Page 17 of Starrily (Perks of Being #2)

Chapter 17

B y mid-afternoon, they reached Death Valley. Callie leaned on the car windowsill and let the wind combat the late spring heat while keeping one eye on Simon. She had to be attentive if he suddenly phased, even though, as he said, he had two arms and two legs, and if one went, he was perfectly capable of controlling the car.

But she was here to take care of him, so she would.

As they headed across the valley, sandy dunes with splatterings of little shrubs turned into a pale, empty flatness. In the distance, mountains rose—bare, white ridges that spread like tentacles into the ground, and beyond them, taller, rugged mountains in all shades of orange, covered with a purple haze.

They stopped for a late lunch at a roadside diner. They could keep going and survive on snacks—Callie’s original plan—but when Simon suggested the break, her stomach rumbled in agreement.

She’d die for a burger and some waffles right now.

It was one of those retro places, straight out of a movie—tiled floor, red leather seats, and flashing signs. A waitress arrived as soon as they slipped into the booth. “Hey, there.” She bent to the seat where Callie had put down Theia in her carrier. “And hello there, little one.”

Theia hissed.

The waitress jerked back.

“It’s all right,” Callie said. “She doesn’t like people.”

“So, like every other cat.” The waitress smiled. “What can I get you? Unfortunately, we’re all out of waffles, thanks to the film crew.”

Simon perked up. “The film crew?”

“They’re shooting down the road. It’s some sci-fi thing. All I know is they’ve got an appetite for waffles.”

They ordered their meal, and after the waitress left, Simon turned to Callie with a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Oh, no,” she said.

“It’s a movie set! We’ve got to go. Maybe they need extras.”

“They won’t let us in.”

“They might if I ask nicely.”

“You can’t always get what you want.”

“No, but …” Simon pulled out his tablet. “I can check an item off the bucket list.”

“You have a bucket list?”

He slid the tablet over. The title was confirmed in cartoonish letters. Below were several items, all sounding rather vague, such as “fly.”

“See over there.” Simon tapped on the screen. “ Be a star. ”

“Aren’t bucket lists meant for something to accomplish before—” She couldn’t say “the end of your life”—that was an option she didn’t even want to consider at the moment.

From his look, Simon knew what she meant. “Let’s say this one will be for the journey. Regardless of its end.”

She put down the tablet.

“It can be our list if you want to,” he said.

“Is that why you brought a pouch for Theia?”

“We can’t exclude our little fur ball, can we?” Simon leaned down to Theia. The cat observed him calmly. He looked back at Callie, expectantly.

“Fine.” She had little resistance left in her; not because she was exhausted, but because she simply had no desire to resist. What harm could come of visiting a movie set? They’d be turned away at the entrance, anyway.

After they’d eaten, they drove down the road, Simon following the instructions from the waitress. They turned onto a smaller off road with barely visible markings and, after kicking dust behind them for a minute, noticed the dark dots of a movie set on the horizon. Simon parked and they approached on foot, toward a wire fence guarding several trailers.

“Hello, there,” Simon greeted the guard at the gate. “We heard you need some extra extras.”

The guard looked down at him, unamused. “I wasn’t aware of that.”

“And now you are.” Simon flashed him a smile.

“What’s that?” The guard pointed at Callie’s back.

“Oh, it’s a cat. In a backpack,” Simon said. Callie turned, and as the guard leaned in, Theia hissed at him.

“Fucking demon,” the guard muttered. “Go away. All the crew we need is already inside.”

“But—” Simon tried.

“Off. With. You.”

“Come on.” Callie tugged on his shirt. They moved a few steps back down the road.

“I wish I had Stan with us,” Simon muttered. “He and that guard could have a staredown. And Stan would win.”

“We tried. It wasn’t likely they’d need extras.”

Simon narrowed his eyes, staring at the fence. “There is no try. You either do it, or you don’t.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how the quote goes and—Simon!” Callie ran after him as he started toward the fence further away from the guard.

“Here.” He stopped in front of an area where two fences had been linked, leading to a lower spot. “Come, I’ll lift you over.” Simon interlocked his fingers and held his hands on the level of her knees.

“That’s trespassing.”

“Not if nobody finds out. Once we’re inside, they’ll think we’re one of them.”

She sighed and stepped onto his hands. He lifted her to the top, and she carefully maneuvered around, rattling the fence.

“You’re doing great. Now just climb back down,” he said.

Grappling the fence, she descended inch by inch until she was low enough to dare to jump—but just as she did, a ripping sound came from her back, and something pulled for a second before her feet met the ground.

“Theia,” Simon said.

Worried about possibly injuring her cat, Callie scrambled for the backpack, only to find it ripped open—and empty.

“She jumped out.” Simon swiftly crossed the fence. “When the pouch got caught.”

