In the Details

by H. Claire Taylor

  And what? A bunch of celebrities will start coming in? Boo hoo, you idiot.

  She said, “Oh the house,” when he reached for his wallet, and he nodded. “Thanks. You didn’t have to. I’m not exactly hard pressed.”

  A woman in her mid-twenties at the table closest to them giggled maniacally.

  “I know. But old friends eat free.”

  He winked at her, and she wasn’t sure if that was a “nice one, they’re going to love it” or if he was flirting again.

  Was there a difference with Jameson?

  He took a seat at the long counter against the window, staring out onto the street as he enjoyed his snack. She watched him eat, vaguely aware of how creepy she was being, while she served two more customers. In her defense, she was not the only one watching him enjoy that danish. Not by a long shot. Every female in the place, and two of the men by Jessica’s count, keep a close watch on him, even while pretending to go about their business.

  She could almost hear Sir David Attenborough’s voice narrating the scene as it unfolded.

  Patiently, from a distance, the hungry predators observed their prey, careful not to alert him to their watchful eyes. Perhaps the predators believed he’d settle into a relaxed state on his chair, but Jessica knew better. He was still alert, totally aware of his surroundings, ready to grin sexily as a defensive maneuver if someone came up on him too quickly.

  It would happen as a coordinated attack, but of course that could change in an instant; any of these predators would turn on the others if they thought they could get the prey without having to share. But for now, these women needed each other.

  Two of them chatted closely across their table, their eyes darting to Jameson’s back, and Jessica guessed they’d be the first to approach him.

  She guessed wrong, though.

  Instead, it was the giggly woman in her mid-twenties who was the first to get to her feet with a clear degree of intention and strut across the cafe to sink her teeth into the defenseless movie star.

  Jessica ignored the next customers in line, two men in slacks, pressed shirts, and watches more valuable than Jessica’s car, to observe the scene unfolding.

  The woman gently rested her hand on Jameson’s shoulder, which seemed a downright brazen thing to do to a stranger. He twisted in his seat to stare up at her, and a smile bloomed on his face like they were old high school friends. It was so convincing that Jessica wondered if they were old high school friends. He was the first to offer his hand, and he stared fearlessly into her eyes as they shook.

  Though Jessica couldn’t hear his words across the room, she could tell he was the one leading the conversation. But how? What in the hell could he be asking when he didn’t know the first thing about her? How did he find a conversational fingerhold?

  The woman was, remarkably, the first to exhibit body language that it was time for the conversation to come to a close (did he know mind control?), and she bowed, bending slightly at the waist before making one last request.

  And then came the phone, sliding easily from her back pocket. Jameson did the honors, holding it at arm’s length for the selfie. Then it was done. The woman left, beaming like she’d just won a prize.

  “How did he do that?” Jessica whispered.

  “Ma’am? You work here, right?” said one of the two businessmen.

  She whipped her head around. Where was Destinee? She must be taking a bathroom break or shoving down a kosher pig in a blanket in the back. “Yeah. One second.”

  She stuck her head into the kitchen to yell, “Mom! Customers!” then she poured a fresh cup of coffee, breezed past the waiting customers, hoping her mom hurried up, and delivered the cup to Jameson, just as the two watchful women were about to make their move. “Sorry,” she mumbled as she pushed by.

  Setting the cup next to him, she cut him off midway through his thank-you with a quiet, “Tell me how you do that.”

  A playful smirk turned the corners of his mouth. “How I do what?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “You know what. Interact with fans.”

  He chuckled. “It’s just the same as interacting with anyone.”

  “Right! That!” She pointed at him. “How do you do that?”

  She checked over her shoulder and saw that Destinee had arrived on scene and was fussing at the two customers, undoubtedly for what she construed to be a rude tone. When she caught sight of Jessica and then Jameson, she gave them a hearty wave and a thumbs up.

  Jessica put her back to her mother quickly.

  “I’m not gonna tell you my tricks,” Jameson said. “But I’ll show you.”

