“Tell me where they are,” Grey says, and shoots a look my way. “Why don’t you show Garrett to the car? I’ll be right out.”
“Well, they’re out on the patio, I think,” Garrett says. “I was marking up the script and got peckish. So, I think they’re there. Or maybe on the desk in my office. Or—”
“I’ll find them,” Grey says. He reaches around us, dwarfing Garrett and me, and pushes the door open. Then he not so gently shoves Garrett outside. “Go.”
Garrett smiles back at Grey, adoringly. “See? He’s perfect assistant material. Sometimes, I really just need to be manhandled. That was Avery’s problem. He couldn’t say no, and I just ran all over him.”
“Avery?”
“The last one. Not a disciplined bone in his body.” He gives me a wink and a sly smile. “Though we did have our moments, believe me.”
“I believe you,” I tell him. I suspect it’s impossible to be around Garrett without having moments. “Let’s go.”
I don’t know what laws of physics Grey breaks, but we manage to get from Brentwood to Malibu in twenty-five minutes. It’s possible there’s a wormhole involved.
He thrusts the car into the driveway, coming a breath away from tapping the back bumper of Mia’s Prius.
Next thing I know, we’re a flurry of arms, legs, and gourmet food items, borne along in a wake of Grey’s impatience. He hurries us through the front door, calling out a hello and impatiently snagging everything away from us.
“I’ll be right in,” he says. “Let me put this stuff in the dining room where Adam’s got the food.”
He directs us down a long hall, past a ridiculously huge and high-end kitchen, into a vast living space. A triple set of glass doors anchors one side of the room, with tall windows on each side and a black expanse of the Pacific beyond. One of the doors is marked by a taped “X,” a couple of large-framed paintings stand propped against the wall, and it looks like a couple of pieces of furniture are missing from the room, based on the square impressions etching the thick-piled cream carpet. Maybe Adam’s redecorating?
“Hello, hello,” Garrett says, and everyone rises to greet us.
“You made it,” Brooks says. He comes over to shake Garrett’s hand and then bends down to give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. His scent is nice—like fresh laundry and the sweet tang of a stream.
“Totally my fault,” Garrett says, and casts a brilliant smile around the room. “I’m such a pain in the ass, I made poor Grey schlep a week’s worth of groceries over here. My apologies.”
“We do have food coming,” Adam says, rising. “Enough for an army.”
“Or just Grey, if he’s hungry,” Brooks says.
I laugh but feel unaccountably protective of Grey at the same time.
Then everyone crowds around us, and we do the whole hugging and cheek-kissing thing. Mia stuffs her giant head of hair in my face and gives me a world-class squeeze, but Beth’s hug is fleeting, a little chilled, and my body starts up with the adrenaline again.
I want this. But do I want to take it from her?
“You look gorgeous,” I say. She’s in a simple gold A-line sheath that shows off her mile-long legs. Her hair’s natural and curly, pulled back loosely to accentuate her sharp cheekbones, almond eyes, and insane eyelashes. I can’t imagine a camera that wouldn’t love to frame her in its lens.
“Thanks,” she says, and I can tell she’s feeling it. As she should. She’s a goddess.
“Jesus, Adam,” Grey says, coming into the room. “Are you expecting a hundred more people? There’s a ton of food in there.”
Adam grins. “That’s Alison’s doing. She likes to make sure everyone’s fed.”
“The whole block will be fed.”
“This house is the whole block,” Mia says, and it’s true. It’s big enough to fit, easily, four or five of our apartments inside.
We head into the dining room, where linens cover a couple of folding tables loaded end-to-end with food, including the contents of Garrett’s grocery bags and backpack. I smile when I see that Grey’s made a point of propping up the bag of wasabi peas between a plate mounded with short ribs and a deep platter of truly tasty looking tomato risotto.
Brooks hands me a plate and smiles at me. “Better eat up. We’ll be working you hard tonight.”
I laugh. “Oh, really?”
“Really. You up to the challenge?”
Not at all. Maybe?
