Trevor’s dad dismissed the man, who closed the door behind him.

  Sam faced Trevor’s father. Gone was the warm, pleasant face from earlier in the day. It seemed to Sam that the painting from the upstairs hallway had come to life.

  “Well? What is it, Son?”

  65

  SAM

  Sam sputtered a bit before he finally found the words jammed up in his throat. “I wanted to talk to you about … this looking for my biological mother thing. I just wanted to know if, when you find her, you could not tell her. I mean, I’d like to know who she is and where, but I don’t want her to know.”

  Trevor’s dad wrinkled his forehead. “I guess I’m not sure I understand.”

  Sam’s head spun. “Well, I just want to know she’s okay and where she is and… I know I’m sounding flaky, but I’m not one hundred percent sure I want to meet her.”

  Trevor’s dad’s face softened. “You caught me at a bad time. That—what you heard, me shouting—was just business. I’m sorry, but I don’t trust anyone outside you and your mother, Trevor. You’re all I have and you’re the only people on earth I can count on.

  “Anyway, I can do this however you want. We don’t have to find her at all.”

  “No, no. I want to find her. I want to know all about her. I just … is it okay?”

  “Of course. Here, let’s go out on the terrace with your mom. Let’s enjoy each other’s company and have dinner, and we can watch an old movie or something.”

  Sam realized he’d been holding his breath and he let it out as he followed Trevor’s dad out onto the terrace. It surprised him that even the presence of Trevor’s father didn’t keep the mother from texting and talking on the phone all through dinner as if Sam and the father weren’t there, but she did. They had grilled lobsters, and Sam didn’t know if he’d ever tasted anything so good. He was surprised to learn that Trevor’s father knew almost everything about the Dodgers, and that’s what the two of them talked about—including the “scrimmage” Trevor played on his birthday—until they’d finished their ice cream sundaes and Trevor’s mom suggested he get to bed.

  Sam didn’t argue, even though, with the candlelit dinner and the billowing white canopy over their table, the terrace seemed like a magical place—one that he didn’t really want to leave. He took a shower and opened the glass doors so the breeze could blow in. In the bookcase were leather bound copies of the classics. Sam was pleased to find The Count of Monte Cristo. He found the spot where he’d gotten to in his book at home and switched on the lamp next to the bed before settling down.

  He had no idea what time it was when Trevor’s father knocked gently. The Hollywood mogul entered the room wearing a thick robe and sat on the edge of the bed. He stared at Sam for a moment with a small smile on his face.

  “What?” Sam asked.

  Trevor’s father pointed to the book. “I love that. When did you decide to start reading?”

  Sam shifted under the covers. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “It’s okay.”

  “Okay? Where are you? Has Edmond escaped from prison?”

  “Yes. He just won the knife fight.”

  “Ah, the knife fight. He’s become a brutal man, right?”

  “I guess most people would.”

  “Of course. Betrayal. That would make anyone brutal. It’s human nature. Well, I’m impressed. Keep it up, Trevor. You know how I feel about reading. I’m glad you finally found out on your own. Good night.”

  Sam took the hand Trevor’s father offered and shook it. When the door closed, Sam put out the light and listened to the sound of the waves. He’d come dangerously close to ruining everything, but the idea to ask that Moffit not let his mother know about him served two purposes. It was not only a good excuse for why he’d been skulking around outside the office door; it would also make Trevor happy.

  Sam would have all the information he needed, and he could take it with him. Trevor could simply say he’d become certain he didn’t want to meet his mother. Then when Sam was safely back with his father, he could contact her on his own. It was perfect. The only thing he needed to do now was hope Moffit could get the information in the next week. Sam let himself dream about his mother for a few minutes, who she might be, what, and where, but that led back to when and why. Why was not something Sam wanted to think about because it brought him full circle to Trevor and the anger he felt.

  “Are you angry?” Sam whispered the words out loud. They seemed to slip past his lips like snakes in the grass. “Are you, Sam?”

  That was something he didn’t want to think about. So, when Trevor’s phone buzzed and he saw it was McKenna asking if he could call her, Sam happily dialed her up.

