Hollywood Dirt
Page 41
He didn’t have a breakdown. Instead he began to run again.
Harder.
Faster.
Farther away from her. Nadia, and that sick, deceitful world.
Farther away from her. Summer, and that distracting, judging, innocence.
Harder.
Faster.
Farther.
The dirt flew out from underneath as he ran.
Well… let’s see. I think I first heard about Summer being in that movie from Jenny, she works at the post office. I don’t know who Jenny heard it from, but I didn’t believe it. I mean Summer? Our Summer? She’s pretty, but she’s no Minka Price. And she’s not even from Quincy.
We have in our notes that she moved here when she was five.
Exactly. You can’t play someone from Quincy unless you are actually from Quincy. Otherwise you just don’t know the dynamics of the town.
Unless you’re Minka Price.
Well, yes. Now my daughter, she would have been perfect for that role. Much better than Summer. Her name’s Heather. You should write that down. Heather Robbins. She works at the local flower shop, but she could get time off if Summer doesn’t work out.
CHAPTER 49
I wasn’t exactly sure how Quincy found out about my role, but I could bet the leak came from Scott. Or, more specifically, from Shelley. I knew the minute I forwarded the email with my contract, her email address carefully typed in the upper field, that I was signing a death sentence to my life of anonymity in Quincy.
I’d watched movies; I knew how other places worked. How celebrities were fawned over and stampeded in public. That would never happen in Quincy. We liked to gush from the privacy of our homes, stalk through word of mouth and gossip. The more we pretended not to care, the more important something was.
I could feel the buzz roll through the town. I got the extra-long looks, the side glances from people whose children I grew up with, heard the whispers stop as I walked by the Benners’ coffee shop. I knew Cole would find it strange. I didn’t expect for me to also fall victim.
“Not one call!” I threw the ball of dough down on the wax paper and pushed my fists into it, being rougher than necessary with my kneading.
“Are you surprised? You know how people are in these parts.” Mama looked up from the Sunday paper, scissors in hand, a coupon half cut.
“I know.” I rolled the dough over and pressed my palm into it. “I just thought… somebody would call.”
“You got a heap of calls a few weeks ago. That damn phone wouldn’t stop ringing.”
“About the movie. About Cole.” I sprinkled a fresh bit of flour down.
“Ahh… you want them to call about you. To congratulate you.” I heard the scissors when she put them down on the table, and I stared forward at the rose wallpaper. I couldn’t see her face right then, the sympathy in it. “It’s okay, Summer. To want some attention.”
I pulled my hands from the dough and looked down, yanking a dishtowel from the ring and wiping off my hands. “It feels stupid. Weak.”
“You’ve been alone in this town for a long time. Punished for something not your fault,” she said quietly. “Everyone’s licking their wounds right now. They don’t want to be seen as a fair-weather friend—showing up just because you’ve had some excitement.”
I’d take a fair-weather friend. In high school, I’d had plenty of friends, our social standings ignored in a united stand against growing up and taking on life. And as Scott’s girlfriend, then fiancé, I’d had his friends. It’s been a long, cold three years with only my mother to lean on. And right now, with Ben’s imminent departure, I’d take anyone. Even if their friendship was opportunistic and fake.
Scratch that. Maybe it was for the best that my phone hadn’t rang.
CHAPTER 50
Cole Masten came to call in the summer heat on a Tuesday afternoon. I was on my knees, halfway down the Holdens’ drive, when his ridiculous truck pulled in.
I heard the engine and looked up, instantly recognizing the vehicle, and eased to my feet, wiping a hand across my forehead. I was covered in sweat; it had dampened my tank top, a drop of it running down the middle of my back as I stepped out of the drive and nodded an out-of-breath hello. His window rolled down, a whiff of cold air floating over, and I fought the urge to crawl face-first through the opening. Too bad that’d put me in his lap. A perfectly clean lap, from all appearances. His sparkly white V-neck shone from the inside of the cab, the neck leading to his gorgeous face, covered in a layer of unshaved stubble, past a scowl on those lips and up to the glare of his green eyes. I spied a water bottle in a center console’s cup holder, and eyed it. Ice Cold. Frost on the outside of the glass. Cole’s hand covered the label and he picked up the bottle, holding it out.
“Want it?”
I swallowed my pride and took the gift, looking at the bottle before twisting off the cap. Voss. Never heard of it. I tilted the bottle back and greedily chugged half of it before stopping, wiping off my mouth with the back of my hand and putting the cap back on. “Thanks.” I nodded to the bottle. “Where’d you get this?”
“That grocery store on…” He waved in the general direction of the town. “In town.”
“You went to Publix?” I raised my eyebrows, surprised.
“No. I paid Ben to get me a list of stuff.” He eyed the half-full water bottle that I offered back. “You don’t have any water?” He didn’t reach for it, and I unscrewed the top again. No point in it going to waste now.
