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Chapter One
Devon
“I’m going to look like a fool!” I shout at my phone, tethered to the dashboard of my car. I’m sitting in the parking lot of a small coffee shop, about to do something I have no business doing. Why? Because of my agent of three years, Marvin Yonders, who stares at me on the screen as if I’m acting out—because I am.
“Don’t be so dramatic. Oh wait, never mind; that’s your job.” Marvin doesn’t give in to my anxiety; he never does. He’s been down this road a million times with other clients. Thirty years in Hollywood, working with young, nervous actors. I’m not the first to have a meltdown on the phone with him.
“Terrific, I’m freaking out, and you’re doing standup. What time do you take the stage at the Laugh Factory?” I turn off the engine and take a deep breath, the crisp mountain air filling my lungs. As I step out of the car, I glance up at the wooden sign, slightly weathered, swinging in the crisp fall breeze. Coffee Loft East. The name is familiar, so is the distinctive font—it’s plastered on billboards across southern California. The CoffeeLoft is a quickly expanding franchise I haven’t spent any time in. I’m not a coffee drinker, which is ironic given the task ahead of me.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I mutter the words to myself, forgetting Marvin is on the line.
“It’ll make a great origin story one day. Trust me, there’s a method to her madness.” He reminds me of my assignment. A ridiculous task which I’m still trying to wrap my head around. “Look for the owner, Mrs. Alice Whitehead. She’ll get you up to speed.”
I slam the car door and pause, taking in the view. I’m in Crestline, California, a small, quaint town nestled in the San Bernardino Mountains. It’s less than a two-hour drive from the relentless grind of Hollywood, but it might as well be a different planet. Here, there’s no flash, no “have your people call my people”nonsense. I’ve been here twenty seconds and already feel my pulse slowing and a desire to leave my car unlocked.
The mountains provide a majestic backdrop, which I compare to a Hollywood set I visited last month. I really need to spend more time in the real world.
“This is going to be the longest week of my life.” I remind myself of the commitment Marvin forced me into. One week of my time for a chance at the biggest break in my career. Last month, I auditioned for what I thought was a bit role as a barista in what was pitched as a straight to streaming service movie that is being produced in abundance these days. These types of movies help cover the studio’s overhead and fill the voracious appetite of viewers who demand new content. I guess that’s the reason I didn’t take notice of the three security checkpoints or the two-way glass in the audition room. I had never taken an audition with such little prep in my career.
Marvin’s advice when he sent it to me,Just walk in and follow your instinct. Stop overthinking things.
The next day, Marvin calls with the news. The real news. I’ve won the role, and the director of the project is none other than Hollywood royalty, Elliot Reminger, one of the top directors in the industry. My fortunes changed overnight.
A rushed contract for me to sign with no specifics other than Elliot’s name, my role as a barista, and more money than I’ve earned in my last seven projects combined. Marvin worked his extensive network, finding out details Elliot thought were well-hidden, and I signed immediately. I should have read the fine print.
As I walk between cars in the parking lot, the scent of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the piney aroma from the tree-lined sidewalk. I can’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. Maybe this is exactly what I need, to approach things differently, but what they want me to do is a tall order, pun totally intended. “I don’t even drink coffee, and I’m not clumsy. I was on my high school gymnastics team.”
After signing, the studio shared a few additional details, some of which Marvin had already uncovered, others not so much. The tiny barista role is actually a supporting role to the main characters in the movie. Part wise sage and part slapstick comic relief. Between spewing life-changing advice, I’ll be spilling drinks, breaking dishes, and creating chaos, hence my concern. But, as Marvin reminds me, none of it matters because the female lead in the movie is the one and only Xenia. The Hollywood hermit who only goes by one name and picks one project every five years like a groundhog with the Midas touch.
Like every movie Xenia has been involved in, it’s covered in secrecy, misdirection, and mixed messages. Everyone tolerates it because of her track record. Five for five. Box office smashes. Five out of five, Oscar wins for Best Picture. She always fills her cast with up-and-coming unknowns whose careers have all skyrocketed afterwards. That’s for all the ones who survive.
“The menu is your script,” Marvin reminds me of my mission. The one he devised after speaking to ten different actors who have worked with Xenia in the past. “She’s a staunch believer in method acting. She immerses herself in every role, and the best way to succeed is to follow her lead. For the next week, until the production kicks off, you’re no longer Devon Alexander, struggling actor, but Devon Alexander, barista extraordinaire. Your job is to master the role of charming but bumbling barista. No one other than the owner of the shop can find out you’re an actor. It’s part of how Xenia works.”
My feet halt next to a pickup truck filled with pumpkins and bales of hay, and I imagine it filled with kids in Halloween costumes, high on sugary treats, laughing at a full moon. “No one can find out why you’re there. If they do, and she or her people find out, she’ll fire you. She demands secrecy. At least two actors have warned me that chances are she’s offered the role to at least three actors, so she has a backup ready to go, but the part is yours to lose. So, keep your lips sealed.”
I hear the excitement in Marvin’s voice. He’s been in this business for thirty years. I know he’s looking at an exit strategy and me landing a role in a Xenia project just might be the rocket fuel I need for my career but could be the perfect capper for his.
“Shut tight.” I pinch two fingers across my lips and toss away the keys.
“Perfect. Observe everything.” Marvin shifts his advice from sales mode to the practical. “The smallest detail may make the difference. Trust your instinct. Trust your training. Let all those wasted months of improv finally pay off. A year from now, we’ll be sitting in the audience at some fancy auditorium, and they’ll be calling your name for an award.” He pauses, knowing my mind will race to the same image he’s painted for me. Us sitting in the Shrine Auditorium, Jimmy Kimmel hosting, and Scarlett Johannson tearing open an envelope and calling my name.
“One final warning, and I’m not sure I should tell this one. I don’t want you to freak out.”
And just like that, my anxiety returns. “You know you can’t mention it without telling me. What?”
“Don’t lose it…”
“Okay, but by you saying that tells me you expect me to, and I’m guessing there’s a good reason. Out with it.”
“This role is too important to half-step. I’ve told the owner of the shop to toss everything at you. She’s clearing her shop schedule to have you work by yourself as much as possible. It’s costing me a pretty penny, so make the most of it.”
My fingers squeeze the backpack handle tight, my anxiety building. “Are you setting me up to fail?”
“It’s the opposite. I know you, Devon. You’re alet me study how others operate, and I’ll practice by myself all nighttype. I have no question about your dedication or your ability to learn. This is the opposite. I need you to jump out the plane without thinking and figure things out on your way to the ground.”
“Your method is going to have me in a chalk outline on the ground.”
His chuckle puts me on edge. “If you’re doing method acting the right way, if you fail, there won’t be enough of you left to draw a chalk outline.”
