By 7:30 a.m. Candace was strolling along the beach path as the joggers and dog walkers enjoyed the soft, milky light of Venice Beach in the morning. She watched them as she made her way to her Prius for another early start. As Candace pulled out her keys, she heard a car approach. A white Cadillac pulled into the parking spot next to hers.
“Hey, Marilu.” Candace smiled as Maya’s aunt emerged.
“Hola, linda,” Marilu replied affectionately. She looked almost exactly like Maya. Light, olive-colored complexion, five five, probably a size ten rather than a six or eight like Maya, but proportionately very similar. The aunt’s hair, like Maya’s, was a glossy, dark chestnut brown and worn straight, down past the shoulders. She was dressed in smart indigo jeans, unremarkable black heels, and a black blazer over a fitted white blouse. Her look was basic yet professional. Her eyes were hidden behind black Ray-Bans.
Suddenly, Candace felt like something was off. It wasn’t déjà vu but a very distinct feeling that she’d seen Marilu before, but in a completely different context.
“Maya’s still in bed,” Candace volunteered.
Aunt Marilu’s jaw hardened for a moment. She lifted her face briefly toward the house. “Really? But I’m taking her to the airport. Today is her big lunch in Napa with the investor.”
“Maya’s got a meeting in Napa?” Candace had heard something about this from Grace, but no details. The truth was, she hadn’t completely believed everything Maya had been saying about her app recently. Maya would get to chatting, breathlessly, using techy language Candace didn’t understand and didn’t care to have explained, or else she spent her time buried in a stack of geek books and tapping away on her laptop. “She was up super-late, working on her code, I guess.”
“Aha,” Marilu said. “I guess I better go wake her.”
“Okay, well, so long.” Candace got into her Prius for the leisurely drive to the studio. At least that was one advantage of early-morning starts—less traffic. Her thoughts turned to her last kiss with Yoandy, and Candace daydreamed about their promised first date the following day.
When Candace arrived at the Culver City lot, Ricardo Adams was buying coffee from a cart outside the studio. As she stepped out of her car, he headed in her direction. He stopped in front of Candace before she made it to the studio doors. Ricardo looked tense, possibly even angry. She waited for him to speak first.
Ricardo cleared his throat. “You and Yoandy. It’s got to stop.”
Candace gasped. “What . . . business is it of yours?”
“It’s a family affair. His girlfriend is my wife’s sister. Or have you forgotten about Kay?”
“What? Yoandy says they’re just friends.”
Ricardo’s upper lip was drawn back in a cynical sneer. “You believe that?”
Candace gulped but stood her ground. “Yes.”
“Kay is very important to my wife,” Ricardo said, his voice lowered, the tone darker. “And you of all people should know better than to bite the hand that feeds you.”
“Bite the hand . . . ? What the hell are you talking about?”
He cocked his head to one side. “Who’d you think suggested you for the part of Annika?”
This was getting a little surreal. “It wasn’t you? Or Yoandy?”
“It was Dana. She saw your pilot, that Downtowners thing. She’s the one who put me in touch with you.”
Candace didn’t know what to say. Grace had mentioned Lucy’s suspicions, but they’d both agreed that it was an odd coincidence that she’d ended up working on a production with the British woman’s husband. But to find out that Alexander had actually picked her? That was creepy. “Oh.”
“Oh? Is that all?”
“I’m, ah, um, grateful,” she replied. “O-obviously.”
If not for the connection to Lucy, Candace would have been excited to know that a movie star of Dana Alexander’s stature even knew she existed. But that the woman had been the one to suggest her for a big-break TV role? And kept quiet about it? That was a total surprise. Not at all the way Hollywood people usually behaved from what Candace knew. But then again, Dana Alexander wasn’t the kind of person who’d be reluctant to call in a favor, now that she wanted one.
“Kay and Yoandy are together,” Ricardo said firmly. “You’re not here to meddle; you’re here to work. So work.”
As Candace watched him walk away, she realized that her skin was tingling, as though she’d been slapped. Just the same, she made herself stroll confidently into the studio, a little way behind Ricardo. When she spotted Yoandy at the breakfast buffet, she turned away, hoping that he hadn’t noticed her arrive. Ricardo had reprimanded her as though she’d been having an illicit affair with Yoandy. The only explanation she could imagine was that Kay must be lying about her relationship with Yoandy—talking it up. Even though this meant that Ricardo’s accusation was way off base, she felt its sting.
She managed to avoid Yoandy until lunchtime—they had no scenes together that day and she needed some time to figure out how she felt about Ricardo’s proclamation. But as she halfheartedly picked at her gluten-free Pad Thai, she saw him approaching her. Casting around for a possible escape route, Candace found none. When she realized that their encounter was inevitable, she straightened up, steeled herself. After all, maybe he’d had the same warning.
Close up, though, she saw that his eyes were full of gentle concern. “Candace, what’s happened? You look worried.”
Nervously, she glanced over his shoulder. Ricardo was in plain sight, over by the main set. He was looking right at them. “We can’t,” she whispered. Miserably, she closed her eyes. “And I can’t go on a date with you tomorrow.”
“Really? I thought you were excited.”
“I was,” Candace started. Yoandy looked crestfallen but Candace was fully aware of Ricardo’s eyes burning into her. “But it was a bad idea. It just has to be this way.”
“Give me one reason why it’s a bad idea.”
“Kay,” said Candace, so quietly that it was practically a hiss. “Ricardo keeps saying that Kay Alexander is your girlfriend.”
