by Penny Reid
I snorted. “He didn’t waste any time. Yes, I knew it was coming.” I didn’t want to be with Harrison—fake or otherwise—but it was disconcerting to be replaced so easily and by someone who’d stabbed me in the back.
But then Dave’s words from earlier floated back to me, If you can be replaced so easily in a person’s life, then you probably don’t need to be a part of that person’s life.
“If you can stand the paparazzi and put on a brave face, I’d like to take you out. There’s a celebration thing at the Donner Bakery today, outdoors, very public. Domino called me, he’d like to see some shots of you today around town, looking happy and unaffected by Harrison and Lina’s new relationship.”
I rolled my eyes, huffing a laugh. “You mean, if I can fake it. If I can pretend to be just peachy, then we can go out.” My less than peachy mood had very little to do with Harrison and Lina, and everything to do with missing Jackson. But still, I didn’t want to pretend to be peachy.
“Yes, I guess that’s what I meant.” Her eyebrows furrowed. “What? What is it?”
“The whole reason I called everything off with Harrison is because I don’t want this. I don’t want to pretend anymore. I’m tired of faking and making brave faces. I just want to be.”
Sienna gave me a look like she thought I was weird. “Rae, we all fake it. Every single one of us. It doesn’t matter if you’re in the business or not. I fake it at my kids’ birthday parties. I fake it at family dinners. I fake it on some Fridays, when we go to the jam session and all I want to do is leave and go somewhere alone with my own thoughts. It’s called showing up—for yourself and for others—even when it’s inconvenient.”
“What are you talking about? You don’t fake anything. You’re the least fake person in Hollywood. Look at you, you have your shit together, you know what you’re doing.”
Sienna shook her head the whole time I spoke. “No, baby. No. I don’t have my shit together. Every day is making-it-all-up-as-I-go-along. No person alive has all their shit together.”
I threw my hands up. “What? That makes me feel even worse.”
“Why?”
“Because I thought—looking at you and the life you’ve built—I thought maybe there was a finish line. A point at which I wouldn’t have to fake everything.”
“You don’t have to fake everything, but there is unlikely to be a point in your life where you’ll feel like you have everything figured out. Life is a series of mistakes and missteps. If you think you’re in a race, you probably are, but there is no finish line. The race never ends, not while you’re alive. You can either stay in the race and keep going, faking it, day after day, or you can remove yourself from the race and take a different path—faking it only sometimes.”
“I don’t want to lose the race and I don’t want to quit, and you’re saying those are the only two options.”
“No. I’m not. Because you’re not in this race—or on a path—by yourself.” She skootched forward, grabbing my hand. “If you feel like you’re pretending all the time, maybe it’s more about who you’ve surrounded yourself with rather than the race itself. The game is the game, the race is the race, but who you’re with—your team, your family, the people you love, the people you trust—that’s how you stop faking all the time. Surround yourself with people who want to be with you, the real you.”
“Well, what do you suggest I do? Give up my career?” How else could I live an authentic life?
“No! No, no, no. Never. But maybe, find another way?”
Squeezing her hand back, I heaved a watery sigh. “I’m open to any and all ideas.”
Sienna’s sympathetic smile dwindled, and her gaze became a stare, and the stare grew unfocused. And then she snapped her fingers, her eyes suddenly sharp. “Open your own production company. Stay in Green Valley. Make your own movies, with me.”
My breath hitched. “You can’t be serious,” I said, but my brain took off at full speed. Can I do this? I want to do this.
“I am. I’m doing it. We should do it. You and me. We’ll do this together. I’ve already started the ball rolling.”
Part of me wanted to protest—the part that didn’t want to take advantage or be a bother to anyone—but the rest of me grabbed on to this idea with both hands.
“You know you can do this, Rae.” She nodded, her eyes bright and excited. “You are incredible. We can do this. We’ll make only the films we want to make, with only the people we want to work with.”
