by Zoe York
“Hey there,” Tony’s voice came from behind me and I turned in the increasing darkness to see his tall form moving in next to me on the shore of the river. His presence was both comforting and depressing, if that was even possible. I was a mess.
“Hey,” I returned softly.
Twinkle lights were starting to glow in the trees around us, and the atmosphere would have been romantic, if only … but no, I needed to stop thinking that way.
“Everything okay?” Tony asked, his long arms crossed awkwardly in front of him. Though Tony had grown into his body, he still had a bit of goofy puppy dog in his mannerisms. I hoped someone would find it charming one day. He deserved to be loved.
“Yeah,” I said, turning to face him. “I’m sorry about dashing. I just needed a little air.”
“What else?” He asked.
Damn Tony for picking this instant to be insightful enough to realize there was something else going on.
“Nothing,” I tried.
“I’ve known you almost your whole life. I don’t think you can lie to me.”
I smiled at him, my heart softening. He had. He had known me forever. And I wasn’t the sister with the acting genes. “It’s just … Everything feels confusing.”
“Everything?”
“Tony,” I said slowly, looking up at my old friend. I knew it was time to address the situation between us—give us both permission to look forward instead of behind. “You know there’s never going to be anything romantic between us, right?”
He dipped his head for a minute and a sad smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I do know that. Was worth a try, though.”
Relief washed through me, along with a very platonic love for my old friend, and I looped my arm through his and leaned my head into his shoulder. “So, if you really want to know what’s bothering me, it’s boy trouble, I guess.” It was easier to talk if we both looked out at the constantly flowing river. “It’s Ryan.”
“Juliet’s boyfriend?”
“He’s not,” I corrected quickly. “Well, maybe he is. They started off pretending, but now I don’t really know. It’s just …” I trailed off.
“That is confusing.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I tugged on his arm and smiled up at his familiar face, taking some comfort in my friend’s willingness to be just that. Just what I needed. A friend.
“Well Tess, I can’t tell you what to do about that. But I will tell you something else. Three things, actually.”
Tony had never been super insightful, so I was surprised he suddenly had three different opinions. I found myself smiling as I said, “Go for it.”
“One, I don’t care who he is or what he’s done, if he can’t see the incredible beauty and grace that surround you, he doesn’t deserve you. And two, that movie he was talking about was pure shit. I don’t care how he spins it, and I’m not sure there’s any coming back from what happened in the final season of Charade of Stones anyway.” He grinned, and my sad heart lifted as I laughed. I hadn’t seen the movie—I hated zombies—but everyone had watched Charade when it was on five years ago. That was when I’d fallen in love with Ryan in the first place. That and the movie I’d watched on constant repeat.
“Wasn’t there a third thing?” I asked.
“Yeah, there is.” Tony smiled down at me. “Tonight isn’t about him. It’s about that lady who’s still sharp as a tack and mean as a pit bull, who’s sitting in there waiting for you to make a speech and give her a cake. She told me earlier she didn’t give two squirts of piss about the party, but that she couldn’t wait to get her hands on the cake. Her words.”
I swallowed hard. He was right. This wasn’t about me, or Ryan, or Juliet. Tonight was about Gran, and I was standing out here selfishly moping and wasting time. “You’re right.” I nodded. “You’re right. Come on, let’s go give Gran her cake.”
I held Tony’s arm, and we walked together back into the big tent, which was raucous now with the sound of loud music and people laughing. Bodies twirled in bright colors around the dance floor and the entire atmosphere inside felt light and fun. I spotted Ryan and Juliet dancing on the parquet tile and pushed down the knot that tried to rise up in my throat. This wasn’t about them. And it wasn’t about me or my stupid feelings.
I grinned over at Gran and she gave me a thumbs up, and then tapped her wristwatch and made a circling motion with her finger. Right. Time to get on with it.
I approached the DJ stand and a few minutes later the music faded and people retook their seats.