Now he looked seriously upset. “Candace, Kay is not my girlfriend. I’m telling you the truth! Kay . . . she’s a little unusual. We had a few dates, and that’s all. Now she’s texting me and calling me . . . inviting me. And Ricardo is a friend of my family, you know that. So I’m not gonna say no, am I? Okay, maybe Kay still thinks we have something but I haven’t replied, I haven’t called her back, and we never agreed to date.”
“Did you call her nena linda, too?” Candace said, pursing her lips.
Yoandy pulled back, frowning. “Are you kidding?”
Candace held up a hand. “I’m done.”
“Please,” he murmured reasonably. “At least let’s talk. Come to my dressing room after we finish? Please, Candace?” He reached for her left hand, but she snatched it away, left him looking forlorn. “If you don’t come, then I’ll know you don’t want me. And I promise to leave you alone.”
She looked past Yoandy’s dejected eyes and saw Ricardo smirking at her. She was giving a convincing performance.
“Look, I’m sorry,” she said, backing away. “I’ve got to go.”
Candace didn’t know if she should believe Ricardo or Yoandy. But in that moment, she didn’t care whether Kay Alexander was Yoandy’s girlfriend or some kind of delusional dater. She only knew that Yoandy had been forbidden. And in that moment, nothing and no one had ever seemed quite so irresistible.
In the absence of any scenes playing opposite Yoandy, Candace found herself daydreaming about the two of them together. She’d run through every detail: where he’d be standing when she came into his dressing room, what he’d say (not much), where he’d make her stand, where he’d put his hands, the slight rasp of his stubble on her lower lip, how soft his mouth would feel against her own. Candace knew she would remember almost nothing of what they recorded that day.
At the end of the day, she made her way to Yoandy’s dressing room, where she found him buttoning closed a crisp, white linen shirt.
She hesitated, standing in the doorway watching him. But instead of approaching her, touching her, kissing her, Yoandy kept his distance. He regarded her with a tight, pained expression.
“Candace. Why didn’t you mention that you’re underage?”
For a moment, Candace balked. It was the last thing she’d expected to hear him say. “That? I’ll be eighteen in five months. You’re not so much older,” she said, finally approaching him. “And anyway, mister, what makes you so sure you’re getting any, ever?” She finished with a gentle pinch of his cheek.
To her surprise, when she looked up at his face she saw utter sorrow.
“Ricardo and me,” Yoandy began, “we talked.”
“Oh, you did, did you?” she said caustically. “What did that tattletale have to say?”
“He warned me. He was very reasonable, actually. Said that I had to let Kay down nice and gentle—even if she’s the one who’s misunderstood our relationship. He reminded me that you’re still in high school, that technically you’re still a minor, that it could start a scandal, because I’m more than three years older.”
“With you, he’s reasonable,” she observed. “With me, he makes threats.”
“Amor, listen.” He tried to touch her arm, but held off when she flinched. “The show’s about to go on summer hiatus—we’ll get a natural break from each other. Kay will have time to understand the situation. Maybe it’s better,” he said, looking thoughtful. “Until after your eighteenth birthday.”
“Yeah,” she said, defiant. “By then, I might like someone else.”
Yoandy gave a nod and crossed his arms, gazing at her with amused speculation. “It’s possible. I’m pretty ugly.”
“Yeah, y’are,” she said with a hint of a smile. “But I’m not all that particular.”
“Nena, don’t be cruel,” he said teasingly, pouting. “It’s my father’s fault I’m ugly.”
Candace couldn’t resist chuckling at this. “But you inherited his musical talent, so there’s that.”
Yoandy laughed, too. Then, as if he’d only just remembered, he stuck a hand into his jeans pocket and withdrew something that he kept hidden inside a tight fist. He took Candace’s left hand and carefully unfurled her fingers, tenderly placing in the center of her palm a coiled necklace made from tiny yellow and ocher beads. “It’s for you. From El Cobre, in Cuba; the colors of Our Lady of Charity.”
When she accepted it without hesitation, he visibly relaxed. Barely brushing the skin of her cheek with his lips, Yoandy kissed her. “It means we’re for each other. I don’t give this necklace to just any girl, Candace.”
Candace was a little overwhelmed at this. She closed her hand around the beads as she took a moment to recover, trying to appear nonplussed.
“I like you like this,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to the curve of her shoulder.
Suppressing a gasp of pleasure, Candace managed to say, “Oh sure, you like it when I’m speechless?”
She felt the flutter of his lips against her skin as he chuckled. Despite herself, she felt arms snaking around his neck, bringing him closer.
“Not speechless,” he protested. “Impressed.”
“You’re so full of it,” she murmured, bringing her lips against his, shutting him up.
Candace’s heart was still racing when she left the corridor leading from Yoandy’s dressing room. Across the soundstage she sensed Ricardo’s eyes on her, baleful and suspicious, but she ignored him and headed straight for the parking lot. What Candace needed right now was some time alone on the beach, or maybe ice cream with her sister.
As Candace strode to her Prius, a majestic white Cadillac had just slowed to a standstill outside the studio. She recognized it immediately. Not only the car, but the driver. With one elbow poked casually out the window, it was quite clearly Maya’s aunt. And in the front passenger seat, dressed in an elegant, short-sleeved white dress with a single vertical red and black stripe, was Dana Alexander.
Maya’s aunt worked for Dana Alexander.
Why had Maya never mentioned this?