Fifteen Minutes

chapter 8

Kelly Morgan didn’t feel like herself through the next few auditions. She added a comment here and there, but she wasn’t on her game. Something about Zack Dylan stayed with her. It wasn’t his looks. That act had been for the show, for the ratings. It was something deeper. Something in his eyes.

At the next break, she poured a cup of coffee and took it outside on the terrace just off the audition room. There, with a view of downtown Atlanta and the summer breeze blowing in her hair, she tried to figure out what she was feeling. For the first time in years she stopped reciting good thoughts and actually allowed herself to think.

It was Zack’s genuine smile, the kindness in his eyes. He reminded her of Cal when the two of them were in high school. Yes, that was it. Cal back when their lives revolved around her father’s church and youth group every Wednesday night.

She’d been rebellious even then, whispering during the message and sometimes ditching the group meeting for a trip to the river with the wilder kids. She’d had her first beer at the river and on one particularly daring night, her first kiss with a kid three years older. She hadn’t even known his name. Yes, she had given her parents fits, intent on breaking rules and pushing limits.

Not Cal. He was strong and tall, a baseball player, with a wristband that read I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength. She used to tease him for being so good, for caring so much. For meaning every word of the faith that somehow came up in every conversation. She kidded him about how he should’ve been the PK, the pastor’s kid. Not her.

Zack had the same look in his eyes, the one that had defined Cal. As if the windows to his heart were wide open and he really believed that all people, all situations were a part of God’s story. Cal had the look back then and it had drawn Kelly like a moth to a flame. She would’ve done anything to get Cal’s attention. His character and kindness were what turned her around and made her stop acting crazy.

She remembered one Wednesday night after youth group. Cal pulled her aside and looked at her. Straight through her. “You try too hard to be bad.”

Her heart had pounded, her breath shaky from standing so close to him. But she wouldn’t let him see that. She laughed. “What do you mean?

“I mean your dad’s the pastor. You think you have something to prove, running with those other kids and missing group.” He put his hand on her shoulder, his eyes locked on hers. “But that’s not really you, Kelly. One day I hope you figure out who you are.” He grinned before walking away. “You might like yourself.”

Now Kelly took a long drink of her coffee and turned her face to the sun. How long had it been since she’d thought about that conversation? She blinked and stared at the street below. More to impress Cal than anything else, Kelly changed. She stopped trying to fit in with the kids who saw church as a joke, and allowed herself to listen to the messages, to learn and care and grow up. Cal was right. The way so often he had been right. Kelly began to like herself. Her last two years of high school, she and Cal were never apart. He was her best friend and his eyes were exactly like Zack Dylan’s. They shone with hope and a joy nothing could touch, and they told the world he was ready for tomorrow, excited about it.

The look in Cal’s eyes didn’t change until they moved to L.A., until she got an agent and started finding opportunities to sing and perform. Cal had great intentions. He would get a job at one of the studios and develop wholesome programming, a goal he reached. Even now—despite the scandal of the paparazzi photos—Cal was widely recognized as the go-to guy for all things faith and family in the movie industry.

But his eyes were different. He wasn’t the same, and there was no going back.

She breathed in deep and finished her coffee. Then she tossed the cup in a nearby trash can, pulled out her cell phone and brought up Cal’s contact information. His photo was still the one she’d set many years ago. Her favorite from back in high school—the two of them sitting side by side in the back of his truck, tailgate down, tanned legs hanging off the edge, blue sky overhead.

She willed herself to remember the truth, everything that had led to where they were today. There was no way to do that without going back to the beginning. Back when she thought she’d love Cal Whittaker till the day she died.

THE MOVE TO L.A. came when she and Cal were just twenty-three, a year into their marriage. At first their California life seemed magical. Within a year she found a manager and a record deal and a spot on a hit Disney musical show playing one of a trio of girls who made up a fictitious teenage singing act.

The other girls were legit teens, so the producers didn’t want anyone to know Kelly was twenty-four and married. She looked seventeen, after all. And so she removed her wedding ring and hid the fact while Cal took a job in marketing at one of the top moviemaking machines in Hollywood.

