Chapter 1
April
Ellie placed her water bottle back down and wiped the sweat off her brow, catching it before it rolled down her face. If someone didn’t come and do something about the air conditioner, she would be forced to re-do twenty-three heads filled with curls, wigs, and lace fronts. She watched closely as she finished the last ringlet on Zoe, an actress who had been a pleasure to work with since this whole thing started a few months ago.
“There you go, Zoe,” she said, forcing a smile. She glanced over at Keenan, the assistant director, moving around on set, setting up fans as they waited for a technician to come and fix the air. Taking a deep breath, Ellie closed her eyes and re-opened them, hoping that this wouldn’t be the way the rest of the day would go—fans blowing hair all over the place, causing extra work for her.
“What about the color? You promised,” the cute, squeaky voice said. She looked down to see Zoe pouting.
Raising an eyebrow, Ellie gave Zoe a stern look and placed her hand on her hip. “I promised if the director was okay with it, I would do it. Remember?”
Zoe giggled, unleashing her five-year-old innocence that Ellie knew was just a front. She would ask again for sure. Ellie slowly picked up the pink hair spray and sprayed a light amount on one of Zoe’s long curls. Her curls were so beautiful and natural. Ellie loved making sure her hair didn’t lose its natural curl or flow. She was too young for color and certainly too young for extensions, but Ellie appreciated that she would try to press the envelope—much like she did when she was a child.
“Zoe, didn’t I tell you that your hair was already magical? You don’t need anything extra. What did I say last week?”
Zoe had her eyes scrunched closed, but she opened one eye, peeking out at Ellie. Bending down, Ellie put her face directly next to hers.
“Let’s say it together.”
“My black girl magic is beautiful without anything extra,” Zoe sang as Ellie mouthed the words.
“That’s right,” Ellie said, taking another long swig of her water as Zoe jumped down out of her chair. “Can you let Nina know you’re done while I re-do Hailey?”
Hailey barely let Zoe respond before she hopped in Ellie’s chair. “Isn’t there some pins you can put in it to keep it from dropping again? Who knows when they’ll get the air back on?”
Ellie continued staring at Zoe.
“Yes,” Zoe finally said, walking back over to hug Ellie’s leg. Ellie rubbed her back, hugging her back, then watched as she ran off, forgetting set rule number three—no running on set. There weren’t many children that had been assigned to the romantic comedy, but there were enough that the director and producers daily stressed the liabilities if someone had an accident on set. At the sound of Hailey clearing her throat, Ellie snapped out of her thoughts and picked up her flat irons again.
“Okay. To answer your question,” she started as she grabbed a section of Hailey’s hair, “I can put a few pins in the back, but the front will have to stay. I don’t want there to be any dents in your hair when they yell ‘action’.”
Rolling her eyes in the air, Hailey pulled her bathrobe tighter and looked at Ellie in the mirror. “I doubt he knows enough about hair to even care. But, whatever.”
Biting her bottom lip, Ellie continued curling away at Hailey’s hair. She knew if she responded, she would say something smart. She’d gotten plenty of the ‘divas’ on set together since filming started. She wouldn’t be bossed around, not to mention, this was her first time being the hair lead on a major film production. Hailey and the rest of the actresses who thought they could walk in and demand anything had another thing coming if they thought Ellie was going to take orders from them. Her check had been signed by Fox, and that was who she would listen to.
The director and one of the producers had even congratulated her on her ability to multitask, take directions, and navigate the bourgeois attitudes that came with the territory. Smirking as she finished up Hailey’s hair, she thought back to her grandmother’s words the first time she had a fight in school, ‘You’ve got your mama’s hands and your father’s temper’. Of course, at a now refined thirty-four, the idea of fighting repulsed her—her reason for turning down the three reality shows that hit her up before she got this job—but the stern, straight-shooter, no chaser approach she carried never went away. It never would.
“All done, lady,” she said, putting the last of the four pins into Hailey’s hair. “You look great. Go get ’em.”
Hailey touched her hair, admiring the re-do in the mirror. “Your skills are certainly undeniable. Thanks, Ellie,” she said, getting up and walking away.
Before another person could jump in her chair, Ellie leaned over to Veronica, one of the other stylists who was re-doing her third head. “Roni, I need a bathroom break. You good?”
“Girl, go ahead. You’ve been here since four a.m. Let’s just hope by the time you get back, the air will be blasting,” Roni said, cracking her gum.
“Yeah. Fox better get it together. It’s been two hours,” she responded, hurrying over to the ladies’ room.
Checking her cell phone as she walked over, she cringed when she saw what time it was. Her feet were already hurting, and the pain was making its way up to her back. She couldn’t believe it was only nine. Noticing the text from her sister, Monét, Ellie hurriedly texted her back that she would call her when she was done. As she came out of the stall, she glanced at her own hair in the mirror. It was coming out of the messy bun for the third time today. Fixing it, she pulled a few strands out on the sides so she could curl them when she got back to her station. As she washed her hands, her phone went off again.
