As soon as they were out of earshot, Dorian slapped his cup down and leaned across the table. His mouth curled into a snarl, and his eyes kept darting toward the counter to make sure he couldn’t be heard. “Just so you know, punk, I didn’t tell. If Scotty Needum wasn’t an idiot, you and I would be on. That rock head talked about you wanting to fight on speakerphone. That’s the first thing.”

  Trevor swallowed back some nasty words of his own, but he let his hatred for Klum flood his eyes.

  Klum clenched his jaw so hard it shook before he opened his mouth again. “Second thing is this: I so bad want to beat you into pulp. So bad. My knuckles are aching. And when this is over, that’s exactly what I’m going to do and I want you to know it and think about how it’s going to feel to have your teeth kicked into the back of your head.”

  Dorian’s eyes flickered back toward the counter.

  “And one more thing, you goofy, shaved-headed freak, there is no way in the world you’re going to beat me to USC Elite. I am so much better than you that it hurts. I’m gonna stomp you like a roach. I threw that pitch at your face, and the only thing I’m sorry about is that you spun around like a little ballerina and I missed. But don’t think I won’t try it again.”

  Klum shook his head and dropped his voice into a crazy, hateful whisper. “Don’t think that at all.”

  48

  SAM

  Before McKenna could answer Sam, Gabriel knocked and came in, carrying a cell phone. “Ready for the radio interviews? You want me to attach a headset?”

  Gabriel held up an earpiece connected to a thin microphone on a flexible wire.

  “Sure.” Sam took the headset and put it on. Gabriel dialed a number. Sam sat on the couch and picked up the sheet of publicity notes.

  “I’ll be back,” McKenna said, ducking out.

  Sam watched her go. Gabriel sat down next to him and crossed his legs.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Sam said.

  “Like what?” Gabriel was smiling like a cat, and something told Sam that he knew.

  Sam shrugged and, before he could find the words, a pleasant woman answered the phone.

  “Hi, Trevor. I’m Laurie Warren. I’ll be directing your satellite tour today and for the next few days. I’ll keep things moving so they don’t overlap into each other. You know how it goes; you give them three minutes and they want ten.”

  Sam watched Gabriel walk out. He looked carefully at the list, and his mouth went dry. First up was a taped segment with Ryan Seacrest. The famous radio host asked Sam about the movie and Sam literally read from the studio’s page of notes, stumbling and bumbling.

  Seacrest laughed. “You’re kidding me, right, Trevor? Did you have some dental work done this morning and the gas hasn’t worn off?”

  Sam didn’t know what to do. “Sorry, Mr. Seacrest. I’m not feeling too great. Sorry.”

  “Oh.” Seacrest’s voice softened a bit. “I guess even a star has an off day, right, Trevor?”

  Sam forced a small laugh.

  “But we know Bright Lights is going to be a big hit, so we’ll all get out and see it, buddy. Good luck with Dragon’s Empire and we’ll talk to you again soon.”

  Before Sam could catch his breath, Laurie Warren jumped back on the line and said, “Liane Hansen from NPR’s Weekend Edition.”

  Sam did better with the NPR host, and better with the next interview after that. By the time he’d finished, Sam felt like he was a pro. He wondered what Gabriel was up to, but as he went to open the dressing room door, it opened and McKenna spilled inside.

  “Oh good,” she said, “you’re done. I got her. She’s in and she’s got the right person! Sam, this is so great. We’re going to find your mother!”

  “Wait.” Sam lowered his voice and ushered McKenna to the couch. “You didn’t even tell me who she is.”

  “Sara, of course.”

  “Sara Grant? Your publicist?”

  “She knows a lot of people, and she knew just who to call. Remember California Private Eyes?”

  “The TV show?”

  “Yeah,” McKenna said. “Remember the guy with the handlebar mustache?”

  “The bald guy?”

  “Yeah, Dale Moffit. Well, the show got canceled, but he’s the real deal. He just went back to his old job. Sara knew him because she represented him. He even spied on her husband when they got divorced.”

  “Great.” Sam rolled his eyes.