“Thanks everyone for coming tonight,” I began, uncomfortable at first with the microphone in my hand, my own voice booming through the tent, everyone’s eyes on me. I wasn’t used to being the center of attention. Not in this family.
I took a deep breath and continued. “As you know, we’re here tonight to celebrate one very special woman, Helen Hazel Manchester, my grandmother.”
Applause erupted around me and I smiled over at Gran, who looked moderately surprised to hear people clapping in her honor.
“Some of you have known my Gran for most of your lives,” I continued. “Tommy Dyson,” I turned to address a man much too old to still be going by the moniker Tommy. “You told me earlier tonight that Gran had been the principal of your elementary school, that you remembered being marched into her office, sure you’d be expelled for telling your teacher that spelling was for sissies and girls.”
Tommy nodded his head, a blush coloring his already ruddy cheeks even darker.
“And when you sat in front of her, Gran shook her head at you and asked you if you didn’t realize what the entire point of spelling was in the first place.”
The crowd shifted, waiting for the punch line.
“And what was it?” I asked him, walking over to lean the mic down so he could answer.
“She told me it was one of the best ways to make other people feel dumb and told me to start doing the crossword puzzle every morning. I guess she knew I was a little bit of a bully—not that I’m proud of that now,” he said. “But she was trying to give me some ammo and make me a smarter kid in the process.”
“Did it work?” I asked him.
“I finish the Times crossword every Sunday, and I bet I’d beat most folks in this tent in a spelling test. ‘Cept your gran, of course.” He stood up then and bowed deep. “Thanks for putting me on the right path, Principal Manchester.”
The crowd loved that and Gran’s little face wrinkled in an “aw shucks” smile before she batted her hands at everyone, embarrassed at the attention.
“Gran tries to pretend like she doesn’t care about people,” I said, scanning the crowd and purposely avoiding Ryan’s gaze. “She acts like she doesn’t really want to get involved in things, like she’d rather just keep to herself. But my Gran is one of the most perceptive and insightful human beings I’ve ever known.
“When our parents died when I was seven, I didn’t like Gran. She was herself—straight to the point and maybe a teeny bit abrasive. She’d been that way since I was tiny. And when Mom and Dad died and she put us in the back seat of her car and told us we’d be living with her, I was terrified. But I’ll never forget the way she turned around and looked at us sitting there scared. She stared at us for a couple minutes, remember Jules? And then she said something I’ll never forget. She said, ‘I’ll never be your mom or your dad, and I’ll never try to be. Your little hearts are broken right now, and I won’t pretend that’s going to get better. Your daddy was my baby, and my heart is broken, too. But I’ll tell you what we’re going to do, the three of us together. We are going to eat a lot of ice cream, play a whole bunch of Monopoly, and have as much fun as we possibly can. Because that’s what your folks would have wanted for you. And for me, too.”
I wiped at my eyes, wishing that memory didn’t always transport me back to my seven-year-old self, feeling so broken and sad there on that big bench seat next to my sister.
“And that’s what we’ve done,” I c
ontinued. “Gran became our parent, our confidant, our best friend, and our harshest critic. And I can’t imagine my life without her. Happy birthday, Gran. We’re so lucky to have you.”
“Let’s eat the cake before the angel of death comes for me, for God’s sake!” she called out. I swallowed my sentimental tears and laughed.
I nodded toward the catering staff, and they rolled out the cake Ryan had helped me make. I’d finished it when he’d disappeared earlier in the day to wherever it was he’d gone. It was a Black Forest cake, because that was Gran’s favorite. But it was in multiple tiers, and the entire thing was decorated with fondant armor and weapons and World of Warcraft characters I’d found on the Internet.
Gran’s face lit up at the sight of it and she clapped her hands together in front of her, standing to blow out the nine candles on top of the cake—one for each decade. The crowd broke into a round of Happy Birthday as the DJ played a track of birthday music over the speakers. I fitted the mic back into the stand at the front of the dance floor and went up to give Gran a hug. I’d done something right, at least, and happiness found a place next to all my sadness and confusion as I hugged her.
