”

  “You weren’t very nice to him, now you care?”

  “McKenna, he started asking me about my dad. You know I hate that.”

  “Helping people?” McKenna made a face.

  “People need to help themselves, too.”

  “People helped me.”

  “McKenna, I don’t mean you.”

  “I’m just saying, Trevor. He seemed nice and now he just got run off the set. From the way your mom sounded, I doubt he’ll get a spot in a crowd scene.”

  “Well, I didn’t say anything to her. I don’t even know why she came.”

  “In her bathrobe.”

  “Her bathrobe?” Trevor looked out over the set. He now saw Gabriel in the shadows, watching Trevor’s mother, but staying clear. “Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel?”

  “He acted really weird when he saw Sam. He freaked out. He must have called her and she came without even bothering to get dressed, but why?”

  “You two look exactly alike, you know.”

  “Why would that make him call my mom?”

  McKenna looked like she was about to say something.

  “What?” Trevor asked.

  “No, nothing,” she said.

  “McKenna, come on.”

  McKenna hesitated. “He looks exactly like you, Trevor. Exactly. And get this: he’s really into baseball. Sounds like he’s good, too. He’s on some team going for the city title this summer. Something about USC scouting him.”

  “Scouting him for baseball?” Trevor couldn’t keep the envy out of his voice.

  “That’s what he said.”

  “You think Sam and I are related or something?”

  “Trevor … what if you and Sam are twins?”

  11

  TREVOR

  Trevor grabbed McKenna by the arm and dragged her back into his dressing room, closing the door behind them and locking it.

  “What are you talking about?” Trevor felt a knot in his stomach. He backed up, feeling for a stool to sit down on. “How?”

  “Well, you were adopted, right?”

  The knot turned into a wave of nausea. Trevor was adopted. He’d known about it ever since he could remember, but he and his parents never discussed it. It was like the knowledge that he had a grandfather who had committed suicide: He knew it, they knew it, everyone knew it, but no one mentioned it because it didn’t seem polite.

  McKenna just waited.

  “Yes,” he said under his breath.

  “Well? Why couldn’t there have been two of you?” McKenna wrinkled her face. “I don’t mean two of you. That didn’t come out right. I just mean, twins. Why couldn’t that be possible?”

  “Because, don’t you think I would have known? Don’t you think they would have told me that? Isn’t that something pretty important? Something special?” Trevor clenched his hands. “Who would do that?”

  “Relax,” McKenna said. “Maybe they didn’t know.”

  “Or maybe that’s why Gabriel freaked when he saw Trevor. Maybe he knew. He was working for my father back then. Maybe they all know, and he called my mom and she raced down here in her bathrobe because they don’t want me to figure this out.”

  McKenna stared at him. “What are you going to do?”

  Trevor thought, then said, “Nothing. I’m going to play stupid. If my mom doesn’t want me to know, I’ll pretend I don’t.”

  “But then what are you going to do?” McKenna asked.

  “Then? Then, I’m going to find him.”

  12

  SAM

  Sam sat in Donald Fuller’s office, staring at the carpet. The door opened and his father spilled into the room.

  “What happened? What did you do?”

  “I didn’t do anything,” Sam said.

  Sam’s father rarely got mad, but when he did, his nose turned red. “You don’t just do nothing and end up getting thrown off a set.”

  The door opened again and Fuller sat down behind his desk, making a steeple with his fingertips and planting it beneath his chin.

  “I’d like to know, too,” Fuller said. “This whole thing is a mess.”

  Sam shook his head. “The only thing I did was talk to Trevor Goldman and I mentioned Dark Cellar. When I asked him if he could maybe get his dad to look at it, he got kind of weird, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “Dark Cellar?” Fuller rumpled his brow.

  “My script.” Sam’s dad spoke softly.

  Fuller slapped a hand flat on his polished desk. “That’s it. Why in the world would you bother Trevor Goldman? You’re the stand-in. You stand there and say nothing. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

  “They told me, but he started talking to me.”

  “What, to ask you to step aside?” Fuller said, knitting his brows. “You broke the cardinal rule. You’re a stand-in. You don’t bother the star. Now it all makes sense. Well, at least I don’t feel so bad about you two being blackballed from the studio. I mean, I’m sorry, but I’m not that sorry. We can’t have extras and stand-ins taking advantage of their contact with the stars.”

  “Blackballed?” Sam’s dad muttered the word and stared at his own hands.

  “I didn’t take advantage,” Sam said, growing angry himself. “He asked me to play Xbox. He gave me his cell number to text him!”

  Sam held up his phone.

  “Give me that phone.” Fuller’s voice grew heated. “You can’t have his cell number.”

  “I do have it. He gave it to me.”

  “Let me see.” Fuller snapped his fingers and held out a hand.

  “No.” Sam stuffed the phone back in his pocket.

  Fuller pointed a finger at him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll never use it. You’ll get rid of it. You and your dad are blackballed from Paramount, but if this gets nasty, Gerry Goldman is not a guy you want out there saying bad things about you. You could be blackballed across this entire town. Cut your losses, kid. Nice try, but that’s not how the business works. That’s what agents are for.”