  “You will?” Jessica said too eagerly.

  He nodded and took a spunky bite of the danish.

  “One last question: how much prodding did Wendy have to do to get you to come in here and prove to me I could use a little help?”

  Jameson’s finely crafted composure cracked down the center. “Huh? Wendy? Wendy Peterman?”

  “Yeah, she put you up to this, right?”

  “Put me up to what?”

  If Jessica didn’t know better, she’d swear Jameson truly had no clue what she was talking about. “So, you just came by because … you wanted to see the bakery?”

  “Yeah, I was in town, and I wanted to see how things were going. And how you were doing.”

  “Oh. And that bit of coaching before?”

  He held up his hands defensively. “I shouldn’t have assumed you needed coaching.”

  “No, you should have. You were right, clearly.”

  He laughed. “Good. Glad you weren’t offended. Anyway, how does seven work?”

  “How do you mean? In multiplication? I don’t …”

  He cocked his head to the side, inspecting her like he might have missed a joke. “No, seven o’clock. Tonight. I pick you up and show you how to be famous in Austin.”

  She sucked in air. “I dunno. That’s short notice, and we don’t close until seven, then I’ll be here for another few hours cleaning and prepping for tomorrow, counting money, logging …” When she noticed that nothing she said had any effect on his eager grin, she ran out of steam. “Let me see if my mom minds covering for me tonight.”

  “Cool.”

  “Oh, and …” She wasn’t sure if she should ask, but her insecurity gave her a little push. “It’s really nice of you to do this, but I have to ask”—she leaned close—“are you an angel?”

  His attentive expression lit up as he broke into a wide grin. “People ask me that a lot.”

  That wasn’t an acceptable answer. “No, I mean it. Are you?” She stared at him unblinkingly until his grin wilted.

  “Um …” His eyes darted around as though he suspected she might be playing a prank and filming it. Then, finally, he said, “No. I’m not an angel.”

  She pointed at him. “Are you sure? You can’t see auras or anything?”

  “Auras?”

  The confusion in his voice was genuine enough, and she decided to take his word. “Right. Sorry. I believe you. I just had to be sure.”

  “Are angels a thing?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, but don’t worry about it. I— I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” She waved for him to turn back toward the window. “I’ll check on tonight.”

  The business men had taken their food to-go and were heading out the door when Jessica rounded the corner of the counter and snuck up next to her mother. She waited for Destinee to finish a transaction for a hassled woman in yoga pants with a baby on her hip.

  “Got a question,” Jessica said quietly. “Jameson wants to take me out on the town tonight and show me how to not be a complete mess when people approach me in public. Think you could cover for just one night?”

  Destinee, ignored the request, acting like she hadn’t heard a word of it while grinning and flapping her hand at the baby when the mother left to claim the last open table.

  Then Destinee rounded on Jessica, putting her back to the rest of the cafe so th
e customers couldn’t see her eyes grow large as she said, “Baby, I will run a goddamn marathon naked in Antarctica if that’s what it takes for you to spend a rowdy night breaking that wild stallion.”

  Jessica shut her eyes. “Holy hell, Mom. That’s not gonna happen. It’s totally not like that between us.”

  “I love you, but that’s horse shit. I saw the way he was looking at you just now.”

  Jessica tilted her head back, shutting her eyes for patience and inhaling through her nose as she braced her fists on her hips. “He’s an actor, Mom. He’s been professionally trained to look at everyone like he wants to bang them. That’s how he makes his money.”

  Destinee conceded with a minute nod. “And it wouldn’t hurt if you learned some of that. I get it. And, yes, baby, the offer still stands, even if you don’t get laid. You deserve a real night out. You’re twenty-two, for crying out loud! Twenty-two-year-olds should have fun. Granted, when I was that age, I had a five-year-old.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “Sure thing. Let me call Rex and tell him to get his ass over here after work.”

  “He won’t mind?”

  She shrugged, pulling her phone from her pocket and poking around on it. “He might. But I’ll let him go down on me for an hour later and he’ll forget all about it.”

