by Louise, Tia
This past week, I guess I did sort of give up—or at least the last three days of it. I’m running out of money, and I’m almost to the point where I either have to fish or cut bait.
“You know what I miss?” I scrub a towel in my hair as I walk back to the living room. “Rain. It never rains here.”
“It’s amazing how you can still look so good after poisoning your body.” Crenshaw sits on the couch with his legs crossed. “You’ve got to take care of yourself. I can’t have a positive lifestyle brand and a roommate who’s going down the toilet.”
That makes me laugh. “I’m not going down the toilet. I’m in the toilet, but I’m still kicking. What’s this lifestyle brand?”
“Visualizing Success.” He spreads his hands over his head like that SpongeBob rainbow. “We’ll make a vision board for you and put it on the wall. Look at it every day until you make it happen. You’ll be my first success story.”
I toss the towel into my plastic laundry bin on my way to the kitchen. “Yeah, I’ve never been into that secret shit.”
“I’m not talking about The Secret. I’m talking about the power of positive thinking, sending your dream out into the universe and expecting it to happen.”
“I’m not sure how that’s different.” Taking a bottle of water from the fridge, I crack open the top. “All I can expect to happen until this porn thing blows over is a great big No.”
“That’s what I mean. You’re sending out negative energy. We have to retrain your thought processes so you’re sending out a Yes!” This time he flings his hands like he’s broadcasting it to the building.
“Nice gestures. I’m going to say yes to starting this laundry.”
“Practice belly breathing while you’re down there. Inhale for five seconds, exhale for six. Realign your chi. We’ll take some before photos for my Instagram when you get back.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ve had enough photos for a while.” I close the door on his complaint when I see Luis down below tossing a football. “Hey, man. Long time no see!”
Jogging down the steps, I put the basket on the ground and hold out my hands. He hesitates a beat before throwing the ball to me. I catch it without having to bend.
“Your arm’s improving. You been practicing?”
“Yeah, Ma’s been taking me to the Y on her way to work in the afternoons.”
“Your mom’s working nights now?” I feel bad that I’ve lost touch with him since the whole porn thing went down.
When I heard I lost the part in Mighty Thunder, I kind of went dark for a few days. Then I decided I wouldn’t let them beat me and started going out for every open audition I could find. None of it mattered. My agent said the casting directors wouldn’t touch me with a ten-foot pole.
It’s like I’m damaged goods. The only thing I have now are sympathetic friends.
I throw the ball back, and he catches it easily, but he’s still not smiling.
“She works until eleven. I’m usually awake when she gets home.”
Nodding, I make a mental note to keep an eye on him. “I bet you’ll make the team this fall. Maybe I’ll be able to catch a few of your games.”
His brow furrows, and he looks down before sending me another spiral. “Maybe.”
“I’m sorry I’ve been sort-of off the radar lately.” I throw it back, and this time when he catches it, he tucks the ball under his arm.
“Ma doesn’t want me hanging out with you anymore.”
“What?” I walk closer to where he stands, but when he takes a step back, I stop. “Why not?”
He’s still not meeting my eyes. “She says you’re not a good influence or something.” His dark brow furrows, and he frowns up at me. “Are you doing porn now?”
“Oh, man.” I shake my head, the fury washing over me all over again. Just when I think it couldn’t hurt me worse. “No.”
“She said there’s a picture of you—”
“It was a misunderstanding. I took some headshots, and the guy sold my photos to this magazine without my permission. Hell, without even my knowledge.”
“I thought headshots were of your head.” Luis squints an eye at me, disbelieving like all the rest. “Why were you naked?”
For the dumbest reason of all. I trusted the wrong guy.
“Never mind. You should do what your mom says.” I turn and pick up the laundry basket. “Good luck with football, and take it from me, if you ever get an offer to go pro? Say yes.”
Later that night, I’m sitting with my back against the wall in my bedroom. An empty bottle of J&B is beside me, and I can’t afford to buy more. I’m holding my phone, looking at a photo from years ago, right after that homecoming dance senior year.
I’ve got my arms around Daisy, and she’s cute as hell in that yellow dress with flowers in her hair. I kissed her for the first time that night. I can still remember it, soft and hot, hands clutching, tongues sliding together… I thought we’d spend senior year together, but she said no. We were just friends.
Friends who do this… I huff a laugh remembering my bravado back then.
It was all so easy with her. Longing pulls in my chest when I remember the week before I came here. I remember holding her in my arms, soft and light, leaning down to inhale the sweet scent of her hair, covering her soft lips with mine, sinking into the warm depths of her tight little body.
I can still taste the salt on my tongue from when I kissed her in the ocean. I can still see her parted lips, the sexy pink flush in her breasts as I made her come. It was fucking hot, and in a moment, I’d glimpsed what might have been if I’d stayed—if we’d made different plans.
But we didn’t.
She had her dreams, and I had mine. We knew it couldn’t last. Still, for a little while, it was pretty damn golden.
Opening my phone, I touch the familiar digits and wait as it rings. I hate doing this with every cell in my body, but I’ve put it off as long as I could.