Marriage was their secret, and that made it fun. They no longer had time for church, and the messages of youth group felt like part of another life. Quickly Kelly Morgan became the most-liked, best-known singer of the trio, a household name across the country. In addition to the show’s ratings, her music took over the charts. A poster of her from the show hung in the rooms of teenage boys everywhere.

Cal liked to tease her when they were at home. “Every guy wants to be me.” He’d put his arms around her waist and hold her close, swaying with her in the kitchen. “We’re Hollywood’s best-kept secret,” he would tease her. “As long as you stay with me.”

She would smile and kiss him, passionate and full-bodied. “There could never be anyone for me but you.”

Sometimes rumors arose that Kelly was dating Cal—and people would question their age difference. But her publicity team worked to never reveal her age. If people assumed she was in her teens, so be it. Those were the days before Internet and instant access into the lives of celebrities. Secrets could be kept.

Even so, the news came out when the show was in its last season. By then Kelly and Cal were in their late twenties and Cal had worked his way onto the marketing team for some of the biggest movies being made. Kelly’s publicist drafted a release that read simply, Teen star Kelly Morgan announces marriage to studio executive Cal Whittaker III. Details—including Kelly’s age—were sketchy and the public never knew that while Kelly was playing the part of a high school girl, she was actually married and in her twenties.

After a few years of mediocrity and lackluster performances, Kelly decided to take a break from the world of entertainment. When she turned thirty she was pregnant with Kai, and two years later little Kinley joined them. Meanwhile Cal was finding success in the faith-and-family film industry. Kelly had a housekeeper for the laundry, chores, and cooking, but she took care of the kids. Until Kinley turned three the domestic life was enough for Kelly.

But one day she looked in the mirror and no longer recognized her image. The media still talked about her as if she were a teenage star, but she clearly had aged far beyond that. One week the paparazzi snapped a photo of her pushing Kinley’s stroller while Kai walked alongside. She and her son held ice cream cones, and the picture showed Kelly mid-lick. Her face looked fat, a few chins marking the fact that she’d let twenty extra pounds creep onto her small frame.

And that was that. She hired a nanny and a trainer and a dietician. Six months later, she looked a decade younger and made headlines by publicly daring the paparazzi to capture an unflattering picture of her. They never did.

The memories stopped for a moment. Yoga and strength training were a regular part of her life now, the weight long gone. She was in better shape than she’d been in high school. Definitely better than when she’d been her most famous, during the run of the hit show.

A year later Kelly knew her marriage was in trouble. By then Cal regularly criticized her for the changes she’d made. “You’re not the same person,” he would tell her. “I don’t recognize you.” He preferred the happy, domestic Kelly over the glamour girl she’d become.

Her father felt the same way. “You’re selling out, Kelly. Don’t let fame become an addiction.”

Kelly would only laugh at their concerns. Of course Cal and her father preferred the old her. Back when she had been a homebody, playing with the kids and having dinner on the table when Cal came home. Even if she didn’t cook it. That Kelly lived for the moment when he walked through the door. The changes had turned her into an in-demand actress, one associated with a different leading man every few months.

Another year passed before a story ran in People magazine and USA Today, declaring that Kelly couldn’t act. “But she looks like a million bucks,” the reporter wrote. “Even if she’s playing scenes that are a little scandalous, she’s still America’s sweetheart.”

The article also questioned whether Cal Whittaker III—America’s premier faith-and-family filmmaker—could be happy about his wife’s choices. Maybe to silence the critics or to keep an eye on her, Cal had asked her to be in one of his bigger films. Kelly turned down the offer. Another decision questioned by the media.

She remembered the night she tried to explain her decision to him. “I don’t need your audience scrutinizing me. Church people will hang me up and throw darts at me.” She kissed him. “Try to understand, okay?”

What he did next would forever stand as the first blow, the first battle in a war they’d eventually lose.

To pay her back—at least it seemed that way at the time—Cal hired an actress who had publicly hit on him. The woman made a spectacle of herself by talking with reporters about the crush she had on Cal Whittaker. “Star Actress Hot for Kelly Morgan’s Guy,” the headlines read in that week’s tabloids. Kelly was asked about her husband’s decision in a dozen interviews over the next few months, especially when she landed her biggest role of all—the lead in a movie about a singer trying to hold on to her fame.

