“Dude.” I shake my head. Some things never change. Nate never did plan ahead. I can’t even count the number of times I saved his ass.
“I had someone else, but he bailed. They’re expecting me to come through. I’ll make it worth your time.”
“You’d better.” If I’m going to rearrange my schedule, it has to be worth it.
“Seven hundred a week. Four hours a day, Monday through Friday. Morning shift. You’ll be done before lunch. I’ll advance you the first week. Cash.”
Damn. That’ll work. I could probably even cut back a few shifts at the coffee house. “How many weeks?”
“Four. Maybe five, depending on production.”
I think about David’s appointment with the speech specialist in a few weeks. The one that took months to schedule. I don’t have insurance, but I make too much money to qualify for government assistance, so even getting a language pathologist to see us has been next to impossible. Not to mention how all the best ones book months in advance. “There might be a few days I can’t be there.”
“Hey, as long as you can commit to this week, we’ll work it out.”
“Okay, I’m game. Count me in.”
“Sweet. Thanks, Isaac. You’re saving me.”
“Thank you for thinking of me.” It’s probably not that big a deal. I was the one who walked away from something I loved and all the people who came with it for a humble life of single fatherhood. Still, it’s nice to not be totally forgotten.
“No problem. I miss working together.”
I miss it too. Art school was a dream come true. The scholarship I earned afforded me the experience of a lifetime. But dreams don’t pay bills, and sometimes what you thought was meant to be was never within reach.
“I’ll text you the address. Don’t be late.”
“I’ll be there.” I end the call, throw up my fist, and give in to the joy that spreads through my limbs. With renewed energy, I whip together our sandwiches and throw a look over my shoulder to David. He doesn’t know it, but that call changed the entire course of our year. Not only will I be able to spend fewer nights at the coffee shop, but the financial burden that hangs so heavily on my shoulders lightens so I don’t have to worry about his upcoming appointment. With this money I can pay for the specialist, and soon my little boy will be talking like the other children his age. Everything’s gonna be okay.
Six
Cora
“Guess who’s back? Back again?” I sing toward the microphone built into my dash as soon as the line picks up.
“Cora! My girl!” My mom doesn’t rein in her excitement. “How was South America?”
“Amazing. Beautiful. Breathtaking.” I let loose an audible sigh. “But the humidity did crazy things to my hair so I’m glad to be back.” I cut across two lanes of traffic, nearly grazing a bumper in the process, but there is a lightheartedness even this horrible rush hour can’t steal.
“When do you start filming again?” she asks.
“Tomorrow.”
“No rest for the weary.” She worries I’ll overwork myself. She’s my mom, it comes with the territory. And while I will need to schedule an actual vacation and force myself to take a break, I can’t even think of it until this movie is wrapped.
“It’s good. This character. My God, I’m obsessed. Did I tell you I met her in Brazil, the artist whose life inspired the screenplay?”
“No, but I saw your Instagram post.”
“Aww. You stalk me on Insta?”
“I stalk you everywhere. Like a good mom.”
I miss her. I miss my family. “How’s Maddie?”
“Misses you.”
“Well, I miss her more. Tell her I’ll stop by as soon as I can. I hate being away this long.”
“I will.”
“And how are things with Chuck?” I force my words to remain neutral. I don’t like my mom’s new boyfriend, for no real reason other than he gives off a weird vibe.
She heaves a deep sigh through the line. “They aren’t.”
“I’m sorry, Mom.” I never liked Chuck, but she did.
“Yeah, me, too. He was good to me.” She sighs into the phone. “I thought maybe . . .”
“He’s out there. The right man. Don’t give up.” My mom, of anyone I know, deserves to find love and happiness with a partner.
“And what about you? Find a Brazilian man? Or maybe that co-star of yours.”
“No.” I roll my eyes even though she can’t see. The truth? There were plenty of hot guys in Brazil. Seriously, there must be something in the water. Or maybe it’s the accent that makes everyone more attractive. But could I get excited about spending one-on-one time with any of the beautiful men in that place? No. No, I couldn’t. Because I couldn’t get my damn barista out of my head. Isaac. His magical mouth and fingers have played on a loop and inspired every one of my self-induced orgasms since our night together. You’d think leaving the country would help get him out of my mind, but it’s only done the opposite. Even now as I prep for a day of shooting, I have every intention of swinging by the coffee shop later tonight. I have issues. “And Scott’s off the market. Otherwise I’d set you up.”
“Oh, God, don’t tease. He’s way too young for me.” She giggles like a schoolgirl. She’s not alone. Scott does that to women. My co-star for this film is professional, talented, and the sexiest man of the year. He has a magazine cover that says so.
“Scott’s almost thirty-eight. That’s only a fifteen-year difference for you.”
“Cora,” she chides, but I hear the smile in her voice.
“What? This is Hollywood. There are no rules when it comes to dating.”
“Yeah, yeah. At least tell me he doesn’t cheat on his wife? I want to know he’s one of the good ones when I fantasize about him later.”
I laugh because my mom’s ridiculous. “Yeah, he’s a keeper. Never once looked at another woman in Brazil. Called Jennifer daily. You can rest easy when you mentally fuck him and make him a cheater.”
“Cora! Language!” My mother reprimands before giving in to another giggle. “And I would never! She’s totally out of the picture in my fantasy when we hook up.”
“Mom!” I gasp and hold back my laughter. “Do you off her?”
“No, I couldn’t put him through that, not even pretend,” she says matter-of-factly, and it instantly sobers the mood. Why did I say that? I’m so stupid. It’s been over ten years since Dad passed, and my mom is the strongest woman I know. Still, I shouldn’t have made the joke.
“She obviously leaves him broken-hearted, and bam, I’m there to soothe his loneliness.” She clears her throat, a smile in her voice. “Soothe is a euphemism for fuck.”
“Yeah, no, I got that.” There was a time she wasn’t able to smile or laugh like this. I’m proud of her. I pull my car into the studio lot. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to your dirty Scott Eastman fantasies. I’m at work. I’ll come down and visit soon. Promise.”