The night was going well. Pete was polite and acted like a real gentleman. He didn’t touch me more than what was necessary and he seemed very interested in what I had to say. The band was loud and crashing but it was enjoyable enough. I was having a good time and Pete was a really good guy. This was exactly what I needed.
Until suddenly, it wasn’t. The band had finished and Pete wanted to go say hi to them before we left. I told him I would stay by the bar and let him talk with his friends. After about 20 minutes though, I started getting impatient and went to go look for him. I found him by the stage, talking with his friends. I started to make my way through the crowd toward him. I was only a few feet away when I stopped. I had heard him say my name.
“I’m serious, man. I brought McKinley Evans tonight. Yeah, you know, that chick that was on Crime Scene.”
“Shut up, you’re such a liar,” the lead singer laughed. “The chick that’s dating Jake Kennedy?”
“The blonde one, yeah?” the bassist asked.
“No, idiot, the redhead one,” the lead singer said, sounding exasperated. “Dude, she’s hot. There is no way she is here with you.”
“Yeah, McKinley is the redheaded one,” Pete assured the bassist. He faced the singer. “And hell yeah, I brought her.”
The lead singer raised his eyebrows and I felt myself do the same. What the hell was going on here?
“That’s pretty badass, Pete. Are you taking her home?”
Pete smirked. “Are you kidding me? Of course I am.”
I felt my mouth dropped open. In all honesty, I had planned on sleeping with Pete. Not tonight, of course, a girl has to have some standards. But I had definitely been planning on it; Pete was a nice guy and I needed a rebound, pronto. Now I was just pissed off. I took a deep breath though and plastered a charming smile on my face. I walked up to them, stepping right in the middle of their circle, surprising them all.
“You know, I usually find it’s better to ask a girl home before you assume she’s just going to go. That could just be me though,” I said, sweetly, smiling up at them.
“Dude, you did bring McKinley Evans,” the bassist said, his mouth open.
“Hi, nice to meet you,” I said, sticking my hand out to shake his. His hand remained limp in mine as he continued to stare. I turned to face Pete, who looked shocked. “I think I’m going to head out of here.”
“Oh, no, I’m almost done here,” Pete said, a nervous smile on his face.
“No, I think you’re completely done,” I said, firmly. “Thanks but no thanks, Pete.” I turned around and walked away, hearing the insults his friends were now throwing at him. I walked away outside, grateful for the cooler air. I dug my cell phone out of my purse and dialed the number for a cab, sighing. If this was what it was like to be single, I didn’t think I missed it all that much.
* * * * * *
“Beautiful, McKinley. Seriously beautiful.”
I loved this photographer. Jamie was giving me fun outfits to wear and amazing praise. Nothing I did was wrong and I really needed the ego boost at the moment. For this part of the session, we were in a private cove at the beach (I didn’t even know these existed) and I was in a swimsuit. Luckily, I had more control than anyone over what I wore, and I ended up grabbing an amazing 1950s green vintage swimsuit. It was so gorgeous; I wanted to steal it.
“I saw those Suzy Perrette and Anne Fogarty dresses you were wearing and they just looked gorgeous on you,” Jamie said, while we were flipping through the swimsuits. "I knew we had to go vintage and classic looking for Lush." Later I had a gorgeous off-the-shoulder white lace cocktail dress from Lilly Pulitzer. They sure knew how to make me happy.
I was sitting on the sand, my hair blowing in my face. I reached up to brush a strand out of my face.
“Don’t move, McKinley,” Jamie said, coming in closer with the camera. I heard the unmistakable sound of the camera snapping the picture. “Perfect. Now roll on your stomach, come at the camera.”
I rolled over, getting sand literally everywhere but trying to keep my serious, demure and yet sexy look on my face. I was really uncomfortable. Modeling was not fun, and not as easy as I’d always thought it was. For one thing, it was hot as hell. I was covered in sand and I was having a hard time looking classy and sexy all at the same time. I was having a blast though. The entire photo shoot was catered for me. There was an entire catering service providing my favorite foods and drinks back at the house where we would be shooting later, a full staff of people ready to fix my hair, make-up or clothes at any time and they even had a portable IPod stereo, blasting out Ben Wright. There were all the compliments every one was blowing my way. I could seriously get used to this.
"Okay, look down at the ground and to the side. Perfect. Lift your head just a little...a little more," Jamie said. "Awesome. Okay, now I want you to look up at me, but slowly, through your eyelashes. Not your head, just your eyes."
I looked up slowly, my lips parted and I heard the snap. "Perfect, McKinley. Perfect." He looked over at Adrienne, who looked both extremely uncomfortable (who wears slacks to the beach, honestly) and satisfied as well. "I think that's enough for now, Adrienne.”
"Break for lunch and reconvene at the house?" she asked, coming over to me.
"Sounds good to me," he said, happily, straightening up. He offered a hand to me and pulled me up. "You're doing a great job, McKinley. We're going to get some great shots in that Lilly Pulitzer dress."
