Who Needs Air

by Cassie Graham

  “Because they think he’s good looking!” August plays, throwing up his hands in the air.

  “Well…yeah, but he’s also a great actor.” I pause, groaning. “What I’m saying is, your fan base, no matter the enormity of your art, will always love you. Go ahead, write a bad book.”

  August pretends to be hurt, placing his hand on his heart and dropping his jaw.

  I roll my eyes. “Write a bad book even if you love it. People will follow you to the ends of the earth.”

  “Because I’m good looking?”

  I narrow my eyes and purse my lips, attempting to hide my smile. “No…well, yes. No.” I grind my teeth. “Because you moved them. You wrote a book that spoke to their soul. You made someone’s day. You helped make someone’s bad situation seem better. You changed lives, August. Because of that, you’ll never truly fail.”

  He stays quiet.

  “Unless you quit.”

  This time August groans. “Not with this ‘you’ll only fail if you give up on yourself’ crap you used to feed me when we were younger.”

  “Don’t mock me, August Wyatt! It’s true. You wanted to quit writing that book more times than I could count, but you didn’t and look what happened.”

  He sniffs.

  “Exactly.”

  “Alright,” he says, turning toward the steering wheel, pulling his keys out of the ignition. “I have to get going. I’ll walk you to your door.”

  Knowing he’s not much into talking about his success, I reach for the door handle and hop out of the truck without another word. August moves in step next to me as we make our way through the lobby of my apartment building. I wave to Reg behind the desk. His soft brown eyes smile and he tips his hat. His coal hair falls onto his shoulders, the style making his sixty-year old self seem much younger. I turn right, heading for the elevator and step inside, pushing the button for my floor.

  “This place is great, Belle,” August says the moment the doors close.

  “Thanks. I love it here.”

  “I can see why. The exposed brick is awesome.”

  I laugh. “You always loved the open-faced brick.”

  “I have it in my townhouse in New York, you know?” He’s smug about it and I can’t help but smile.

  The chime dings and the doors slide open. “Oh? Finally made that happen, huh?”

  I can hear his footsteps behind me. “Yep. All that money and it was the thing I wanted most.”

  “Not the car?” I ask, digging into my clutch to grab my key.

  August leans against the wall. “That was the first thing I bought, not what I wanted most.”

  “Mm-hmm,” is all I say because he’s so weird for wanting a brick wall, of all things. Finally grasping the key, I shove it into the lock. “Want to come in? I have bourbon.” I entice with an eyebrow wiggle.

  He laughs but shakes his head. “Tempting, but I can’t tonight. Rain check? We have to be on set early in the morning and if I don’t get at least five hours of sleep, I’m an asshole.” He stops, giving me a sly look. “As you know.”

  I tip my head back and laugh. “Oh yes, a tired August is not very fun.”

  “Nope. I’ll see you soon. Text me and we can do lunch, yeah?”

  I open my door and step inside, turning back toward him in the open space. “Sure. I’ll let you know.”

  August’s mouth turns down and he breathes in a couple of times.

  I shift on my feet.

  Before I can open my mouth to tell him good night, he walks to me with determined steps – and I say steps, but it’s only two – but the way he makes his way to me, you’d think he was hell bent on something serious.

  Engulfing me in his grasp, he wraps his strong and muscled arms around me, holding me tight. His face falls into the crook of my neck and I find myself snuggling close to him, his familiarity so easy to fall into.

  My arms lock around his back.

  “I had a great time tonight, Belle,” he says against my skin but then he pulls back, setting his chin on top of my head. “Thank you so much for being there for me. I don’t think I truly realized how much I missed our friendship.”

  I smile, feeling the grumble of his voice against his chest. “Me too, August. It’s nice being…being us again.” Not us us, but we’ve always been better when we’re together.

  He lets go of me, stepping back. “It is. It’s not nearly as…” He searches for the right word.

  “Cattywampus?” I say with a snicker.

