If I smiled too much, someone might recognize my magazine-selling grin. I was certain a couple at the gas station had recognized me yesterday. They whispered nonstop while I filled the Jeep, but I kept my head down and my smiles short. Eventually, they had driven off in the direction of the ferry, and I knew I had stolen another day of freedom. So far, the paparazzi hadn’t descended upon me.
But that’s how the days were. Each one could be my last here.
“Good. I love this part of the beach.” She wiggled her bottom into the striped chair. “Want a chip?” She extended a bag in my direction.
“No, thanks. I’m good.”
“You probably don’t eat stuff like this. Not with a body like that.” She pulled her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose.
I hated when she looked at me like that. “Well, I try to eat healthy.” I reached into my cooler, pulled out a beer, and twisted the top off. Maybe a few of these would help drown out her chitter-chatter.
“I saw you running this morning. What kind of workouts do you do?” she asked. She stuffed the foil pack of chips into her beach bag. “Do you need a workout buddy? I love running.”
I swallowed hard on the beer. I wanted to tell her to give up. I wasn’t going anywhere near the Pirate’s Booty or her. She had invited me over for drinks and dinner almost every night. I was running out of excuses.
“No thanks, ma’am. I like to do things on my own.” I dug a hole in the sand with my feet. The surf rushed in and filled the hole as if my heel had never moved the sand.
“Well, that’s too bad. Let me know if you ever need help, you know, with the workout.” She giggled.
“Will do.” I pulled my hat farther over my eyes and reclined in the chair. I didn’t have to talk to her if I was asleep.
***
It could have been two or three hours since I had drifted off. Sleep came a lot easier now. I didn’t bother with clocks anymore. My cheeks prickled with the first signs of sunburn. I swatted at a fly.
“Fuck,” I mumbled as I caught myself from tipping over onto the sand.
I looked over my left shoulder. Alice was gone. I was grateful for that. I flipped the lid on the cooler and reached into the container that was now more water than ice. I twisted the top off an icy bottle and chugged until it was empty.
The water was flat today and calmer than I remembered seeing it in the past two weeks. Usually surfers dotted the break line, but with quiet waves, I noticed a few kayaks floating close by.
Since I had moved into the Sand Dollar, I had managed to get an even brown tan, drink as much as I had in college, and remain completely anonymous as Jake, the writer from Georgia. I chuckled, knowing that so little had never been accomplished in two weeks. It took real effort to do nothing, and of that, I was prouder than hell.
I rubbed the scruff that had grown on my face. I had never had this much facial hair before. There were always actors who had to grow beards for roles or dye their hair, but my bankability was in my face. It was never a request I had to fulfill. Maybe next film. As soon as the thought entered my mind, my chest tightened and it felt like shards of glass had slipped under my ribcage. I struggled to push them out. No, no more films. It’s not happening.
I fished in the cooler for another beer. A fiddler crab waved its large claw near my toe before scurrying sideways into an open hole in the sand.
There was something settling about the beach. The longer I watched each wave roll toward me, unfurling in a smooth flutter over the bank of broken shells, the longer I wanted to stay and do nothing more.
CHAPTER TEN
Chelsea
“Derek, I didn’t hear the answer. Was Chelsea late this morning?” My dad peered at Derek. He had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.
I tied the apron behind my waist and waited for the truth to be revealed. Of course I wasn’t on time. I was never on time. It was 5:45 in the fucking morning.
Derek gripped the broom handle tightly. His knuckles were white where they should have been flesh-colored.
“Dad, stop. Just stop.” I couldn’t stand the torture anymore.
He looked down the brim of his nose at me. “I was speaking to Derek.”
“Right, but he doesn’t need to answer for me. I was late, ok? I was not here at five thirty. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Derek swept a path near the employee hallway.
“That fifteen minutes is coming out of your check or you’re staying late today.” Hayden Davis stood and observed the morning routine in his store, like he was a king. My dad was the farthest thing from a king.