  Jessica allowed herself a staunch grimace before helping the next guest.

  When she was finally able to catch Jameson’s eye, she nodded, and he held up seven fingers while grinning and waggling his eyebrows.

  That was definitely flirting.

  Wasn’t it?

  Before leaving, he approached the counter, waiting patiently for the line to move through, managing fan attention effortlessly as he did. She thought he’d completed three selfies in the time it took her to box up a baker’s dozen assorted cookies for a frazzled man around Jessica’s age whose name badge around his neck identified him as Fallon Jakovic, Production Assistant. Maybe it was only two selfies, though.

  Jameson placed his hands flat on the top of the counter and leaned over it. “Wear something you wouldn’t mind being seen in. Meet you at your place.” He flashed her a dorky a half grin that reminded her of Chris and therefore functioned like a cup of cold water to her face.

  “Yeah, see you at my place.”

  It was a date, wasn’t it? She was going on a date with Jameson Fractal.

  Chapter Nineteen

  When she and Jameson arrived at their first destination for the evening, she felt like this whole thing might be an elaborate setup.

  A setup for what, she didn’t know, but she would be the butt of the joke. That much she was sure about.

  “Why are we here?” Jessica asked, staring at the gaudy sign on the roof of Bat-Ass Brew.

  “I thought you loved this place,” said Jameson. “This place certainly loves you.”

  She hadn’t been back since the unfortunate incident when she was required under exigent circumstances to cave on her no-resurrection policy and save a barista riddled with bullets.

  “You’re confused,” she said. “The internet loves this place. Specifically, it loves the cellphone footage of a man being shot multiple times because he slept with another man’s wife.” Her eyes wandered to the gun-free zone poster with a picture of a crossed out gun and the city ordinance in fine print underneath. They were still sticking with that, huh?

  “Come on,” Jameson said, taking off his sunglasses. “We’re here, and if we’re going to be chipper and friendly to fans, we need more caffeine.”

  More caffeine? Poor guy had no clue that in her veins pumped more coffee than blood. She relented, though. After all, Jameson was doing her a huge favor by training her to be a social human being.

  “Yeah, all right.”

  But as soon as she stepped through the door and her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, she felt like fleeing.

  The barista’s eyes locked onto her immediately from where he leaned against the counter, staring at something on his phone. Then his eyes crossed just a little. “Holy shit … I’m higher than I thought.”

  Jameson put a hand on the small of her back and gently steered her forward.

  “Hi, Rebel,” she said, approaching the counter. She really should have checked up on him after he was shot in the face, but, you know, things came up.

  He blinked slowly, lines appearing at the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut two times. “It’s really you? Jessica fucking McCloud!”

  At least he got my name right. Or, close enough.

  Considering what she’d done for him, she’d half expected the surname of Christ to be tagged on.

  Rebel tossed his phone onto the counter before stomping over to her and throwing his arms around her. Her ear pressed against his chest as he squeezed her tightly, and she tried not to focus on his heartbeat that was all her fault. Jameson bit back a smile as she flapped a hand, motioning for assistance. He mimed hugging, and she got the picture, briefly clasping her hands behind Rebel’s back.

  When one of the barista’s hands started to slide farther down her back, she pushed it away, but forced a smile like she knew Jameson would want.

  “I didn’t know when I’d get a chance to thank you,” Rebel said, finally letting go. “I can’t even count how many times I watched the leaked footage of the shooting and then you bringing me back.”

  “You watched yourself get murdered again and again?” Jessica asked, unable to maintain the smile.

  He chuckled. “Yeah. Hey, what can I get you to drink or eat? Anything. On the house.”

  As he hurried back to his place behind the counter, Jessica said, “You don’t have to— ow!”

  Jameson had given her a subtle but firm thumb to the ribs to cut her off. “Thanks, man,” he said on her behalf. “Really cool of you.”

