Chapter 37: Vee

Before returning to L.A., I bought my father a cell phone and hired a maid and cook to take care of him.

Once I was back, Raven Black took charge and she became something unstoppable.

At the end of April, I signed my second contract. Scott called one evening and invited me to dinner at his home. He lived in a lovely apartment in Venice Beach, which he shared with his lover, a young man who looked like a surfer.

Scott handed me the script for our next movie. I read the title aloud, smiling, “Little Girl Lost.”

I opened the script and skimmed through it. I planned to dive into it as soon as I got back to my apartment. I was dying to know what he was offering me.

“And Dennis?” I asked, noticing that the cover only had Scott’s name on it.

“This project is mine alone. I have financing from Blueberry Films, but it will only bear my name.”

“Trouble in paradise?”

Scott laughed. It was no secret that his relationship with Dennis had been rocky for some time. They were two great professionals and worked well together, but they clashed on ideas. Scott tended to take risks, letting himself be carried away by what was different; Dennis was more traditional, sticking to the cinematic formulas he knew worked. Without a doubt, my connection with Scott made more and more sense. I had been his last big risk, and it had paid off.

“I wrote this script when I was twenty, Vee.”

I smiled. Scott always called me by my real name when we were alone.

“I had no idea about life, the industry, or making movies, but I was already dreaming big. I got my mojo back as soon as I met you.”

I looked up from the pages, fully grasping the enormity of what Scott was offering me for the second time—something far bigger than Kandy’s role in our first film. A more important and challenging part. The fact that he was counting on me to pull it off moved me.

“Why?”

“You’ll have to read it to understand.”

“Okay.”

We toasted with our glasses of wine, sealing a new agreement before even making it official.

That night, I got into bed with the script and didn’t move until I finished it. It was a beautiful story about a girl from a small town who dreamed of being a dancer, eventually making her way to New York, willing to do anything for an opportunity. She made it—became rich, famous, adored by everyone. But in the process, she lost herself. Addicted to anti-anxiety drugs, her personal life and public persona collided.

The ending was bittersweet—the protagonist had everything she’d ever dreamed of, but she ended up alone.

It was impossible not to notice how the main character’s story echoed my own, with a few minor differences. I just hoped it wasn’t a premonition of what lay ahead for me.

As the sun rose, I closed the script, picked up my phone, and called Scott.

“I’m her. I’m Phoebe.”

I could hear his smile through the line.

“That’s right.”

I exhaled, knowing the next words would change my life.

“I’m in, Scott. I’ll be your Phoebe.”

The filming of Little Girl Lost began with great anticipation. I was in a good place, even though the tabloids were filled with rumors about my supposed romances. Every time I was photographed at a party with a young actor, musician, producer, or director, the gossip columns exploded with the most outrageous lies.

On the other hand, critics had received my performance as Kandy with a certain respect, and they eagerly awaited my next film.