“Then yes,” I said, nodding, hope and dread and every single possible emotion rising up and filling me until I felt like I might burst. “Yes. Let’s do this. Let’s make our own movies.” My voice cracked, and I don’t know why, but I started to cry. It hit me like a wave. Like a big, giant tidal wave. I covered my eyes, shaking my head at myself. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” she said, her tone neither sympathetic nor soft. “You cry if you need to. There may not be crying in baseball, but there is definitely crying in the film industry.”
Chapter 29
*Jackson*
“As a sex symbol, I don’t know what is appealing to women. I think it’s the way you treat women that makes you sexy if you like.”
Ray Winstone
“Bad day, Jackson?”
I stopped. I turned. And I looked right at Genie Lee.
She, like everyone in the crowd here, held a plate with a big slice of cake on it. The first week of August was Cake Week at the Donner Bakery. This year marked the fourth annual celebration, initiated by the head baker and Banana Cake Queen, Jennifer Winston. Everyone called her the Banana Cake Queen because her banana cake was insanely delicious.
Everyone that is except for Cletus Winston, he called her “wife.”
But back to Genie Lee, her question, and her small, teasing, expectant smile. I imagined she’d asked the question figuring she already knew what I’d say. I’d say what I always said, and that would be a lie. Lucky—or unlucky, depending on how you reckoned things—for Genie, I didn’t feel much like lying.
So I took a step closer to her and said, “Actually, yes, Genie. I’m having a bad day. I’m glad you asked.”
Her smile fell and her eyebrows formed two arches of surprise on her forehead. “You—”
“It’s been a bad, bad day. Yesterday we had that car crash, and I’m still feeling sick about it. I’m sure you’ve already heard. And today we had another unexpected tragedy—I’m not allowed to discuss it, but it’s weighing heavy on my mind—and I feel like I can’t take a deep breath, you know?” I breathed in, attempting to demonstrate what I meant. “Sometimes I feel like, what is the point? Every day, folks ignoring posted speed signs, doing drugs, hurting their loved ones, getting themselves into trouble, making bad choices. And I want them to stop. I want them to make good decisions for themselves and their families. I want them to stop being so careless and thoughtless. But there’s nothing I can do. And so, yeah. I’m having a bad day.”
Genie gaped at me, her eyes wide and worried. “Oh, Jackson.”
“But it’s okay.” I lifted a hand, waving away her worry. “I’m feeling a little down about it, it feels like a lot today. But tomorrow is a new day, right?” I took a step back, giving her a small, optimistic smile. “And what does Maya Angelou say? ‘Every storm runs out of rain’? Something like that. I like that quote. Well, have a great rest of your day, and enjoy the cake.” I nodded, turning, and walked through the crowd.
I breathed in, hoping I’d be able to fill my lungs this time. I still couldn’t. I likely wouldn’t be able to take a real deep breath until I saw Rae and made things right. It had been almost two full days since our disagreement, and we hadn’t spoken except through text messages.
Rae hadn’t texted at all on Sunday. I’d sent her a message Sunday night after leaving my parents’ house on foot, my heart heavy with uncertainty.
Jackson: Please give me a call when you have some time. I’d like to talk.
She didn
’t message me back until this afternoon.
Rae: Just seeing your message. I had my phone off, I’m sorry. I love you and miss you and agree we need to talk. Sienna is taking me to the Donner Bakery for something called Cake Week. I’ll be there until six, and then I’ll be at the carriage house.
Rae: Also, Dave, Miguel, and Jethro will be with me the whole time. Please don’t worry. I will be safe and careful.
Her second text eased a tension I’d been carrying since Saturday night, giving me hope that maybe she’d be open to discussing her safety. I didn’t want to push her, but I knew, deep down, I wouldn’t be able to help myself. If she wasn’t safe, if someone could just walk in and get to her whenever they pleased, I wouldn’t be able to leave her side. I’d make myself crazy with worry.
