Chapter 41 Janie Johnson

CHAPTER 41 JANIE JOHNSON

February 2007

Los Angeles

After my first-ever meeting with Ryan, we were standing on the sidewalk in West Hollywood. She hugged me warmly and said, “Maybe you could be my West Coast family?”

At the time, she’d only booked a couple small TV roles, nothing massive, and nobody at my company thought she was big enough to work with, but I found myself drawn to her. She had warmth and this blend of confidence and vulnerability that’s rare and which she pro-jected effortlessly on-screen.

We did become family. I took that part of my job seriously. Los Angeles wasn’t an easy place to build community, something Ryan and I talked about frequently, and so I decided early on that I would treat her like my younger sister. Coddling wasn’t an older sister’s job, but loyalty and protection were, and that’s how I approached everything with Ryan—loyalty and protection, first and foremost.

When I asked at that first meeting what she wanted from her career, she replied, “Everything.” I’d taken a big bite of my croissant, too big, and brought my hand to my mouth while I chewed.

“What does ‘everything’ mean to you?” I asked. She was younger then. I’m not sure she knew what everything would cost her. But I was glad to see she was taking the question seriously. Really thinking about it. After a few seconds, she said, “I know acting will get me inside the room—”

“ Some rooms,” I jumped in. No point in pulling punches.

“ Some rooms,” she agreed. “But that’s exactly my point—by the end, I don’t just want to be in the room, I want to decide who else is in it, too.”

“Directing?” I needed to know what mountains we would be climbing.

“Directing, producing—all of it.”

They’d served my mocha in a wide porcelain mug; each sip was precarious. I lifted it again, taking my time, and Ryan watched me intently. Ordering a mocha and croissant was a tactical move. I knew it conveyed warmth and confidence. My goal was to make Ryan want to work with me. The first step was to make her want the things around me. This all sounds Machiavellian, but it was basic strategy—like dressing chicly for a job interview.

I swallowed the rich chocolate, leaned forward, carefully placed the mug back on the saucer. “A question for you,” I said.

“Anything.” She had her elbows on her knees, really engaging.

“If we worked together, would you understand that I’d make moves behind the scenes, on your behalf?”

She looked surprised but adapted quickly. “You mean without telling me?”

“Maybe, perhaps,” I said. “If it made the most sense, for our long-term plan.”

I could see her brighten at the word our . She didn’t hesitate in responding, “I’d understand, yes.”

Family is what Ryan and I have been ever since. And it’s the reason I called the paparazzi that last night, the night she and Cass went out to dinner. Ryan had just turned the corner in her career, was one of the most sought-after actors in Hollywood—another step on our climb up the mountain.

Falling in love with Cass, staying hidden in her bungalow, was not going to get her where she said she wanted to go. I knew even just a few flashbulbs would send Cass back to New York if she was committed to staying hidden, and it seemed she was.