  “That’s what private investigators do.” McKenna pouted at him. “You think there’s a world of rich kids looking for their biological moms? Everybody gets divorced, so that’s where the market is. It’s all the same, finding people and following them. Stop being so ungrateful, will you?”

  “Sorry.” Sam sat down and offered her the bowl of Skittles. “I’m jumpy is all. I blew the interview with Ryan Seacrest and told him I was feeling sick, and Gabriel keeps looking at me funny. I swear, I think he knows.”

  McKenna took a Skittle and popped it in her mouth, chewing while she talked. “Gabriel? He’s paid not to know. Even if he knew, he’d keep quiet because think about how bad it makes him look. Your dad—Trevor’s dad, I mean—would go ballistic if he knew Trevor bailed on the set and is running around playing baseball, and Gabriel would get the brunt of it.”

  “But Gabriel didn’t do anything. Me and Trevor did … and you.”

  McKenna smiled. “But that’s not how this town works. If you’re a star, you’re above it. If you’re not, you take the fall. It’s like the whipping boys they used to have for the princes back in medieval times. You know what a whipping boy is?”

  Sam shook his head.

  “If the prince did something wrong, no one could punish him. He was the prince. Still, someone had to be punished, so they’d have a whipping boy. Some poor schlep who got whipped whenever the prince did something wrong.”

  “That’s the stupidest thing ever,” Sam said.

  “Maybe that’s why it was called the Dark Ages.” McKenna took another Skittle. “Anyway, Dale Moffit is already on it.”

  “How do we pay him?” Sam asked.

  “Pay him? You’re Trevor Goldman. You know how many people want to do favors for you? He doesn’t want money. He’s thrilled to do it.”

  Sam shook his head in disbelief. “You’re like a genie in a bottle. I want my dad’s script made, poof, you got Stu working on it. I want to find my mom, poof, you got a private investigator in full swing.”

  McKenna stared at him, then reached out and touched his shoulder. “It’s not magic, Sam. Trevor Goldman is a star with a movie star mom and a dad who’s one of the top five most powerful people in Hollywood. He gets what he wants, when he wants it.”

  Sam shook his head. “But I’m not him.”

  “To everyone else you are. Nice, isn’t it?”

  “Last night I wanted to switch back.”

  “And now?” McKenna asked.

  “Riding around in a limousine? My own batting cage? Everybody hopping to get whatever I want? I could get used to this.”

  “I know. It’s fun, right? The only thing you do have to do is remember Moffit, that’s all. You owe him a favor. Come on, you gotta start getting ready for the next scene. I’ll let Gabriel know to tell makeup.”

  “Well, how’s Trevor going to feel owing a favor?” Sam went over to the mirror and sat down.

  McKenna opened the door and spoke to Gabriel, then she appeared in the mirror over Sam’s shoulder. “Trevor will be fine. This whole thing was his idea to begin with, right? And I gotta believe he’s going to want to find your mom just as bad as you do.

  “Why wouldn’t he?”

  49

  TREVOR

  Trevor opened his mouth, unable to hold back anymore. He let his face twist with rage. “You’re junk, just rotten, stinky junk.”

  Laughter made Trevor turn his head. The two fathers had four cups of juice and were getting along just fine.

  Sam’s dad gave Trevor a worried look. “What are you guys talking about?”

  Trevor forced his face into a smile. “Just how bad we’re going to beat Palos Verdes and how their pitching is junk.”

  “Oh.” Sam’s dad looked relieved as he set a mango smoothie in front of Trevor. “Good.”

  Trevor pretended to sip the smoothie, but had no interest in drinking since the sight of Dorian Klum’s smiling face made him want to vomit. The two fathers talked like old friends about the Dodgers, and they both agreed with the predictions that this was going to be their year to win it all. Trevor used the meditation techniques he’d learned from Margie Haber’s private acting lessons to ignore Klum and actually remove himself mentally from the situation.

  Sam’s dad startled Trevor when he touched his arm. “Right, Sam?”

  “Oh yeah. Right.” Trevor blinked at Sam’s dad and let his eyes sweep right past Dorian Klum.

  Mr. Klum checked his watch. “So, I guess we better be going.”