"Thank you," I grinned, taking the robe someone was holding out to me and slipping it out. I turned to Adrienne. "Can I buy this swimsuit?"
"Yeah, do you want it?" she asked, punching buttons on her Blackberry furiously. "I think Jamie was saying it was 300 dollars."
"Oh," I said, feeling faint. I had that in my bank account; I still had quite a bit of money from my Crime Scene paycheck. "And the dress?"
"Probably about a grand," Adrienne answered, offhandedly, steering me back up the beach and to the car. "Did you want me to have them set aside for you?"
"Um, no," I said, running my hands over the swimsuit. Damn, I wanted it. "That's okay."
Adrienne threw a knowing smile my way. "You can buy it, McKinley. No one is going to judge you. Between your episodes at Crime Scene and this Lush account, you have the money to do so."
I hesitated, opening up my robe to look at it. "It's just so expensive...but it's so cute."
Adrienne laughed. "I, for one, would applaud such a purchase. It's all up to you, of course."
"I'll take it," I said, quickly. "Not the dress though. Let's not get too crazy." I climbed into the car and she slid into next to me.
"Soon you're not going to have to worry about the things you buy, McKinley," Adrienne said, still typing into her Blackberry. I wondered who she could be possibly texting; probably someone really famous. "I have a few scripts for you to look over. There are a couple pilots that are going to be filming, which look like something you would be good at. I found a couple small roles in some upcoming movies." I opened my mouth to say something but she plowed on. "I tried to get you a small role in the Patrick Edwards' movie but that didn't go well."
I felt my stomach sink. "I don't want to work on the Patrick Edwards' movie, Adrienne," I said, firmly. "That's a horrible idea."
Adrienne glanced over at me. "I think you're being stupid."
I glared at her. "Well, thank you. Always a good thing to hear."
"I'm not here to be nice to you, McKinley. I am here to help you with your career; if you want a career, that is," she said, opening the door of the car and sliding out expertly without ruffling her pencil skirt at all.
I climbed out the other side, following her as she led me back to wardrobe. I saw the lace dress waiting for me and nearly fell in love again. It wasn't fair. They really shouldn't have grabbed all this one of a kind vintage clothing for this photo shoot. I just wanted to get my hands on all of it.
"McKinley?"
"Hmm?" I said, shaking my head and looki
ng back up at her.
"What were you thinking of doing? Do you want to try your hand at some roles or do you want to continue with some modeling? You're doing a fantastic job at this shoot," she asked. "I also have those scripts with me, in my car."
I hesitated. I knew what I needed to say. I knew that the best decision was to say no, that I couldn't do it anymore and that I needed to get out now. If I stayed out of this world, I would never have to worry about Jake or Wendy or Andrea, even Justin, Summer or Charlie. I would be completely away from any of that. But for once, my head wasn't winning out. I loved doing this. It was a ton of fun and I was good at it. It wasn't often that I found something that I was good at. "I'm just not really sure, Adrienne."
She sighed and looked at me. I felt for a moment like I should be embarrassed. I was stripped down to my underwear and was being fitted into the dress. For some reason, though, I just didn't. "Look, McKinley, I'm not going to tell you what to do. I'm not. I'm just telling you this; you have talent. It’s raw and could use some work but if we work at it, you could do a lot. And people love you. You're real; you don't starve yourself. You have curves. That makes you relatable. If you don't want to do it, then don't. But I would seriously encourage you to do it."
I stared my reflection in the mirror as she said that. I still needed to hit the hair and make-up chair. My hair was windblown from the beach and my make-up was a little smudged but I felt beautiful. I never really thought of myself in terms of beauty but more in terms of confidence. I had always had the confidence but lately I'd actually seen the beauty that went along with that. "I need to think about it," I said, surprisingly even myself.
She nodded. "That's fine. But you can't take too long, McKinley. We have to jump on this before you disappear in the people's minds. Especially since you aren't dating Jake anymore. Understood?" I nodded, once, my hair bouncing. "I'm sending those scripts home with you."
I looked back at my reflection. "Okay," I agreed, wondering if I was making the right decision or not. I guess I would find out.
Chapter Thirteen
My grandmother was coming to California to visit me. I hadn’t really thought about it, to be completely honest. I had sent an email back to her, saying that I was excited for her to come. After that, it had mostly slipped my mind. I had become too wrapped up in trying to break up with Jake and figuring out what the hell was going on in my future.
Now, it was right there, smack in front of my face and there was no time to try and get ready for it. It was happening. Her plane had landed; she had grabbed a taxi and was on her way to the diner. I had asked her if her plan was to stay with us and, to my relief, she had declined. We didn’t have a lot of room in the upstairs apartment and I didn’t think that it would really be up to her standards.
We had spent most of the morning and early afternoon cleaning the café and the upstairs apartment. Luke wouldn’t actually come out and say it but I think that he felt like my grandma was a judge on his parenting skills. He cleaned everything in the upstairs apartment, made sure all his gentleman magazines were gone and even took the Storm Trooper helmet and hid it in the closet. We were both nervous on meeting this person.