“Thank you, Tessy,” she said, her eyes shining up at me as I let her go.
My heart squeezed a little bit in my chest. “I love you, Gran,” I told her, kissing the top of her head.
I’d let myself get carried away, had become distracted with things that were completely outside my control, and had been ignoring the whole point of this weekend. Gran. My rock. My best friend. My family.
I should have been with her this weekend, and instead, I’d let myself become wrapped up in the trappings of celebrity life. I had allowed myself to fall so easily into the bright lights and promises that went anywhere a certain hot celebrity couple went. And now, as I smiled at my sister and Ryan, I resolved to remember. His hand rested atop hers on the table, and she leaned comfortably into his side. I ignored the little twist of wistfulness that made my stomach churn.
Being jealous of Juliet was exhausting. And useless.
And letting myself believe anything was possible with Ryan was just a symptom of that same old jealousy. He was hers. Real or pretend, he was hers. He came with her, he’d leave with her, and together, they were part of a world I wanted nothing to do with.
I told myself I’d be happy when they were gone again, and sat down to console my aching heart with a huge piece of black forest cake.
Chapter 21
Ryan
I felt, more than saw, the moment when Tess had come back inside the tent. While my body was on autopilot, dancing along to Uptown Funk with Juliet, much to the delight of the cameras and Alison Sands, who was furiously scribbling something as she stood at the edge of the dance floor, my mind was laser focused on the door. Where had Tess gone? Was she coming back?
The relief I felt when she had stepped back in with too-tall Tony was like dropping a load of rocks I didn't even know I was carrying. I just wished Tony would go ahead and move on. I didn’t like that he shared history with Tess, that he knew things about her I was dying to learn. I didn’t like the light in his eyes when he looked at her, the hope he clearly felt. And I didn’t like it when she held his arm as if he was providing some kind of support she needed, like right now.
Tony walked Tess to the microphone at the front of the tent, and the music cut off, so Juliet and I went to sit down. And then Tess began her speech.
Juliet might have been the actress in the family, but that didn’t mean Tess wasn’t well spoken or captivating in her own right. She was incredible—delivering her heartfelt words with perfect timing, confidence, with a shine in her beautiful eyes.
If I had doubted my feelings for her—crazy and too fast as they were—I was certain of them now. I couldn’t explain it, and if you’d told me I would ever believe in love at first sight before, I would have told you to fuck right off. But here it was. I loved her. I loved the sweetness she exuded, the grace with which she moved, the gentle smile she gave her Gran. I loved her hesitation when she caught my eye, and I loved her honesty.
Maybe I loved Tess because it was so clear she knew exactly who she was. And that kind of certainty wasn’t something you found in folks who spent their days pretending to be other people for a living.
When she finished speaking, I stood without thinking much about a plan. I just needed to talk to her, to be close to her, cameras be damned.
She had just taken a huge bite of cake, and I sank into the vacant seat next to her, feeling Juliet’s eyes on me from across the table, watchful and curious.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hello Brian,” Tess said through her cake, emphasizing the name Tony had given me.
“Funny.” I shook my head as Tess lifted a shoulder and turned back to her cake. “Listen, can we talk? Maybe outside?”
She swallowed and looked up at me again, something sparkling in her eyes that gave me hope. But then she killed it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
My heart dropped and disappointment flooded me. No. This could not be over. “Please,” I said, hearing an edge of desperation in my voice I didn’t like at all.
Tess heard it too, because she looked at me another long minute, our eyes connecting and sending off sparks in my gut. Then she stood and gave me a quick nod. “Come out a few minutes after me,” she said quietly. “I’ll be in the barn.”
