MAY 16

DAKOTA

For all its gilded glory, the thing I never got used to in Los Angeles was that the night sky burned orange. I knew it was just smog and reflected light emanating from the city, but it was eerie.

During those first surreal nights when the novelty of the city still hadn't worn off, I'd explored the smoky shadows and dimly lit streets that curved up into the hills. I'd discovered a quiet park with a secluded bench that overlooked the sea of artificial light and streams of traffic. From this pedestrian throne, I'd seen a few stars twinkling through the orange haze.

The overall absence of stars in Los Angeles fueled my nostalgia for Friday Island. Nearly a straight shot north from Los Angeles, there was little light pollution on an island that was mostly rocky beaches and evergreen forest with dirt driveways disappearing into the trees. On the nights when the rain clouds cleared and stars illuminated the black sea of sky, Maud Hamilton would drag me out her bedroom window and out onto the slope of the roof. She loved astrology and could point out more constellations than anyone else I knew. We would stay out there for hours. She'd eventually fall asleep, and I'd fall in love.

"End scene," I muttered, mentally pressing pause on my thoughts.

After a long day of filming Apex, being pulled down the rabbit hole of memories starring my ex-girlfriend wasn't ideal. Hell, I regretted not campaigning harder to film in Nova Scotia because returning to the island meant I was literally living in that rabbit hole of memories.

Dry dirt crunched beneath my Timberland boots as I walked down a cliffside, wind rustling the tall beach grass. The last traces of sunlight glistened on the Haro Strait, early stars dusting the sky. My hands twitched with the sudden urge to reach for the Canon AE1 that hung from my neck on a black leather strap, but I was short on time.

I huffed and stopped walking to pull a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out from my leather jacket. I hadn't smoked in a week, having managed to convince myself that it was time to quit the habit, but it took off the edge.

Fucking nicotine, I thought. When I inhaled, the lit end flared in the fading light.

"Brooding on a cliff is cliché, even for you."

I didn't turn towards the smooth feminine voice. I knew exactly who was behind me because that voice belonged in front of the camera, effortlessly delivering her lines and shining in the spotlight.

Brenna Quinn, alternatively known as Hollywood's sweetheart, was a savvy actress with a pampered ego courtesy of her childhood on the Upper East Side. She appeared beside me a moment later, the breeze whipping her long brown hair around her head.

I scowled. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, you know, starring in your cinematic masterpiece," Brenna said with an exaggerated sigh. She stood at my exact height of 5'10" with sunkissed skin and sharp bone structure. The gold of her hoop earrings dazzled in the light.

"That's not what I meant," I rolled my eyes.

"So, let me guess," she mussed, tapping a finger against her chin. "You think I'm somehow going to sabotage your quest to become Maud's - excuse me, Mimi's - knight in shining armor."

I worked my jaw, regretting the time I'd drunkenly divulged the history of my love life to Brenna in a Beverly Hills hotel room. It was a moment of weakness back in January when I'd never felt more alone in my life and needed a friend. But Christ, what was I thinking? Brenna was an actress, not a therapist. 

"You couldn't sabotage me even if you tried." I exhaled a cloud of smoke away from her. "I was asking what you're doing here on this damn cliff."

Brenna's eyes dazzled like sea glass as her lips twisted into a coy smile. "I'm a nightmare when I want to be."

"Whatever," I spat. "I need to get going. I've got a meeting with Conrad."

"I'd wish you luck, but you're his screenwriting protégé."

I smiled in spite of myself. Conrad Kane had the world of cinema at his feet and the power to determine the course of my career. Luxury Italian suits and single malt whiskey accessorized Conrad's Jupiter-sized ego that no one dared to challenge.

Conrad and I were the creators and executive producers of Apex. While I completed the vast majority of the writing, Conrad had wisdom and clout to bring my screenplay to life. Without him, I suspected that everyone else in the writer's room would campaign to turn Apex into something it wasn't.

"You better hope Mike and Myles don't hear you call me that," I said, referring to two of the lower-ranking producers. "They might actually try and sabotage me."

Mike and Myles Bennett were brothers who respected my achievements but still outwardly tried to undermine my authority. During the first table read, they both critiqued the lack of romantic content. They argued that if Apex wanted to be half as successful as The CW's Riverdale, then there needed to be more sexual angst. I'd wanted to bash my head against the boardroom table.

Brenna scoffed and gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. "They're vultures. As long as you don't crack under the pressure, they won't swoop in and pick you apart."

"You're hilarious," I said without a trace of humor in my voice. I turned away from Brenna and started walking back down the cliffside to where there were trailers for the cast and crew.

"I heard your friends are hosting a party tonight," Brenna called out, and I stopped walking. It only took a few seconds for her long legs to catch up to me. "Apparently, there's going to be a bonfire at Cape Blue's cove. Now, I don't know where the hell that is, but I know you do."

