“No, and I don’t give a shit if he can produce gold bricks from thin air.”
Tenley laughs again as she clicks her seat belt in place. She spies the half-eaten brownie in the console and grabs it. “Oh Lord, that is good,” she says around a bite, brushing crumbs from her lips. I pull away from the old ranch and Tenley finishes the brownie.
“Thank you,” she says, after pulling a water bottle from her purse and taking a drink.
“For what?”
“I know what you were doing.” Her voice has softened, and her hands are pressed together between her knees.
“You don’t know what I was doing,” I say lightly, teasing. We don’t need to make a big deal of it. I couldn’t deck the guy, at Tenley’s silent request, but then he threw an insult my way, and I am under no obligation to let him speak to me the way he is clearly used to speaking to people.
I make a turn onto a busier street. “You and Calvin seem like you’re close.”
She waves a hand. “Yeah, he’s been my friend for a long time. We acted together when we were younger, and he lives near my parents.”
Her tone is casual, flippant, and I can tell there’s nothing more there. She and her costar really are just friends. It’s a little weird to know she’s going to have to kiss him though. Will she kiss him the way she did me?
We’re at a red light and I use the opportunity to study her. The warm sunlight soaks through the window, shining on her body, her hair glowing like spun silk. She’s still wearing all the makeup from the photo shoot, but I prefer whatever it was she wore on her face all the other times I’ve been around her. This doesn’t feel like the real Tenley.
She watches me watch her, and my thoughts drift back four days, when I kissed her and felt it in my soul. It confused the hell out of me, and scared me too, if I’m being honest.
Tenley’s head tips to the side, and she waits for me to say something. Behind me, someone honks their horn. I let off the brake and ask, “Ready to shoot a bow and arrow?”
She grins at me. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”
14
Warner
“Are you sure you weren’t an archer in a former life?” I ask Tenley, sliding my bow into the bed of my truck.
“It’s possible,” she says, mimicking the form I just taught her and shooting a pretend bow into the sky. “Just call me Katniss Everdeen.”
“Finally, a movie reference I understand.”
“I still want you to watch Grease.”
“Never gonna happen.”
My phone rings and I pull it out to answer. “What’s up, Wes?”
“Dakota and I are going to grab a beer from the Chute if you want to join. I’m assuming you’re with Tenley?”
“Yeah, we’re together.” I look over. She’s bent at the waist, stretching and reaching for her toes. “Let me ask her.”
She twists her head, looking at me questioningly from her upside-down position.
“Do you want to get a drink with Dakota and Wes?”
She pulls upright, her hair messy around her head, and looks at her watch. “Sure,” she says slowly.
“We’ll see you there soon.” I hang up and turn to her. “We don’t have to go.” She didn’t seem certain, and I don’t want her to say yes if she doesn’t mean it.
She picks at the frayed hemline of her shorts. “It’s not that. The time corresponds to how busy the place is likely to be, and whether I’ll face the same situation from the diner. No bodyguards yet.” She shrugs and sends me a sheepish smile. “Did you know Dakota went grocery shopping for me last week?”
“Nobody will bother you,” I assure her, opening the passenger door. “Not with me or Wes sitting with you.”
She sends me a grateful smile and climbs in. “Wes seems nice.”
I grunt a laugh and get in the truck. “He used to be a real dick. Dakota made him nicer, but he’s still an ass. It’s just his nature.”
She lifts three fingers into the air. “So, Wes is the serious brother.” She folds down one finger, leaving a peace sign in midair. “Wyatt is the restless brother.” Another finger folds down, leaving the one pointer finger. “What does that make you?”
My lips twist as I grapple with an answer. “I don’t know. I used to know exactly who I was, but I don’t anymore. The only role I kept was dad. And son, I guess. And brother.” My thumb taps the steering wheel. “So, I guess I kept most of my roles except one.”
“A role that eclipsed the rest. Except maybe dad.” Tenley’s hand drops from the air and brushes over her thigh. “I know how that feels. Roles, I mean.”
“Well, yeah. You’re an actress.”
She laughs softly. “I don’t mean in movies. I mean in life. My real-life role is that of a perfect daughter. My parents wanted me to be an actress, and I wanted to please them. I couldn’t stand disappointing them. I still can’t.” Her body presses into the seat, like the admission is heavy, and I get the feeling there is more she isn’t saying, more to the story of why she refuses to disappoint them. I wonder if it has something to do with her scar.
“So you decided to become an actress? Just like that?”
“My mom and dad were big in daytime television. I don’t expect you to know them, but they played a couple on-screen in a soap opera. Cassidy and Jonah Malone. For almost two decades.” Tenley smiles. “They died and came back to life many times.”
“Lucky them.”
Tenley snorts. “I suppose. But I think if I could come back to life, it would be as something else.”
“Like a hummingbird?”
She stares at me across the console. “Why would you choose a hummingbird?”
I shrug. “Just seemed like something you could be. Kind. Unassuming. Sweet. Non-predatory.”
She laughs, the sound bouncing around the truck, shooting through me. “Thank you, but I meant I’d come back to life as someone with a different backstory.” She looks down, her lips twisting, and she says, “Obviously that’s not possible, but a metamorphosis might be nice.”
“You want to change into something else?”
Her answering shrug is one-shouldered. “Maybe.”
I wipe my palm on my thigh and focus on driving. Because the thought that just slammed into my head wasn’t one I was prepared for, but now it’s there, ping-ponging around, and I can’t escape it.
I want you to be who you are, no matter what it took to get you here.
This thought conveys more than it’s seventeen words say. It is a book, a poem, a tome.
Its message reverberates through me, inciting just as much exhilaration as it does fear.
“Look, look, there they go.” Barb grabs Shirley’s arm hard enough to make the old woman wince.
“Goodness, Barb, keep your sweater on.” Shirley squints in the direction Barb’s pointing, but all she sees is an HCC truck passing by, and that’s hardly enough to yammer about.
Barb ignores Shirley’s whining. “I had a feeling that actress was going to get on with the middle one. Gut feeling.” Barb pats her generous middle.