She left then, and hope turned into a lovesick house-chicken inside me, all moony and soft. She was giving me a chance—a chance to tell her how I felt, to convince her not to ignore what I was sure she felt too. I sat there a minute longer, every cell in my body screaming at me to follow her. But she was right, it was smart to wait, not to appear to be dashing outside in pursuit of the wrong Manchester sister.
Just as I stood to go, my heart in my throat, a hand landed lightly on my arm.
“Ryan.” It was Alison. “I have a few questions. I thought maybe we could chat for a minute.” She sat in the seat Tess had just vacated, and my heart sank to the floor as I slid back into my own seat.
“Sure,” I heard myself say, but my mind was already outside, already crossing the wide expanse of lawn, stepping into the big darkened barn. Where Tess was waiting for me.
“Well,” Alison began, looking down and turning through pages of notes in a small moleskin book. “So, your last film,” she said, still flipping pages. “That was the one most critics are referring to the Titanic of your career, right? With the zombies?”
I hated that reference. There had been memes online with an iceberg covered in zombies and me at the helm of a ship. Because part of it had been set in Antarctica, and I was supposed to be the captain of this research vessel—you get the idea.
“Right.”
“So on the heels of that failure, and after everything that happened with Charade, how much do you think this new relationship with Juliet Manchester will help?”
I felt my eyes narrow. She had my full attention now. “First of all, I don’t know how many years I’ll have to apologize for the way Charade ended. I mean, everyone knows the actors don’t actually write the show, right?” I was so tired of talking about that show, I thought my head would blow off. “Wait, what did you ask after that?”
“I just mean that there is a bit of speculation that the relationship with Juliet is a PR move mostly. I wondered if you could comment on that?” Alison smiled sweetly, and I wondered suddenly if she’d known all along. Did she actually know anything now? My mind raced as I tried to figure out how to spin this to save Juliet.
“Well, you’re very savvy, Alison,” I said, pasting on a grin. “And you’re one-hundred percent right.”
“Really?” Alison perched on the edge of her seat, pushing away Tess’s cake and leaning toward me.
“I mean, yes. There’s no way anyone can be associated with Juliet Manchester and not see their star rise a little. She’s a phenomenon.” Alison was nodding madly. “Who also happens to be one of the
sweetest, most genuine, and kindest people in Hollywood. Not to mention lovely, inside and out.”
This wasn’t what Alison had wanted to hear. Her posture stiffened. “So this relationship …”
“Has made me one of the luckiest men alive,” I confirmed. It had been luck, after all. It didn’t mean I was in love with Juliet, though. But Alison didn’t need to know that. “And if my career gets a boost just because I adore Juliet Manchester? Well, that’s just gravy, right?” I stood, smiling graciously. “Excuse me.”
Alison might have had more questions, or suspicions, but I didn’t care. Tess was waiting for me, and my heart wouldn’t let me waste another second pretending not to understand exactly what should happen next. I glanced behind me, but Alison was so busy scribbling, she didn’t notice me leave.
I slipped out the tent door and made my way around the edge of the sprawling lawn, avoiding the glow of the lights strung in the trees. A few people meandered here and there, appreciating the beauty of the landscape, the water. I didn’t need them to see me and strike up a casual conversation, delaying me even more.
The barn door stood open, and I stepped inside, into the dark interior. It was quiet, as if the barn stood in a world apart from the music and light just outside. The faint smell of horses and hay drifted around me, and from the darkness, a familiar voice said, “Hi.” Just the sound of it brought a smile to my face and made a little beat echo through my body.
My eyes adjusted slowly, and I found Tess sitting on an overturned crate, her arms resting on her knees. She looked innocent and vulnerable there, and I had to resist the urge to move straight to her, to gather her in my arms.
“Hey,” I said, pulling up another crate to sit next to her.
Neither of us spoke for a moment as the sounds from the party outside filtered through the thick warm air, sifting bass beats and high laughing voices into single notes and a vibration I could feel in my bones.
