of anything to say, so he blurted out the first thing that popped into his mind. “Why are you wearing those glasses?”
“They make me look smarter,” she said, tilting up her chin with pride. She turned abruptly, pigtails flying out like helicopter rotors. Then she picked up a pink cardboard box sealed with string, and went to the door.
She paused and turned to Zach. “Well? Are you coming?”
His mom had given him a hug. “Go ahead, sweetheart. It’s going to be a wonderful day.”
Zach shook his head at the memory. Even then. At the age of five, Sonnet knew exactly where she was going, and he was expected to follow along.
He sipped his coffee and frowned at the screen of his iPhone. He was supposed to be getting organized for the day, and instead he’d let his mind wander to a time back in ancient history. With a will, he made himself focus on the present.
The present wasn’t a bad place to be. Here and now, with the future glimmering ahead like a sunrise on the horizon. He needed to move in that direction, not dwell in the past.
Through the shop window, he watched the town getting ready for the day. Shopkeepers rolled out their awnings and displayed their wares on the walkways. Delivery trucks disgorged supplies to restaurants, and people walked briskly toward the train station. Like any small town, an atmosphere of familiarity colored the scene. Zach had always liked that about Avalon. Being part of a small community filled in somewhat for his crappy family situation.
He had been on his own ever since high school, when his father was led away in handcuffs, the town disgrace. Zach was left with a house in foreclosure, a mountain of unpaid bills and a reputation in tatters. Matthew Alger had defrauded the town of Avalon. He’d picked the pockets of people who could scarcely buy groceries, let alone pay their local taxes.
Zach had made a vow that day. He would make restitution to the people his father had defrauded. It would surely take years, but he would do what he could. It wouldn’t happen on his salary from Wendela’s, though. Through the years, he had been depositing whatever he could into the city treasury, trying to chip away at his father’s debt, bit by bit.
He was going to miss this place. But he had to go, and soon. How else was he going to find his life? Filming weddings and bar mitzvahs and retirement parties was a way to make ends meet. But being a filmmaker…that was his life. And he couldn’t very well do that in Avalon. Sure, the town looked as pretty as a picture on a postcard, so pretty it made your heart ache. But pretty didn’t pay the bills. To do that, he needed to go where the work was. But he was stuck in a conundrum. Due to lack of funds, he had not gone after what he wanted.
Zach’s phone rang, and he did a double take. The name that came up was the one he least expected—the longest of longshots: Mickey Flick.
“Who’s Mickey Flick?” demanded Glynnis, peering at the screen of his phone. She not only had a rack; she was the nosiest waitress on the planet.
He ignored her, and skimmed his thumb across the screen in order to take the call. “This is Zach Alger.”
“Mickey Flick here.” A crisp, easy familiarity mellowed the voice. The guy sounded as if he and Zach talked every week.
Zach held his breath. Mickey Flick headed up an outfit in Century City noted for its wildly successful celebrity reality shows. Zach was no fan of the genre, having little interest in watching has-been actors in some ludicrous setup. He was, however, a fan of the success of the shows. He’d been in contact with Mickey Flick Productions, knowing it was a crazy roll of the dice. There had been several emails back and forth with various assistants, but still, he hadn’t expected anything to come of it. Now here was the guy, calling him out of the blue.
“Hey,” he said, trying not to fumble. “Thanks for calling me back.”
“Not a problem. We were glad to hear from you. We’ve been going over the samples you sent in.”
Zach felt himself teetering on the brink. He knew, he just knew his life was about to change. “Wow. Well,” he said, “I’m flattered you had a look. I hope you liked what you saw.”
“Hell, yeah, we liked them. You’ve definitely got the technical expertise and the eye we’re looking for, so I wanted to see if you’re available for a new production that’s about to start filming.”
Available? Available? Was he available for Mickey-freaking-Flick?
“Could be,” he said, hoping to sound measured. Interested, but not too eager. “Tell me more.”
“For the time being, I can’t say much. You’ll get more details from Clyde Bombier, my production exec. It’ll be a reality show, all under wraps until we’re ready to go wide with it. What I can tell you is that it’s a sixteen-week gig, it involves a major talent and a name director. You’d work directly with him.”
“Okay,” Zach said. “You have my attention.”
He tried not to hyperventilate as he listened to the terms being offered. The money alone made his head spin, but the real excitement kicked in when Flick said he was sending a formal letter of offer and a contract via email.
Zach thanked him and hung up, looking around the bakery at the coffee drinkers, the tourists and locals, the little kids smearing their hands on the glass cases, the old guys with their crossword puzzles. These people had no idea that the world had just shifted for him. Finally the dream was coming into reach. He’d been trying to get a break forever, sending out his portfolio of digital clips, emailing them into what seemed like a black hole of digital ether. He’d been networking through people in the business who were at least six degrees away from West Coast and New York producers. Each award he won, each scrap of recognition, hoisted him another rung up the ladder, but until now, nothing had materialized.
The opportunity was still so new, he had only the sketchiest idea of what was in store for him next. He knew for certain Mickey Flick had a reputation for doing things in a big way. The guy had mentioned that this opportunity was a major production. Major. It was the biggest thing that had ever happened to Zach, for sure.
The current project was so top secret he would only learn the details when everything was in place. All he knew was he’d been offered a fortune to work on the production. He wondered why they’d picked him, given all the talent in the business. He wouldn’t quibble. The money was nice, it was more than he’d dreamed of making, but that wasn’t the part that excited him. What really excited him was the crazy array of possibilities that now lay before him.
Speculating on what the secret plan for the show might be, he dreamed of Malibu, maybe filming a surf competition. Or perhaps there would be a crew of castaways on Fiji, mountaineers in Colorado. Or a rock group in Amsterdam. Yeah, that’d be awesome. Mickey Flick was known to work closely with some of the biggest names in the music business. His last hit had involved a world-class heavy metal star’s collaboration with a classical pianist, culminating in a triumphant performance in Carnegie Hall.
Zach couldn’t wait to see what was in store for him. And at the end of it all, he’d finally have the seed money to start living his dream.
The people in the café carried on, oblivious. Just for a second, Zach felt a twinge of frustration. He wanted to call somebody, tell somebody, share this amazing news. And the person he most wanted to share it with was the last one who wanted to hear.
Part
