No matter how he felt.
He excused himself and rode the elevator to the fifth floor, the floor that housed the chapel. Without hesitating he took a spot in the empty room on a pew at the back. Then he pulled his iPod from his pocket and slipped his earbuds in. His new favorite band was Anthem Lights, and every song on their album spoke to him. Sometimes — moments like this — only a song could bridge his heart to God’s, filling his senses with truth and hope. He chose the last song on the album. The song was “Where the Light Is” … a reminder that darkness didn’t have a chance where the presence of God could be found. Where light existed, light would win. It was a truth Cody needed desperately — especially now. When darkness seemed determined to win out.
Cody let the music run through him.
Look in my eyes in the morning …
See the hope there and the soul that still remains …
Darkness doesn’t stand a chance, where the light is …
The truth brushed against his soul and spoke promises to his heart. God was in control. He wouldn’t take them through a season where He hadn’t gone first. He would never leave him or Cheyenne, and He would never forsake them. Not ever. Again and again Cody listened to it, playing the Anthem Lights song until finally … finally, he began to see the one thing he desperately needed in this darkest hour.
The slightest glimmer of light.
Seven
BRANDON COULD HARDLY WAIT TO GET OUT OF LOS ANGELES. First, he was headed to New York City and more than a month in the same city as Bailey, but also being on location would give him a break from the studio and his management team.
He was aboard the studio’s private jet, the one he could use pretty much whenever he needed it, and in fifteen minutes he’d land at the private runway at LaGuardia Airport. He turned so he could watch the city come into view through the window of the plane. He was a day early, one more way he could surprise her. One more way he could let her know how crazy he was about her.
How great that he was flying in a day early.
He needed Bailey so badly, he couldn’t take another day without her. Talking to her would help him sort through the ultimatums he faced. Because of his faith and the studio’s perception that he’d become weak, they wanted an action picture for his next project. So the fans would see him as strong and indestructible — not the Jesus-loving guy he’d become. Brandon closed his eyes. Ridiculous. He sank back into the plush white leather sofa. Hollywood could be so weird. Wanting its leading men bad to the core. But that image wasn’t him any longer. And anyway, surveys showed people wanted movies themed around faith and family. Wouldn’t it only make sense they’d want movie stars that fit the same mold?
The proposal on the table right now was seven pictures. Seven movies over four years, movies where he’d need a different leading lady for each. And his agent had made himself clear on that subject. “You need love scenes, Brandon. We can’t go from Unlocked to another sweet picture. It’ll ruin you.”
Brandon reminded him that the last film involved a leading lady — even if the storyline wasn’t exactly a romance. That one had been filmed on a tropical island. A far cry from the high school hallways of Unlocked. “How about we do this my way and see if I’m right? I think my fan base will grow if I’m doing films people want to see. Box office numbers already back the idea that rated R movies never perform as well as cleaner pictures. So let’s live in that world.”
“Let the no-names do those movies.” His agent was relentless. “The studio brass knows what it wants. Actors make a name for themselves in this town by doing edgier pictures. You know that.”
In the end his manager backed off a little. “Look. We can sign the deal and leave the specifics open.” The man seemed desperate for Brandon’s cooperation. “Studios don’t offer this sort of money, this type of package to anyone anymore. Seven films, Brandon? You’ll be set for the next four years. One huge hit after another.” He patted Brandon on the back, in a way that was just short of patronizing. “We can do this. I’ll make sure there’s room for your input when it comes to scripts. That way we’ll make the decision about which films, which co-stars, one picture at a time, as the contract plays out.”
Still Brandon doubted he’d have that sort of control. His management team was right, of course. No one put together offers like the one the studio had laid out. Eight figures each for seven feature films? The money was so crazy Brandon could only imagine what God would lead him to do with it. How he could help others or give back.
“You’ll be the biggest movie star in the world.” His agent smiled at him after the meeting. “One day we’ll look back at today’s bickering and laugh out loud.” He tossed his hands in the air. “We should celebrate! The deal is crazy!”
Crazy. Brandon opened his eyes and looked out at the city again. Maybe it was crazy. He wanted to run it by Bailey, because … well, he saw his next four years with her. And the next four after that, and the next sixty or seventy from that point. He couldn’t make a plan that involved so much of his future without hearing her thoughts. The deal would certainly keep him in LA, close to the studio, to the marketing machine that would kick in once he signed the deal. If he lived somewhere else, he’d forever be flying in for meetings and brainstorming sessions, to discuss plots and scripts and co-stars. It was a part of the business most people didn’t understand — the fact that actors didn’t live in LA because they loved being chased by paparazzi. They lived there because for every day on set there were ten days in meetings at the studio offices.
And studios were in LA.
He turned off his iPod and slipped it in his bag. His suitcases were in the cargo compartment. Three of them — since he was practically moving here. He even had a private trainer, who he’d work with at a local gym before public hours early each morning and late each night. His manager and agent had set that up. “Can’t lose your physique,” his manager had winked at him.