“Of course,” I say.
“Liking that attitude, Sky,” he says and gives me a wink.
I smile, but I’m distracted by the fact that he used my nickname. How strange it felt but endearing, too. There’s something about him that’s a little dazzling. It’s like he pulses with confidence and this kind of worldliness, like he’s walked the earth for eons, even though he can’t be more than a year or two older than me. I know I can learn so much from him. And he’ll be easy to look at while I’m learning.
I look up to see Beth watching me and feel a flush of guilt, like I’m doing something wrong just talking to Brooks. Does she think I’m flirting? Was I flirting?
Grey piles food on his plate and just keeps on piling.
“Hungry?” I ask.
He grins and slides a head-sized piece of lasagna onto his plate. “Always.”
“You can probably come back for seconds.”
“Oh, I will.”
“Where the hell do you put it?”
He gives me a wicked, hilarious grin. “Well, since you asked . . .”
I blush. “I get it. Your spleen requires a lot of sustenance.”
“Yes,” he tells me. “My really big . . . spleen.”
Brooks watches us for a moment, his look penetrating but unreadable. He turns to Adam. “Hey,” he says. “When you going to have your furniture back?”
“Soon,” says Adam.
“What happened to your furniture?” I ask.
Grey’s lips press into a somber line, making it clear I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Oh, Grey had himself a party,” Brooks says. “But he got carried away.”
“I didn’t get carried away,” Grey argues. “Some dumbass people I don’t even know did.”
“Those dumbass people trashed the place,” Brooks supplies. “And young Grey here is—”
“Cut the crap,” Grey interjects. “You’re three years older than me. Big deal.”
“Hey,” says Adam, quietly. “It’s okay. Grey’s taking care of it. It’s all good. Let’s focus on the movie.”
It starts to come together. The missing furniture. The new glass door. All because of some party Grey threw. Now I get why he’s Adam’s “indentured servant.” He’s got to make good on the damage.
I feel a weird sinking inside. Disappointment that seems too intense and personal for the circumstances. I liked him better when I didn’t know he was reckless enough to let his buddies trash his brother’s house. Maybe Brooks is only a few years older than Grey, but they seem a world apart in many ways.
Brooks turns to me. “I really want to hear what you think about Emma. Who she is to you. Have you read the Austen?”
“No. I’ve read Pride and Prejudice, of course. And Persuasion. But never got to that one. You have, Beth, right?”
She nods. “Emma’s a favorite, actually.” We take our plates into the living room. Adam pours champagne and beer, but sparkling water for Garrett, who tells us he’s in recovery. We sit and chat about the movie, but I don’t say much. I just watch the faces of the others. Grey is closed off now. His foot taps the floor, and the plate jitters up and down in his lap.
On the other hand, Beth’s got the whole room in the palm of her hand. She and Mia tell a funny story about the time Beth disguised herself to go spy on an ex-boyfriend. She’s self-deprecating but hilarious. I can feel the interest in the room start to flow in her direction. Garrett’s got that same big laugh, just for her. That same twinkle.
Beth and I lock eyes at
one point, and she gives me a smile that tells me everything I need to know. If I get this part, it will be because I worked for it. Because I’m the best person for the role.
I pick at my food, but it’s hard to focus. I’m locked in, ready to be put to the test with Garrett.
I’m ready, I think. Let’s go.
Chapter 13
Grey
After dinner, it’s audition time.
Brooks decides Beth will go first, so he and Adam retreat into Adam’s office with her and Garrett. They’ll work through the scenes in there.
Mia and Skyler move to the patio. Ali shows up and joins, too, ready for some human interaction after pulling a long day at the horse rescue. The girls sit around the patio table, but I park myself on the railing and keep an eye on the waves, feeling like a third wheel. Not just because I’m the only guy. Everyone here . . . they’re a few steps ahead of me in Life. They have careers. They’ve done things. Are in the midst of things. It’s like they’ve all earned a few stripes. But, me . . . what have I done?