Harder.
Faster.
Farther away from her. Nadia, and that sick, deceitful world.
Farther away from her. Summer, and that distracting, judging, innocence.
Harder.
Faster.
Farther.
The dirt flew out from underneath as he ran.
Well… let’s see. I think I first heard about Summer being in that movie from Jenny, she works at the post office. I don’t know who Jenny heard it from, but I didn’t believe it. I mean Summer? Our Summer? She’s pretty, but she’s no Minka Price. And she’s not even from Quincy.
We have in our notes that she moved here when she was five.
Exactly. You can’t play someone from Quincy unless you are actually from Quincy. Otherwise you just don’t know the dynamics of the town.
Unless you’re Minka Price.
Well, yes. Now my daughter, she would have been perfect for that role. Much better than Summer. Her name’s Heather. You should write that down. Heather Robbins. She works at the local flower shop, but she could get time off if Summer doesn’t work out.
CHAPTER 49
I wasn’t exactly sure how Quincy found out about my role, but I could bet the leak came from Scott. Or, more specifically, from Shelley. I knew the minute I forwarded the email with my contract, her email address carefully typed in the upper field, that I was signing a death sentence to my life of anonymity in Quincy.
I’d watched movies; I knew how other places worked. How celebrities were fawned over and stampeded in public. That would never happen in Quincy. We liked to gush from the privacy of our homes, stalk through word of mouth and gossip. The more we pretended not to care, the more important something was.
I could feel the buzz roll through the town. I got the extra-long looks, the side glances from people whose children I grew up with, heard the whispers stop as I walked by the Benners’ coffee shop. I knew Cole would find it strange. I didn’t expect for me to also fall victim.
“Not one call!” I threw the ball of dough down on the wax paper and pushed my fists into it, being rougher than necessary with my kneading.
“Are you surprised? You know how people are in these parts.” Mama looked up from the Sunday paper, scissors in hand, a coupon half cut.
“I know.” I rolled the dough over and pressed my palm into it. “I just thought… somebody would call.”
“You got a heap of calls a few weeks ago. That damn phone wouldn’t stop ringing.”
“About the movie. About Cole.” I sprinkled a fresh bit of flour down.
“Ahh… you want them to call about you. To congratulate you.” I heard the scissors when she put them down on the table, and I stared forward at the rose wallpaper. I couldn’t see her face right then, the sympathy in it. “It’s okay, Summer. To want some attention.”
I pulled my hands from the dough and looked down, yanking a dishtowel from the ring and wiping off my hands. “It feels stupid. Weak.”
“You’ve been alone in this town for a long time. Punished for something not your fault,” she said quietly. “Everyone’s licking their wounds right now. They don’t want to be seen as a fair-weather friend—showing up just because you’ve had some excitement.”
I’d take a fair-weather friend. In high school, I’d had plenty of friends, our social standings ignored in a united stand against growing up and taking on life. And as Scott’s girlfriend, then fiancé, I’d had his friends. It’s been a long, cold three years with only my mother to lean on. And right now, with Ben’s imminent departure, I’d take anyone. Even if their friendship was opportunistic and fake.
Scratch that. Maybe it was for the best that my phone hadn’t rang.
CHAPTER 50
Cole Masten came to call in the summer heat on a Tuesday afternoon. I was on my knees, halfway down the Holdens’ drive, when his ridiculous truck pulled in.
I heard the engine and looked up, instantly recognizing the vehicle, and eased to my feet, wiping a hand across my forehead. I was covered in sweat; it had dampened my tank top, a drop of it running down the middle of my back as I stepped out of the drive and nodded an out-of-breath hello. His window rolled down, a whiff of cold air floating over, and I fought the urge to crawl face-first through the opening. Too bad that’d put me in his lap. A perfectly clean lap, from all appearances. His sparkly white V-neck shone from the inside of the cab, the neck leading to his gorgeous face, covered in a layer of unshaved stubble, past a scowl on those lips and up to the glare of his green eyes. I spied a water bottle in a center console’s cup holder, and eyed it. Ice Cold. Frost on the outside of the glass. Cole’s hand covered the label and he picked up the bottle, holding it out.
“Want it?”
I swallowed my pride and took the gift, looking at the bottle before twisting off the cap. Voss. Never heard of it. I tilted the bottle back and greedily chugged half of it before stopping, wiping off my mouth with the back of my hand and putting the cap back on. “Thanks.” I nodded to the bottle. “Where’d you get this?”
“That grocery store on…” He waved in the general direction of the town. “In town.”
“You went to Publix?” I raised my eyebrows, surprised.
“No. I paid Ben to get me a list of stuff.” He eyed the half-full water bottle that I offered back. “You don’t have any water?” He didn’t reach for it, and I unscrewed the top again. No point in it going to waste now.