  “Blackballed?” Sam’s dad spoke louder this time and looked like someone had doused him with cold water. “I’ve got a deal pending on my Dark Cellar script. So far, they love it. I’m waiting for an option deal and it looks like a green light is just around the corner. That’s how we ended up here in the first place. I can’t be blackballed.”

  “You are.” Fuller stood up. “Neither of you are allowed onto the Paramount lot again. They asked me to escort you out.”

  “I’m not going,” Sam’s dad said. “I’ve got a deal pending. This guy gets it. He believes in this script. We’re going to get a deal any day now. Any day.”

  “Come on. Don’t make me call security,” Fuller said. “Don’t make this ugly.”

  “It already is ugly. My son didn’t do anything wrong. You people are crazy.”

  “You said you’re in the business.” Fuller spoke more quietly now, reasoning with Sam’s dad. “You know how it goes. You can’t harass one of the stars on a set. It’s fatal. You know that.”

  Sam felt sick when his father dropped his head and stood up to go. “I know. Come on, Sam.”

  “Dad, this isn’t fair. I’m telling you.”

  “I know. That’s life, Son. Things are never fair. Let’s go.”

  Fuller admired the Ferrari as they climbed inside, and he had the decency to wish them luck. Sam kept quiet, resting his head against the car window as they left the cool blue shade of the palm trees in Hollywood for the waffling heat of a million cars and a billion homes sweltering under a brown sky, heavy with smog.

  Sam could smell the landfill well before it appeared like a giant dung heap, swirling with seagulls instead of flies. Sam’s dad settled the Ferrari into its spot and cut the engine. He put his hands on the wheel and sighed.

  That’s when Sam’s phone buzzed.

  He took it from his pocket, expecting the text to be from one of his teammates but finding something completely different.

  “Dad,” he said, his voice brimming with excitement, “it’s a text … it’s from Trevor Goldman.”

  13

  TREVOR

  Trevor’s phone buzzed. He read Sam’s reply and showed it to McKenna.

  “Can you do that?” McKenna asked.

  “Watch me,” Trevor said.

  The stage manager knocked on the door. He apologized to Trevor for the delay, saying they had some technical issues with the lighting but that they were ready for him now. Trevor opened the door, and McKenna followed him out onto the set. Gabriel appeared, trying not to look flustered.

  “Who was yelling out here?” Trevor asked him. “I thought I heard shouting.”

  “Something about the stand-in,” Gabriel said. “There were some issues. Anyway, they got another one.”

  “Issues?” Trevor admired the way Gabriel hid the truth without actually lying.

  “You should ask Pierce.”

  They both knew that Trevor wouldn’t ask the director such a thing when they were ready for a shot. Pierce was famous for his intense focus and his equally intense displeasure when someone distracted him. The closer he got to the shot, the angrier he was if someone disturbed him.

  “No big deal,” Trevor said, noting the relief on Gabriel’s face.

  Trevor stepped up onto the set and watched the new stand-in disappear. He was surprised at how quickly they’d managed to produce another boy with nearly the same size, shape, and hair color as Trevor and Sam, but they did it. Trevor took his mark. Someone handed him a sword.

  “Okay, Trevor, remember what’s just happened.” The director’s voice came from behind the bright lights. “Your mother’s been killed and you’re crushed. I want you fighting back the tears. Then, boom, out of the lava, the living dragon appears, and you’re stunned because now you know the legend she always told you is true. You got it?”

  “I got it,” Trevor said, conjuring up the emotions that Pierce Everette was asking for.

  “Okay, now I’ll cue you on the dragon. We’ll CG that in, but I want you to be shocked, completely in awe.”

  “Got it,” Trevor said, breathing deep and putting himself into a kind of trance.

  “And … action!”

  Trevor gave the director what he wanted … almost. They did twelve takes before Pierce called it quits and Trevor got to go back to his dressing room. McKenna headed onto the set as he was leaving and slapped him a high five like they were tag team wrestlers, one going off while the other took over the battle.

  Back in the dressing room, Trevor dialed up his mom. He heard the caution in her voice as she greeted him, but he pretended not to notice. “Can I go to McKenna’s to swim and have a cookout after we’re done shooting? I guess she’s gonna have some people over.”

  “I’ve got a dinner with the hospital board anyway, so that works out great. Sure. I’ll be done about nine-thirty; can I pick you up then on my way home?”

  “Great. Thanks, Mom.”

  “Everything else okay?”

  “Sure. Like what?”

  “I don’t know … anybody unusual you meet today?”

  Trevor pretended to think. “No, Everette had his family here yesterday, some cousins or something I took pictures with. That who you mean?”

  His mom hesitated. “Yes, them. I’m glad you met them. Everette doesn’t have a lot of family. Have fun, angel.”

  Trevor got off and smiled to himself.