  “Hey,” Sam said when she answered.

  “You sound down,” McKenna said, “but I bet you won’t be when you hear what I’m going to tell you.”

  66

  TREVOR

  Trevor didn’t want to go back.

  He had to admit that to himself. He had helped to win the league game Tuesday night, spent most days at the cage, then evenings practicing with his team—that’s how he thought of it now, as his team—and after that, hanging out with Sam’s dad. Sam’s dad was something Trevor hadn’t expected. Sam’s dad asked questions, and listened to what Trevor said. And after Sam’s dad listened, he’d ask more questions, and then Trevor would ask questions he’d never thought of before, and they’d end up just talking until late.

  Trevor never would have believed just talking like that until late at night was possible. The one thing he was determined to do—no matter what was happening to the project when he returned to his old life—was get Mr. Palomaki’s script made into a movie. If he had to beg his own father to do it, he would. He wanted to give that to the man so bad it hurt. Trevor had seen writers and producers who were arrogant, stupid, and mean; and by gosh, if they could get their movies made, a man like Sam’s dad deserved it ten times over.

  But that would be for when he returned, and Trevor didn’t want to return. The problem was—and he knew it—that the longer he was Sam Palomaki, the more he wanted to stay Sam Palomaki. Sam’s life was real. It was a struggle, yes, but it was real and there were obstacles that had to be overcome. In Trevor’s world there were no obstacles. Everything was set. It was a roller-coaster ride, no doubt. But, like every roller-coaster ride, once you did it enough, once you knew every twist, turn, and drop like your own speed dial list, the thrill was gone. This new life, on the other hand, was still a thrill.

  The phone rang. It was Sam. Trevor lay on the bed and thought about not picking up. Finally, he did.

  “Ready for the big game?”

  “You don’t know how ready,” Trevor said.

  Sam laughed. “Tomorrow’s a big day for me, too. I’ve got Moffit and Stu. They’re both coming by the set. McKenna told me last night that she thinks Stu has a lead on something.”

  “They didn’t finish the castle scenes?” Trevor asked, knowing what happened when they got behind schedule.

  “Nah. They were having trouble with the stuntmen on fire. Something about the coating on the suits and something they had in the water to make it really black. These guys were falling in the moat and the fire was spreading across the top of the water. They burned the drawbridge twice before they figured out the problem. So, we start at six a.m.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Trust me, that’s not pain. You know what pain is now, right?”

  Trevor asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, how about my dad crabbing on you about leaving dishes in the sink? Or the smell of garbage? Or taking a shower in a plastic capsule the size of a Porta-Potti? Or frozen dinners? Or having the air conditioner bog down on a hot night? All pain that you never had to experience, and won’t have to experience again. Ever.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Trevor said.

  “Careful, or I’ll have you pinch-hitting for me for good.”

  Trevor’s heart galloped, but then Sam laughed.

  “I’m kidding,” Sam said. “I miss my dad and his Shakespeare quotes. I can’t say I miss the smell of the landfill, but I am looking forward to lighting up the ballpark in the finals and seeing the stupid look on Klum’s face when I win the MVP and launch my career toward the Major Leagues.”

  “So, Stu and Moffit both tomorrow, huh?” Trevor said. “What do you think?”

  “Fingers crossed with Stu. You don’t want to know about Moffit, really, do you?”

  “No,” Trevor said, “not really. I was just thinking about you is all.”

  Sam said, “I appreciate that.”

  “Why didn’t Moffit just text you the information?”

  “Your dad told him no paper and no electronics. He doesn’t want this getting out. He said everything has to be verbal. I don’t know; it sounds a little paranoid to me, but it’s not my money, right?”

  Silence sat between them like a third person on the call.

  Sam finally said, “Do you think we can be friends after this? I don’t know, hang out sometimes?”

  “You know,” Trevor said, “I was thinking the same thing yesterday. Honestly? I don’t think so. I think we were lucky to get away with all this. It was great for me, and I hope it’s been great for you. Part of me doesn’t want to go back. But I know I will. I have to, and I know the best thing for both of us is to let it go. I don’t know how your dad would be, but I’ll tell you that if mine found out, he’d undo anything Stu can get done with your dad’s script. That I can promise you.