“What … I’m not as buff as I was?” Brandon laughed and patted his flat stomach. “I think I’m doing okay.”
“Well.” His agent smiled and tried not to look as condescending as he sounded. “You’ve lost a little weight. Love’s made you a little too busy for the gym.”
Brandon hadn’t reacted, but he felt his blood simmer. His decision to love God hadn’t changed his routine. He still did a hundred pushups every morning and night, still did two hundred sit-ups three times a day. Nothing had changed. It was like his team was looking for reasons to disagree with his decision to date Bailey Flanigan. Like her goodness was making him soft.
He felt a wave of anger hit him. Nothing could be further from the truth. Because of Bailey he felt stronger than he’d been in all his life. He pulled his Bible from the nearby glass table. He’d read it the first hour of the trip and now, before he put it away, he opened it to 1 Timothy 4 again. Verse 8 had caught his attention earlier, and now he read it once more:
Physical training is of some value, but godliness has value for all things, holding promise for both the present life and the life to come.
The words made him feel stronger. Promises for this life and the next. How could his management team think living for God had made him weaker? His eyes moved down the page a few verses.
Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in life, in love, in faith, and in purity … Be diligent in these matters; give yourself wholly to them, so that everyone may see your progress.
Brandon read the words again, amazed. It was like God had written this chapter for him alone. The opening line might as well have said, “Dear Brandon Paul …” Even the last verse in the chapter seemed written for him.
Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers.
If God had been sitting in on the studio meeting, making comments and letting His voice be heard, then the answer would’ve been obvious. Brandon could only sign the contract
if the films were in some way a reflection of his faith, if through his public platform he could set an example for believers, and if he could persevere in a way that would actually lead people into a saving relationship with Christ.
Right? Brandon ran his thumb over the words.
Father, I hear You. Thank You … because when I’m most confused You make everything clear. Please … guide me through the process. Help me make decisions based on what You want. Not what everyone else is pushing for.
Again, the line from the verses shouted at him:
Don’t let anyone look down on you because you’re young …
A chill ran down his back. If God was talking to him, he understood the message. Everyone else at the table, everyone involved in the negotiation of his next contract was twice and three times his age. But he couldn’t let that stop him from taking a stand.
As the plane landed, and as he made his way down the stairs to the waiting SUV, he felt stronger than he had in weeks. Another reminder that Jim Flanigan had been right that night when he’d baptized Brandon. The way to stay connected to God was through His Word. Sure, he could make time for the personal trainer here in New York City. But more than that he would make time for God. Otherwise he couldn’t possibly make the right choice with the major decisions that lay ahead. Not just with his next contract.
But with Bailey.
The producer of the film he was shooting in New York City had set him up in the penthouse at the Ritz Carlton on Park Avenue, right across from Central Park. The SUV had black tinted windows, and no one was expecting him except a few select employees. So when they pulled up, Brandon managed to stay unnoticed as he climbed out and as his bags were brought up to his room.
Everything about the suite was perfect, of course. He had a refrigerator stocked with bottled water and string cheese and Greek yogurt and almonds, diced chicken and vegetables. The foods he lived on. In the bathroom were bottles of his favorite hair and face products. All the comforts of home. Brandon wandered to a desk near the expansive window and the view of the park. An impressive fruit basket held a note that read, “Let the filming begin — you’ll make the best spy ever!” Brandon read the message and smiled. He looked forward to this movie — and not just because it put him in Bailey’s backyard. He was playing a college kid caught in some minor trouble, and brought in by the FBI to do an undercover job.
He unpacked, changed into one of his nicer pairs of jeans and a fitted caramel-colored buttoned-down shirt and boots he’d gotten from a J.Crew ad he’d filmed last week. By now Bailey would already be at the theater, warming up, getting ready for tonight’s performance. Brandon sprayed his neck with a few quick bursts of her favorite cologne.
It had only been four days since he’d seen her, but he missed her with every heartbeat. A quick glance at the mirror and Brandon was satisfied. After her performance, he had a plan for tonight, and he needed to look the part. He buzzed the driver of the SUV once more. The man was at his disposal throughout his time in New York.
Twenty minutes later, after navigating ridiculous traffic on Fifth Avenue, the driver dropped him off at the theater entrance. He’d had his manager call ahead and arrange to let him enter the building early. At this hour — forty-five minutes before show time — there wasn’t much of a line outside. He slipped out of the Navigator and hurried to the entrance and the theater employee standing guard.
“Brandon! Look! It’s Brandon Paul!” A group of teenage girls were among the few already in line. In lightning speed the news spread to the rest of the twenty people in line. Brandon didn’t stop, didn’t turn around and look. Instead he met the eyes of the guard, who must’ve been expecting him, because he snapped into action and shuttled Brandon through the doors into the empty theater.