At least she was okay, but … “How are we going to find her?”

“Hey, kitty,” a man’s voice came from somewhere beyond the trailers. “Aren’t you a little—ouch!”

Simon laughed. “Follow the screams.”

They ran, squeezing between two trailers until they reached a path leading through the impromptu trailer park. Callie caught a flash of a fluffy brown tail disappearing behind the corner. “There.” She grabbed Simon’s hand.

“Hey, you two.” A man stood further down, wearing a tell-tale black shirt and baseball cap of a movie crew member.

Oh, shit.

“You should be in costumes already,” the man continued.

Callie froze; but luckily, Simon didn’t. “Right. Yes.” He pointed to a door. “We were just getting there. Got a bit disoriented with all the … trailers.” He pulled Callie into a trailer across the path.

“Nobody will find out, huh?” she said.

“Technically, they don’t know we’re trespassers.” Simon looked around and picked up a catsuit in blue and silver colors. He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I’m not wearing that.”

“Of course, you’re not. Clearly, it’s mine. You can have this one.” He tossed a monstrosity in silver and purple at her. “Finding your cat will be much easier undercover.”

This was absolutely ridiculous. And yet, Callie found herself smiling as she turned away to change.

“How do we keep ending up in jumpsuits?” Simon’s voice came from behind.

“You’re asking me? You’re responsible for two out of three instances.”

“Hmm. Fair.”

“What kind of a C-list movie has costumes like this, anyway?” She put on the suit—a rather tight, spandex thingy—and turned around. They looked at each other for a second, then burst into laughter.

“Stop laughing at me. This isn’t my fault!” she said.

“You’re laughing at me, too!”

“Because you look ridiculous!” The silver suit was so shiny he might actually blind her if he stepped into the sun. Well, so would she—hers wasn’t any better.

“Here.” Simon fished a headband with two squishy silver antennae out of the pile and put it into her hair. “Now you’re perfect.”

She put her hands on her hips.

Simon laughed again, clapping his knees. “Beautiful, angry alien.”

“When we find Theia, I’m instructing her to scratch you,” she said, leaving the trailer.

“You’d never.” And, when she didn’t respond, “ She’d never. You’ll see. She loves me.”

“Well, she loves me m—” She stopped dead in her tracks.

“Callie?” Simon paused next to her.

A man exited a trailer down the path. He was wearing a costume, too, but a much more sensible one: a working jumpsuit in dark blue, with an insignia of stars and planets on the shoulder. He was in his mid-forties, and a bit of gray was starting to creep into his dark hair, but Callie would recognize that square, classically handsome face anywhere.

“That’s Jeff Anselm,” she breathed.

Simon scrunched his nose. “Sounds familiar.”

“Captain Wells? From Starship Andromeda?”

“Oh. That old show.”

“It’s not that old. I watched it in college.”

“Your bedroom wall was covered in his posters, wasn’t it?”

“Hey. There were at least two of the ship itself.” She still had one of them in her apartment.

He leaned to whisper into her ear, “That’s a bad defense, Phoenix.”

“I don’t need to defend myself! It was a great show.”

“I know,” he said.

“I could’ve met him back then.” She stared wistfully at the actor, who stood in front of the door to his trailer, checking his phone. “He was at a convention, but I didn’t have the time to go. Too many exams.”

“Couldn’t go meet a spaceman because you had to become a space woman. Well, it’s never too late.” He took her hand and led her toward the actor.

“What are you—”

“Mr. Anselm!” Simon greeted.

Anselm looked up.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Simon said as they stopped before him. “Big fans. Especially my friend here.” He pushed Callie in front.

She looked up at the actor. “H-hi.” Her throat closed, and her mind was suddenly emptier than the Bootes Void.

“She loved you in Starship Andromeda,” Simon said.

“I-I-I did,” she managed to get out.

“That’s nice to hear.” Anselm gave her a polite smile.

“I’m sure you hear it a lot.” Please, don’t giggle like a deranged fangirl. Please.

“Never gets old, though.” He winked. “How can I help?”

“Could you sign …” She reached for the pockets of her pants, only to realize they’d been left in the trailer, and all she had was this stupid jumpsuit.

Simon tore a paper note off the trailer. “This will do.” He offered it to Anselm.

The actor took a pen from the breast pocket of his jumpsuit and clicked it. “Huh. Actually works. You never know with props these days.” He put the paper against the wall. “Whom to?”

“C-Callie.”

“C’Callie. Lovely sci-fi name.”

“No, I meant—”

He laughed; a deep, low rumble. “I’m kidding. Callie. Here you go.” He handed her the autograph. “I believe I have a scene to prepare for.” He started walking backward and extended his hand, saluting with intertwined fingers. “May you never walk in fear …”

“Only in wonder,” Callie finished, making the same salute.