“Whatever.” I huffed my way to the register. I watched him sip on the coffee. I wished it would burn his tongue.
“We can talk about this later, Chelsea. Derek doesn’t need to hear your tantrums.”
I clenched my fists as I popped open the register to count the till for the morning. He was condescending, insulting, patronizing, and my father. I would do anything to try to get through each encounter.
For the most part, I avoided him. If he walked in the front door, I walked out the back. If he needed help in the coolers, I raced to the kayak stand on the docks. If inventory in the storage room needed to be counted, I volunteered to run the register at the front. I calculated every way possible that I could be in the same store but not within earshot or sight of him.
Despite his failure to acknowledge I wasn’t ten years old anymore, there was a time when I loved being around my father. We used to close the store together, grab ice cream, and plot how we could get Mom to stop making that awful crab casserole. Or on slick days we would take the clam rakes out to the cove and load up the boat with a fresh haul. Days at the store and on the docks were a part of my life—a part of being Chelsea Davis.
But, three months ago, everything changed.
I heard it. I heard every scream and rhythmic thump. I heard a woman call out my father’s name. Then I saw Eileen Meeks leave my father’s office—hair in a rat’s nest, blouse half-buttoned, and her cheeks redder than Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter.
I panicked. Ran. Threw up in the women’s bathroom. I clung to the toilet until the heaving stopped. No one knew I was there, and Eileen hadn’t spotted me on her way out of the office. When I was certain I could stand without shaking so much, I washed my face and sprinted out of the ladies’ room and right into Derek.
“Chelsea? Did you hear me?” My father hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Yes, I heard you. I’m trying to count the register.” The quicker I started working, the quicker he might actually leave me alone.
“All right.” He sighed. “I’m headed to my office for the morning. I’ve got reports to run.”
I rolled my eyes as I counted out a stack of ones. I had forgotten it was Monday, and that meant my father would be in the store for the first part of the day. It was really the only time during the week when I had to interact with him.
“Have a nice day, sir,” Derek called from the corner of the store.
Once my father turned the corner, I couldn’t hold back. “Seriously, Der. Have a nice day? What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
“He’s my boss, Chelsea. Or do you still think the world revolves around you? Just because you hate him, doesn’t mean I have to.” He reached down with the dustpan and scooped up a pile of yesterday’s dirt.
I rushed from the register to face him. “What did you say?” This morning was progressively getting worse.
He straightened his stance, brushing the hair off his forehead. “Just leave it alone. We’ve got work to do.”
“Work? You think I can work with you glaring at me every chance you get? Now you’re teaming up with my dad like you two are best buddies? You know what he did—what he’s doing. You are the only person I’ve ever told.” I sucked in a big breath of air. “This isn’t work. This is torture.”
I walked back to the register as I heard the jingle of the door. The early customers had arrived for their morning coffee a
nd donuts. Quickly, I tallied the money in the drawer and returned it to its slot. Derek had disappeared. Good, I thought. We needed more distance between us.
It was almost impossible to be in the same room with him since our falling out almost two weeks ago. No more smiles, jokes, or flirty banter. It was like the history we had never existed. I knew I destroyed it the minute I let him kiss me. Regret was an awful roommate who had moved in the night I kicked Derek out, and like terrible roommates, it made everything messy and awkward.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Ben
I stared at the phone. It didn’t ring as much as it had when I first arrived, but that was because I had talked to everyone but her. They all knew I was hiding out. Except for a few extra calls from Rick, my team seemed to respect my decision to take some time off. What they didn’t realize was that the time off wasn’t temporary.
I watched the steam swirl from the coffee cup and glanced back at the phone. When I woke up this morning, I hadn’t even thought about her. But once I settled into the camper’s red vinyl booth, she was all I could think about. I knew it was time. I opened the missed calls on my screen and tapped her name. It was at the top.
