Charly's Spring Star: A Falling Stars Novella

By Angelica Primm

Charlotte "Charly" Anderson and Aaron Meyers couldn't be any more different. Charly lives in quaint White Falls Connecticut, and Aaron is talent representative from West Hollywood, California. She is looking for love and a real connection, and all he is worried about is fame and making good money. So when Aaron's best client decides to go AWOL from acting, he has no choice but to leave sunny California behind and travel to the snowy Connecticut. Aaron's mission was to bring his client home and set things right again, but fate led him to meet Charly and now he isn't sure if he wants to return home anymore.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Aug 18, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094441412

Book preview

1

Aaron

Aaron Meyers paced in his luxury office in Century City, rhythmically squeezing a stupid yellow stress ball his secretary Barbara had handed him once when he snapped at her too many times. His earbud spat a cacophony of invectives uttered by Chase Goldman, the head of Burtman Studios, as he ripped Aaron a new one for failing to deliver Kyle O’Connor to their most recent and most talked-about action-adventure film, Jetters .

Rumors flew through Hollywood that Kyle O’Connor, star of the mega-popular television medical show Wyld’s Way, hit the road and took a break from acting which was code for an actor hiding out to leverage his popularity for a higher salary.

The reality was disastrously worse. Kyle had told Aaron he decided to pursue a Broadway directing career.

As Chase blathered, a litany of Aaron’s yearly expenses rioted in his head. $125,000 for rent, $40,000 for Barbara answering the phones, $30,000 for his too-expensive website and the webmistress who babysat it, $25,000 for country club fees, $5,000 for parking, including the attendant’s Christmas tip, and $2,000 a year for office supplies.

Listen, sputtered Chase, we’ll raise it to five million for the salary, which is ridiculously high for a first film, but Kyle’s profile has hit the stratosphere. People are begging to invest in the movie.

Really? Aaron would have Barbara investigate who wished to invest and how much. Her ace skills at mining La La Land’s rumor mills saved him from costly mistakes and in scoring bigger deals than he normally would.

Automatically, he calculated his cut for Kyle’s salary from the movie deal.

Barbara shot him a text message that Luke DeAngel, one of his clients who constantly talked about transitioning from stunt work to acting, remained camped on line three. At this moment, Aaron asked himself one question.

Why the hell did I get a multi-line phone system?

While Chase rattled on his list of complaints, Aaron texted Barbara.

Aaron: Who’s on line two?

Barbara: My therapist.

Aaron: Smartass.

Barbara: Listen to yourself. Hence my therapy.

Aaron: Save chats with your emotional support human for your off-time.

Barbara: What’s off-time?

Aaron stared at the text message. Barbara was always working, shepherding his schedule to keep him on track to earn money.

That woman deserves a raise. If I can corral Kyle to return to the stable —

Chase delivered creative bon mots about how Aaron’s figurative bloody corpse would haunt LA in the dead hours of the night if he didn’t deliver Kyle. When Chase finished, he chuffed as if in the middle of a heart attack, which caused Aaron concern. The man throwing dollars at Aaron could not kick off — not now.

Aaron sighed under his breath. In the spirit of goodwill, I’ll shoot you a case of my favorite whiskey.

Chase scoffed. That rotgut. Save your money for your get-out-LA-alive cash.

Don’t disrespect my Talisker.

The phone clicked off, and Barbara, who always listened, buzzed him. Don’t forget Luke DeAngel.

I’m not. Messenger Chase a case of Talisker.

I’ll send him Glenfiddich.

Traitor.

How little you appreciate how I protect you from ninja assassins.

Ninja assassins?

She blew out an audible breath tinged with frustration. Luke DeAngel, boss.

One bottle of Glenfiddich, not a case. He could hear Barbara roll her eyes, or rather, guessed her reaction. Don’t roll your eyes at me.

How—

Long association. And spare me your grief. Chase Goldman just wasted fifteen minutes of my life abusing me.

Barbara snorted. You want to find real abuse? Check my paystub.

Aaron sunk his head in his right palm. One of his few irredeemable traits was a cheap streak a mile long. But if he relented, she wouldn’t let him forget it either, making him prey to each time she demanded a pay hike. He had to control costs, damn it, especially since steering Kyle back into the fold was a toss-up. Fortunately, no one officially knew Kyle had hung up his fake stethoscope — yet. The idiot fell improbably in love and hid out in Connecticut with his ex-girlfriend or some such. Aaron had been too riled to listen to the full story when he had heard the news.

In time, Kyle will lose interest in the girl. It never takes long. And then Kyle will be back earning for him and me.

Boss, snarled Barbara. He got the impression if he didn’t pay up, his shark of a secretary would feast on his bones.

Fine. Give yourself a twenty-five cent an hour raise.

And people say you don’t have a heart — and I agree. Her voice rolled off in a dangerous rumble reminiscent of incoming storm clouds. Luke DeAngel. She clicked off the line, and he picked the line.

