“That’s very gratifying. Thank you.”
I read fury in him as he balled up his fist to throw a punch. He hated that I wasn’t afraid of him, and he wanted to give me a taste of why I should be. At the last moment, he held himself back. That showed pretty decent self-control.
Welp, Dad always said I could try the patience of a saint.
“Have a nice evening.” Relieved to feel my phone chime with the map, I walked the dirt path toward the road, where Molly waited for me with her golf cart.
“What was that about?” she asked as I came near. “I thought he was going to hit you.”
“He wanted to.”
“Why? For god’s sake, we did everything we could for Maddie and Gina. I hope they’re all right. Poison oak is the worst.”
“He warned me off Stone Wilder pretty hard.”
“Really? That’s odd, don’t you think?”
“Is it? Everyone still believes I’m pretty poison. It’s entirely possible I’ve been twirling my mustachio again.”
Her face fell, but she said, “Not funny.”
“It's pretty funny.”
“No, it’s not. And as far as I’m concerned, you shouldn’t joke about the way people treat you. It’s not fair.”
I got in the cart beside her. “Why can’t I? It’s either laugh or cry.”
“There’s a third choice. Don’t react at all.” The cart zipped forward. “They don’t know you. They’ll never know what happened to you. If they judge you based on sketchy information, that’s on them.”
“I do a pretty good job of keeping cool, I think.”
“You act cool while inside you’re a seething volcano of rage. I just don’t want you to blow.”
“I won’t.”
“Good. If you did, it’d be the Red Wedding, IRL.”
It made me laugh to picture the cast and crew of Blood Academy littered around the craft services table covered in blood.
How dark was that?
“Tonight, I’m eating carbs,” I muttered.
“That’ll teach ’em.”
“Damn right.” I gasped. “Except no. Tomorrow’s the ad shoot, and I can’t bloat.”
Molly’s glance withered me. “You can afford to have carbs, honey, even if they photograph you in nothing but the fucking watch you’re modeling.”
“Shows what you know.”
“I know you’re a skinny twink.” Molly jerked the golf cart to one of her patented screaming stops when we arrived at our RV.
“Are you having something nice delivered for me?”
“Remind me again what you want the food to say? Man things?” She winked. “Charles and I decided on pig n’ smoke and fancy beer.”
“No beer. Two bottles of decent red wine.”
She arched a brow. “Two?”
“He can take one back with him if he doesn’t want to drink, but I plan to drink a whole bottle myself.”
“It’s going to be like that, is it?”
“Deacon’s warning pissed me off more than I realized.” I stomped to my sleep area. “’Scuse me while I scrub away the day.”
Her tablet chimed “Charles says the food will take at least an hour.”
“Thanks, Molz. You’re a brick.”
“Keep on saying so.”
Despite its modest size, the RV’s bathroom was okay for showering off. I made short work of that, dried my hair, and dressed carefully. This time, I’d wear straight leg jeans and hiking boots and long sleeves under a flannel shirt to stay warm and prevent any more nature-related mishaps.
I spritzed cologne overhead and walked through it—the spicy fragrance I always wore carried notes of amber and tobacco and exotic tea. It wasn’t possible to smell better than sea air and evergreens, but my mother had drummed the practice into me. You can’t be fully dressed without perfume.
Mother. What was I supposed to remember about her? “Hey, Molly?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you get in touch with Dad about Mom?” I hated being her cash cow, but I didn’t want her running up endless debt either. It’s why I’d taken the watch gig. The print ad work almost exclusively fed my mother’s piggy bank.
“I believe his reaction included the words ‘profligate’ and ‘can of whoop-ass.’”
“But he’s going to deal with her.” Because I couldn’t. Not anymore.
Like a lot of Hollywood kids, I worked while my mother worked the system. She might not have been able to touch my income, but she was always actively looking for an opportunity to profit from my success. Whether gifts came in the form of travel or merchandise, there was always a sweetener. A little something in the deal for Mom.
I thought about quitting.
At one time, I thought about all the ways a person can quit, until Dad put a stop to the feeding frenzy.
“Oh, honey. Never fear,” said Molly. “We’ve got you covered.”
“Thank you.” I stepped out of the bedroom. “What do you think?”
Her mouth fell open. “You look like Zoolander and a Brawny Commercial had a baby. How do you even own those boots?”
“I hike. You know I hike.” I glanced down. “What’s wrong with them?”
“Nothing. I’ve just never seen you wear them. It’s kind of a whole new you. Is this because Wilder’s straight?”
“No!” Did I look weird or something? “I don’t want poison ivy or Lyme disease.”
She tilted her head. “That does make a certain amount of sense.”
“All day we were flitting about the woods as though we were at Boy Scout camp, and I never even thought about poison ivy. Shows how dumb actors are.”
“You were never a Boy Scout.”
“I go camping with Dad. I don’t know why I didn’t think. I feel like I could have prevented what happened to Maddie and Gina if I’d been paying better attention.”
Her gaze softened. “You’ve had a lot on your mind.”
“They asked me to help them make a TikTok dance video and I thought they were playing me, you know? I thought I’d end up the butt of one of their stupid jokes.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” Her voice went soft.
“But I threw myself into it anyway because…fuck ’em, right? I’d go down swinging.” Hands in the air like I just don’t care. “It turned out they weren’t being mean girls, and they’re the ones who got poison oak.”
“You did everything you could.”
“After the fact.”
“You don’t really look like the Brawny guy. Your flannel shirt’s not even tucked.”
“I seriously could not tuck a dime into these jeans much less a shirt.”
“I can see that.”
My button front Levi’s came from a time when I was younger and weighed less.
“Too tight, you think?” I turned back to look in the mirror, but she caught my arm.
“You look fine. C’mon. Food arrived while you were making la grande toilette.”
“You are a shoo in for weirdest PA ever.”