“Ben? Oh my God, Ben.” Her voice was frantic.
“Hey.” I sipped my coffee. I felt steady and calm, something I wasn’t expecting when I heard her voice on the other end of the phone.
“I’ve tried to call and I left messages and texts. Why didn’t you answer any of them? It’s been two weeks.”
The waves rolled onto the shore. These questions were bound to come up. I knew she would have tons of them along with excuses. “Because, Rebecca, I didn’t feel like talking.”
Words tumbled from her mouth. “I know you saw the pictures. And it was a mistake. I promise. Nothing else happened. I was in Hawaii, we had all this down time, and it didn’t mean anything. I swear, Ben. I didn’t know the paps were following me.”
I found that hard to believe. When wasn’t she picture ready? Her explanations didn’t matter. I needed to get this over with.
“What you need to know is that I’m not mad at you. That’s not why I called.” I was already going off script. I had a planned speech, but given the circumstances, it seemed kind of stupid to use.
“But you don’t sound like yourself. I totally get why you’d be mad at me. You have to know the whole thing is a mis—”
“Becs, would you just listen?” I cut her off more harshly than I intended.
“Ok, ok, why did you call? I’m listening.” She exhaled into the phone. I knew her full lips were pouting wherever she was.
“I called to tell you I’m sorry. Sorry about everything that happened.”
“What? I-I don’t understand.” Her voice slowed.
I couldn’t expect her to know the layers behind my words. She hadn’t been along for my soul-searching journey.
“I can’t blame you for spending time with someone else when I wasn’t around. Ever. I checked out a long time ago, Becs. That wasn’t your fault.”
“But you were around. It is my fault. Totally my fault. I’m sorry you saw the pictures. Can we just talk in person? I’ll come to wherever you are. Let’s just talk about this. Please, Ben.”
“Yeah, I don’t think that’s a good idea, darlin’.”
If I even considered trying to put the relationship together again, it was always going to end up this way. I wasn’t in love with her, and I knew it was because I had never given her the time or the chance she deserved. Now with the pictures and the headlines, I wouldn’t be able to get past it long enough for a do-over.
“Now I’m really confused.” She sounded shaky.
I thought about the time we spent together. How the only reason we dated was to play up the romance in Wanted during the premiere month. Both of our publicists had pushed the idea. It was supposed to end there, but we had fallen into a pattern of going out together, posing for pictures, eating in hot-spot restaurants, and spurring the paparazzi frenzy until we couldn’t have pizza delivered without suspecting the pizza guy had a camera in the box. It was a relationship created to fuel our careers, and it had put us both in a fishbowl we couldn’t swim out of. The only difference was that Rebecca thrived in the fishbowl. She loved every flashing camera and autograph request. I only wanted to get a cup of coffee without women tearing at my jacket or giggling profusely when I said hello. It was all too much.
“Rebecca, I think it’s best if we just call this what it is. Over.” I dumped my coffee in the sink and reached in the mini-fridge for a beer.
“But I miss you. Like really miss you. I’m sorry, really sorry.” Her voice cracked and I winced at the sound. I didn’t want to be someone she missed.
I tried to think if I missed her. There was no denying she was beautiful—gorgeous by any man’s standards. But even after the dating had turned from publicity stunt to voluntary, I knew there was something missing. I couldn’t help but think she was with me to toss her star a little higher in the sky. Her love for me always seemed the brightest when a camera was nearby.
“I’m sorry. I called to tell you that and to let you know I’m not mad. I don’t want you to think I’m mad.” According to the grocery store headlines, I was in hiding with a broken heart, plotting a comeback with a bombshell supermodel.
“Can’t you give us another chance? Just talk about it at least? You told me you wanted to take me home to meet your family. We were supposed to go to Texas. Let’s do that. We can go to the ranch and get away from the cameras. I’ve always wanted to see where you live. As much as you talked about Texas I always felt like I’d actually been there with you. We need to be alone. Just you and me.”