He wanted his arrival to be a secret, and the theater management knew as much. Bailey was backstage, so he took his seat in the first row, middle. On either side of him, the theater management would seat stand-ins — actors hired to be on hand in case of an emergency with one of the show’s leads. That way he wouldn’t be bothered with conversations or picture-taking or autographs while he watched the show. Of course, the staff could promise nothing about what might happen after the show. That was okay. Brandon and Bailey would have to get used to attention if they were going to live in the same city for the next five or six weeks.
As the theater opened, the stand-ins took their seats. Brandon chatted with them, keeping his head low and trying to appear part of their group. For the most part the ploy worked. That and the fact that the theater stationed a guard halfway down the center aisle.
Once the overture began, the people looking to meet him found their seats and focused on the show. Good thing. Brandon loved the fans, even more since he’d become a believer. But right now all he could see or think about or long for was a certain brown-haired, blue-eyed girl about to take the stage.
She didn’t spot him right away. Brandon sat so close to the stage she probably looked past him, which meant he could watch her. Really watch her. She moved like the wind, the way she floated across the stage. And no one lit up the ensemble like she did. Whatever her director was talking about in her poor reviews of Bailey, Brandon disagreed. Bailey wasn’t the weak link. She was the reason people kept watching.
Not until the end of the first ensemble number did she spot him. The song raced a million miles an hour right up until the end, when they all struck a pose and froze in place. And at that moment her eyes found his. The surprise on her face became a joy that filled his heart and reassured him. Not that he needed reassuring. But after her talk with Cody he knew the moment he saw her he’d have answers to the questions he didn’t want to ask her.
Now he could see the proof in her eyes, on her face. As she left the stage she moved her fingers just slightly in his direction and he did the same. For the rest of the performance, she glanced at him so often, it was like she danced and sang for him alone. As great as the show was, he was glad when the show ended. The rest of the night would belong to them alone.
Before the houselights went up, someone from the theater staff escorted him backstage, and after the final curtain he waited in the shadows until she stepped lightly down the stairs and into his arms. “You’re here.” She hugged him and held on. “Mmm, Brandon … I’m so glad you came.”
After she changed they exited through the front of the building to his waiting Navigator. Since the crowd gathered at the back stage door, they managed to get away without walking past even a single anxious fan. “Wow,” she exhaled as she buckled her seat belt. “Are you moved in?”
“I am. I feel like I’m home.” He took her hand, smiling at her, lost in her eyes. “Now that you’re here.”
They talked nonstop from the theater to Bailey’s apartment building a dozen blocks away, the place where she lived with Betty and Bob Keller. For a few minutes they hung out with the older couple, updating them about his New York movie. But pretty soon Betty winked at him. “You two young people need some time alone. Don’t let us get in your way.”
Brandon winked at her in return. Bob and Betty had helped set up his next surprise. He looked at Bailey and shrugged. “I don’t know … what about the rooftop?”
“In December?” Bailey laughed, but her eyes danced with excitement.
“So? Get your coat.” He led her to the Kellers’ hall closet and found a brand new fur-lined, black wool coat. With ease, he slid it over her shoulders and saw that the store clerk had chosen perfectly. The coat hung to just above her ankles.
“Brandon!” She gasped and brought her fingers to her lips. “Whose is this?”
“It’s yours.” He pulled her close and hugged her, but only briefly. “Hey look, here’s another one.” He took the coat that hung beside it — a three-quarter length, wool-lined military-style jacket, something fashionable and warm at the same time. He’d bought both coats over the phone the day after Thanksgiving and had them delivered here.
For this very purpose. r />
“Brandon … how?” She giggled. “This coat must’ve cost a fortune. And yours … you look amazing in that. It … it fits you perfectly.”
“Thank you.” He took her hand. “Now that we’re warm, come on … the night’s waiting.”
They’d met up on the rooftop a number of times. The place was at the top of Betty and Bob’s building, and no one seemed to use it. Every time they’d been the only ones here, their private hideaway. A spot where no one would recognize them or follow them or take their picture.
“Let’s take the elevator this time.” Bailey laughed. “Remember … that first time when we walked up?”
“At least we were committed.” Brandon still had her hand, and after they stepped off the elevator, the night opened up before them. Despite the cold air, the sky was clear and — even competing against the lights of the city — the stars shone through.
“It’s beautiful.” Bailey slowed her pace and slipped in close by his side. Then she looked at him, her eyes bright with happiness. “You planned this?”
“Of course.” He walked her slowly toward the other side of the roof, along the path lined by potted shrubs and low-level lights. When they neared an open patio area, he eased her into his arms. “I got to thinking the other day, after our talk Saturday.”
“When I told you about my talk with Cody?”
“Right.” He leaned in and touched his lips tenderly to hers. As he eased back, he searched her eyes. “And it occurred to me that you and I never went to the prom.”
“We didn’t.”
“And that coat,” he glanced down at it, “is long enough, beautiful enough that it might … well, it might as well be a prom dress.”
“It’s more beautiful than any prom dress.”
“And warmer. Which is the main point.”