I’d texted her a quick note back, letting her know I’d be at the bakery by 4:30 PM, so here I was.
The crowd was thick, but that was no surprise. Cake Week drew a big crowd. The big crowd meant I had to stop every few feet and say hi to someone, chitchat and ask about their son, or daughter, or dog, or houseplants. But then I spotted Dave’s tall head by the entrance to the bakery, and I made a beeline for it, putting off folks who tried to stop me and ask after my family, my boat, and my houseplants.
With each step I took closer to Dave, my heart rose higher and higher in my throat until I almost stood directly in front of him, searching the area for Rae and not finding her.
I forgot my manners, and instead of greeting Dave like I ought, I blurted, “Where is she? I thought you were supposed to be with her?”
He grinned, reaching his hand out for a shake. “Jackson. It’s so good to see you. Rae is in the kitchen with Miguel and Jethro. Sienna and Cletus are there too.” He turned, waving for me to follow while he filled me in. “The crowd became too much, you know? She didn’t want to leave. You said you’d be here at four thirty, and she wanted to wait. But, man, I hope you’re hungry, because Cletus’s wife made this huge chocolate cake, just for Rae. And it is sooo goooood.”
I was only half listening as we walked through the mostly empty bakery to the side door leading to the kitchen. Dave paused and knocked, saying, “Open up. It’s Dave and Jackson.”
Working to ready myself for the sight of her, I ignored my hammering heart as the door opened. I searched the space. And I saw her.
She hovered just behind Miguel—who’d opened the door—and her gaze crashed into mine.
“Hi,” she said, her voice breathless.
“Hi,” I said, struggling to remember what I’d been thinking just seconds ago.
A hopeful-looking smile curved her lips, and she stepped around her guard, hesitating for maybe a second before wrapping her arms around me. “I missed you. I’m so glad to see you.” Her voice caught, snagged on the words, giving me the sense she hadn’t been certain I’d show. The sound cracked my heart wide open.
“I missed you,” I said against her neck, placing a kiss on the soft skin.
We held each other, and someone cleared their throat. We ignored them, clinging to each other. It felt like I had my whole world in my arms right now, and I wasn’t certain I’d ever be able to release her. I wanted to stay just like this, maybe forever, and I accepted the fact that I’d never be able to walk away from Rae. She was it for me.
But then Cletus Winston’s voice cut through my reflections. “You don’t have to let go, but we’re just going to move y’all into the room.” Hands came to my shoulders and guided me into the kitchen.
I lifted my head, speaking to Cletus, “We’re capable of—”
“No, no. Stay just like that,” he said, encouraging us not to release each other by placing a hand on my back and a hand on hers, smooshing us together. “We’re leaving to give y’all some privacy. Hug for hours if you want. There’s cake for sustenance and a couch in the back for . . . other things.”
While he spoke, the people in the kitchen filed out. I caught glimpses of Jethro and Sienna and their kids, Jennifer, Beau and his lady, Shelly. Miguel left wordlessly through the back door, but Dave left through the door leading to the front of the bakery. Presumably, they were each guarding an entrance until we were ready to leave.
And then the doors shut, and we were alone, still hugging each other. Rae had dipped her head back to watch the action, a smile on her face. The sight of it eased another tension, and I tried to take a deep breath again. This time my lungs almost filled, but not quite.
She looked at me and I looked at her, sad to see her smile diminish and be replaced by a line of determination and something else I couldn’t place.
“Jackson,” she started, her hands linking behind my back. “I am sorry.”
I studied her, saying nothing, waiting for her to explain. I didn’t want to make any assumptions.
Apparently reading my mind, she continued. “I’m sorry for what I said on Saturday. I know you were concerned about my safety, and you were, you know, freaking out a little. I’m sorry I said that you have no say in what I do. That’s not true. You have a say, just like I have a say in your life.”
“Do you want a say in my life?”