It was hard to hear. I didn’t expect it. She wasn’t supposed to fight me on this, but for some reason, Rebecca was grasping at straws and clawing for memories and promises that shouldn’t have been made.
“Darlin’, we both know we were only together for the movie. Don’t spin it into something it wasn’t.”
Although, I was starting to doubt what it was we had. Was she more genuine and sincere than I realized? Maybe I was the one doing the spinning. Everything was muddled and blurry.
It didn’t matter. We couldn’t start over. The media would always be the third person in our relationship, and I was done living my love life on the front page.
“Damn it, Ben. It was not just a publicity tactic. That trip to Cabo? We fucked an entire weekend. That meant something to me. And that night in San Francisco? Really, that was all for our images? There were no cameras; it was you and me. You’re a real asshole, you know that!”
I took a swig of the cold beer. At least if she was mad at me she would stop trying to stir up feelings. “I just needed to say it. Set things straight. Ok?” I paused. “Take care, Becs. Maybe we’ll run into each other again.” This was not the time to tell her I had walked my last red carpet. That would really set her off.
“Take care? Who am I even talking to? Why didn’t you just text me a break up?”
I sighed. “It’s not even a break up. You moved on weeks ago. You slept with someone else. This is more of a good-bye.”
“I told you I was sorry about Hawaii. Ben, come on. Tell me where you are. You’re sounding crazy and not like yourself at all. Say something that makes sense. Say something that sounds like Ben Baldwin,” she pleaded.
I closed my eyes. This had to be it. Everything there was to talk about had been said. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out. The longer I stayed on the phone, the longer she had to surprise me with more memories we shared. I didn’t want that.
“Goodbye, Becs.” I slid the phone across the table and finished off the beer.
It was over. She wouldn’t call or text anymore. If she did, it was her own damn fault for not listening. This was all for the better. One day she would realize it. I hoped, for her sake, it didn’t take her two weeks on a lonely beach to figure it out.
***
The water was calm again today. I didn’t kno
w if it was normal for the ocean to be like this two days in a row, but I had a feeling I should make the most of it.
I opened the door to the campground office. “Good morning, Flo.”
“Well, hey, Jake.” She thumbed through a gardening magazine and glanced in my direction.
“I’m headed into town. I was hoping you might be able to tell me if there’s a place to rent those kayaks I keep seeing out there.” I pointed to the orange and blue boats drifting near the shore.
“Kayaks? You mean you’re not going to sit and drink on the beach all day?” She cleared her throat and flipped to a page on summer gardenias.
I shoved my hands in my pockets. I hadn’t cared much about what people thought about me. I didn’t want them to think about me at all, but Flo’s accurate description stung a little. From a distance, I could see where people might get the wrong impression of me.
“I thought I should see the beach from the waterside.” I laughed, trying to charm her with my usual finesse, but she was one woman who wouldn’t take the bait.
“They rent them out there at Davis General Store. Behind the store, there’s a stand on the docks.” The gardenia feature must be fascinating, although I knew they couldn’t grow anything at the campground. There wasn’t any soil, only sand.
“Thanks, Flo. I appreciate it.” I turned for the screen door.
“How’s that book of yours coming along?”
“Book?” I froze. “Oh yeah, it’s going. Taking me a little longer to write than I expected.”
“Good thing you’re here for the whole summer, I guess.” She placed the magazine on the desk.
I couldn’t help but think she saw right through my flimsy cover story. If she did, she didn’t mention it.
“Tell Carl I said hello.” I knew he was down on the beach surf fishing. He was out every day with a pole and a chair.
“Will do.” She picked the magazine up.
I closed the door behind me and strolled to the Jeep. I had left it running in front of the office. It was a small campground, and other than Alice, I thought most people stayed only a night or two before moving on. It made sense Flora would know my habits.
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