  Trevor popped up out of his seat, extending a hand to the older Klum. Sam’s dad nodded with approval. Trevor shook Dorian’s hand, too.

  “See you tomorrow, Dorian,” Trevor said, forcing a smile.

  Dorian smirked. “Yeah, see you, buddy.”

  “See? This is great. Thanks, guys,” Mr. Klum said.

  Trevor couldn’t get out of there fast enough, but he forced himself to walk slowly. Inside the Ferrari, Sam’s dad praised him. “It feels good to do the right thing, doesn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Trevor forced himself to keep his eye on the prize: playing tomorrow. He so badly wanted to tell Sam’s dad what a real jerk Dorian Klum was, but to do so would only jeopardize things. It was easier to let it slide, but he also felt bad for Sam that he’d have to put up with the fallout from Trevor’s challenge to a fight. He made a mental note to tell Sam all about it and apologize whenever they spoke. That thought brought him to Sam, the text message he sent during practice that morning, and the idea of finding their biological parents.

  “What’s the matter?” Sam’s dad asked him. “The smell making you a little queasy? Roll up your window. I’ll put on the AC.”

  Trevor did smell the garbage cooking in the late afternoon sunshine. Sam’s dad turned a bend that Trevor recognized as the last turn before the trailer.

  “No,” Trevor said. “I’m fine.”

  “Sometimes the stink gets me when I’ve been away all day.” Sam’s dad put the sun visor down and returned his hands to the wheel, keeping his voice as cheerful as the smile on his face. “But it goes away in about twenty minutes. That’s not too bad to put up with. I mean, how many people live this close to LA and don’t have other people living on top of them? Life is all about trade-offs, Sam. You know I always say that.”

  Trevor only nodded and schemed about how he might sneak away to make a call to Sam. He needed to talk to his newfound brother, not just text him. He needed to tell Sam that no way should he try to find their biological parents. Trevor knew instinctively that something like that would be a disaster, maybe not for Sam, but for him. He was famous. His family was rich. As much as Trevor might like to satisfy the curiosity he felt, he knew better than open a door that he’d never be able to close.

  He couldn’t imagine how far Sam had progressed with this wild idea, but if McKenna was involved, the answer was pretty far.

  The car stopped and Trevor hopped out, gripping Sam’s phone in his pocket.

  “Where you going?” Sam’s dad asked.

  “Just a walk,” Trevor said, his feet kicking up dust along the tracks they’d just made.

  “A walk?”

  Trevor knew by the sound of Sam’s dad’s voice that a walk wasn’t something Sam just did, but he didn’t care. The thought that Sam and McKenna had made progress on what he knew would be a disaster suddenly filled him with dread.

  “I’ll be back,” he said over his shoulder.

  Trevor kept going, looking back to see Sam’s dad shrug and step up into the trailer. Then Trevor whipped out the phone and dialed, determined to stop Sam, no matter where he was in his search, no matter what the cost.

  50

  SAM

  Sam shot three more scenes, banging out his simple lines like he’d been born to do it. He changed back into jeans and his T-shirt, then got into the back of the limo with Gabriel. He hated saying good-bye to McKenna, not just because he felt naked without her to advise him on things, but because when he drove away with her waving from outside the soundstage, he felt like a piece of him had gone missing. It was strange, as if he were a Swiss watch, still running, but missing a tiny flywheel that kept everything else in rhythm.

  Sam sighed and thought about texting her. Gabriel was busy sending emails on his BlackBerry. Dolph grinned at him in the rearview mirror, held up the jersey, and gave Sam a thumbs-up. Sam also saw that he’d put a muzzle on Wolf. The dog simply stared at Sam with sad eyes and continued to whine, but much more quietly.

  Sam smiled back at Dolph before letting his thoughts return to McKenna. Sam’s palms began to sweat at the thought of what he wanted to say. He’d be going out on a limb if he did, so he considered several other things, things that would be much more bland, much more normal. If he texted her what he wanted and it backfired, he’d feel terrible. Maybe he should keep his thoughts to himself and just hope she’d reach out to him if she felt the same way.