“Yes!” She used her arms around my body to give me a shake. “In fact, I demand it. I want a say.”
I unsuccessfully fought a smile. “You sure?” This was exactly what I’d wanted her to say. The relief I felt in this moment was immeasurable.
She grinned. “Absolutely.”
I let my answering grin free, lowering my head to hers, wanting a kiss.
She stopped me, tilting her head to the side. “Wait. First, I need to say something else. Once we start kissing, you know we’re not going to be able to stop.”
My eyes on her lips, my mind already halfway down that road. I hoped, whatever it was she needed to say, it wouldn’t take long. I was hungry.
Letting me go, Rae took a step back and twisted her fingers. “There’s two things we need to discuss, and they can’t wait.”
“Okay.” My gaze trailed down her body for the first time. She wore that long orange dress I liked. I wondered what color her underwear was, she always wore a matching set. I looked to her shoulder, the strap of her bra was white.
“Jackson! Ahhh! Stop.” She backed up, walking around the big kitchen island and placing it between us. “You have to stop looking at me like that or I’ll never say this and then it will fester.”
I nodded obediently, lifting my eyes to the ceiling. “Okay.”
“You can look at me.”
“Not yet. I need a minute.”
She laughed, the sound full of giddy pleasure. “Fine. Then just listen. Here goes . . .” She paused, like she was gathering her thoughts, then said, “I know you were scared for me on Saturday, and I understand why, and I’m not upset about it. But you have to understand that I don’t want to go back to living in a fortress.”
I looked at her then, her words chasing away enough of my lust and replacing it with apprehension. “Rae, you need to be safe.”
“And I will be. You and I, together, we’ll figure it out. But I’m not living behind two gates with guard dogs, separate from everyone. I hate living that way. It makes me feel isolated and alone. I need community, I need people.”
Frowning, I absorbed this information, but I didn’t like it.
“I need community so much that I tried to build it with staff, surrounding myself with employees I paid instead of friendships. That’s not going to happen in Green Valley. My house here will be safe, but it’s not going to be a prison.”
“Wait, your house here?”
She nodded. “Yes. I’m moving here.”
I shook my head, rejecting this statement with every fiber of my being. “Rae.”
“It’s good. It’s right for me.”
Don’t push, Jackson.
But I had to push. I had to push back against this. I couldn’t just let her give up her entire career, all her dreams. “No, Rae. I can’t let you do that.”
She opened her mo
uth to argue, so I walked around the counter and grabbed her hands. “Please, just listen. I know your decisions are your own, and I respect that. But if I get any say in this, I absolutely do not agree. You can’t make movies in Green Valley.”
“Yes, I can—”
“The film industry is in Hollywood, in California. I can do my job anywhere, and I’ve already talked to my father.”
“You can—what? What are you talking about?”
I stole a quick kiss before telling her my plan. “I’ve already started looking into what it would take to be a deputy with LA County, and I’ve already discussed it with my father. He knows I’ll be moving when you go.”
“Jackson!” She looked shocked, which I’d expected. But I didn’t expect her to look horrified. “Please tell me you didn’t do that.”
“I did.”
“That was—no.” She pulled her hands from mine, gripping her forehead. “No, that’s never going to happen. I’m never going to take you away from here. I can’t even fathom it. This is where you belong, and not just because your family is here. What about running for sheriff? People here need you.”
“But what about—”
Now she grabbed my hands, silencing me. “Listen, just listen for a minute, and stop trying to Gift of the Magi me, okay?”
I tried to place the reference, but before I could, she said, “Sienna and I are starting our own production company, based here, in Green Valley. She’s already started the process, and she asked me to sign on as a partner. I want to do it. No! I need to do it. I need this. I need to get out of Hollywood. I love California, I do, but I’m ready to move on. I’m ready to be part of something real. I’m ready to take control of my career in a way that’s meaningful, not chasing publicity or parts that might make me competitive but ultimately do nothing to fulfill me as an actor.”
