CHAPTER 18
“It looks like you’re taking Jax with you to Jo’s,” Mac said as the basenji shadowed every step Keely made while she readied herself to walk out the door to her girls’ night.
The dog had stuck to her like glue ever since they arrived home Sunday at noon after the Vancouver shoot. Keely had texted Marta, the dog sitter, from the tarmac once they’d landed. Jax awaited them when they got home and Mac finally stepped in to save Keely from an enthusiastic death by licking.
“I can’t leave him. I already have guilty working mom syndrome and he’s only a fur baby.”
“You should take him. Jax is always well behaved. Besides, I’m going to spend my night at my apartment, going through what to give away and what to bring.”
They’d decided it was foolish for Mac to maintain his Venice apartment when he spent all his time here. He’d called the manager to give notice and now he needed to clear out before the end of the month.
“Remember, you can bring anything you want. We can rearrange what’s here or I can give stuff away.”
Mac laughed. “I have very little that I’ll bring. The furniture’s rented. I do have an iron skillet that was my grandmother’s. That’s one of the few items I’ll keep. I’m sure by the end of the night I’ll have all my piles sorted into take, trash, and give away.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” She scooped up a rectangular glass dish that contained a seven-layer dip and slung her purse over her shoulder. Kissing him goodbye, she looked at Jax. “Come on. Let’s go see your fan club.”
Mac walked out with her and helped her into the SUV and then got into his truck. He followed her for several minutes before she turned off and he continued south toward Venice Beach. He stopped at his mailbox first and found it crammed with mail and flyers. He flipped through the enormous stack, tossing most of it in a nearby trashcan except for a single bill for a pair of custom boots he’d had made. The rest of his bills he paid online. He would need to change his mailing address, though, in addition to turning off his cable and Internet service.
Opening the door to his apartment, that stale, unlived in smell hit him. He stepped inside and the scent hung in the air. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been here. Already, a good chunk of the clothes in his closet had made their way to Keely’s place. Mac went to the refrigerator and poured out the milk and orange juice and disposed of the cartons. He tossed away everything in the vegetable drawer, from wilted lettuce to shriveled zucchini. He’d see if Rocco, his twenty-something neighbor who worked a tech job from home, might want any items that were still edible, especially items in his pantry such as pasta and canned soups.
He started in the bedroom and emptied his drawers, packing underwear, socks, T-shirts, shorts, and sweatpants into a duffle bag. Into his suitcase went shirts, slacks, and shoes. He left his one suit and a couple of dress shirts on their hangers and took all of it into the living room. From the top of the bedroom closet, he removed the lone box that contained photos of his family as he grew up and a few pictures from his army days.
A loud rap sounded at the door. Mac answered it, surprised to see who stood there.
“Hey, Mac Attack. How are ya, buddy?” said a tall, wiry, dark-haired man who pushed past him uninvited.
“Kellen.” Mac stared a moment as the stuntman plopped on the sofa, making himself at home.
Kellen Pearson had been in the military, though they’d never crossed paths. He’d known someone who knew Greg Craft and sent him Greg’s way when he left the army. Greg, always a softie when it came to hiring former servicemen, had added Kellen to his company’s stuntman roster. Though a daredevil who would take on any stunt, Kellen was unreliable. Mac thought the man drank too much and most likely did drugs. He’d tried to convince Greg to cut Kellen lose to no avail.
Reluctantly, he closed the door. “What are you doing here, Kellen?”
It wasn’t as if they were friends. Kellen had hit Mac up twice for a loan. The first time, Mac gave him the money. The second time, he refused since Kellen hadn’t bothered to repay the first borrowed sum.
“Could I get a beer?” Kellen asked and sprang to his feet. “I’ll get it. I’ll get you one, too.”
Mac started to refuse and decided it would be easier to drink it. He’d only seen two bottles of beer in the fridge earlier so this would get rid of them both. He heard the tops being discarded and wondered why Kellen didn’t reappeared.
“You get lost?” he called out.
“Just rummaging to see if you have anything to snack on.”
Kellen entered the room a moment later, the longnecks in one hand and a carton of baked Goldfish in the other. He handed Mac one and returned to his seat on the couch, gesturing for Mac to sit. He did and took a swig of the beer.
“Kellen, I’m busy now. I’m sorting through things because I’ve given up my lease. I need to wade through everything so I can be out by the end of the month.”
The stuntman gave him a knowing glance. “Moving up in the world to better digs? I heard how you landed that big movie role. Didn’t you used to do Beau Braxton’s stunts?”
“I did.” Mac swallowed more of the cold beer, not wanting to start a long conversation.
“Saw on TV that you’ve got a really nice fiancée now.”
“I do. Keely’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”
Kellen’s eyes lit up. “She’s a looker. You moving in with her?”
Mac drained his beer, his patience wearing thin. “Kellen, why are you here? We’re not close. If it’s money—”
“I know, I still owe you, Mac. I’ll get it. Soon.” He sipped his beer. “I’ve got a good job coming up. Two weeks of solid work.”
He placed his bottle on the coffee table. A wave of exhaustion hit him. Maybe the long days of shooting in Vancouver had finally caught up to him. Sydney had given them today and tomorrow off before they began again on Wednesday. He yawned, suddenly longing to hit the sack.
Standing, Mac said, “Kellen, I’ve got a lot to do . . .” His voice trailed off. It had sounded so far away. A wave of dizziness hit him.
“You look tired, Mac,” Kellen said from a distance. “Let me help you to bed.”
Strong hands latched on to him. Mac shuffled down the hall as Kellen guided him into the bedroom.
“Stay here,” Kellen ordered, leaning Mac against the door.
Confused, Mac watched him turn back the covers as if he were under water. Slowly, his legs started to give out from under him and he crashed to the floor. He lay there, unable to move, his eyes drooping.
Kellen knelt beside him, studying him thoughtfully. “Come on, Mac.” Kellen lifted him, propelling him toward the bed and pushing him down. “Here, let me slip your shoes off.”
Mac felt one shoe leave his foot.
◆◆◆
Keely pulled up at the same time as Scarlett. Her friend came toward her, toting the tortilla chips Keely had instructed her to bring to go with the dip she carried.
Scarlett hugged her briefly and then grabbed her hand. Studying the engagement ring, she murmured, “Just right.”