  He laughs. “Cattywampus, yes. It’s not nearly as cattywampus as I thought it would be. It was wonderful.” He tilts his head. “Have a good night.”

  I can feel my eyes smile. “You too.”

  August takes his first tentative look into my apartment and points at the brick wall behind my couch with a smile on his face. “That’s a good wall, Potter.”

  I snicker and roll my eyes, lightly shoving him against his chest. “I know it, Wyatt. Get to bed.”

  “Aye aye Captain.” He salutes with a grin and pivots on his feet, walking out into the hall.

  I step out to watch him enter the elevator and close my door behind me when he’s gone.

  Changing out of my dress and into pajamas, I fall into a heap in my bed, face down into my pillow, and blindly turn off the lamp.

  Today was stressful, invigorating and…eye-opening. I have a newfound understanding of August and his mind for the business. Meeting icons like Jennings and Sophia made me realize how normal they are. Mostly, how they all want to be just like everyone else.

  August, Jennings and Sophia are all just ordinary people with extraordinary jobs.

  I exhale and the moment my eyes fall closed, I drift off to sleep.

  I’m almost positive my smile stays intact all night.

  Fly Off The Handle

  Beau is saying nothing just about as loud as anyone can. I cringe, looking for an exit but there’s none.

  “You invited him to the reveal?” he finally, after agonizingly long seconds, shouts. He says it like me inviting my friend to something important is the craziest thing he’s ever heard.

  I huff, taking my eyeglasses off and rubbing my nose. The computer screen in front of me is beginning to distort my vision. “Yes, Beau. We’re friends.”

  Beau’s eyes turn into tiny slits. “It’ll become all about him. He’ll bring everyone from the movie.”

  It’s been two weeks since I met the cast for dinner and all I’ve heard since then is gruff about all things August related. I’ve even tried to get Beau and August together a few times but Beau was always too “busy.”

  Beau’s pulling away and it’s starting to hurt my pride. I know August and I have a past, but the line has been drawn in the sand. Hell – not even in the sand – it’s been drawn in concrete. Permanently. I’m okay with being friends, I just wish Beau was, too. His insecure side can be a bit overwhelming at times.

  “Beau, the publicity will be good for the museum. Think about the amount of people it’ll bring in. We can rope off the front, allow press access. I’ll even get Lily involved, we’ll give them what they want and they’ll mention the museum. I’m sure August will even talk to whomever might come from the movie to make sure they know it’s all about our cause.

  “Also, this whole ‘I’m angry that you’re friends with August’ bit is getting old. I’m tired of it. Either you trust me or you don’t. It’s that simple. Nothing is going to happen. You’ve had plenty of girlfriends, some from college and others from your previous job. You went out with one like a week ago for lunch!” I yell and cross my arms. Sitting back in my chair, I feel a little lighter getting that off my chest. If he can have girl friends, then I should at least be able to have August. The only other person in this town that I’m even somewhat close to is Lily, and sweet baby Jesus, if I have to keep justifying August I’m going to fly off the handle.

  Beau huffs like a bull ready to stampede. His face turns a red, hot coal color, one of his eyes closing slightl
y.

  I stand my ground, moving my eyes back to my computer, refusing to say anything more. It’s been such a long day. With preparations for the reveal and our lack of a PR person, I’m swamped with even more responsibilities than normal. With Beau standing in my doorway boiling like a whistling pot, I can’t handle backing down.

  I put my glasses back on, and let my fingers find the keys on my computer again. I order a few things on Amazon while Beau lingers in my entryway, stewing without saying a word. My eyes widen at my screen, but I don’t look at him. He obviously needs time, so instead of telling him to leave, I let him be.

  He shifts on his feet after what feels like twenty minutes – which in reality was only around five – and sighs. “Maybe we should call it.”

  I’m typing up my welcome speech for the party and don’t hear him. “Call who?”

  “Us,” is all he says. I silence my typing. The rushed sounds of his breathing and the stopping of mine are all that can be heard.

  I blink a few times, licking my bottom lip. “Are…are you breaking up with me?”