Her laughter filled the bathroom as she read her sister’s text: Make sure you tell Denzel I said hi. Ellie had never met Denzel. He wasn’t even working on this film, but it was a running joke between her and her sister since she landed her first movie a couple of years ago. Monét figured she would run into him one day, and since you just never knew when that would be in Hollywood, she sent the same text every day. No matter how old it got, Ellie laughed. She knew that even when she got back home to Philly, Monét would be expecting a full report about the shenanigans on set, even if Denzel wasn’t there.
“Ellie, there you are,” Lacey, the executive producer said, grabbing her hand as soon as she stepped out of the bathroom. “The air will be back on in an hour. Some kind of fuse blew with everything running at the same time. We have two more heads that need to be redone, ASAP. Jean is having a hissy fit.”
Ellie cut her eyes at Lacey as they hurried back over to her station. So much for me putting a few curls in my own head, she thought. The hustle and bustle of set life was something she’d gotten used to, even if that meant you had to stop mid-pee to take care of someone’s needs. That didn’t happen today, but she chuckled at the thought that it had happened to someone, somewhere in Tinseltown.
“Hailey was already re-done,” she said, rounding the bend to the hair section. She glared at Hailey sitting in Roni’s chair. “Roni, I need you to focus on the new heads we have to re-do.”
“It’s just a curl, Ellie. Relax,” Hailey responded.
Lacey walked over to Hailey, her arms crossed and frustration dripping off her face. “Hailey, you’re done. We’ve discussed this. You aren’t the only person on set.”
Hailey opened her mouth to respond but closed it quickly when she saw Zoe watching her. Slowly, Hailey got up from the chair and turned to face Ellie. “It was just a curl,” was all she said as she hurried off.
“Roni, never again. Please don’t let Hailey punk you into doing her hair,” Ellie said, trying to regain control. “Everyone, can we pause for a second?” she yelled out.
As everyone stared at her, she continued. A few stylists kept going.
“We do not, and I mean do not take direction from the actors and actresses. I gave clear instructions for what the director and producers wanted, with images attached. Re-dos are fine as needed, but please be sure that we have done everyone at least once before doing a re-do,” she said, taking a deep breath. “Lastly, please remember to follow the scene sequence I handed out. These two lovely ladies are about to film their scene now, and Hailey still has at least an hour before she films her first. Got it?”
A few “yes, ma’am’s” circulated the room, while others simply nodded. Veronica walked over to her.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “Sometimes it’s easier to oblige Hailey and get her out my way.”
Ellie gave a light smile and squeezed Veronica’s shoulder. “Not on this set. She’ll be fine. Can you do these two now, please?”
Veronica nodded somberly as one of the young ladies sat in her chair. Ellie appreciated that Veronica wasn’t as mouthy as some of the other stylists. As she took in the fifteen other stylists with her eyes, she could see the scowls and pursed lips among the ones who didn’t like being told what to do, especially by someone who didn’t have as much industry experience. But her experience wasn’t the issue for most of these stylists and she knew it—her black skin and her age was. But no matter what, she stood her ground running the set the way she had been asked… and she would continue to do so.
***
Ellie slowly walked to her car, letting her messy bun fall completely. If it weren’t for her car coming closer and closer in sight, she would think she wasn’t moving—that’s how numb her feet were. She thought about the long, hot bath she would take when she got back to the apartment. As she unlocked her car, she breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that the studio had provided her with a huge tub in the apartment she occupied while she was in L.A. It was her favorite part of the apartment, where she spent most of her time when she wasn’t sleeping. The busy schedule allowed for no cooking, which she had been dying to try out since she saw the stainless-steel appliances and the island stove.
Thud. As soon as she heard the sound, she was scared to turn around. She could tell by how quickly she opened the door and by the sound, that the damage was going to be an eyesore. She slowly turned around and bent down to look at the dent she’d caused to somebody’s passenger door. Looking around, she tried to find a reason for it to be their fault, but they were parked perfectly in the lines. She was the one who had parked closer to the left line than she had intended, and now she had to pay for someone’s damage. Whoever that someone was, she’d have to leave a note. As she got back into her car to find a piece of paper, her eyes landed on the gentleman walking toward her. He was talking away on his phone, barely paying her any attention.
She was getting ready to look back down when she noticed he was getting closer to her… and the other car. As soon as she heard the doors unlock when he stuck his hand out, she knew he was the driver.
“Shoot,” she said to herself before bossing up and stepping back out of her car.
She waited for him to hang up before saying anything. He was about to get in his car when she yelled out.
“Hey,” she said, surprised that he hadn’t seen her. I guess my hair really does look a mess, she thought.
“Hi,” he said, finally looking at her. That’s when she saw them—his deep brown eyes and how gentle they landed on her.
“Uh, I think I’m going to have to write you a check,” she said, looking down at the dent.
He half-smiled as he walked around to his passenger side. “Ouch.”
He walked back around to the driver’s side then back to the passenger side, then to the driver’s side again.
“Okay, okay,” she said, throwing her hands up. “You’re making me dizzy. What are you doing?” she said, flinging her keys in her front seat. “It’s just a dent.”