I knew who she was as soon as she walked in. I would like to say it was because we had some instant bond or something but that definitely wasn’t it. She just looked exactly how I would imagine Olivia Evans Trent would look like. She wasn’t as old as I’d thought she was. I knew that she had my mom when she was 21 and my mom had me when she was sixteen but I had that view of grandmothers being super elderly. She had auburn hair that was full of grey and she was short and curvy. I felt a little surprised at how we had that in common. It was her clothes though-a long tan trench coat, grey pants and a pink sweater with a pearl necklace-that let me know who she was.
She came straight to the counter, taking a seat right in front of me. “McKinley?”
I nodded, feeling the lump in my throat grow larger. “Yes. That’s me. Olivia?”
“That would be me,” she said, cheerfully.
I took a deep breath. Yes, this woman sitting in front of me was my grandmother but I didn’t have to act like I was completely incapable of speech. “Did you want any coffee or iced tea or anything?”
“I’ll take a coffee for now, definitely,” Olivia agreed. “And if you have a menu, I’ll take that too.”
“Of course,” I answered, pouring her a cup of coffee and sliding a menu across the counter.
Luke appeared next to me, basically out of thin air. “Hi Olivia. I’m Luke Scott.”
Olivia smiled, extending her hand across the counter to him. “Luke, its so wonderful to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” She leaned closer to him. “I have to say thank you for taking such great care of my granddaughter.”
Luke looked sheepish and embarrassed and I felt a real genuine smile spread across my face. “Well, I just…of course.”
She winked at him. “I’ll leave you alone now. I don’t want to make you blush anymore than I already have.”
She took a few minutes to look at the menu before ordering the B.L.T. I wrote that out and gave the order to Chris, who was reading a pretty battered copy of A Storm of Swords.
There was a good ten minutes of silence between us. Olivia looked really comfortable, looking around the diner, taking in all the decorations. I, on the other hand, felt extremely uncomfortable. I had no idea how to talk to her, and what to talk about. I rested against the counter, racking my brain for things to say. Chris interrupted my thoughts, shouting out “Monroe” behind me.
I turned, grabbing the plate off the counter and swept out to the dining room, dropping off the sandwich at the Marilyn Monroe table. When I came back, Olivia was looking at me curiously.
“What does Monroe mean?” she asked, when I came back.
I stared at her, wondering if it was okay to let her in on the not-so-secret secret. Well, she was family. “Monroe means the Marilyn Monroe’s table’s food is ready. All the tables are named after movie actors.”
Olivia nodded. “I like it. That’s pretty clever.”
“Yeah, my uncle Luke…Luke’s dad, he came up with the whole design and decoration of the diner and we just never changed it.”
“Well, its very quaint,” she said, taking a sip of her coffee. I nodded. “I brought something for you.”
I looked at her, warily. “You didn’t have to…”
“I didn’t buy anything; you can calm down,” she said, smoothly, smiling. She reached into her overlarge purse (was this a requirement for older ladies?) and pulled a large photo album. I wondered how anything else possibly fit there for a moment and then took it from her.
I flipped it open and immediately recognized a face. It was me…except that it couldn’t possibly be me. “Wait…”
“That’s your mother, when she was two years old,” Olivia said, pointing at the picture that I had thought was me. My mother and I had looked pretty much the same when we were toddlers. I had never seen pictures of my mother when she was younger. I didn’t even know there were pictures of my mother anywhere. There was a boy of about seven, standing next to her. “And that is her brother, your uncle, James, right next to her.”
“I have an uncle?” I asked, staring at him. “My mom had a brother?”
“Oh yes,” Olivia said, wiping her mouth with a napkin and leaning forward to look at the photo. “James is six years older than your mother. I’m not surprised that you’ve never heard of him. Your uncle James, he was one of those guys that had everything going right.”
“Oh yeah?” I said, starting to flip through the pages.
“Oh yeah,” she agreed. “James was the star quarterback, class president, had a ton of friends, a steady girlfriend who he escorted to cotillion. Corinna…she was a good kid but she just never seemed to fit. She was really shy and she just couldn’t fit into that world. Oh, I remember when we were preparing for cotillion and she hated it so much. She left before she could actually go throug
h with it.” She paused, as if thinking about it. “Oh, that’s your aunt Marie. She was a little drunk at that Christmas party. Well, she was always drunk at Christmas.”
“She came by. My mom. About three months ago.”
“I know.”
I looked up at her, surprised. “Wait, what? How did you know?”
“She called me, asking if I knew where you were. I don’t know why she asked me, when she didn’t even tell me when you were born. I told her as much. This was back in October so I wasn’t sure how you felt about that. She called me again a few months ago saying that she found you.”
I swallowed hard. My mom had looked for me long before the world had found out who I was. I had no idea what that meant, or if it meant anything at all. Maybe she had spent more time looking for me and actually wanted to see me. I hadn’t heard from her since she left back in December but maybe she needed more time. She had taken twenty years to find me the first time.
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