I don’t know why Adam wants me to be here. To serve them drinks? Hell no. I’m not going to be a driver, a personal assistant, and a freakin’ waiter. Part of me wonders if my brother’s hoping the productive energy from these upstanding young people will rub off on me. It’s not that I think he’s disappointed in me. It’s more a feeling like he’s waiting for me to do something. I just don’t know what it is. I mean . . . I’m following my dream, and I’m working to pay him back. What else does he want?
For a little while, I half listen to the girls. Ali’s got a new horse she’s working with, a colt that everyone wants to go and see. But my mind wanders, and I find myself thinking of the guys, who’re probably still over at the Whiskey. If I left now, I could still catch part of the show.
Seriously.
What am I doing here?
I glance at Skyler. With only a candle in a lantern for illumination, her pink hair looks almost white. She laughs at something Mia says and I see a glimpse of that tiny gap between her two front teeth that makes her seem so rare and real and likable. She’s engaged in the conversation on the surface, but I know she’s thinking about Beth’s audition. Probably her audition, too. Her life could completely change tonight and I think it’s scaring her. It’s weird that I can guess what her thoughts are. Though I could be wrong. Maybe she’s thinking about Brooks. There was definitely something going on between them earlier.
Skyler notices me, and we lock eyes. I wait for her to look away, but she doesn’t. We stay that way for a second, then two, three, and I feel something travel between us, zipping back and forth and back and forth. A kind of energy, like we’re communicating without words. Communicating something that’s maybe even a mystery to the two of us. I don’t know what it is, but it makes me want to grab her hand and take her down to the beach. It makes me want to wrap her up and hold her and touch her soft mouth with my thumb and tell her you can do this. Because she can. I’d watch this movie if Skyler were Emma Beautiful Emma. I’d own it.
Brooks and Adam appear at the glass door. I didn’t even notice them walking up. The girls all stand, going quiet, like everyone’s waiting for some major announcement. You can feel the tension in the air. I’m not sure doing the audition here helped anything. It might have been easier on Skyler and Beth if they’d just done this at the studio.
Brooks claps his hands together. “Okay, round two.” He goes to Skyler, stopping right in front of her. “You ready?”
“Yes,” Sky says, and leaves with him. Mia’s not far behind them, slipping inside. Off to find Beth and see how her audition went, I’m guessing. Adam stays on the patio, though. He gives Alison a hug and whispers something in her ear. This isn’t a rare thing, but for some reason, this time it pisses me off. I already feel like an outsider. And I live here.
“I’m out,” I say to the Adam/Ali unit. I want to find out how Skyler’s audition goes, but I’ll just have to get the info some other time. I can’t stay here any longer.
“Hold up, Grey,” Adam says. “Ali, can you give us a minute?”
“Sure,” she says, and heads inside.
Adam comes over to me, propping his elbows on the railing as he stares at the black void that’s the Pacific. “I checked the surf report. Tomorrow’s going to be a good day. Four to six feet at Nicholas Canyon.”
“Cool, but I’m out. Go without me.”
I don’t know why I say this. Surfing with my brother’s a thing I need in life. Like singing. But Adam bailed on me this morning. And I guess I want to return the favor.
“I know things have changed since Ali, and that I’ve been busy with Brooks on the film stuff, but—”
“You can do whatever you want, Adam. I just don’t want to surf tomorrow.”
“Okay, Grey. Fine.” He glances inside.
“You should go.” I know he has to get to Skyler’s audition.
“I will in a sec. Grey, I was going to tell you this tomorrow morning, but since you’re not coming, I’m going to say it now. Mom called earlier this week and—”
The night sky folds in on me, and my lungs stop working.
“Bye,” I say, stepping inside.
“She’s coming out here,” Adam says, following me. “She’ll be here tomorrow night. Said she wanted to be here for the beginning of production. She offered to book a hotel room, but I told her she could stay here. She’s our mother, Grey. This thing between you needs to stop. I’m done being the middleman. The two of you are going to have to figure it out.”