Luke! Buddy. What’s good?

I want out of my contract with you.

What?

I heard you didn’t score that movie deal for my buddy Kyle O’Connor, and I’m thinking you ain’t doing right by me either.

Star town gossip, Luke. There are more rumors than wannabe starlets in LA.

What’s up with Kyle, then? He’s not answering my calls.

What are you, his girlfriend? No. Strike that. You do not speak disparaging words to a guy six feet tall and two hundred pounds of muscle.

It’s part of the game, Luke. He’s incognito to drive up his salary.

Luke sucked in a breath. You’re saying it’s a ploy?

Yes.

Well, where is he? He’s not in Aspen like usual this time of the year.

How the hell does he know that?

Hang on a second, Luke. He hit the hold button and buzzed Barbara on the intercom. Barbara, check out social media for what they are posting about Kyle O’Connor, especially about Aspen?

"You mean how he’s not tearing up the slopes per usual? Yeah, it’s been blowing up Insta and the tweets — hashtag where’s Dr. McSteamy? And, oh, look, Hollywood Life & Media posted a story ‘Where’s Kyle O’Connor?’ Nice pic of Kyle from Goldman’s party you both attended. Oh, dear Lord. The last thing Goldman or Fletcher needed was to discover Kyle wasn’t haunting his usual amusements."

And you didn’t inform me?

PR agents get paid way more than I do. That’s your clue.

Okay, fifty cents per hour.

You’re dreaming. I’m stuffing an extra seventy-five dollars a week into my paycheck, and the only way to stop me is to fire me. Then, I’ll collect unemployment while writing my screenplay.

Gee, wouldn’t you rather scribe your screenplay on my dime? Aaron knew what Barbara did when he was absent from the office.

Fine, agreed Aaron. "And check out who wants to invest in Jetters. Goldman let it slip that he’s hooked a big fish or two."

You can’t stop taking advantage of me, can you? Just for that, I’m buying myself a dozen peach-colored roses on your credit card, and not those ridiculous miniature roses, but big honking American Beauty roses. But don’t get any funny ideas about you and me. A boss should send his secretary roses, especially when she doesn’t have a boyfriend because he is such an ’effin slave driver she has no social life.

Peach roses? Not pink? Mr. Internet says pink roses express admiration of someone’s refinement and elegance.

Damn you. Peach is the color of appreciation, something which you seem to lack. But I’ll fake it for the sake of our business relationship. And you know I hate the color pink.

Noted. Do you want a case of Talisker too?

Cheap bastard. She clicked off the conversation.

Aaron stared at the handset. What’s bothering her?

The damned phone system buzzed him, automatically reminding him Luke DeAngel remained parked on line three.

Luke. Sorry. The secretary had an urgent problem.

Me.

"If Kyle’s not returning, I want to audition for his part in Jetters."

No. Dear Lord, that’s not happening.

Aaron raked his hand through his hair, searching for an answer for Luke. There just weren’t any suitable projects, though Aaron had been so distracted by the Kyle problem, he hadn’t worked on other clients’ needs.

I’m putting together projects for you.

Luke’s rejoinder spilled out immediately.

What projects? I’m tired of breaking my bones for my bread.

Did you break another bone? Aaron sucked in a breath. That would give Aaron a reprieve in finding him work.

No. Don’t want to. I’ve got plenty of stunt work, but I need to think of my future, right?

You certainly do. I’m with you there one hundred percent.

What a pile of BS you spit. Luke was a C client, and the only reason Aaron signed him on was to keep Kyle happy.

No good deed goes unpunished.

So make it happen. That’s what I pay you for.

Everyone in this town is a hardass.

I’ll talk with Chase Goldman.

Not about you, but I’ll be talking to him. The bastard can’t live a day without harassing me about Kyle.

Jesus, he had to secure something for Luke, or his defection would be another disaster. The last thing he needed was clients jumping ship, even a C client like Luke. They would if they thought that he wasn’t pulling through for his biggest clients.

Too many LA agents nip at my heels to feed off the talent that I developed.

Granted, Luke was a better stunt man than an actor, but he should get steady work. Few actors could perform stunts and act. Aaron needed to find his niche, whatever that was.

Fine. Do that, said Luke. The phone then flatlined into the drone of a dropped call.

Barbara texted him that Irving Fletcher, Wyld’s Way showrunner, was on line one waiting to speak to him.

Oh, for the ever-loving Christ.

Irving! How’s it going? I have a guy that’s great for a guest part—

Can it, Meyers. What the hell is going on with Kyle? He’s not in Aspen. Is he okay? Did he get hurt skiing somewhere else? Is that why he’s not taking my calls?

The man was in the middle of a nervous breakdown. What was it about today that had ICU beds beckoning?

You’re calling him directly? Irv, baby, that’s not how it works. I’m his rep. You call me.

For which I’m getting zip for answers. Why are the writers claiming that Kyle’s not coming back?

I