“I’m trying to decide how much I should charge you,” he said. The smooth baritone sound dripping from his vocal cords almost caught her off guard, but she wouldn’t be distracted. She couldn’t be. Not this time.
Whatever was left of the smile she was wearing quickly faded then reappeared when she noticed the smirk on his face. He was teasing her.
“Relax,” he said, putting his hands up in defense. “I don’t know if I like you when you’re not smiling. I’ve already seen it a few times today on set,” he continued. “I don’t want any trouble, ma’am.”
She shook her head lightly as she brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear. “You’re working on Get Out Love? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on set before.”
She wondered how she could even miss him. His milk chocolatey skin was glowing in a way that she’d never seen a guy’s skin glow before, but his skin matched perfectly with those eyes. As he walked back around to the passenger side of his car, she noticed his build, which wasn’t too bulky, but he definitely worked out. He leaned against the door to look at her. Ellie moved back a little so he could have some room.
“So let me guess,” she started, “you were watching me snap my fingers and roll my neck, demanding that the stylists act right before they’re all blackballed from the Hollywood scene and classified as has-beens for the rest of their career?”
It was his turn to smile. “What’s so crazy is I’ve seen it before. This industry can be brutal.”
He looked behind him at the damage again. She waited patiently, willing her breathing not to show how nervous she was.
“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s just a dent. I don’t think you did it on purpose. Or did you?”
She laughed, letting out her breath at the same time. “I didn’t. But I can’t not give you something. I would be pissed if this was my car.”
He shrugged. A dinging noise caught their attention, and he looked inside his window at his phone lighting up.
“I better get that,” he said, turning back to her. His mouth moved, but his body didn’t.
“I tell you what,” she said. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
“Yes, ma’am. You bringing me lunch tomorrow?”
She crossed her arms, amused at his assumption. But it was the least she could do. She knew that dent would cost him at least $700 to fix.
“I can certainly treat you to lunch tomorrow, but you have to promise to call it even—wait. What is your name?”
They both shared a laugh as they realized that they’d been talking without exchanging the bare minimum.
“Jeremiah. Jeremiah Lewis.”
She took his extended hand. “Ellie McNeal. Nice to officially meet you. Are you a producer or someone that works for Fox directly?” she inquired.
She knew he wasn’t an actor, and she had already met all the directors and other producers, but it wasn’t unusual for a film to have multiple producers. She’d worked on sets where there had been up to ten.
“Let’s just say I’m an executive producer. I just prefer not to be seen.”
She opened her car door and sat inside, quickly starting it and turning the air on. As she rolled down the windows, she squinted. The Los Angeles sun was still blaring at six thirty in the evening.
“Yet, here you are,” she said, clearly having fun at this point. She’d forgotten all about her tired feet and her bath just that quickly. If it hadn’t been for the sun kissing her skin, she would’ve gladly stayed a few more minutes.
“A silent investor who had a meeting today and wanted to see how his money was being spent,” he quipped.
“Touché,” she said. “And come through, Mr. Businessman,” she continued, snapping her fingers at the same time. Her Philly-bred mannerisms were baring themselves.
Clearly, he’d picked up on something. “Where are you from?” he asked.
He watched as she put her sunglasses on and connected her phone to her charger. He was trying not to look at the scar on her neck or the cross tattoo that rested against the back of her earlobe, both seeming very intriguing to him. He definitely had been mesmerized by her cute, girl next door looks, which he preferred any day over the modelesque women that often tried to get his attention.
“Philly.”
Chuckling, he leaned a little closer to her window. “So am I.”
“Really?” she asked, removing her sunglasses. “I just bought a home in Plymouth Meeting.”
“And I just bought one in Lafayette Hill,” he said. “I should’ve known you were an East Coast baby with the way you hustle on set,” he said, smiling. “So we’re on for lunch tomorrow?”
“We’re on for me to buy your lunch tomorrow,” she said.
He walked around to his driver’s side, laughing.
“I guess I’ll have to take it,” he said, starting his car and rolling down his windows before getting completely in. “Be safe, Ellie McNeal.”
“Will do, Jeremiah Lewis,” she said, waving at him.
As he rolled his windows back up, she waited a second before rolling hers up. A few minutes later, she pulled slowly out of the studio lot. Looking in her rearview mirror, she looked to see if he was pulling out too, but he wasn’t. Turning her attention back to her driving, she picked up her phone and turned on H.E.R’s latest album, letting the smooth tunes take over her thoughts that had already been running a mile a minute.
She wondered who he was and why she felt so drawn to him when she’d just met him. Was he checking out my scar? she thought. God, I can’t afford to be distracted in this season, but… he was cute… very cute. And he wasn’t wearing a ring. She continued driving down Sunset Boulevard, curious about the man who she bumped into today. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to get back on set tomorrow.
I hope you enjoyed this sneak peek of Storms of Love. I’m excited to be re-releasing this novel on September 9th! Be sure to lock in the date, but for now, click to enjoy the playlist that goes along with the novel.