I want to run. I want to trash Adam’s house all over again, but I make myself walk. I keep going until I get to my room and swing open the door, and I’m so raged up, so deep in my own head, I’m stepping inside before I realize there are two people already in here.
Brooks and Skyler.
Brooks. And Skyler.
Sitting on the edge of my bed, with stapled pages on their laps.
They’re laughing. Mid-laugh. They both stop suddenly, stunned, like I’ve interrupted them. Skyler stands first, her pages falling to the floor. Brooks sets his stack aside on my comforter and rises next.
She was on my bed. With Brooks.
I can’t process this moment.
On my nightstand is Skyler’s headshot, and I have the irrational urge to dive over my bed and hide it. Or tear it up.
“Sorry, Grey,” Brooks says. “We were just talking through a few of the emotional beats for the scene Skyler’s going to read with Garrett in a moment. Adam said it was okay to use your room.”
I look from him to Skyler, whose cheeks are turning pink.
This is my fucking room, I want to say.
It’s my room.
I wish it was cleaner, and I wish it had been me who’d brought her here, but mostly I wish it actually was my room. It’s not. It’s Adam’s.
I feel like a kid. Like a little fucking kid.
What the fuck is happening?
I can’t look at Skyler so I look at Brooks.
“Definitely,” I say to him. “Use whatever you want. My desk. My computer. My fuckin’ bed. It’s yours, man. Enjoy.”
When I turn back into the hallway, I almost run into Adam. He says my name, but I don’t stop. I grab the first bottle of whiskey I see on the bar and head outside.
Behind me, I hear Ali ask Adam what happened.
“It’s my fault,” he says. “I told him about Mom’s visit. I thought he was ready.”
Not his fault, but he is right about one thing.
I’m not ready.
The tide is low, so I can get around the rocks on the north point. I walk until Adam’s house is out of sight and there are only high black cliffs behind me, then I sit.
I open the bottle and take a long drink. After a few more pulls, I try to figure out what building a time machine would involve. Reznick was a mechanical engineering major at Cal Poly. I consider texting him, but he’s probably still at the show. Where I should be.
Assuming I could invent one with Reznick’s help, the question then becomes what I’d want to redo. Definitely what just happened. Brooks and my brother are assholes, but my little outburst . . . embarrassing as hell. And what if it throws off Skyler’s audition? That would suck.
I want her to get the part. And I want to never see her again.
Goddamnit. It’s only now that I realize I was holding some hope that there could be something between me and her. What an idiot. But seriously? I took her for better than a fuckin’ casting couch cliché.
I can’t compete with Brooks. He’s a Princeton grad. A producer. He’s her age.
Wait a minute. That’s what I’d do with a time machine. I’d make myself her age.
When I’m her age, I’ll be filling arenas. My band will be headlining music festivals. I’ll be unstoppable.
I take another sip and my mind moves to another time machine redo. The big one. The main event. Last August, back home in Newport. I’d wipe away the fight I had with Mom. Madeleine. My stepmom. Adam’s mom.
The woman who raised me and who’s coming here tomorrow night.
I’d get rid of that fight because if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have had the bright idea to track down my birth mom.
Yep. That’s what I’d do.
Obliterate that day from existence.
Chapter 14
Skyler
Brooks and I stand there for the longest time, staring at one another.
“What just happened?” I ask.
But I know. The look on Grey’s face stays seared behind my eyes like the afterimage of a bright light. Disgusted, angry. Disappointed. But deeper than all that. A flicker of some wild, almost animal hurt that I can’t believe really has to do with me.
Brooks stoops to pick up the pages of the script, which he hands to me with an abashed smile. “I guess he didn’t like us using his room? He’s a little moody lately. Something to do with his mom.”
I nod and smooth over the corner of Grey’s comforter, wanting to do something to put things right. I pick up the headshot—my headshot—that he had propped next to his bed, and I can’t decide whether to return it to its original spot or take it with me. Finally, I put it back, facedown, next to the lamp.
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