  The only thing that gave him hope was when she said she didn’t think he should be Trevor, but rather just himself. Sam wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Maybe it was the way everything seemed possible in the shoes of Trevor Goldman, but whatever the reason, Sam typed in the letters and sent the text, quickly, before snapping his phone shut and staring out the window.

  Nothing happened. He waited, and glanced at Gabriel before he slowly opened the phone to make sure he’d really sent it and to reread the words he’d typed. He took a deep breath and opened the message to McKenna:

  miss u already

  He closed the phone a second time and stuffed it into the pocket of his jeans. When it buzzed, he nearly jumped out of his seat.

  51

  SAM

  The buzzing wasn’t a text; it was a call.

  It wasn’t McKenna.

  It was Trevor.

  Sam glanced at Gabriel, who looked up and smiled at him. Sam hit Ignore on the phone and replaced it in his pocket.

  The phone buzzed again. Sam checked it, saw it was Trevor, and ignored it again. Trevor kept calling.

  Frustrated, Sam kept hitting Ignore, wondering why in the world Trevor wouldn’t stop. He had to know that Sam might have people around him and that he couldn’t just pick up the phone and start talking. That would be foolish.

  Sam waited until the limousine pulled up into the grand estate before he jumped out.

  “See you tomorrow, Gabriel,” he said. Before Gabriel could reply, Sam slammed the door shut.

  He headed immediately out toward the back of the garage. He was pretty sure there wouldn’t be anyone around the batting cage. The phone rang again.

  Sam snapped it open as he walked. Trevor shouted at him to pick up the phone when he called.

  Sam ground his teeth. “Trevor, are you kidding me? I didn’t answer for a reason. Gabriel was sitting right next to me. And by the way, you forgot to tell me about that little detail of riding around with a killer dog named Wolf, and you’re mad at me? Are you serious?”

  Silence greeted him for a moment, and Sam began to think he’d lost the connection before Trevor said, “I have to talk to you. You can’t do it.”

  “Can’t do what?” Sam was annoyed. “You should have seen me deliver those lines today. Pierce Everette kept calling me beautiful.”

  “I don’t care about that. Our mother. Our biological mother. You can’t do it, Sam.”

  “Why?”

  Silence again. “Because it’ll ruin my whole life, that’s why.”

  “What are you talking about? How could that ruin your life? You get everything you want, when you want. Our biological mother is not going to be able to touch you if you don’t want her to.”

  To Sam, it was a no-brainer.

  “My parents, Sam. They’re not like your dad. Everything people say, everything that’s written and on TV, it matters to them. It’s everything to them, especially my mom. That’s their world. They don’t even talk about me being adopted, and no one ever mentions it to them, not ever. Trust me, they do not want her in my life, or in theirs. You can’t just pop open that door and let her through.”

  It was Sam’s turn to be silent for a moment. When he spoke, he hunched over the phone and spoke in an urgent whisper. “She’s our mother, Trevor. Did you ever think about what that means? Maybe she has no idea what happened to us, even if we’re alive or dead. Look at your life.”

  Sam looked past the batting cage, up at the enormous house and the trees and gardens surrounding it. “Don’t you want her to know how good you’ve got it?”

  “It’s none of her business,” Trevor said. “Don’t you get it? She didn’t want me. She didn’t want me and she didn’t want you.”

  Sam felt like he’d been punched in the gut by his deepest fear.

  “Look, this wasn’t part of the deal,” Trevor said. “You never told me you were going to do something like this. This is … it’s crazy, and it’ll make a mess I don’t want and you don’t need. I want to play baseball, but if you think you can start changing the deal, I’ll just drop the whole thing right now and switch back.”

  “Fine,” Sam said.

  “Good,” Trevor said.

  “Because I’m sure you must have looked pretty bad today at practice.” Sam was steaming.

  “Too bad no one knew the difference.”

  “Right, you had to ask how to hit a stinking curveball.” Sam snorted.

  “Because I never hit one until today,” Trevor said, his voice rising. “But guess what? I hit it and then I went to the cage and hit about two hundred of them and now I got it because it’s easy. And, I also did what you should have done to Dorian Klum if you weren’t such a chicken. The guy threw a beanball at me today—thinking it was you—and, unlike you, I didn’t just take it.”