“I guess I should’ve expected this.” The stern male voice is not happy to hear from me.
“Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”
“What do you want, Scout? Money?”
Shame burns in my chest, but I force a light laugh. “Can I at least ask how everyone’s doing first?”
“I don’t know what you mean by everyone. Your brother’s the same. His boy’s getting bigger.”
“His boy Jesse? Your grandson?”
“I prefer being called Pop.”
“Oh, sure.” God, this man. I clench my teeth and do not make a crack about getting older. “Anything else new in town?”
“No. Even three thousand miles away, you still manage to dominate the conversation in Fireside.”
“Is that so?” My voice is casual, but I close my eyes and say a silent prayer it’s not what I think. “Why’s everybody talking about me?”
“Do you really need me to tell you?” He exhales heavily. “I expected you to go to Hollywood and bomb out. I never expected you to sell out. Gay porn? Could you humiliate your family any worse?”
“About that, Dad. It wasn’t my fault. You see—”
“Save it. As hard as I’ve tried, I can’t find a single reason I’d take off my clothes and pose naked with a football if not for a pornographic magazine. Was the gay part a little extra fuck you to the old man?”
“No, Dad.” It’s hard to explain the headshot situation to people who don’t understand. Hell, even people who do understand want to know why I was naked.
It’s best just to let it go. “I got off to a pretty good start, but lately it’s been hard finding a job… with those pictures floating around.”
“If you’re calling to ask me for money, you can save your breath.”
“Actually, I was thinking… But I guess I shouldn’t come back home for a little while.”
“I wouldn’t.”
Now I’m wondering why I even called, other than being in Fireside seemed cheaper than trying to wait out the scandal here. “Wel
l, thanks anyway. Tell J.R. I said hey.”
“I’m not telling anyone I spoke to you.”
The line goes dead, and my phone returns to the picture of Daisy and me.
Her sunny smile hits me right in the stomach. A dry ache is at the base of my throat. She believed in me so much. She’s the only person who believed in me.
I can’t bear to think I might have let her down.
Staring at the empty bottle, I wish I had a drink. I want to get good and drunk again like I’ve done for the past three nights. Then I think about my roommate’s advice, adjusting my energy.
Looking at the ceiling, I think as positively as possible, if I could just get one small part, one little toe in the door, perhaps it’s possible, however small the chance, I might be able to climb out of this toilet bowl.
Taking a deep breath, I inhale slowly for five counts. I exhale for six and imagine pulling with all my strength on the side of a giant-sized toilet bowl. With my chin lifted, I close my eyes and think about my mom. She always said I could be anything I wanted to be. I look down at my phone and see Daisy’s smiling face, her pretty brown eyes, and those cute little curls.
I’m about to touch the face when it lights up in my hand. The screen goes black and Lorraine’s name appears at the top. My heart jumps in my chest. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve gotten an unsolicited call from my agent.
“Hello?”
“Scout?” Lorraine shouts in my ear. “Are you sitting down?”
“That’s about all I’ve been doing for the last month.”
“Well, get ready to stand up. I found a job for you, but don’t get excited. It’s very small.”
I would expect nothing less, Universe. “I’ll take it.”
“Good, I’ll let them know.” She exhales loudly in my ear. “But just so you know, you’ve got no lines, and it might even get cut in the final edits.”
“I’ll still get paid, though, right?”
“You’ll get paid scale for every day you’re there. Even better, if you show up and work hard, you might catch some casting director’s eye who’ll take pity on you.”
“When do I start?”
Seventeen
Scout
Four Years Later
“I knew you’d get past that silly scandal.” Gran’s tone is over-protective scolding as we stand together at the kitchen sink washing our few breakfast dishes.
I don’t bother correcting her it was more than a silly scandal. It was pretty fucking devastating. It took years to blow over, but I stayed in the ring. I survived it. Hell, surviving that “silly scandal” made me feel like I could survive pretty much anything.
It’s been a roller-coaster getting back on my feet. The climb out of the toilet was slow but steady. Bit part after bit part led to a small role in a legal thriller where I had one line. It was enough to get my SAG card, and once that happened, more small parts started coming in until I got a real supporting role in the new Chris Nolan film—before the year that won’t be named.
With things getting back to normal, Crenshaw decided to move to Santa Cruz, and I decided not to keep the apartment.
“My first success story.” He’d said, hugging me goodbye. “You did it.”
“Ha. Your success story.” I’d shaken my head. “I secreted all the way back to being cast in big-budget films, but what good is it if I’m alone?”
“That’s a question I can’t answer, Padawan. You must chase down your fate and make her your bitch.”
“Is that the official line?”
He slapped me on the back. “No, but you’ll do it anyway. Good luck, friend.”
Which brings me here, back to Fireside. Mr. Single Guy. All alone.
“Anybody with eyes would know you’re not gay.” Gran’s still fussing as I hand her a clean dish to dry.
I give her a gentle nudge with my elbow. “It’s not something you can tell by looking at people.”