  “On the other hand, maybe your dad’s movie is a hit and you and me are able to meet normally and—who knows—maybe we work together, or maybe we even play baseball.”

  “And your mom? How would she fit into this?” Sam asked. “She freaked out when she saw me on set.”

  “My mom, yes. She’d be a problem. Let’s not think about it. Let’s just enjoy the last day and a half we’ve got, don’t you think? I mean, I gotta believe you’re going to miss McKenna, right?”

  “McKenna?” Sam’s voice fell.

  “You can’t take her with you,” Trevor said, trying to be funny.

  “Well, she and I can still be friends. There’s no reason we can’t.”

  “Really? Okay. I’m not arguing.” Trevor knew by Sam’s tone that he’d struck a nerve.

  “Why did you say that, though?” Sam asked. “What’s McKenna got to do with all this?”

  “McKenna’s part of my world, right? Like baseball is part of yours.” Trevor spoke patiently to try and ease the pain. “You gotta take the good with the bad, Sam. That’s what your dad says.”

  “My dad doesn’t know everything.” Sam sounded more upset by the moment.

  “Look, I don’t want to fight. McKenna’s great. Maybe you guys can work something out, right?” Trevor tried to add real hope to his voice, but it was just acting.

  “I like her, Trevor. I like her more than you ever did.”

  “Yeah, I guess I know that, Sam,” Trevor said, losing patience. “That’s good. I hope it works out.”

  “Why shouldn’t it?” Sam’s voice rose.

  “Sam, don’t yell at me. I’m not the one who makes the rules. I hope it works out, okay? I mean that, but it seems like it could be tough. She’s kind of a star, Sam.”

  “And I’m nothing? I’m going to play for the Dodgers, really play, not some make-believe nonsense!”

  Trevor nodded to himself. He liked Sam’s confidence. It reminded him of his own. Still, the conversation was going nowhere.

  “Hey, Sam. I gotta go. Enjoy yourself, buddy. I got a game tomorrow. See you at the party on Sunday.”

  “Fine.”

  Sam hung up, and Trevor stared at the phone for a minute before plugging it in to charge and setting it on the night table. He turned off the light and lay there for a minute before snapping it back on and picking up the phone. Sam’s emotional reaction was something he didn’t think would be good to ignore.

  “McKenna?” Trevor said when she answered. “I think we got a problem.”

  67

  SAM

  Sam didn’t sleep well.

  When he woke, he remembered tossing and turning until well after midnight. The alarm busted him loose from a pleasant dream. He and McKenna were flying in the helicopter, but when they got to the beach house, they decided to just keep going, all the way to Tahiti. Sam wasn’t completely sure where Tahiti was, but that didn’t matter in the dream. McKenna thought it was a good idea, and that was all that had mattered.

  Sam yawned and staggered to the bathroom. He took as cold a shower as he could stand and threw on some shorts along with a Kobe Bryant Lakers jersey, signed, of course. Gabriel looked tired, too, and when Sam flopped down in the back of the limo, Gabriel barely squeaked out a “Good morning.” Only Dolph and Wolf, sitting up front, looked alert. Sam offered nothing more than a nod of his head as a greeting to Gabriel, annoyed that the dream had faded so quickly and afraid that his time with McKenna was dissolving like a bread crust in acid—a science experiment he remembered from school.

  Before he knew it, they pulled into the studio lot, a ghost town on Saturday without cars or people. The hulking airplane hangar buildings lay like giants sleeping in rows. Sam left Gabriel behind, practically dashing for his dressing room. McKenna sat waiting. Her eyes were red.

  Sam sat next to her on the couch and took her hand. “Were you crying?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “Yes. It’s been fun, that’s all. Tomorrow everything changes. I didn’t want to have this stupid pool party to begin with.”

  “There’s no reason we can’t still hang out,” Sam said.