Simon waited until Anselm left, a wide smile spreading across his face. “I love it when you get all nerdy. Oh, and look.” He spread the autograph in front of her face. “He didn’t spell your name as Kelly. I’d call that a win-win.”

Another fifteen minutes of skulking around the set bore no more sightings of Theia. Callie had been scouring the back of one trailer when she heard a whispered summon from Simon. He was kneeling down and extended his arm to show her to approach carefully.

“Over there,” he whispered, like they were observing wild animals on a safari.

Callie kneeled next to him and looked under the trailer. On the other side was Theia, ruthlessly demolishing a piece of fabric.

Simon put a finger to his lips and led Callie around the trailer. “You get her.” They paused around the corner.

She nodded and stretched her shoulders. She rounded the corner. “Hey, baby.”

Theia looked up.

And ran away.

“No, Theia! No!” She started chasing after her.

“She’s had a taste of freedom, she’ll never be the same,” Simon yelled as he followed after Callie, and they all ran, each a few feet after the other. They got out of the trailer park and into the movie set proper; Callie paid little notice to cameras, massive lights, screens, and other equipment as she pursued Theia until the cat circled a crowd of people, all wearing silver suits.

“Theia!” Callie barked.

“Cut. Cut!” A voice came through the megaphone. The people in the crowd murmured.

“You two.” A man stood from his chair on the far end of the field, surrounded by cameras and crew. “Did I tell you to separate from the others? No. Get back in. We’re starting from the beginning.”

Panicked, Callie looked for Simon, who appeared right behind her and gently pushed her toward the crowd. “Act normal.”

“That’s the problem,” she whispered. “I don’t know how to act. You know I’m terrible in front of the camera.”

“It’s fine. We’re in the back. Nobody will see you.” He nodded to another silver-costumed extra and shook his limbs as if warming up for a run.

“And … action!”

Callie didn’t see much through the crowd, but she heard talking up front—probably the main actors. A song blared through the speakers: a few strums of a guitar, and then a female voice started singing, soon joined by another one, then a male one.

“Are you kidding me?” Callie said. “It’s a musical?”

“It’s a sci-fi musical,” Simon corrected.

“What are they doing over there?” She rose on her toes, not that it helped.

“They appear to be dancing. More people are joining in … yup, it’s a musical,” Simon reported.

“What are we doing?”

“We’re just the background. Keep moving in that direction. We’ll sneak out on the other side and find Theia.”

A crew member standing at the side waved with his hands, and a few extras raised posters with handwritten Welcome to Earth messages. Trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible, Callie slowly moved sideways like a crab, pretending to be a part of the cheering crowd— minus the cheering—as she progressed toward the other end of the set.

“You know what, after a day of K-pop, this isn’t too bad.” Simon tapped his foot in the rhythm as he moved along with her. In their slow pace, they’d managed to get over two-thirds of the way through. Callie saw the end of the crowd, even if she couldn’t see Theia yet. So close.

“Cut!” The director stood again. “One more time, but let’s try it with a twist. We need a couple. You, over there. Tall ginger guy and the black girl next to you.”

Callie froze.

“Mike, center the camera on them when the song gets to, ‘and I’m rising up,’” the director continued. “You two gaze up at the spaceship and don’t forget to look happy. This is the event of your lifetime, okay? Five seconds, then you look back at each other and kiss. Got it? Let’s go.”

“Tell me he wasn’t talking to us,” Callie said.

“I’ve bad news for you. There aren’t any other red-haired people in this crowd,” Simon said. “On the bright side, you get to imagine looking at a spaceship.”

The scene resumed, and after the preliminary dialogue and a pop dance sequence, a crew member gave the sign to Callie and Simon. He held her hand, and they looked up. Only a dark blue sky, slowly fading into purple. Callie imagined the sleek, beautiful Starship Andromeda hovering high above them, endless stars behind her, as far as the eye could see and further. Three, two, one …

She looked at Simon. His blue eyes sparkled, and a slight, irresistibly seductive smile played on his lips. It’s been over a week since their kiss, and he hadn’t said a word about it. She didn’t think he changed his mind about what he’d said that night, and she surely hadn’t, but she’d been so preoccupied. They both were.

She didn’t even know if he liked her kiss.

Simon leaned in, ever so slowly, and butterflies rose in her stomach. Maybe he did like it. For the moment, she could imagine they were someone else—two free spirits on their space adventure, not a man who might become a ghost and a woman with too many fears to count. She parted her lips, never taking her eyes off him as he drew near. At least I don’t have to act this part. So close—three inches, two inches away—

“Cut!”

Simon zapped back as if being rudely woken up from a dream.

“Nicely done,” the director shouted over the megaphone. “Take fifteen, everyone.”

And just like that, the moment was gone.