  He looks behind him like someone is walking in the hall and he nods. “I think so.”

  I pull off my glasses again and rub my left eyebrow. My head hurts.

  “Listen, I don’t like who I am when I get jealous, and August…well, he makes me incredibly fucking jealous.” I flinch when he cusses. He only curses when he’s super upset and I hate that we’ve come to that point so early in our relationship. “Until I can figure out a way to be your boyfriend without the intense need to punch him in the face, I need to step away.”

  Blowing out a lungful of air, I slide my glasses back on. “O…okay.” I can understand, I guess. Even with him being a complete loon the past few weeks, I still like him and I don’t want to break up. “Can we – do you think you’d be okay – being friends?”

  His eyes fall to the floor and he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants. The instant I ask the question, the air in the room shifts and I think he was hoping I wouldn’t ask him that. “I don’t know, Cam,” he says honestly, lifting his head, his eyes sad. “Not,” he clears his throat, “not right now. Maybe one day, I don’t know. I like you. It’ll be hard being around you let alone trying to be your friend.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  He shrugs his shoulders. “No. I’m mad at me, but it is what it is.”

  I open my mouth to tell him I understand but our tour guide, Hannah, pops her head into my office. “Hey, guys.” She smiles. “There’s someone here to see you.”

  Jumbled, I tilt my head. I wasn’t expecting anyone until later in the day. “Who is it?”

  Hannah shakes her head, her short black hair falling into her brown eyes. Speaking out of the side of her mouth, she says, “Her name’s Whit. She said you knew she was stopping by.”

  I look down at my cell phone, checking the time. It’s almost four.

  Crap. I thought it was closer to noon. “Oh, tell her I’ll be right there.” I look to Beau as Hannah walks away. “I need to go meet her.”

  Beau’s eyes fall because he knows Whitley is connected to August. He slinks out of my office to his own without another word or glance.

  Standing from my chair, I slip my feet into my black pumps and straighten my jacket. Taking a glace in the mirror behind my desk, I look myself over, giving up on appearing to be anything but exhausted. Planting a smile on my face, I walk out of my office and down the long hall leading to the main room of the museum to find Whitley. She’s stylishly dressed in skinny jeans, pumps and a black and blue flannel. She stares intently at a piece called Where All Things Are, a modern sculpture by a local artist here in Bradshaw.

  “Whitley!” I say excitedly, mustering a light tone.

  She turns around, her eyes brightening when she takes me in. “Cam! It’s so good to see you.” She opens her arms wide and I step inside them, hugging her. “It’s so nice to see a friendly face.” She loops her arm in mine and we walk to the left, checking out an abstract painting by Pierre Wolfe, a European artist who lived in the early 1700s.

  We break in front of it, Whitley’s head slanting.

  “Oh no, what’s going on?”

  She doesn’t move her eyes from the painting. “I haven’t left the set in almost a week. I think I’m going stir crazy.”

  My eyebrows furrow as we make our way to the next exhibit. “Are people not pleasant on set?”

  She laughs, stopping to a halt in front of Abraham Lincoln’s Hohner harmonica. He kept the instrument in his pocket throughout his entire presidency, playing it in his spare time.

  “No, they’re all fine. I just feel so out of place sometimes. Jennings keeps me grounded, but on days when he’s working ten, fifteen, twenty hours a day, it can get difficult to not get lost in the shuffle, you know?”

  I wonder if August feels the same. It’s his movie, sure, but he’s so new to the whole life.

  “It’s just, that world, it can be so suffocating,” she continues. “It’s all about looking and acting perfect, never a hair out of place. Then there’s me, hot mess Whitley, who can’t even apply makeup correctly,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s not that I want to be them, I just like to be around real people sometimes. Normal people. Not…” she drifts off.

  “Celebrities,” I finish for her.

  “Exactly.”

  The clacks of our heels echo in the quiet space on the dark black and off-white marble floors. We’re about to close and usually the only people here this late in the afternoon are employees. Whitley picked a good time to visit.

