All That Lies Within
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Authors: Lynn Ames
Contents
Other Books in Print by Lynn Ames
A
LL
T
HAT
L
IES
W
ITHIN
© 2013
BY
L
YNN
A
MES
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN: 978-1-936429-07-3
O
THER
A
VAILABLE
F
ORMATS
P
APERBACK
E
DITION
ISBN: 978-1-936429-06-6
P
UBLISHED BY
P
HOENIX
R
ISING
P
RESS
P
HOENIX
, A
RIZONA
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
C
REDITS
E
XECUTIVE
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DITOR
: L
INDA
L
ORENZO
A
UTHOR
P
HOTO
: J
UDY
F
RANCESCONI
C
OVER
D
ESIGN BY
: P
AM
L
AMBROS
WWW.HANDSONGRAPHICDESIGN.COM
Dedication
To anyone who has ever felt marginalized or misunderstood, know that there are those who really see you and love you for exactly who you are. Let your light shine and show others the way.
Acknowledgments
The impetus for this novel is
Knowledge and Illusion
, a poem I penned in June 2012. It was published in the poetry anthology,
Roses Read
, edited by Beth Mitchum. An excerpt of the poem appears in Chapter Ten and is annotated with an asterisk. For the purposes of the story, I gave author credit to one of my main characters.
As with any of my novels, there are many details that must be factually correct or at least plausible. To my good friend, Audrey Evans, a film veteran who worked on such theatrical releases as
Thelma & Louise
,
Waterworld
, and
Zoolander
, and who provided accurate and essential insights into the workings of a movie set and movie making; to Doctor Jenni Levy, a childhood friend and expert in end-of-life care, who lent realism to some very critical scenes; to Katherine Fugate, screenwriter of such movies as
Valentine’s Day
and
New Year’s Eve
, who provided an essential bit of information at a crucial moment; to the counter guy at the Carnegie Deli in New York City, the contracts expert at the Writers Guild of America, the librarian at the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, to Laura Nastro, who painted a vivid picture for me of attending a taping of
Late Show with David Letterman
, to the communications assistant at Middlebury College, and my college friend Lisa Kissinger-Kaplan who helped augment my memory of graduation— you all helped me infuse this novel with realism and plausibility and I am forever grateful for the assistance. Any potential inaccuracies in this book belong solely to me.
I am blessed to have what I think is the finest team in the history of novel-writing. To my beta readers who read through my manuscripts chapter by chapter during the creation phase and give me critical feedback—you have my eternal gratitude.
To my primary editor, Linda Lorenzo, in whom I have absolute, unshakeable trust—thank you for your infinite wisdom and patience. Having you guide my work is such a gift. I always know if you say it’s going to be okay, somehow, it will be.
To the readers who continue to clamor for the next book—you make it all worthwhile.
Happy reading!
“Wait until you hear this one—”
Dara Thomas held up a hand in protest. “I don’t want to know. Thanks anyway.”
“But this critic says, ‘Her arresting blue eyes and flawless features guarantee any movie’s success. Dara Thomas is box office gold!’”
Dara rose out of the director’s chair with her name embroidered on the back.
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my trailer to work on my lines.”
“But you haven’t heard what they said about you in this week’s
Enquirer
.”
Dara sighed audibly and walked away. She pushed open the door leading from the sound stage and squinted into the midday sun, only to see her co-star, Luther Rollins, heading directly toward her. “Well, now my day is complete.”
“Dara, sweetheart, when are you ever going to admit that you’re madly in love with me? Or at least in lust? Your looks, my physique… Just think of the beautiful babies we’d make! Well, we wouldn’t make babies, of course, cuz I’d wear a condom, but…”
“I don’t know how I could resist such a…touching…offer. But I’ll try.” Dara continued on her way without breaking stride.
Once inside her spacious trailer on the Warner Brothers lot, she leaned back against the door and closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth until she found that peaceful place within—the place where she wasn’t Dara Thomas, movie star, the place where she was just herself.
Since her next scene wasn’t scheduled to shoot for a couple of hours, Dara plopped down on the sofa and picked up her laptop. She booted up, entered her password, and opened a file in Microsoft Word. After re-reading a few paragraphs, Dara began to type, at once lost in what she was doing.
She kept on typing until a knock on the trailer door startled her.
“Ms. Thomas? Two minutes.”
“Oh. Really? Okay. Be right there.” Dara checked the time on her laptop. Was it really possible that two hours had passed? She saved the document with the five new pages she’d written. Pleased with her progress, she backed up the file to a flash drive, shut down the laptop, and packed everything away in her briefcase. She would be shooting for the remainder of the day, so there wouldn’t be any more time to spend on the project.
She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tension of sitting hunched over the computer and shrug off the remnants of the world in which she’d been immersed. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, mentally transforming herself back into Oscar-nominated actress Dara Thomas. Then she adjusted her posture to mirror that of the character she was playing in the movie. “Show time.”
“Come in, it’s open.”
A moment later, Carolyn Detweiler dropped her keys and briefcase on the kitchen island and stood with her hands on her hips, waiting for her best friend to look up from the laptop.
“What?” Dara finally said.
“What? That’s what you’ve got to say?”
Seeing Dara’s furrowed brow, Carolyn sighed in exasperation at her evident confusion. “How did you know I wasn’t some crazy stalker person?”
Dara uncurled her long legs from underneath her, turned to put her bare feet on the floor, and placed the laptop on the coffee table. “Well, sweetheart, you’re the only one I’m expecting, and I had a perfect view of you from the comfort of my couch.”
Dara spun the laptop around so Carolyn could see it. On the screen was a series of boxes with views of the driveway and every entrance to Dara’s new haven, a getaway beach house.
“If you push this little button here”—Dara manipulated the mouse over a command on the toolbar—“it unlocks the front door. So you see? I didn’t unlock the door until I knew it was you. Feel better now?”
Carolyn came around the coffee table and kissed Dara on the cheek, then sat down on the couch next to her. “Much.” She cast her eyes around the space, taking in the wall of glass that overlooked the ocean with the sliding glass doors in the center, the exposed beams, and the airy openness of the layout, and whistled. “I like the new digs.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hmm. Very nice, indeed. Good thing you’re the sexiest woman alive and the movie business is paying well these days.” Carolyn realized her mistake too late, fumbling on the last two words when she saw the pained expression on Dara’s face.
“It certainly is a good thing. I mean, how else could I ever earn such a lucrative living if it wasn’t for ‘the face that launched one thousand men’s fantasies’?” Dara stood and walked to the glass doors.
Carolyn walked up behind her and wrapped her arms around Dara. “I’m sorry, sweetie. You know I didn’t mean it that way. You’re the most intelligent and accomplished person I know. You want to be a rocket scientist instead? I’m sure we could polish up the old résumé and make that happen.” She could feel Dara’s sigh against the cheek she had pressed between Dara’s shoulder blades. “Forgive me?”
Dara turned in Carolyn’s loose embrace and kissed her on the top of the head. “Always.”
Carolyn gave one more squeeze for good measure and dropped her arms to her side. “Besides, I think you’re going to love me again when I tell you the news.”
“You could’ve told me over the phone or via Skype, you know.”
“I know, but where’s the fun in that?” Carolyn retrieved her briefcase from the kitchen island and walked back to the couch, motioning Dara to join her. She pulled out a sheaf of papers and fanned them out on the coffee table.
Dara leaned over and began to read. After several minutes, she looked up at Carolyn, her eyes wide. “Are they serious?”
“As a heart attack.”
Dara reverently ran her fingers over the pages. “For real?”