  14

  SAM

  Sam’s dad spent the rest of the day writing while Sam dug deeper into The Count of Monte Cristo. When his dad finally left his desk and stretched his back, he asked Sam if he wanted to go get something to eat before being dropped off at McKenna Steele’s.

  “I think we’re having dinner there. I’m ready when you are.”

  Sam’s dad pushed the curtain aside and studied the Ferrari. “Let me just wash down the car. It won’t take thirty or forty minutes.”

  Sam knew better than to argue. If his dad was driving into the heart of Beverly Hills, he was going in a clean Ferrari. He returned to his bedroom and picked up his book. Forty-five minutes later, Sam heard a shout from out front. The Ferrari shone like a polished gem and his dad beamed with pride.

  “Nice,” Sam said.

  They climbed in and headed toward town in style. The Ferrari was on its best behavior, and Sam’s dad clucked his tongue as they turned up McKenna’s street.

  “McKenna Steele.” Sam’s dad touched his own forehead. “I can’t believe it.”

  “I told you, Dad, she’s just a nice person. We hit it off.” Sam stared out the window at the beautiful homes packed together along Beverly Drive.

  “In five minutes?” Sam’s father sat up straight and stuck his arm out of the window, obviously proud of their ride.

  “She said she liked my face. This is it, twenty-seven-nineteen.” Sam pointed to the number on the stone gatepost of a Spanish-style yellow home with a red clay tile roof and wrought-iron balconies that matched the front gate.

  Sam’s dad eased the car up into the circular stone driveway. Sam hopped out and headed for the front door.

  “Well, have fun,” his dad said through the open window. “I’ll pick you up at eight-thirty.”

  Sam turned and waved to him, wishing his father would stop sitting in his car gawking at the house. Sam rang the bell. A maid with a strange accent greeted him warmly and said McKenna was out back at the pool. Sam turned and gave his father one last wave. His father’s face beamed with pride, as if Sam had just hit a grand-slam home run in a championship game. Sam had his swimsuit in a plastic grocery bag and he held it up, asking the maid if there was a place he could change.

  She told him there was a pool house and led him through a home with towering ceilings and plaster walls covered with fancy oil paintings in thick gold frames of carved wood. Antique furniture sat on large Oriental rugs. Sam tried not to touch anything.

  Out in back, carefully sculpted shrubs and trees surrounded a rectangular pool and a small cottage with a roof that matched the big house’s. At the end by the diving board, McKenna and Trevor sat on thick lounge chairs, both intent on their own iPhones.

  The maid pointed out the pool house to Sam, saying he could change there and asking if he would like a drink.

  “Gatorade would be great, if you have it,” Sam said, waving to the movie stars as he slowly descended the wide stone steps.

  After changing, Sam studied his muscles in the mirror, clenching his hands and looking for veins in his forearms before he moved up to his teeth and scowled at the uneven edges of his two top fronts. After looking at himself in the mirror for too long, Sam emerged from the pool house with a towel around his shoulders and sat down in a chair next to Trevor.

  “Glad you could make it.” Trevor slapped Sam a high five.

  “You’ve got some house.” Sam looked at McKenna.

  McKenna put her iPhone aside. “Thanks. Glad you could make it.”

  The maid brought drinks for them all. Sam sipped at his and watched the other two to see what he should do. They put their drinks on one of the cocktail tables and Sam did the same.

  “We asked you here for a reason,” Trevor said.

  “He’s always planning things,” McKenna said.

  “It stinks what happened.” Trevor’s face looked sorry, but Sam couldn’t help remembering that he was an actor. Then Trevor said, “Do you think we could be twins?”

  Sam felt like someone had punched him in the face. He blinked. “What?”

  Trevor shrugged. “Come on. Look at us. McKenna?”

  “You’re pretty exact.”

  Trevor swung his legs off the lounge chair so that he sat sideways and closer to Sam. “You’re adopted, right?”

  “How did you know?”

  “If we’re twins, that’s what happened. Your birthday was yesterday, right?”

  “No,” Sam said, actually feeling some relief. “My birthday is July second, not June.”

  Trevor looked at McKenna with confusion. McKenna sat sideways on her chair now, too, and said, “What if someone just changed the month on the birth certificate. How hard would that be? It’s just two letters.”

  “I’m not from here,” Sam said. “I’m from Sandusky, Ohio.”

  Trevor waved a hand through the air. “We could have been born in Tibet. That doesn’t matter. Look, I think it’s why my mom freaked out.”

  “It wasn’t about me asking you to help with my dad’s script?” Sam asked.

  “I told you that when we texted.” Trevor held up his phone as a reminder. “We think she doesn’t want me to know about you, and the fact that I have a brother out there.”

  “Why would she care?” Sam asked.

  Trevor shrugged. “I don’t want to sound snooty, but people like my mom think different. They always worry that people want things from them. Or, maybe she feels guilty? Maybe she knew about both of us and chose me. You got left behind.”

  “I’m not ‘left behind,’” Sam said. “My dad’s the greatest.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Okay.”

  “You’re a good baseball player, right?”

  “I’m good. Yeah.”

  “On some big travel team? Playing for a city title?”