  She nodded ferociously, as if someone had told her otherwise. “Today’s a big day, right? Stu and Moffit both reporting in. No thanks to Sara Grant, though. I still can’t believe she ratted you out.”

  “We’ve been through this a hundred times,” Sam said. “It all worked out fine.”

  Sam hesitated. “You still haven’t answered me, though. We can hang out after tomorrow, right?”

  “Don’t mind me, Sam. I just don’t trust the grown-ups. They have all these rules about who can do what, when, and with who.”

  “My dad’s pretty lax on rules.”

  “Mine isn’t.” McKenna hopped up from the couch. “But that doesn’t matter. We’ve got today, right?”

  “You sound like you were talking to Trevor.” Sam stared at her, but she would only look away and nod. “Is he right? He said you and I can’t be friends after this, but why not? I can visit. You can even come to my games.”

  “Maybe we can,” she said, but her words were lighter than smoke and they floated away without real meaning. McKenna pointed to Sam’s neck. “Come on, let me touch up that birthmark a bit before makeup gets here. It’s fading a little, and we’ll start soon. I saw Pierce Everette with his coffee, and once he’s got his coffee, things move fast.”

  Sam bit his lip, and things did move fast. They shot three scenes with Sam making quick changes and muffing his lines enough that it seemed they were already behind schedule by ten in the morning. When they finally took a break for the crew, Sam returned to his dressing room. As he changed, he fished Trevor’s phone out of his jeans only to find the red light blinking.

  McKenna came in before he could check the messages. “Sam, Stu just got here. He’s talking to Pierce, but he’ll be right in. Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t know.” Sam felt light-headed at the mention of Stu because he knew the news would be big either way. He examined the phone. “I’ve got thirteen missed calls, all from Trevor.”

  McKenna’s smile went out. “Then something is wrong.”

  A knock at the dressing room door startled them both. McKenna flung it open. Sam expected Stu, but the face that appeared belonged to someone else.

  68

  TREVOR

  Trevor woke with the birds and used fresh makeup to cover his birthmark and lighten his skin color a bit. In the mirror, he looked for signs of worry in his face. This was not only the last game he’d get to play, it was the one that could make or break Sam’s dreams. He wished he could play next week in the Tuesday night game and the tournament finals as well, but he knew Sam would never go for that. The finals were where Sam had to make his mark, get that MVP and a spot with USC. Even today’s game was important, and while he talked a good game with Sam about the semifinals being a cakewalk, Trevor knew he had to perform well.

  Finished, he shuffled out of the trailer in the early dawn light, shivered, and blew into his hands. The garbage smell had been tamped down by the cool air. His feet scuffed along the gravel road. He had to walk, had to move to keep from going crazy with nerves. Most of it was excitement, but he had to admit there was a healthy amount of fear mixed in, too. As well as he’d done in practice and his first league game last Tuesday, he still sensed that he wasn’t quite up to Sam’s level.

  By the time Trevor got back, Sam’s dad was awake. Eggs sizzled and spit in the pan.

  “Everything okay?” Sam’s dad asked over his shoulder.

  “Antsy, that’s all.” Trevor sat down.

  They ate in silence off paper plates. Trevor asked if they could head out early to spend some time at the batting cage.

  “You’re not overdoing it, are you?”

  Trevor hesitated. “I’ve been a little off is all. Maybe it will help.”

  “You’re a little off. Not too bad. That happens. Even the Major Leaguers get into slumps. You’ll climb out of it.”

  Trevor’s heart sank when he heard Sam’s dad say the word “slump.”

  “Hey, come on. You will.”

  Trevor bit the side of his cheek and looked away. Sam’s dad cleaned up. Trevor helped, then got Sam’s bat bag from the bedroom. They rode to the cages in silence, the Ferrari sputtering to a halt in the parking lot.

  Trevor worked hard, swinging and connecting like a machine. He and Sam’s dad arrived at the ballpark early with the rest of the team for a light batting practice. They had only just begun when Coach Sharp blew his whistle and called them all in to the dugout. Beside him stood a man Trevor didn’t recognize.