That year the paparazzi were ruthless. “Is Cal having an affair?” they would shout at her as she left the studio. “Has he walked away from his faith?”

Kelly ignored them, but she and Cal fought about the situation constantly. He swore that the executive producers had made the decision to hire the actress, but she believed he had a hand in the matter. “You wanted to get back at me,” she would insist.

Around and around the argument went. Kai and Kinley spent more time with their nanny, and Kelly took parts in three films back to back, each of which took her away from L.A. for months at a time.

It was while she was on the set of the third movie that she first saw pictures of Cal and the European model. The girl was stunning, just twenty-four years old. In the photo Cal had his arm around her as they ran from a Hollywood restaurant to a cab in the pouring rain.

More fighting and unhappiness followed. More insistence from Cal that nothing was happening, that there was an explanation for the photo. He was a producer. Of course he spent time with possible leading ladies, looking for the right fit for his next film. Kelly quickly grew tired of the fighting. She had always resisted the sort of roles that put her in bed with her costar. But in light of Cal’s public antics and the way he had humiliated her in front of the world, she took a guest role on a racy hit vampire show. Her role recurred for three weeks and over that time she had several steamy sex scenes.

The show filmed in North Carolina, and a couple times local photographers caught her with her costar at a café or coffee shop. She had barely flown home when Michael Manning direct-messaged her on Twitter. She remembered the tweet word for word. Heard about the steamy vampire scenes, love. You still married? I’m next in line. She didn’t respond but his message did strange things to her heart and made her feel twenty again. Every girl was in love with Michael Manning. He couldn’t be serious, right? She was a decade older than him. But the situation presented a possibility Kelly hadn’t really considered since her wedding day.

The possibility of being single.

Six rocky months passed, and one day over backyard coffee with Cal she brought up the idea of divorce. He panicked at first and swore he and the model had met only to discuss her interest in family-friendly films. “Not all things are in my control,” he told her. “We need counseling, Kelly. We made a promise before God.” Tears filled his eyes. “I didn’t cheat on you. I never would.”

“Come on, Cal. You don’t talk to me or text me. You’re sharing your life with someone else. Whoever she is.” She clenched her fists, equally frustrated. “It’s like we’re strangers.”

“You’re never home.” Cal waved his hand in her direction. “How can I share my life with you when every few months you’re on to the next big thing? Where do I rate on your list of priorities?”

“You have plenty of women in your life. You don’t need me.”

Cal studied her, his face a mask of pain and suspicion. “Is there someone else? Because if there is, I want to hear it from you. Not the tabloids.”

“There’s no one, Cal.” The words came easily and felt like truth. At that point she hadn’t responded to Michael’s tweet. She kept her tone controlled. They didn’t need to give her housekeeper a reason to think they were fighting. “This isn’t about other people. It’s about us.”

He reached for her hands, but the gesture somehow lacked the passion they once shared. “Kelly, please. Don’t do this.”

“It’s the only way.”

His voice fell to a whisper. “How did we get here?”

Kelly had no answers. That night she finally responded to Michael Manning’s private tweet.

Hey Michael . . . I finally found time to get back to you. I’d love to get coffee some time.

At the end of the message she included her cell phone number. She said nothing about her marriage. That week two things happened that prompted Kelly to call her lawyer and have the papers drawn up. First, the tabloids had new pictures of Cal and the model, along with a whole slew of photographs of Kelly and her vampire costar.

Second, Michael Manning called her.

From that first conversation Kelly knew there would be no turning back. She fell for him in a way she’d never fallen before. Cal had been the only guy she’d ever loved, but her feelings for Michael made her wonder if she and Cal had simply been too young, the influence of her pastor father and church friends too overbearing.

One night with the kids and their nanny upstairs, Kelly and Cal had it out in a heated fight. “It isn’t working,” she yelled at him. “I want out.”

“Of course it’s not working. You’re taking roles that make you a joke. I mean really, Kelly? That vampire show? So the whole world has to see my wife—the pastor’s daughter—in bed with some other guy? Body parts fully visible?”