I threw her an incredulous look. "Why do you even care?"

"Dakota," Brenna sighed, her voice sugar-sweet as she trailed a manicured finger down my jawline. "There's absolutely nothing fun for me to do on this island. I'm dying of boredom, but I think a drama-filled party could save my life."

I groaned, dropping my cigarette into the dirt and stomping it out. "Save your life, huh? I never thought I'd be a hero."

"You're about to be a villain if you don't pick that filthy cigarette up and throw it out," she said pointedly. "But I'm taking that as my invitation to join you at Cape Blue tonight, and I accept."

I groaned again. I hadn't been planning on going to Cape Blue, but my best friend Sydney Atwood had all but begged me to go with him. Even if Maud was going to be there, I didn't want to let Syd down. 

"Jesus Christ." I bent over to retrieve the cigarette. "Are all famous actresses as pretentious as you?"

Brenna shook her head. "Not everyone can pull it off. I'm like Chanel No. 5."

"Because of course you are," I retorted, wrinkling my nose. Not that I knew much about perfume in general, but that one specifically seemed to suffocate every upscale party in Hollywood. "I'll meet you after I finish up with Conrad."

"See you then, boss," she said with just enough sarcasm to make me smile. For all her petty antics, she was my closest friend in Los Angeles.

Conrad was waiting for me, tall and regal, on the deck of his luxurious trailer. The deck overlooked the jagged coastline, and the breeze carried the soft melody of waves rushing ashore.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Apex is an exposé of your whimsical little island," Conrad stated, his aura of superiority nearly palpable. "Regardless, I've executed a fair share of my own vendettas on-screen."

"Apex isn't about executing a vendetta," I insisted, joining him at the railing. "It has nothing to do with my personal life."

Conrad thumbed through a marked-up copy of the screenplay. "It sure as hell seems like you did."

"I-"

"Listen, Dakota," he interrupted, twirling his Toscano cigar between his fingers. "I wouldn't give a damn even if you based Apex off of your love life. All I care about is killer reviews and revenue, and your story will give us both."

"Of course," I answered with a firm nod. "Thank you, sir."

"I was like you once: full of youthful optimism about the world and Hollywood and love." Conrad shook his head, exhaling a cloud of grey against the darkening sky. "People always love to tell you everything that's wrong about the industry, and then they love to tell you how they would fix it. That's all pedestrian bullshit." He swiveled to face me with his steely eyes and placed a hand on my shoulder. "We're a team. You could be the face of change, and I can provide the pedestal as long as you're wise enough to heed my advice."

"I will," I promised.

"Excellent," Conrad said, clapping me on the shoulder. "And quit calling me sir. I'm not your boss, kid."

I tried to smile.

"There's something else I have to tell you, and I don't think you're going to like it," Conrad confessed, still staring at me directly in the eye. "Last night, I met with the owner of Pacific King Whale Watching Company. His name is Kazuo Nakamura."

By some act of god, I masked my shock. Mr. Nakamura was Maud Hamilton's maternal grandfather. She used to refer to him as the Chief Justice of her life choices. Maybe she still did, but I wouldn't know.

"I know Mr. Nakamura," I eventually said, ignoring the weight settling inside my chest. "He's a respected member of the island community and a renowned-"

"I know he's your ex-girlfriend's grandfather," Conrad interrupted again, and my mouth snapped shut. "I know because when I was leaving, I met her."

"How convenient," I muttered.

"Yes, but that's not the point," Conrad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'll go ahead and get this bullshit over with because you look like crap, kid."

I stood there with my mouth sewn shut and waited for Conrad to get the hell on with the so-called bullshit. My fingers itched to light another cigarette.

"As you know, in episode three of Apex, a dead orca washes up on the beach." Conrad exhaled another cloud of smoke. "And that we're sparing no expense on authentic special effects. Anyway, Miss Hamilton must have overheard the conversation I had with Mr. Nakamura and his employee, Albert. I'd asked them about poaching and if there's ever been that kind of trouble on the island."

I pinched the bridge of his nose. "Maud wouldn't like that."

"She told me as much," Conrad confirmed with a dry laugh. "She thinks us Hollywood snobs are in the business of inciting violence."

"Did she really say Hollywood snobs?" I asked even though I already knew the answer.

"Those exact words."

I shook my head. "That's Maud in a nutshell."

Conrad took yet another puff of his cigar. "Alright, kid. I just thought that you should know. I'd hate to see some girl try and break your heart again."

"Oh, trust me, Maud Hamilton didn't break my heart," I said wearily. "Not when she believed that I never had one to start with."

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dakota just wants to make films but that's just too much to ask sorry buddy (not sorry at all)