“Well, of course it isn’t!” Her fussing makes me smile. It’s the sound of home and comfort. “I’m talking about the way you followed that little Sales girl around all through high school and even when you came back from college. Anybody could see you weren’t gay.”
Energy surges in my chest at the mention of Daisy. “We were just friends, Gran.”
“Just friends.” She makes a little pfft sound as she sets the final dish aside and turns to face me. “Then what are you doing here? John said you’re in that new Chuck Norris film. Why aren’t you back in Hollywood being a big movie star?”
“It’s Chris Nolan, Gran. Not Chuck Norris. They’re two totally different people.”
“Don’t change the subject.” She points her bony finger at me. “Why are you back in Fireside?”
Because after watching my brother’s life implode then watching him build a new one even better than the one he’d had before, I’m ready to do the same. If it’s still possible.
The last time I was here, I heard Daisy had opened a store in Oceanside Village. I also learned her father had died suddenly. I’d wanted to go to her, but J.R. needed me in California. He needed me to help with Jesse, and it couldn’t wait.
Now I want to find her, see if she got married or if she’s seeing someone. I want to know why we lost touch, why she isn’t traveling, make sure she’s okay. I want to know if there’s a chance we could be more than just friends.
I don’t say any of that to my grandmother.
Instead, I lean down and wrap my arms around her waist. “Somebody needs a hug.”
I lift her off her feet, and she immediately starts squawking.
“Bradley Scout! Put me down this instant. You’ll give me a hernia.” She slaps my arms, and I lower her to her feet again. “You’re just as wild as you ever were.”
“And you’re just as fussy.”
“Uncle Scout!” My nephew runs in with an Iron Man backpack on his shoulder. “Can you take me to school today?”
“Sure, kiddo. Give me two minutes.”
Gran slides a hand into the crook of my arm. “I’m glad you’re here. I’m just wondering what’s on your mind. John is settled and happy. You always said you wanted to be a movie star.”
“Did I?” We walk into her small living room, and I pause at the door. “I still love acting, but after last year, I guess I feel different about certain things.”
“Well, I love having you here. Jesse loves it.” She pats my arm. “Regina said they’re wanting to start a little league football team at the school. Maybe you can help out.”
“Don’t you think J.R. will want to help them?”
“He already is, but he needs an assistant. You’re perfect for the job. The two of you back together, why everyone will go crazy.”
Jesse runs back into the room holding a donut. “Are you going to help with our football team? Woo hoo!” He holds both hands up and runs in a circle.
“Not so fast. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here.”
Gran’s blue eyes narrow, and she gives me a knowing smile. “I think we’ve all learned you can’t predict the future. It’s best to stay open.”
I’ve also learned not to underestimate my sneaky little grandmother. She managed to track down the trust funds our mom set up for J.R. and me before she died. As the designated trustee, our dad had decided to keep that information—and the money—to himself. Until my grandmother offered to “clean” his study and found it.
“Your mother always said she was going to do it,” Gran had said, “But I never knew for sure until your dad opened that gym and started expanding it. Bill was never good with money. It was a dead giveaway.”
Our mom had taken all her teacher’s retirement and invested it in an aggressive fund that paid off really well. We’re not billionaires by any stretch, but it does take the pressure off me needing to rush right back to Los Angeles or find a job.
Leaning down, I kiss her crinkled cheek. “I think I’ll drive over to Oceanside after I drop off Jesse. I’ll be back.”
<
br /> “Take your time.”
Eighteen
Daisy
“A million dollars?” My eyes widen as I count the number of zeros on the deposit receipt.
“One point five.” Spencer’s voice is on speaker as I cut open the first of the boxes inside my store.
“What did you do?”
“Your father left you a number of incredibly valuable pieces. I simply sorted what you didn’t want, kept what I did, and sold the rest at auction.”
I lift a hardcover sketchbook out of a box. It’s one of several that arrived with the letter, inventory list, and bill of sale. “I’m so glad we kept this Rufus Grider.” Turning the pages carefully, I study the brightly colored botanical sketches dating back to the 1850s. I happen to know some collectors would pay as much as twenty grand each for them.
“It’s a beautiful book. I held onto a few extra things I thought you might like.”
“Thank you, Spencer.”
Dad’s heart attack had been so sudden, I’d almost turned everything over to a service. The lawyers said he’d left me his store, all the contents, and two surprisingly large trust funds, one for Melody and one for me.
Spencer had gone with me to sort through the inventory, and as the two of us walked through the piles upon piles of antiques, everything from musical instruments to figurines to books and paintings, I was completely overwhelmed.
I remember the day like it was yesterday.
Spencer surveyed the overstuffed store with calm resolve. “It’ll take a few days to sort through it all. I’ll draw up an inventory list. You can keep what works for your clientele and sell the rest.”
“I can’t sell these things. They’re my dad’s.” I lifted a porcelain-faced doll wearing a tattered old prairie dress.
A warm hand covered my shoulder, and Spencer’s voice was gentle. “They’re not his things, Daisy. He was a businessman. He bought these things to sell, right?”