“It’s art. The show won six awards last year, okay?” Rage heated her face. “And don’t tell me nothing happened with you and that . . . that girl. We both want out. Quit lying to yourself. You have to see it.” She paused for a long minute. Then she blinked and in a tone more controlled than she’d felt in weeks delivered the final blow. “Cal.” She sighed. “There’s someone else.”

And like that something snapped. The fight left his body and his expression went flat. He hesitated for a long minute and then exhaled. “Who?”

“Michael Manning.” She felt a thrill just saying his name.

“The singer?” Cal’s shock was immediate. “He’s got a different girl every other week. He’s a decade younger than you.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “He’s crazy about me.” She went on to assure Cal that she and Michael were only friends. “But it could get serious.”

Cal’s eyes—the eyes that once were so like Zack’s—grew dark and distant. “Fine.” He stood and headed for the bedroom door, looking back just once. “Have your lawyer send me the paperwork.”

She had stayed with Michael at the Ritz-Carlton in Laguna Beach that weekend, leaving the kids with their nanny. When her father called three times that week, Kelly refused his call. Michael had that sort of power over her. The offer from Fifteen Minutes came the next week, and since then she and her singer boyfriend had been very careful. She was still married, after all.

Which was why she needed to make this call.

KELLY TURNED HER back on the city of Atlanta and leaned against the railing. She stared at her phone again, at Cal’s profile and the picture from another lifetime. Why haven’t I deleted that? She looked long at the photo, at the people they used to be. Enough. She tapped the call button, held it to her ear and waited. One ring . . . two. On the third ring he answered.

“Hi.” His voice sounded different, defeated and kinder at the same time. “You really called.”

“You gave me no choice.” Kelly faced the city. The people down below were too small to see clearly, but there were lots. She wondered if any of them were trying to navigate a messy divorce. “How are the kids?”

“They’re great. We went to the park today. Kinley learned how to roller-skate.” This was something new for Cal, the time he was spending with the kids. Usually they were with Kelly or the nanny; Cal was simply too busy. But between her contract with Fifteen Minutes and the divorce, Cal had changed. Kelly was glad—both for him and the kids. But it didn’t change the reasons why they were separating.

She breathed in deep. “Cal, look. I don’t want to drag this out. Rudy called. He gave me your message.” She paused, frustrated. “What do you want me to do, take a personal day and fly there? Have it out face-to-face?”

“None of that. I want—”

“Stop. You’re playing games, Cal. We both want this divorce.” She found a calmer voice. “I have Michael now.”

“That’s your choice. Mine is simple.” His voice held no trace of anger. “I want to stay married to you.”

One of the assistants opened the door and leaned out. “Two minutes.”

“I’m on set. This shouldn’t be so hard.” Kelly motioned to the assistant that she was nearly finished with the call. “You want to stay married? Really, Cal? What’s that mean, exactly? We don’t have a marriage. We have a legal document.”

“We have two kids. And we have a past.” He hesitated. When he spoke again there was no denying the pain in his voice. “Yes, the world knows you’re having an affair. And yes, that hurts. But you’re my wife and I won’t let go of us. Even like this. Don’t forget that.”

She felt her heart start to respond, but her common sense was louder. Who was he kidding? This wasn’t going anywhere. “My lawyer will be in touch.” She kept her tone kind. “Cal . . . if this gets ugly we both lose.”

He started to say something and stopped himself. “I’m sorry for everything. When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.”

The last thing she’d expected was an apology. It caught her off guard and took the edge off her anger. “I need to go. Good-bye, Cal.”

“Good-bye.”

If he was going to say something else, she didn’t give him a chance. The phone call had gotten her nowhere. She looked at Cal’s contact and with a few swipes of her finger she deleted the photo. She had it in a frame in some box back home. Something their kids would want one day. For now she didn’t need reminders of a past better forgotten.

A sad thought hit her as she headed back inside. She could delete the photo and have her lawyer contact his. She could make plans with Michael Manning for the coming weeks and believe that life would be wonderful once Cal signed the divorce papers. She could box up yesterday and dream of new tomorrows. She could publicly disclaim the faith she was raised with and cut her father out of her life. She could walk further away from everything she had once been.

But there was one thing she couldn’t stop.

The way Zack Dylan’s eyes made her remember.