“I really am. I even decided earlier today—”
“Posey!”
We both look to our right. An old high school friend, Maggie, is just coming out of the inn with what will be her fifth boyfriend this year. She moves fast, constantly looking for her happily ever after. But who am I to judge? I move like a tortoise toward love.
“You didn’t tell me you knew Gavin Price!” she says.
I mouth sorry to Gavin before she weaves her way over with her boyfriend, who I think is from Greywall. I’m assuming she’s had too much to drink from the way he’s helping her keep standing.
“Keeping this one all hidden, huh?” She extends her arm for a handshake. “I’m Maggie.”
“Hi, Maggie,” he says, without introducing himself.
I’ve never thought about the fact that Gavin doesn’t have to tell people his name. More than likely, they already know it. I can’t imagine what it’s like to just walk around and have people know not only who you are, but all about your life.
“Oh, you’re all grown up.” She leans forward. “I used to masturbate to your picture on my wall.” She brings two fingers close to his eyes. “With those eyes staring back at me.”
I have to choke back a cough, but Gavin seems nonplussed, as though he hears this stuff all the time.
The boyfriend chuckles and I give him a look to shut up. He ignores my look and I see that poor Maggie will have to find a sixth boyfriend by the time the year’s done because this guy will never last.
“I fucking loved you in High Society. You were such an asshole,” he says.
Gavin forces a smile. “Well, that’s just the role. Not really me.”
“Yeah, but to be that big of a dick, you must have it in you,” the guy continues.
Meanwhile, Maggie’s gaze is roving all over Gavin as though he’s her prize at an auction. No doubt thinking of all the things she’d do to him.
“Not really. It’s called acting.” Gavin’s jaw tenses and his eyes meet mine. “You good?”
I nod. “Yeah. Go.”
“No one is that good of an actor, dude,” the guy says.
Gavin doesn’t even respond, turning his back to us and walking back into town.
“See, that’s a dick move. I was right.” Maggie’s date looks at me.
I roll my eyes.
“Are you fucking him? How lucky are you?” Her words slur and I’m wondering how she got so drunk at the inn.
“No, I’m not. Have a great night. Get her home safely,” I tell the guy.
“You need new friends, Mag,” the guy says when I walk away, and he leads her to the car.
I refrain from saying I’m not her friend and Gavin, for sure, isn’t her friend.
I walk into the inn and find Mandi at a table by the hostess stand, folding up silverware.
I slide into the booth on the other side of her. “Did you overserve Maggie Mitchell?”
Mandi scoffs. “No, she and that twat were drinking down at the beach. She just came in here to use the bathroom.”
“That makes more sense. Guess what?” I lean back in the booth.
Her eyebrows rise. “It’s been a bad day, just tell me.”
“Come on. Guess,” I whine like we’re kids again.
“Gavin Price asked you out,” she says matter-of-factly.
My hand slams on the table. “How did you know?”
She laughs. “He did it in the middle of downtown during tourist season. Did you think the news wouldn’t travel fast?”
She slides her cell phone over to me. I open it and see a picture of us outside Fringe a few minutes ago, Gavin’s fingers pressed to my lips.
“What the hell?”
“It’s Fran, I think. She’s turning what should be our social media group about things regarding the town into a gossip blog.”
“Is she trying to be Lake Starlight Buzz Wheel?” The neighboring town has a blog that posts the latest gossip every day, then it disappears at midnight.
Mandi shrugs. “I don’t know, but you two have been outed.” She continues to fold the silverware into the napkins. “Now tell me what you’re going to wear.”
All that excitement I felt moments ago resurfaces.
Just as I’m about to gush over everything that happened, a whirl of blonde hair flies into the small restaurant attached to Mandi’s inn. “O-M-G, you’re going out with Gavin Price!” Chevelle slides in next to me. “Give me all the deets!”
God, I love these two.
“UGH!” I scream and toss the curling wand on the bathroom counter. I know I’m a hairstylist, but believe me when I tell you that after doing everyone else’s hair for eight hours a day, doing my own holds no appeal. Especially when it’s not cooperating.
“What’s up?” Chevelle comes in and sits on the toilet seat. She puts her hands together in giddy excitement. “Just think back to your sixteen-year-old self. You’re going out with Blake Michaels.” She feigns passing out with the back of her hand on her forehead. True drama, but that’s kind of my stepsister’s style.
“I’m going out with Gavin Price.”
“Same thing.” She sits up straighter and watches me.
“Here, let me.” Mandi walks into the already small space and takes the curling wand from the counter. She’s a great big sister. Now that we’re older.
“It’s not the same thing, Chevelle. I’m starting to think he doesn’t like to talk about being a childhood star.”
“Who would?” Mandi says. “I would never be able to be ridiculed like that in a public forum.”
Chevelle raises her hand. “I would. I mean, not the whole ridiculed thing, but the fame and stuff.”
“Only you,” Mandi says and shakes her head.
“Not only me. Obviously there are a lot of actors and actresses out there who love what they do. The media is the con to a heavy list of pros.”
I stand as still as I can for Mandi. “To each their own, but he did ask me not to talk about his time on High Society and The Carters tonight.”
“So, it’s open game to talk about that war movie of his that flopped?” Chevelle asks, crossing her legs and pointing at my hair. “Redo that one strand.” Mandi shoots her an annoyed glare and Chevelle laughs, holding up her hands. “If you’re gonna do a job, do it right.”
“Okay, Hank,” Mandi says.
“Sue me for being raised by the man.” She shrugs, unaffected.
“We were raised by him too,” I say.
Chevelle and her four brothers are Hank’s biological children. Mandi, Nikki, our brother Jed, and I are my mom’s. We blended into a new version of family when I was nine.
“I’ve been hearing it since birth,” Chevelle says.
“Where is he taking you?” Mandi asks, finishing the last strand of hair.
“I don’t know. He just said he’d pick me up at five.”
“You message us the minute you get somewhere,” Chevelle says. “You never know.”
“I thought you were just saying how cool it must be to be him.” Mandi sprays my hair, putting her fingers through my long red strands.