  Rebel noticed Jessica’s friend for the first time, and he seemed to approve, if the flick of his chin in Jameson’s direction was any indicator, which it might not have been, once Jessica considered it. “Least I can do,” said Rebel. “Hey, haven’t I seen you in stuff?”

  “Yep.” He turned to Jessica. “What’s good here?”

  “I like the Nosferabrew and the Mocha Guano.”

  “Yeah, the Nos— … thing sounds good.”

  Once they were seated with their drinks a moment later (Jessica had never seen Rebel move as quickly as he had when preparing their order), Jameson leaned over the two-person table, his coffee cradled between his hands, and said, “Objectively speaking, how was that interaction?”

  She thought about it. “Not terrible. There was that bit where he tried to grab my ass …”

  Jameson nodded emphatically. “Oh, that’s always going to be a thing. Just get used to it. Your fans love you, but yes, they think your body is a commodity for them to consume.”

  “That doesn’t just go for actors?”

  Jameson laughed. “No. It goes for actors, sports stars, singers, and especially for messiahs. When someone worships something, they want to consume it and make it part of themselves. It’s like spiritual cannibalism. Or, in your half-brother’s case, literal cannibalism.”

  Jessica choked on her spit. “People ate Jesus?” She really needed to read the New Testament at the very least.

  “No, no. Not exactly. But they eat his body in church every Sunday.”

  “Oh, right right. Eat him and drink him.” She shrugged. “I guess I should just be grateful no one’s tried to bite me.”

  Jameson laughed. “Yet. It’ll happen.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t worry. It’s not as painful as it sounds, assuming it’s not on the face or … below the belt.”

  “That’s comforting.”

  “The trick is, the sooner you stop caring about where people put their hands on your body, the more you’ll enjoy the ride. They’re just hands.”

  Jessica tested her Cherry Oldman and found it cool enough to sip. “I like the idea of that. It sounds very Zen or whatever. But at
the same time, you just told me to accept sexual assault.”

  Jameson nodded. “Yeah. I didn’t say there wasn’t a price to pay for being famous. But do you have another option here?”

  “Not that I can see.”

  “Then let’s make the best of it!” He straightened in his seat. “Outside of the molestation, what’s it like to be in a place where people are smiling at you and buying your food and drink?”

  “Ignoring my ever-present suspicion that I don’t deserve any of it? Pretty great.”

  “Yes!” He pointed at her excitedly. “It feels pretty great. You have to tap into the pretty great part. There’s always a downside you can find if you look. But why bother? Why not focus on the awesome parts?”

  “You have a point,” she said, “but the reason I feel okay with it here is because, despite how much I didn’t want to do it at the time, I actually helped someone. I saved Rebel’s life, or, you know, returned it to him. And assuming it doesn’t come back to haunt me like my acts of kindness usually do, I don’t mind being thanked for helping someone. The attention from people who I haven’t helped, though, is just weird.”

  “I take it you don’t think I deserve the attention I get?” He issued the challenge with an arched brow.

  “What? No. I mean, you’ve been acting since you were a child. You’ve been in all kinds of movies and TV shows. And, shit, Jameson, just look at you.” Were it not for the fact that his attractiveness was so profound that it really wasn’t a matter of opinion so much as a statement of Truth, she wouldn’t have been able to point it out so blatantly. But as it was, telling Jameson he was mega fine was as much of a compliment as someone telling her that her hair was straight.

  Jameson sighed. “You still don’t see it, do you? The money from my movies isn’t going to feed starving children. My TV shows aren’t extended calls to action for animal rescue. And yet, I’m helping people. I’m helping them feel less resentful toward their husbands while they fold clothes and watch my movies. I’m playing characters they can relate to so they don’t feel so alone. I’m not a messiah, I know that, I’m just saying that help looks a lot of different ways, and you’re dismissing all the ways you help others just by existing. Those people who want to take pictures with you, who adore you, you’ve given them something to believe in. And you’re not even a false idol, like me or every other celebrity! You’re, like, the person people are supposed to worship.”