  “I can understand that,” I say, leading her into another room full of precious artifacts. “Not that I can offer much, but it seems like it can be a stressful environment.”

  “It can. Jennings can get so wrapped in his role and I have a hard time bringing him out.” She stops, a wide smile on her face. “Thank God for our private trailer.” She winks and giggles to herself and I smile beside her. Sweet baby in a handbasket, I can certainly imagine.

  “I’m always here if you need me,” I say. “There’s an event here soon if you’d like to come. You can hang out with me. I have to speak, but after that I should be free to mingle.”

  “August told us. He seems incredibly proud.” She laughs. “I think he was hesitant to tell anyone, though. I’m pretty sure he’s worried Jennings, Sophia and the rest of the cast will ruin it for you.”

  I gasp. “What? No. It’s not like that. I told him to invite you guys. I actually have a plan,” I say, proud of myself. “My best friend essentially runs all of the media here in Bradshaw. If y’all want to come, we can work it out. I’m sure it’ll help turnout, which we need.”

  We make our way into the restaurant in the back of the museum. Along with an entire building full of relics, we also have a fine-dining eatery named Exquisite Treasure. It’s empty right now, so we take a seat at the bar. I order myself some bourbon and Whitley orders a glass of red wine.

  “I’ll talk to August and the group. If he’s okay with us coming, I think it could be fun.”

  “Sounds great,” I say, thanking Noel, the bartender, when she sets our drinks down.

  “Can you take any time off?” Whitley asks out of the blue.

  I cross my legs, setting my drink down and linking my hands together. “What do you mean? For like sick leave?”

  She laughs. “No, I mean like personal days. You should come hang out with me on set for a bit. Maybe after your event?” Her eyes are hopeful and she bounces in her seat with anticipation.

  I haven’t taken a day off in almost ten months. Maybe a little time away from the museum and Beau could be good for me. My heart stumbles when I think of Beau and how hurt he looked when he left my office. “I think I can do that,” I say. “Let me run it by my boss and I’ll see if he’s okay with it.”

  Her eyes light up and she pushes some of her hair behind her ear. “Okay. We don’t have to stay at the set the entire time. We can go do some stu
ff. Atlanta, maybe? You can show me around. I’d love to see all these monumental places August talks about in the book.”

  “They haven’t filmed on location yet?”

  She swallows her wine. “There was a scene in the library last week and they did a scene last night outside of a home down the street. For the most part, we’ve been on set inside a house.”

  My eyes narrow and I wonder what specific scenes they’ve filmed so far. I haven’t had the heart to bug August about it, but I’m anxious to see what’s been shot.

  “I want to see the high school and your house! Oh my gosh, your house, girl. Is your mom still in town?”

  It’s still so odd to me that she knows little bits of information like that because she’s a fan of Somewhere Only We Know.

  “She’s still here. I can totally take you there.”

  “Awesome,” she says, taking another sip of her wine.

  My phone rings and I glance down at the screen. “It’s my best friend, mind if I answer it?”

  Whitley moves the glass from her lips, her eyes wide. “Oh, of course not. Go on ahead.”

  I smile and press the green button on my screen. “Hey Lily, how’s it going?”

  She groans. “You near a television?” I glance up at the TV above me, the loop advertisement for the museum playing.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Turn it to my channel. I thought you’d want to see what was going on.”

  My heart begins to race. Lately, Lily only has me turn on her channel or go to her website when something bad happens. I haven’t been with August in a while so it can’t be us making news. “What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice panicked.

  “I have to go,” she says with an apologetic tone and I can hear someone talking at high speeds in the background. “The story just broke and I’m doing damage control.”

  My hands start to shudder and I look to Whitley who’s got a worried expression on her face. “Is it August?”

  The same person talking to Lily continues, clearly not bothering to breathe. “I’m sorry, Cam. I gotta go. Love you. I’ll call you back in a few.” She ends the call and I stare at my phone, stunned for a few beats.